#rivalry to reverie

[kxsagi]

i have so many requests in my head but i already sent two, i don’t wanna overwhelm you ☹️.i swear these are the last two..

one is a sae x reader where they’re cuddling on the couch, sae busy on his phone while reader watches one of those very dramatic and frustrating romcoms. sae acts nonchalant but he’s secretly invested in the drama and he keeps on commenting on dumb things the characters, all frustrated and pissed do until the entire drama finishes. just crack comedy with fluff where they reminiscene about their early dating days.

next is a rin x reader ofc. childhood enemies trope where reader is sae’s bestfriend and rin hates her for taking his older brother’s attention but as they grow up he starts finding her pretty, catches him remembering small details abt her etc etc and all that lovesick stuff. and when sae leaves, she’s there by his side. when sae returns, she comforts him after their fallout and stuff hehe.

i’ve made like four requests this day and feel free to take your time with them, i don’t mindd. i just wanted to submit these requests in case i forgot to later 😞🙏 hope you enjoy writing them, also don’t feel pressured to write?

“𝐬𝐚𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢: 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐜𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫)”

a/n: girl you’re FINE, receiving a lot of requests from you just shows me how much you love my works and i’m grateful!!!

(idk art credits so sorry!)

it starts with you curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over your legs and a bowl of popcorn balanced on your lap. the tv plays yet another chaotic romcom, the kind that makes you want to chuck the remote at the screen every five minutes. the plot is the same recycled nonsense: she loves him, he’s too oblivious, and they spend two hours missing every possible opportunity to communicate like functioning adults. classic. 

meanwhile, sae sits beside you, one arm casually slung around your waist, his phone in hand, eyes fixed on the screen. his fingers lazily scroll through what you can only assume is a feed full of soccer stats, news updates, and unread texts from rin. at least, that’s what you think he’s doing. 

the truth? sae hasn’t registered a single thing on his phone for the last forty minutes. no, he’s been watching the movie. intently. but he’s not about to admit it. 

“oh my gosh, why is she running in the rain again,” sae suddenly mutters under his breath, making you glance at him with a smirk. 

“hm?” you hum innocently. “what was that?” 

he doesn’t look away from his screen, fingers still aimlessly swiping (with his weather app). “nothing.” 

liar. 

the romcom continues, and the male lead does the most objectively idiotic thing imaginable: cheating on his girlfriend with her twin (???) because of a “misunderstanding.” sae scoffs softly. you feel his arm tighten slightly around your waist. 

“this guy’s a moron,” he mutters, still feigning disinterest. “why would you cheat on someone with their twin? you talk to them. maybe confirm identities? i dunno, use your brain? maybe he could even take some advice from me, i’ll teach him how i bagged you.” 

you press your lips together, holding back a grin. sae notices the twitch of your mouth and squints at you. “what?” 

“nothing,” you echo his earlier words, eyes back on the screen. 

five minutes later, the female lead’s best friend finds out about the whole twin-cheating thing and instead of immediately telling her friend, she decides to… keep it a secret. for no reason. 

sae’s jaw clenches. he exhales sharply through his nose, locking his phone and dropping it to the couch with a thud. 

“what kind of dumbass logic is that? you’d want your best friend to know if her boyfriend’s been macking on her doppelganger. right? RIGHT?” 

he gestures at the TV with such genuine exasperation that you have to bite back a laugh. you turn to him with a teasing look. “i thought you weren’t watching?” 

his eyes narrow slightly. “i’m not.” 

sure. 

the movie barrels toward its grand finale: an overdramatic airport scene where the female lead, after all that unnecessary heartbreak, still decides to forgive her deceitful boyfriend. you glance at sae, who’s leaning forward ever so slightly, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and visibly annoyed. 

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters. “after all that?! she just takes him back? no groveling? no consequences? nothing?!” 

you snort, fully turning toward him now. “you’re so mad.” 

“i’m not mad,” he deadpans, clearly mad. “i just hate stupid writing.” 

you poke his cheek. “oh? i didn’t know sae itoshi was a romcom connoisseur.” 

he glares at you, but there’s no actual heat behind it, just the quiet indignation of a man betrayed by poor screenwriting. 

when the credits roll, you toss the popcorn bowl onto the table and stretch your arms out with a content sigh. sae, still brooding over the romcom’s stupidity, leans back against the couch and lets you flop against his chest. you can hear the faint beat of his heart, steady and soothing beneath your ear. 

“why do you even watch that crap?” he mumbles, absently running his fingers through your hair. “you get mad every time.” 

“it’s entertaining,” you murmur. “and it’s worth it to see you get personally offended by it.” 

his hand slows slightly, then comes to a full stop. 

“wait.” he pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up to look at him. his eyes narrow with suspicion. “... is that why you put it on?” 

you blink innocently. “put what on?” 

he scowls. “don’t play dumb. you watch these stupid movies just to see me get pissed off?” 

you offer a mischievous grin. “maybe.” 

sae’s mouth parts slightly in disbelief, but he doesn’t stay mad for long. in fact, his lips twitch into something almost resembling a smirk. he shifts so that you’re flat on your back and he’s leaning over you, arms braced on either side of your head. 

“you’re so annoying,” he mutters, brushing his lips over your temple. 

“mhm.” you hum, completely unaffected by his unconvincing irritation. you reach up, loosely hooking your arms around his neck. “you still love me though.” 

he exhales heavily, as if burdened by the magnitude of your nuisance, but his lips are already curving into a barely-there smile. he presses his forehead to yours and lets out a soft, reluctant chuckle. 

“unfortunately,” he murmurs, before kissing you softly, “i do.” 

and just like that, the frustrating romcom is long forgotten. 

“𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞” 

a/n: reader is sae’s best friend, but the same age as rin! 

(header art credits go to nwtrchb)

rin always hated you. 

when he was seven years old, you were sae’s best friend. the cool kid who knew all the tricks to the arcade games and somehow all the best food spots in the city. you were always there, hogging his brother’s attention, walking home with him after school, sharing inside jokes that made sae smirk in that rare, almost affectionate way. a look rin never seemed to get. 

he despised it. despised you. 

you were everything he wasn’t: easygoing, sociable, and apparently very funny if sae’s occasional chuckle was anything to go by. and rin? he was just the annoying little brother trailing behind, scowling in your shadow, wondering why sae never looked at him the way he looked at you. 

“why do you always hang out with her?” rin had once asked, arms crossed, voice sharp with childish frustration. 

“because she’s cool,” sae had shrugged, ruffling rin’s hair carelessly before leaving with you again. 

rin had glared daggers at your back until you were both out of sight. 

and that’s how it was for years. the petty glares, the sharp words, the unspoken resentment. he hated the way you seemed to effortlessly fit into sae’s world – his world. hated how you knew his brother in ways he never could. 

but then you both grew up. 

and rin’s hatred turned into something far more inconvenient. 

he first noticed it when you were twelve. you were visiting the itoshi house during one of sae’s matches, lounging on their living room floor with your legs kicked up on the couch. your hair was tousled, falling into your eyes as you glanced at the screen, wearing one of sae’s old hoodies. rin had walked in, fully intending to shoot you one of his signature scowls. 

but for some reason, he forgot how to breathe. 

he quickly looked away, scowling at the floor instead, convincing himself that he was just annoyed. annoyed that you were wearing sae’s hoodie. annoyed that you were here, again, like you always were. 

except, he wasn’t annoyed. not really. 

he realized that when, months later, you offhandedly mentioned you didn’t like grape tomatoes, and somehow, somehow, rin caught himself picking them out of his own plate without even thinking. he realized it again when you braided the hair of a younger cousin at a family gathering and his gaze lingered far too long on your fingers, meticulously weaving strands together with such gentle focus. 

he was twelve and absolutely, hopelessly doomed. 

but he kept his distance. he was still prickly, still short-tempered, still rin. he told himself it was just a passing infatuation, one he could outgrow. 

and then sae left. 

the itoshi household grew colder, quieter. rin pretended it didn’t matter, like he hadn’t lost the one constant he was always chasing after. he threw himself into soccer, training with a near-frantic desperation. but no matter how fast he ran or how hard he kicked, it didn’t fill the void sae left behind. 

but you were there. 

you didn’t smother him with pity. you didn’t tell him it was going to be okay. you just… stayed. you went to his matches. you stood at the sidelines. you bought him vending machine drinks after practice and tossed him a towel without a word. you were just there, and somehow, that was enough. 

you were there when he came home fuming after a loss, muttering insults under his breath with his fists clenched at his sides. and you were there again when he stood in the middle of his hallway, staring at the empty bedroom across from his, realizing sae wasn’t coming back anytime soon. 

you were always there, and slowly, somehow, you became his constant. 

he was sixteen when he realized he was completely, undeniably in love with you. 

it hit him like a sharp kick to the chest one evening, when he came home to find you sitting on the porch steps, waiting for him after a particularly brutal practice. your hair was slightly damp from the humidity, face illuminated by the soft orange glow of the setting sun. you looked up when you saw him, eyes warm and bright with familiarity. 

“you look like you could use some ice cream,” you had teased, holding up a small plastic bag containing his favorite flavor. 

and that was it. his heart was gone. 

but then sae came back. 

it was supposed to be a reunion, but it was nothing short of a disaster. they fought, old wounds ripping open with ease. sae was colder, more distant, and rin was bitter, angrier. the same unresolved jealousy from years ago came rushing back with vengeance, except this time, it wasn’t about who got more attention. 

it was about you. 

because sae still smiled at you the way he used to. still exchanged effortless banter, still had his rare, dry humor with you that he never spared for rin. and even though it was always platonic, always had been, it still made rin’s chest ache. 

so he walked out. stormed off, fists clenched, throat tight. 

and you followed him. 

you found him by the old soccer field, sitting on the bleachers with his arms crossed over his knees, staring blankly ahead. you didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside him and let the silence settle. 

“he makes it look so easy,” rin muttered bitterly, eyes narrowed, voice low and raw. “like it doesn’t even matter.” 

you stared at him quietly, and after a moment, you placed a hand on his. he stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. 

“he misses you too,” you murmured softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “he just doesn’t know how to show it.” 

rin exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“i hate him,” he said, but his voice wavered ever so slightly. 

you squeezed his hand, grounding him. 

“no, you don’t,” you whispered. 

he stared at you then, really stared at you. you were still wearing that same soft, patient expression you always had when he was younger. except now, it felt different. warmer. heavier. 

and before he could stop himself, he spoke. 

“you were supposed to be his,” rin muttered, voice barely above a whisper. his throat tightened as he squeezed your hand in his. “but you’re always here.” 

you blinked, startled by his sudden confession. but he didn’t let you go. instead, he turned his hand over, threading his fingers with yours, holding on like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

“you’re always here,” he repeated softly, as though he couldn’t believe it. 

and when you slowly, carefully leaned in, brushing your lips against his, he melted into you. everything he ever wanted but was too scared to admit, it was right there. 

and this time, he wasn’t going to let it slip away. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[aureatchi]

in my mind it’s @cheriiyaya & i going on study dates w/ fyodor & dazai together at the same coffee shop during class breaks !!

[reverie-starlight]

this just in, user reverie-starlight becomes a full fledged leafs fan just to piss off @blanketsandsocks

[tonycries]

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

Lights, Camera, Drama: Gojo Satoru and Leading Lady’s Off-Screen Feud to SINK Box Office Darling?

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Enemies of The Century or Publicity Stunt? Recent Cast Outings Sets Fans Speculating!

---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 9

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6.5k

Trigger warning; mention of clipping

notes; Hello everyone I hope that you are doing well because I am sooooo tired lol. I just started work and pffiu. Whatever with my life, this chapter as a good background drop on y/n maybe some of you expected it some not. Either way I hope that you will enjoy it because it was so much fun writting it. Well see you soon, don't hesitate to comment and bye bye !

previous ✧ next

The days since your last encounter with Azriel passed in a blur of activity. The clinic had demanded all your attention, leaving little room for personal thoughts or reflection. But in the quiet moments—when your hands stilled for just a second or your gaze wandered—it crept back.

You sighed heavily, glancing down at the travel bag you were packing for the trip to the Dawn Court. The preparations were nearly done, though your nerves remained. Traveling with Azriel added a layer of tension you weren’t ready to face, but the anticipation of reuniting with the healers of the other courts eased some of that discomfort.

You allowed yourself a small smile, remembering them—your friends, your mentors, the peers who had shaped your path in ways large and small. Each had left a mark on your journey, offering guidance, laughter, or challenges that helped mold you into the healer you had become. Many of them were like family, and the thought of seeing their familiar faces again brought warmth to your chest.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, breaking you out of your reverie. A group of the clinic’s healers had gathered to see you off, their expressions a mix of fondness and determination.

“You’ve got everything under control, right?” you asked, your tone light but tinged with concern.

One of them, Elira, rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For the hundredth time, we’ve got it. The clinic won’t fall apart while you’re gone.”

Another healer chimed in with a grin. “We’ll follow your instructions to the letter. You deserve a few days to focus on something else for once.”

Their reassurances made you smile, though the lingering worry didn’t completely fade. Still, you trusted them. They were skilled, dedicated, and fully capable of handling whatever came their way.

“Alright,” you said, shouldering your bag. “I’m counting on you all. If anything major comes up, send a message immediately.”

Elira gave a mock salute. “Understood, Commander.”

You laughed softly, exchanging a few more words before stepping outside. The crisp air hit your face, clearing your mind as you took a moment to steady yourself. The trip ahead wasn’t just about the meeting—it was about proving that you could handle the weight of this new role. And, perhaps, figuring out how to navigate the bond with Azriel without letting it overshadow everything else.

Standing at the entrance of Velaris, you adjusted the strap of your travel bag on your shoulder, your gaze scanning the skies. The morning air was crisp, with the faintest warmth of sunlight creeping over the horizon. You were early, as always, but waiting in anticipation left you feeling restless.

A flurry of wings caught your attention, and there he was—Azriel, descending gracefully from the sky. His shadows swirled faintly around him, dispersing as his boots touched the ground. He straightened, meeting your gaze with a polite nod.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, your voice steady despite the awkwardness that lingered between you.

“Morning,” he replied, his tone measured, though there was something in his expression—hesitation, maybe? “We should leave as soon as possible if we don’t want to arrive late.”

You nodded quickly. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Azriel stepped closer, his face calm but all business. “First, we’ll winnow to the border of the Dawn Court. Once we cross it, we’ll fly to the capital.”

The mention of flying made your heart skip a beat. You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before voicing your concern. “Flying... Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want it to be too much for you, carrying me.”

He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes calm but insistent. “It won’t be. Trust me, Y/N.”

His reassurance didn’t completely settle your nerves, but you nodded regardless. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Azriel stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “Ready?”

You placed your hand in his, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through you. His grip was firm yet careful, and before you could dwell on the flutter in your chest, shadows enveloped you. The world spun for a moment, and when it stilled, you were standing at the border of the Dawn Court.

The air here was warmer, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and dew-soaked grass. It was a stark contrast to the cool, crisp air of Velaris. The scenery stretched wide and golden, with rolling hills and distant, gleaming spires that marked the capital’s direction.

Azriel turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Ready for the next part?”

You nodded, but your breath caught slightly when he stepped closer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, one arm beneath your knees and the other across your back, lifting you effortlessly.

The proximity was overwhelming. You could feel the warmth of his chest through his clothing, the steady strength in his arms. Every rational thought seemed to vanish, replaced by the hammering of your heart.

“Hold on,” he instructed, his voice calm but with an undertone of something softer. You looped your arms around his neck hesitantly, trying not to focus on how close you were.

With a powerful beat of his wings, you were airborne. The wind rushed past, cool and invigorating, as the ground fell away beneath you. The sky stretched wide and endless, painted with hues of orange and gold from the rising sun. The land below was breathtaking—patches of farmland, rivers winding like silver ribbons, and forests blanketed in mist.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Azriel glanced down at you briefly, a flicker of something—perhaps a smile—crossing his lips. “It is.”

Despite the tension in your chest, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty around you. For a moment, the awkwardness and your internal conflict faded, replaced by the simple awe of the journey. The world seemed peaceful from up here, a far cry from the responsibilities and burdens that waited below.

The journey to the Dawn Court felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment. As Azriel’s arms held you securely, you tried to focus on the scenery—the rolling hills, dense forests, and shimmering rivers below. But no matter how hard you concentrated, you couldn’t fully tune out the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat against your ear.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been carried like this. Cassian and others had flown you on various occasions, but this time felt different. Perhaps it was because Azriel’s hold was firm yet careful, or because the bond you were trying so hard to ignore pulsed faintly, reminding you of its existence with every beat of his heart. You clenched your jaw and willed yourself to stay focused. This was a professional trip, nothing more.

Azriel didn’t speak, his silence a double-edged sword. It meant you didn’t have to engage in awkward conversation, but it also left you alone with your thoughts—a dangerous thing when you were trying not to acknowledge how close you were. The wind rushed around you, cool and biting, and you leaned slightly into his warmth despite yourself.

Hours passed in that silence, the scenery changing gradually as the Dawn Court came into view. The closer you got, the more the tension in your body grew, not from nerves about the meeting, but from the sheer effort it took to keep your mind from wandering.

Finally, the grand spires of the Dawn Court’s palace appeared on the horizon, their pale stone glowing softly in the golden light of the setting sun. Relief flooded you at the sight, and the moment Azriel landed and released you, it felt as though you were finally able to breathe after holding it in for far too long.

You stepped away from him, smoothing down your clothes and casting a quick glance at the palace ahead. It was every bit as grand as you remembered, and the familiar sight brought a small smile to your lips. For a moment, the tension from the journey eased, replaced by nostalgia for the times you’d spent here in years past.

“Let's go?” Azriel asked, his voice steady but laced with a hint of curiosity as he watched you take in the view.

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair back from your face. “Let’s go. We’re already late as it is.”

The spires of the Dawn Court’s palace gleamed in the evening light, their pale stone catching the last golden rays of the sun. The grandeur of the palace was undeniable, with its wide marble steps leading to intricately carved doors and lush gardens brimming with fragrant blooms. As you and Azriel approached, a familiar figure emerged to greet you.

Your old teacher, Healer Talyen, stood at the top of the steps, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly before softening into a smile. “Y/N,” she called, her voice carrying a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed. “And I presume this is your escort?” Her gaze flicked to Azriel, who inclined his head politely.

“Talyen,” you greeted, your voice light despite the lingering tension from the long journey. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry we’re arriving so late—there were some... delays.”

“No need for apologies,” Talyen assured you, gesturing for you both to ascend the steps. “The important thing is that you’ve arrived safely. Though next time, perhaps a bit more haste.” She gave you a pointed look that was softened by the faint twitch of amusement at her lips.

Two servants stepped forward, bowing slightly before offering to take your belongings. You handed them your travel bag, murmuring a quick thanks, while Azriel only released his pack after a moment of hesitation, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings.

“We’ve prepared everything for your stay,” Talyen continued as you reached her. “The High Lord sends his regrets for not greeting you personally, but he’ll see you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll ensure you’re settled.”

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, glancing at Azriel, who remained quiet but vigilant. “This is Azriel, by the way. He’s here to ensure I don’t get into too much trouble.”

“An impossible task, I’m sure,” Talyen quipped, her tone dry but affectionate. Azriel’s lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, though his usual stoic demeanor didn’t falter.

She led you both into the palace, where the grandeur continued—polished floors, high ceilings adorned with delicate murals, and soft lighting that bathed everything in a warm glow. The servants trailed behind, their footsteps barely audible as they carried your things.

Eventually, Talyen paused at a hallway branching off into a quieter wing. She gestured to one of the doors. “Y/N, this will be your room. I hope you find it comfortable.”

You stepped forward, nodding your thanks before turning to Azriel. To your surprise, he moved to follow you inside, but one of the servants stepped forward, her expression polite but firm.

“Sir,” she said, bowing slightly, “your quarters are in the guest wing. Allow me to escort you.”

Azriel’s brows drew together in a brief frown, his confusion clear. “I’d prefer to stay close to the person I’m escorting.”

You touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention. “It’s alright,” you said softly, offering a reassuring smile. “We’ll see each other tomorrow. There’s no need to worry.”

His hazel eyes searched yours for a moment, as though weighing the validity of your reassurance. Finally, he nodded, though the furrow in his brow didn’t completely smooth. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

“I’ll be fine,” you promised, your tone firm but kind. “Get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment longer before allowing the servant to lead him away. You watched him go, his wings shifting slightly as he walked, before turning back to Talyen, who was watching the exchange with a curious gleam in her eyes.

“Still as protective as ever, I see,” she remarked dryly, before pushing open the door to your room. “Come. Let’s get you settled.”

The morning sun poured through the tall windows of your room, bathing the grand space in a warm, golden light. You were seated on one of the cushioned chairs by the small reading nook, going over your notes for the meeting. The room itself was a masterpiece of elegance and comfort. A canopy bed with silken drapes dominated one side, while intricately carved furniture in soft pastels and gold accents filled the rest of the space. The walls were painted in delicate shades of cream and blush, adorned with murals depicting serene landscapes. A fireplace in the corner crackled softly, adding a gentle warmth to the crisp morning air.

The balcony doors stood ajar, letting in a faint breeze that carried the floral scent of the palace gardens. Potted plants lined the corners of the room, their leaves vibrant and full of life, making the space feel alive, almost as if it breathed with you. The familiarity of it all brought a quiet comfort—you had lived here for years during your time at the Dawn Court, and every corner of the room held a memory.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your focus. Setting your notes aside, you stood and opened it to find Azriel standing there, his expression neutral but his gaze curious as he glanced past you into the room.

“You have time?” he asked.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. His sharp eyes scanned the room as he walked in, taking in the sheer grandeur of it all. He turned to you, his brow raising slightly. “Even my room at the House of Wind isn’t this good.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “This was the room I stayed in when I worked here. They always keep it for me when I visit.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on the fireplace, the plush seating, and the gilded detailing on the walls. “It’s... impressive. Feels lived in.”

“It probably does,” you admitted, sitting back down and motioning for him to take a seat. “I spent years here. It’s strange how easily it feels like stepping back into an old life.”

Azriel hummed in response, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he sat in one of the chairs. “So,” he began, leaning forward slightly, “you said each head healer will be here. I assume you’ve worked with all of them before?”

You nodded, rifling through your notes. “Yes. Some trained me, some I’ve trained. Others, I’ve collaborated with on projects. Each court has its unique challenges, but we’ve built a good network over the years.” You went on to explain the specifics—who the healers were, their areas of expertise, and the dynamics between them. Azriel asked a few pointed questions, his sharp mind clearly piecing together the broader implications of what you shared.

When the conversation wrapped up, the two of you left the room and made your way to the meeting hall. The corridors of the palace were grand yet serene, the marble floors reflecting the soft light streaming in from the high arched windows. Your steps echoed faintly as you approached the double doors of the meeting room.

The meeting room was already abuzz with quiet conversation as you and Azriel stepped through the tall doors. The moment your presence was noticed, the chatter paused, and heads turned toward you. A wide smile broke across the face of Veras, the healer from the Winter Court, his imposing figure softened by the warmth in his icy-blue eyes. He stood and crossed the room to greet you, his snow-white braids swinging slightly as he moved.

"Y/N! You haven’t changed a bit," he said, his voice booming with delight. He clasped your hand in both of his, the chill of his skin familiar but oddly comforting. "It’s been far too long."

“Veras,” you replied with a smile, squeezing his hand. “Still as loud as ever, I see. And just as punctual.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I couldn’t miss the chance to see you try to herd this lot again.”

Behind him, a slender figure with sun-kissed skin and a radiant smile approached. Farah, the healer of the Day Court, held out her hands to you. “Y/N, my dear. It’s been years,” she said warmly, her golden hair shimmering like spun sunlight.

“Farah,” you greeted, embracing her briefly. “I’ve missed our talks. I hope you’ve brought more stories to share.”

Farah’s laughter was as bright as her court’s eternal sunshine. “Always.”

Azriel lingered near the doorway, his sharp gaze taking in the room’s dynamics as you moved from one familiar face to the next.

From the Autumn Court, Rordan stood, his fiery-red hair and piercing amber eyes as striking as ever. He was more reserved than the others, but his nod of acknowledgment carried a quiet respect. “Y/N,” he said, his deep voice measured. “Your presence here is a relief. The state of things has been... precarious.”

“It’s good to see you, Rordan,” you replied, your tone equally steady. “We’ll address everything soon.”

As you moved to greet the last person present, Azriel’s attention sharpened. A graceful woman with rich brown skin and hazel eyes that gleamed with intelligence stepped forward. Dressed in elegant light blue robes adorned with intricate ocean patterns, she radiated a quiet strength.

“Amara,” you said with a warm smile, reaching for her hands. “It’s been far too long.”

“It truly has,” Amara, the healer from the Summer Court, replied. Her voice was calm and soothing, carrying an authority that matched yours. “Though I must admit, I wasn’t sure you’d want to speak to anyone from Summer after all this time.”

You chuckled softly. “That was a lifetime ago. And besides, it’s hard to hold a grudge against someone who’s such a dedicated healer.”

Amara’s lips twitched in amusement. “Dedicated, yes. Though some might say stubborn.”

Azriel lingered by the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. Then, a cheerful voice cut through the pleasant hum of conversation.

“Y/N!”

The exuberant call startled Azriel, and his hand instinctively went to Truth-Teller’s hilt, his shadows coiling protectively.

Azriel, observing from the doorway, was struck by her resemblance to what could only be described as a blend of Tamlin, a dwarf, and an overly excited child.

“Y/N!” she called again, weaving her way through the gathered healers with surprising speed. Her voice was bright, but not overly dramatic. When she reached you, she threw her arms around you in a firm, friendly hug.

“You’ve been avoiding us, haven’t you?” she asked, pulling back to fix you with a mock-stern look.

You laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t say avoiding. Just… busy Lila.”

“Busy, huh? That’s what they all say,” she replied with a knowing grin. “Well, you’re here now, so we’ll take it.”

Her attention flicked briefly to Azriel, who stood quietly near the door, his shadows swirling faintly around him. “And who’s this?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“This is Azriel,” you introduced, gesturing toward him. “Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Lila’s eyes widened slightly, her curiosity piqued. “A spymaster? That’s certainly a first for one of our meetings. Welcome,” she said to Azriel, her tone warm and sincere.

Azriel inclined his head politely, his expression neutral. “Thank you.”

Lila turned back to you, her grin returning. “Well, you’ve brought interesting company this time, Y/N. I hope he’s ready for all the endless discussions.”

“He’s here for the diplomatic part,” you replied with a smirk. “Not the gossips.”

Amara, from the Summer Court, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a soft laugh. “Lila, don’t scare the poor man off before we even start.”

“Who, me?” Lila said, feigning innocence before rolling her eyes dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave. For now.”

Amara studied him for a moment before offering a small smile. “I hope the Night Court knows how lucky they are to have her.”

“We do,” Azriel replied smoothly, his shadows curling faintly around him.

As you exchanged pleasantries, Azriel’s sharp ears caught snippets of your conversation. He noted how each healer seemed genuinely pleased to see you, their respect for you clear in their words and body language. It was a side of you he hadn’t fully seen before—a leader among peers, effortlessly commanding attention and admiration.

With that, you moved to your seat at the head of the table, the others following suit. The atmosphere shifted as everyone settled in, their expressions turning serious. The warmth of reunions gave way to the gravity of the matters at hand.

The meeting had officially begun.

The long, oval table in the center of the room surrounded by Prythian’s head healers. Scrolls, notebooks, and maps were spread across its surface, a testament to the immense preparation that had gone into this gathering. You stood at the head of the table, your presence commanding yet approachable, as you guided the room with a steady hand.

“We all know why we’re here,” you began, your tone firm but inviting. “The rising tensions across Prythian demand that we not only adapt but collaborate more closely than ever. This meeting isn’t just about exchanging updates—it’s about finding solutions together.”

Azriel, leaning against the wall near the door, observed the scene intently. Unlike the high lords’ meetings, where every word was a potential weapon, this room felt alive with trust and purpose.

You scanned the faces around the table, meeting each pair of eyes with quiet assurance. “Let’s start with updates from each court,” you said, your quill poised to take notes. “Veras, if you don’t mind going first.”

The Winter Court healer, Veras, nodded and began. “This winter has been particularly harsh, unusually harsh. Hard to say why but we have never in the history of the court been confronted to this type of intense weather. Frostbite cases have increased dramatically, and our healers are stretched thin. Supplies, particularly warming salves, are running low.”

“Veras,” interjected Taylen the dawn healer, his tone thoughtful, “We have been working with Y/N on a modified salve recipe that combines herbs from the Day and Spring Courts. It’s more potent and lasts longer. We’ll ensure the instructions are sent to you, and if you need additional supplies, Y/N should be able to arrange a shipment from the Night Court’s stores.”

Veras smiled warmly, his icy-blue eyes glinting with gratitude. “That would make a world of difference. Thank you.”

You turned your attention to Rordan from the Autumn Court. “Rordan, what’s the situation at the borders?”

Rordan leaned forward, his amber eyes sharp. “Refugees continue to flood into Autumn’s territory, and the strain on our resources is significant. Infections are becoming more common in overcrowded areas. Beron’s influence and desisions are making things hard to deal with, we are short staffed since the war and the epidemic of the last century still lingers on us.”

“I’ve anticipated this,” you said, nodding. “I’ve set up a preliminary exchange network to direct supplies where they’re most needed. Amara from the Summer Court has agreed to prioritize shipments for border regions.”

Amara, seated nearby, nodded in agreement. “That’s correct. We’ll ensure the process runs smoothly.”

Rordan inclined his head. “Thank you. That will help.”

You shifted the focus to Farah of the Day Court. “Farah, any updates on the research you mentioned during our last correspondence?”

Farah smiled brightly, her sun-kissed skin glowing. “We’ve developed a new stamina-boosting salve that’s been highly effective in our soldiers. I’d like to propose expanding our research exchange.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” you replied. “If you could share your findings with the group, we’ll incorporate them into training programs across the courts.”

Farah’s smile widened. “Consider it done.”

You continued to guide the discussion, ensuring that each healer had the opportunity to share their concerns and contribute to the solutions being crafted. When Lila from the Spring Court enthusiastically interjected with an offer to assist with refugee care, you smoothly incorporated her suggestion into the larger plan, balancing her energy with the room’s more reserved members.

Azriel watched as you moved seamlessly through the conversation, posing pointed questions, weighing options, and ensuring that every voice was heard. There was a rhythm to your leadership—a balance of authority and collaboration that drew the best out of everyone at the table.

He sat quietly at the edge of the room, observing the meeting unfold with a mix of fascination and quiet disbelief. The contrast between this gathering of healers and the high lords' meetings was staggering. Where the high lords were often burdened by tension, suspicion, and ego, here, there was trust, cooperation, and a sense of mutual respect that seemed almost surreal.

You led the conversation with ease, seamlessly guiding the flow of ideas and ensuring that everyone had a chance to contribute. Questions were posed with precision, decisions discussed openly, and even disagreements were handled with an air of professionalism and care. Azriel noted the dynamic—it wasn’t that you commanded the room with dominance; rather, you drew the best out of everyone present. It was deeply impressive.

One of the guards from the Winter Court caught Azriel’s eye. The male had also been present at the last high lord meeting, and his expression mirrored Azriel’s thoughts: surprise and admiration at how smoothly everything was running.

Amidst the deliberations, Azriel felt the familiar tug of Rhysand’s presence in his mind. The High Lord’s voice, calm but probing, reached him. How are things going? Are you both all right? How’s the meeting?

Azriel’s eyes flicked briefly toward you before answering. We’re fine. The meeting is... He hesitated, glancing again at the harmony in the room. It’s going better than expected. Almost too well.

Rhysand chuckled in response. Maybe I should have Y/N lead the next high lords’ meeting. Might go smoother.

A faint smile tugged at Azriel’s lips, but it was fleeting. He could feel Rhysand trying to bridge the tension between them again, a faint note of apology threading through their mental link.

Azriel, Rhysand began, his tone softer now. I—

Not now, Azriel cut him off, his tone firm as he closed his mind once more. This isn’t the moment.

The tension lingered, but Azriel pushed it aside, refocusing on the room before him. After a while, you called for a much-needed break, allowing the healers to step away and recharge. Azriel followed you as you moved toward the refreshments, the quiet clinking of glasses punctuating the subdued conversations around the room.

As you poured yourself a drink, he approached, his curiosity finally breaking through his usual restraint. “You seem to know all of them well,” he said, his voice low but tinged with genuine interest. “How did that come about?”

You glanced at him, a small smile forming as you gestured for him to take a drink as well. “It’s a long story,” you replied, leaning lightly against the counter. “But I’ve been in this role for a long time, even if not officially. I kind of always knew that at some point in my life I would take Madja’s place in the night court and I’ve been helping her for centuries with this.”

Azriel waited patiently, sensing that you were gathering your thoughts. Finally, you began to explain.

“The healers from the Dawn Court, Winter Court, and Summer Court trained me when I was younger,” you said. “They were the first courts I visited when I left the Night Court. I was still learning, eager to take in everything I could. They saw potential in me, but they also taught me discipline and perspective.”

Your gaze drifted across the room to the healer from the Spring Court, who was animatedly discussing something with her counterparts. “The healers from the Autumn, Day, and Spring Courts, on the other hand, were trained by me at some point. Lila is the youngest here, but I’ve never seen someone as motivated and talented as her. She’s incredible, really.”

Azriel took a sip of his drink, processing your words. “And the difference between this group and the High Lords?”

You met his gaze, your expression thoughtful. “The difference,” you began slowly, “is that while the High Lords and we both aim to take care of our courts, we’ve accepted that sometimes, you need help from others. And we didn’t inherit these positions. None of us are here because we were ‘meant’ to be. We fought for our places, proved we deserved them.”

Your eyes scanned the room, a quiet pride evident in your voice as you continued. “We come from different backgrounds. Some of us started with nothing; others faced challenges you couldn’t imagine. But we earned our roles. That shared struggle builds trust. It creates a foundation that the high lords—despite their power—sometimes lack.”

Azriel studied you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling over him. There was no arrogance in your tone, no superiority—only honesty and conviction. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the truth in what you’d said.

The meeting had resumed with renewed energy after the break, and the hours slipped by as plans were solidified, discussions wrapped up, and solutions were agreed upon. Azriel, still leaning near the doorway, noted the seamless way you handled even the most challenging topics, your leadership shining through in every word and gesture.

As the meeting reached its conclusion, the grand doors to the hall opened, and a new presence filled the room. All eyes turned toward the High Lord of the Dawn Court himself, Thesan, who entered with a graceful stride and a warm smile.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Thesan said, his golden robes shimmering under the light. “I thought I might take a moment to greet everyone.”

The room murmured its welcome, but Thesan’s attention quickly shifted to you. His smile widened, and without hesitation, he crossed the room to greet you with a hug, his hand lingering briefly on your back as he stepped away.

“Y/N,” he said warmly. “It’s been far too long.”

You smiled, the ease and familiarity in your expression matching his. “It has, Thesan. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to drop in.”

“For you? Always,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with a genuine affection that felt... intimate.

Azriel’s sharp gaze flicked between the two of you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders. He couldn’t name the sensation curling in his chest—it wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the sight of Thesan’s hand resting on your back, his tone so effortlessly warm, made something in Azriel tighten. He gripped the hilt of Truth-Teller at his side, though he didn’t draw it, the cool leather grounding him.

Thesan turned to Azriel then, his expression polite but curious. “Spymaster of the Night Court,” he said, extending a hand. “It’s an honor.”

Azriel shook his hand, his grip firm. “High Lord,” he acknowledged, his voice neutral, though his shadows betrayed the flicker of unease still swirling within him.

Thesan’s attention returned to you. “We’ll talk more later, Y/N. But for now, I’ll leave you all to your work.”

He gave you one last smile before departing, leaving a faint hum of energy in his wake. As Thesan left, his golden robes sweeping elegantly behind him, Azriel’s shadows seemed to grow darker around him. He couldn’t explain the irritation bubbling beneath the surface, but watching Thesan’s easy rapport with you—his hand lingering on your back, the casual way he spoke to you—left an uncomfortable knot in Azriel’s chest. 

The day continued with a final wrap-up of the meeting, logistics being finalized, and farewells exchanged among the healers. Azriel stayed close by, observing quietly as you navigated the post-meeting conversations with ease. 

The group began to disperse, each healer carrying their scrolls and notes with an air of purpose. You turned to Azriel, who had been watching the proceedings with a mix of admiration and curiosity. The weight of the day’s discussions lingered, but there was a certain calm in the room now, a sense of accomplishment.

Before stepping toward your room, you paused and glanced at Azriel. “You’ve never been to the Dawn Court capital, have you?”

Azriel shook his head, his shadows curling faintly around him. “No. My work rarely brings me here.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Well, you’re in for a treat. The last rays of the sun are about to set over the city, and the view is stunning. Afterward, we could take a stroll through the streets. The city comes alive at night, and there are some places worth seeing.”

Azriel tilted his head slightly, considering your offer. “Are you sure you have the energy for this? You’ve been running the meeting all day.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Besides, a little fresh air will do us both some good. Meet me at the entrance of the palace in fifteen minutes?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, you headed toward your quarters to freshen up, your mind already wandering to the peaceful streets and glowing lanterns that awaited. The thought of seeing the city you once knew so well, with someone new by your side, felt oddly comforting.

Azriel leaned against the marble column near the entrance of the palace, his shadows swirling faintly around him as he waited for you. The last rays of the sun cast a warm glow over the gilded tiles and intricate carvings of the Dawn Court palace, a serene contrast to the conversation he couldn’t help but overhear.

Two healers, young and seemingly unaware of his presence, were chatting in hushed voices that carried just enough for him to hear.

“Yes, she’s the head healer of the Night Court now,” one of them said with a sly laugh. “Do you think she’s going to screw this High Lord too? Maybe Thesan wasn’t enough.”

The other snickered, lowering her voice but not enough. “I heard she even turned him down when he proposed. Can you believe that? The audacity.”

“Right?” the first added. “I mean, she was a total mess when she arrived here. Thesan’s generosity only goes so far, but it seems like she took full advantage of him.”

Azriel’s chest tightened. The male you had spoken about in your story—that had been Thesan. But it wasn’t just that revelation that struck him; it was the way they spoke about you, as though your strength and success were something to diminish.

And then, the second one dropped her voice further, but not enough to escape his sharp hearing. “Do you know why she was a mess? She’s half Illyrian, you know. Heard her wings were clipped before she came here. Left for dead in the snow after... It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

Azriel’s shadows recoiled and then tightened around him like a second skin as he processed what he had just heard. His jaw clenched, and his hand twitched toward Truth-Teller’s hilt, his instincts screaming at him to intervene, to protect, even though the situation had already spiraled into a storm of its own. His eyes flicked to you as you approached, your posture radiating calm authority, though the smirk tugging at your lips told him you were about to unleash a verbal strike that would cut deeper than any blade.

“Was it a miracle?” you asked, your voice carrying an icy undertone that made even Azriel’s shadows still.

The two healers turned toward you, their faces draining of color as recognition hit them. Azriel noticed the way your eyes glinted, not with fury, but with something far more dangerous—control. You weren’t reacting; you were calculating.

The healers exchanged panicked glances, their mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. One of them, a slender female with auburn hair, mustered what little defiance she could and stammered, “We’re not under your command.”

Your smirk widened ever so slightly, a calculated tilt of your head accentuating the sharpness in your gaze. “No,” you said, your voice smooth as silk but no less lethal, “but you are under the command of Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court. A High Lord who values discretion, professionalism, and respect—qualities you seem to lack.”

Azriel noticed the faint twitch in the corner of your mouth as you paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. The two healers visibly shrank under your gaze, their earlier bravado crumbling.

You took a deliberate step closer, your voice dropping into something quieter but far more menacing. “Gossiping about a patient’s private life in the palace, of all places, is not only unprofessional but also disgraceful.”

The auburn-haired healer looked like she might collapse under the weight of your words, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. The other, a taller male, attempted to speak, but his voice cracked before he could form a coherent response.

Without giving them a chance to recover, you added, your smirk returning, “And while you’re correct that you don’t answer to me, I’d be very curious to hear how Thesan might respond if I were to inform him of this little... lapse in judgment.”

Azriel almost laughed at the way the two healers stiffened, their defiance extinguished. Instead, he stepped slightly closer to you, his shadows curling protectively at his feet, silently reinforcing your authority.

Then, with the same sardonic ease, you added, “Considering I fucked Thesan so well, I’m fairly certain he’d follow my orders without hesitation.”

Azriel blinked, taken aback by your brazenness. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his face neutral, though his shadows flickered as if sharing in his surprise. The two healers were stunned into silence, their wide-eyed expressions frozen as though they’d been caught in a trap.

You turned sharply on your heel, leaving no room for rebuttal, and said firmly, “Let’s go, Azriel.”

He followed immediately, his steps measured, but his mind raced as he replayed the scene. The ease with which you had dismantled the situation, the confidence laced with just the right amount of menace—it left him both impressed and slightly awed. Yet, beneath it all, he couldn’t shake the ache of what he’d overheard.

As you walked, he caught your profile in the fading light. The smirk had softened into something quieter, almost reflective. Azriel’s own emotions churned, a tangled mix of anger on your behalf and admiration for how you had handled yourself. He didn’t speak, not yet, but the urge to say something—to acknowledge your strength or offer some form of comfort—gnawed at him.

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[velvetbeeez]

୨ৎ 𝓣he 𝓝arnian 𝓒ourt ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The court is everything you’d expect. It’s dreamy, where every moment feels like a soft haze of colors, magic, and an odd, beautiful vernorexia…There's an air of surreal charm in the corridors—where the light filters through the icy windows of Cair Paravel. There is always a beautiful symphony playing from a distance…no one could tell if it’s the birds or just the royal musician.

Life is draped in curtains of soft pinks and pale blues, the vibes are obviously inspired by Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. Everything is soft, everything so delicate, something straight out of a mid-day reverie born during a very insipid maths class. But, the Narnian court however much may it coruscate under the incandescent light of purity and love is not without gossip and schemes…because where there is flaw, there is fun.

It is this resplendent mix of regal elegance and quirky charm. There's an ethereal vibe, like everything is a bit out of a dream, mingling serious matters of state with well, meretriciously swimming and giggling with the Pevensie siblings in the great Narnian sea that floats before the castle.  The courtiers are strange characters, each a little more eccentric, but also wrapped in warmth and mischief, but not real malice. Even the fauns and centaurs are strangely... elegant?

Every day is another opportunity for a highfalutin show of extraordinarily designed and embroidered outfits. Here even the most ridiculously matched clothing is gaped at. Ordinary is the biggest insult of all…a paradise indeed.

Magic oozes off the walls, the same walls that breathe and are alive, the floors carry an irrefragable charm and knowingness…

My day slides by as smooth as butter on a hot pan. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

₊˚⊹♡ 𝓘 wake up mid being crushed in the arms of my husband, Edmund…I look at his sleeping face and I know I am content, I know I am where I am meant to be, in his arms, in his heart…

The ever brooding King now radiates the subtle confidence of someone who has found peace. He's regal, but not in the stiff, formal way but there’s a warmth to him, a playful, mirthful spark in his eyes that radiates mischief with his every blink. He wears his resplendent crown on his brow as he wears his sarcasm, just as effortlessly.

We waltz around royal duties and stolen moments where we meet in corridors and gardens where nothing matters but the two of us, where he leans over and whispers with the most deadpan expression about the most absurd things, making me laugh until we end up with our stomachs aching.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

⟡ ݁₊ . 𝓐nd oh, the feasts—so much food. It's a never-ending parade of luxurious treats that somehow feel entirely homemade, magic being the special ingredient. The table groans under the weight of pastries, chocolates, and fruits straight from the enchanted forests, I giggle with Lucy, as we sneak a bit of honeyed wine when no one’s looking.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

⋆. 𐙚 𝓣hen there is the daily picnic in the gardens with Susan where we gossip about the court while eating chocolate soaked strawberries as our giggles mix into a melody famously called girlhood. We share secrets, I of Edmund, she of her enormous queue of suitors, whom we make fun of together. It’s more magical than even magic can be. She’s after all, my favorite Pevensie (don’t tell Edmund).

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

✶⋆.˚ 𝓒ouncil meetings come next, where Peter glares and taunts at me because he is still wary of my intentions with his little brother, like bitch chill???? But I understand that it is nothing personal just his overprotective paranoid superman complexed brother persona oozing out of him. But spoiler alert: I do grow on him later on. This rivalry is just for the plot.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

𝓝ow to conclude, the Narnian court is a soft blur, a tranquil soft blur, dreamlike but somehow so vivid and real. It is the little things like how Edmund’s eyes light up when he says something ridiculous or how Lucy despite being the youngest seems to have an air of knowingness about her, how Susan glances at me and rolls her eyes when one of her suitors approaches her or how Peter always seeks valiantly out for his siblings no matter what, that makes Narnia, Narnia…that makes our rule the golden age…where even the most ordinary things sparkle

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

Heavily inspired by the most talented @hrrtshape's this post ˚ . ★⋆.

[thedensworld]

Perfect Pairing | C.Sc

Pairing: Mafia Seungcheol! x Agent Reader

Genre: Action, suggestive, slow burn

Words Count: 12k

Summary: Mafia Seungcheol has to face a fact that he found his bestfriend's long-searched sister. However she is a NIS agent who was ordered to terminate him.

Author Note: BOO! It's been a long time since the last time i left a note hehe.. Here's another Seungcheol's action ff because y'all love it, i love it, and we love strong-masculine but gentle Seungcheol 👉👈 i just wanna say thank you very much for all the support you guys has been given to me. I'll work harder to make a better story in the future. Love you all🤍

Seungcheol sat on the plush couch, his eyes fixed on the figure sprawled across his bed. She was the only one, aside from himself, who had the privilege of laying there. Yet, the questions that loomed large were 'Who is she?' and 'Why had she ended up in his club, drugged and unconscious?' 

For Seungcheol, it was routine to make the rounds, keeping a watchful eye over his nightclubs. He was the guardian, determined to shield his establishments from any foul play. He harbored no forgiveness for those who dared to tarnish what he considered his babies – his clubs. So, when he stumbled upon the woman, tucked away in a corner near the office, his suspicions flared. Her state, drugged and vulnerable, was the last thing Seungcheol wanted associated with his club.

"Who is she?" Seungcheol's voice cut through the air, halting his steps. He turned to fix his gaze on the manager, who fidgeted under his scrutinizing stare. Joshua, Seungcheol's right-hand man, approached the woman and confirmed their worst fear.

"I think she's just a lost customer, sir. We'll take care of her," the manager hurriedly explained, already signaling the staff to attend to her.

But Seungcheol wasn't ready to let it end there. He took a deliberate step forward, his pulse quickening as he locked eyes with a face that stirred something within him. The words caught in his throat, his astonishment rendering him momentarily speechless. Joshua, sensing a shift in his boss's demeanor, followed Seungcheol's gaze to the woman's face. Surprise registered in Joshua's eyes, prompting him to act swiftly.

"We'll take care of her," Joshua instructed the manager, while signaling Seungcheol's bodyguard to prepare to transport her. The pieces of this unexpected puzzle were falling into place, painting a picture that Seungcheol hadn't foreseen, Yoon Jeonghan's sister. 

Yoon Jeonghan, Seungcheol's steadfast companion, had been inseparable from him and Joshua since their high school days. Five years prior, a tragic twist of fate claimed Jeonghan's life in a deadly rivalry, all for a monumental deal with a club in Seoul. That night, half of the association's spirit seemed to vanish, and Seungcheol couldn't deny the immense role Jeonghan played in his current success. Despite their decade-long friendship, Jeonghan was a mystery to Seungcheol. He knew little about the man, except for the fact that Jeonghan had once mentioned having a younger sister back in their high school days.

"She might be the female version of Yoon Jeonghan," Jeonghan had mused during their time at the Judo club, informed everyone that his sister was a judo athlete. It was a memory that now surfaced in Seungcheol's mind. 

A knock jolted Seungcheol from his reverie. He opened the door to find Joshua standing there, bearing a file brimming with information about the girl they had just brought to the house.

Seungcheol's brow furrowed, concern etched across his face. "When was the last time she met her brother, Jeonghan?" he inquired, a note of urgency in his voice.

Joshua's reply held a solemn weight, "Five years ago, when Jeonghan flew to the States." There was a palpable sense of distance in those words, a span of time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder about the vast expanse of experiences that must have unfolded in those five years. He leaned in, his gaze locked onto Joshua, eager for any shred of insight into the woman's life.

Joshua's voice held a touch of uncertainty as he continued, "She might not know about the business Jeonghan's been doing." It was a possibility that hung heavy in the air, a question mark that loomed over the narrative. Seungcheol's mind raced, concocting scenarios and speculations. Why was she in his club? He couldn't shake the feeling that her presence held significance beyond what met the eye.

Joshua's eyes narrowed as he gestured towards a screen, revealing a CCTV feed. Seungcheol's breath caught as he watched the footage unfold. There she was, stepping into the limited area, a figure shrouded in mystery. But before she could make another move, someone emerged from the shadows, drugging her. Seungcheol saw her being held and strangled before she passed out. Seconds ticked by, the person escaped the area and Seungcheol, Joshua, and the manager's shadows appeared, unknowingly they had failed a crime that almost had taken place in Seungcheol's club.

Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief, grateful that nothing more sinister had occurred within the confines of his club. The weight of what could have been settled heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't help but contemplate the grim possibilities if a murder had taken place under his roof. The thought of imprisonment loomed, as did the fate of those who worked tirelessly under him.

With a determined look, Seungcheol turned to Joshua. "Find out more about the person who drugged her," he instructed, his voice steady. "I need to understand the connection, and why she ended up in our club in the first place."

Joshua's response was accompanied by a respectful bow, his demeanor exuding poise and unwavering focus. He left Seungcheol to his contemplations, striding off to untangle the enigmatic threads of this puzzling situation. With a gentle smile, Joshua mentioned that everyone was gathering for dinner, extending an invitation to Seungcheol. 

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Seungcheol politely declined, choosing to venture forth on his own.

After what felt like an eternity, a sudden thud echoed from outside, followed by an abrupt blackout. Seungcheol's heart raced, propelling him from his seat towards the desk where he had stashed his gun. The suspense hung heavy in the air, each passing moment pregnant with anticipation.

Seungcheol moved cautiously, stepping outside to investigate. He caught a fleeting glimpse of figures entering his penthouse. Gritting his teeth, he pressed himself into the shadows, keenly eavesdropping on their conversation. 

"I'm sure, he's here!" One of them said as they were certain Seungcheol was his place, and the others were preparing for dinner. 

Seungcheol deliberated, mentally counting their numbers. Four. After much contemplation, he acted swiftly, firing two shots that sent two of them scrambling for cover.

"Shit, who's that?" a voice exclaimed in surprise.

As another figure approached, Seungcheol didn't hesitate, striking with deadly precision. Seungcheol took a step, a dragon tattoo adorned their hand, a clear mark of Kanga's handiwork. The rival association had been a thorn in his side for years, the one who had killed Jeonghan.

Suddenly, the icy touch of metal pressed against Seungcheol's temple. "Choi Seungcheol, I've got you," the assailant whispered.

"Kanga's the one who sent you, isn't it?" Seungcheol inquired calmly.

A chuckle escaped the stranger before he retorted, "Whoever sent me definitely wanted you dead."

Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle too. "Yeah, heard that from the previous people they had sent before. Guess what? They had failed." With a swift motion, he disarmed the assailant.

Punches flew, relentless and unforgiving. Seungcheol didn't give his opponent a chance to respond. But in his focused assault, he failed to notice what transpired next—a gunshot rang out.

 

*

 

You jolted, heart pounding, as the two gunshots pierced the darkness. The inky blackness enveloped you, exacerbating the headache, likely from whatever Seo Myungho had injected into your body. Did he succeed? The thought of your demise hung heavy. But if he failed, you were alive, albeit barely.

Your hand fumbled towards the pistol stashed on your inner thigh, a wave of relief washing over you as you found it intact. It had been your lifeline since that encounter with Myungho in Seungcheol's club.

"Seo Myungho, that son of a bitch," you seethed, memory flooding back. The betrayal cut deep, after a decade of unwavering dedication, sacrificing family, friends, and any semblance of a normal life. The country had turned its back on you. They betrayed you.

Steeling yourself, you descended from the bed, moving toward the commotion outside. Moonlight filtered through, casting a pallid glow. Amidst the shadows, you witnessed a fierce altercation. One man pummeled another, while a third sat poised, gun trained on the scene. Your instincts took over, aiming for the armed figure and firing, the shot tearing through his arm. 

The other man's gaze locked onto you, and recognition flickered in his eyes. Choi Seungcheol. The very man you had studied meticulously for this mission, only to realize it was a deadly mission targeting you, a mission to distract you and terminate you.

"Yoon Y/n," Seungcheol's voice cut through the tension, surprising you. He knew your real name. With deliberate grace, he released the lifeless figure he'd pummeled and advanced toward you. Instinctively, you took a step back, your gun trained on him.

He called your name again, this time coupled with another - Yoon Jeonghan.

"You're Yoon Jeonghan's sister, aren't you?" he inquired, his gaze flitting from his bruised knuckles to your face. You felt your back press against the wall as you continued to retreat, his presence closing in.

"How do you know?" you demanded, your grip on the gun steady. But you didn't notice as he skillfully disarmed you. The drugs Myungho administered began to take their toll again, sapping your strength. You slumped to the floor, powerless against it.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's concern was palpable, his eyes locked onto yours. The soothing timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could muster a response, a surge of people barged into the room, casting a blinding cascade of light.

"What's going on?" A man's voice cut through the chaos, clearly taken aback by the grim tableau before him - blood spattered across the floor, Seungcheol sheltering you in the corner.

Joshua, the name Seungcheol had mentioned, approached, drawing Seungcheol's gaze as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Kanga sent them. How dare he invade my place!"

"You're awake. Why is she here?" Joshua's eyes narrowed, noticing you weakly cradled in Seungcheol's arms. You wondered how he knew you too.

Seungcheol let out a sigh, "She shot one of the men and saved me. Could you take her to the bedroom? I need to talk with the others." With gentle care, he helped you rise and passed you into Joshua's custody.

As Joshua guided you towards the bedroom, Seungcheol's voice echoed from beyond the door, seething with frustration, "WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU GOING?! WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE— " The words reverberated, tinged with urgency and anger.

You regarded Joshua, his demeanor seemingly acquainted with this kind of scene. He gently settled you on the bed and inquired if you needed anything.

"Thanks," you politely declined, gnawing at your lip, your mind grappling with how you ended up here.

Joshua's gaze on you was intense, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You're truly a female version of Jeonghan," he remarked, a warm smile gracing his features.

"How do you know my brother?" you questioned, struck by the contrast between Joshua's aura and Seungcheol's. Where Seungcheol exuded intimidation, coldness, and territoriality, Joshua emitted a different energy. You shook off your thoughts, reminding yourself this was your first encounter with him, though you had studied images of him for months, they still swirled in your mind.

"We've been friends since high school. We watched your competition once, but after that, Jeonghan never let us go again," Joshua explained. He mentioned your past as a judo athlete, a chapter of your life that had been dormant for over a decade. Did his "we" means him, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol? And was Jeonghan's death connected to the murky business they were involved in? The questions hung heavy in the air.

Joshua struck you as a seemingly affable guy, you mused, recalling details from his profile. Hong Jisoo, but commonly known as Joshua since he hailed from the States. He held the esteemed position of Choi Seungcheol's right hand. His face bore an almost angelic quality, and seeing him in person you could confirmed it. However, his reputation preceded him; he is known for his deft manipulation with words and actions, a key factor in Seungcheol's meteoric rise in the industry. You couldn't help but wonder, was Jeonghan also a part of this world?

"How did I end up here?" you questioned, making a conscious effort to steer clear of any mention of your brother.

"You passed out in front of our office. Seungcheol had a hunch you might be Jeonghan's sister, and he was right. We've been searching for you ever since he... passed away," Joshua's voice trailed off, carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow.

"You were the only family he had, weren't you? Discovering you were truly his sister was quite the surprise," he continued, recounting how many times they had attempted to trace Jeonghan's family after his tragic demise.

Taking a deep breath, Joshua ventured further, asking about your presence at their club the previous night. You hesitated, deliberating whether to divulge everything. Could you truly place your trust in these people? After the events of last night, you have no plans on trusting people. You'd devoted over a decade of your life to serving as a secret agent for the NIS, giving your all for your country, only to be betrayed by sending Seo Myungho to take your life last night. You had been tasked with a mission to apprehend Choi Seungcheol, a businessman suspected of dealings with a dangerous Japanese mafia. Yet, it was a mission built on falsehoods. The complexities of your situation weighed heavily on your mind.

"I was—"

The door burst open, and Seungcheol strode into the room, immediately advancing towards you. He seized the gun you had, aiming it squarely at you. Joshua's startle prompted him to mimic Seungcheol's move, clearly uncertain about his intentions. But you sat there calmly, unruffled by the display, and noticed a smirk playing on Seungcheol's lips. 

"G19 Gen6, not even released yet. How did you get this?" Seungcheol's gaze bore into you, intense and penetrating. He must have some familiarity with firearms; perhaps he had a side business involving them, a detail that had slipped your memory.

"Are you a part of them?" he accused, linking you with Kanga, the well-known rival association.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Afraid you've saved an enemy, Choi Seungcheol?" you taunted, sensing his surprise at your knowledge of his true identity.

Seungcheol didn't respond. Instead, he handed the gun towards Joshua, instructing him to handcuff you. 

"Choi Seungcheol, also known as S.Coups..." You paused, debating whether to reveal your true identity.

"Organized crime, money laundering, fraud. Your knowledge of the G19 Gen6 suggests you're involved in arms trading," you ventured. Earning his trust was crucial now. You needed him to release you so you could slip away from their clutches. You were acutely aware that Seo Myungho was relentless in his pursuit, and they might launch a thorough search for you.

"I'm not your enemy, Seungcheol. I'm nobody to you," you asserted.

He smirked, a glint of interest in his eyes. "So, you've been studying me? Excellent! Tell me more."

You held his gaze, your eyes probing, voice laced with trepidation. "My brother... It was Kanga who took him from us, wasn't it?" The question hung in the air, heavy with its implications. "That's why you were searching for Kang Jaehoon."

Seungcheol settled onto the bed, his expression focused and intent as he studied you. "Who exactly are you?" His words were measured, hinting at a mix of curiosity and caution.

A lump formed in your throat as you weighed the decision to disclose your true identity. It seemed like the key to gaining his trust, perhaps even securing his help to escape the clutches of South Korea. Your hand moved to your bra, retrieving a badge holder that had been carefully tucked away. With a deliberate gesture, you tossed it before him, the emblem of the National Intelligence Service of South Korea gleaming. It bore the title that defined your role there: 'Special Agent.'

"I was on a mission to apprehend you, but it was a misguided attempt to terminate me instead," you admitted, the weight of the revelation palpable in the room. 

Seungcheol's eyes shifted between the badge and your face, a dawning realization painting his features. The room seemed to hold its breath, a charged silence enveloping you both. With a subtle gesture, Seungcheol motioned for Joshua to leave them alone. Respectfully, Joshua bowed and exited the room, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

"You're... NIS?" Seungcheol's voice carried a mix of surprise and suspicion, his brows furrowing as he contemplated the revelation.

You affirmed with a nod, your voice steady despite the weight of the truth. "Yes, I was sent here under false pretenses. They wanted me out of the way, but I never expected they'd go this far." The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air.

A profound silence settled between you, the implications of your revelation settling like stones in a pond. Then, Seungcheol released a resigned sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "This complicates things."

You understood the far-reaching consequences of your admission. "I need your help, Seungcheol. They'll be looking for me. I have to go."

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, searching for sincerity in your eyes. His breath grazed your skin, a palpable intensity in the air. "Are you truly his sister?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

As if lost in thought, he murmured to himself, "You really could be his sister." You observed the turmoil within him, recognizing the weight of this revelation.

With a final sigh, Seungcheol rose from the bed. "Let's discuss this in the morning. Rest, Yoon Y/n." His voice held a gentle authority, a promise of further conversations to come. 

 

*

Seungcheol stood there, the weight of your revelation sinking in, memories flooding his mind. He remembered the last time he held Jeonghan, the pain etched on his face as he bled out from the gunshot wound inflicted by Kanga's people. Jeonghan had looked at him with desperate eyes, gasping for breath, and in those final moments, he had implored Seungcheol to find his sister and take care of her.

The memory was etched into Seungcheol's soul, a haunting echo of a promise made to a dying friend. He had sworn to Jeonghan that he would look after you, protect you. But now, faced with the reality of your presence, uncertainty gnawed at him. Could he trust you? Could he truly believe that you were Jeonghan's sister?

As Seungcheol lay in bed that night, sleep eluded him once again. His dreams were always haunted by Jeonghan's presence, a constant reminder of the debt he owed to his fallen friend. That night was no different. In the depths of his restless slumber, Jeonghan visited him, his ethereal form hovering in the shadows of Seungcheol's subconscious.

"Have you found her, Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's voice was soft, tinged with a sense of longing.

Seungcheol's heart ached. "I don't know, Jeonghan. I'm not sure about her."

When Seungcheol awoke, his body was drenched in sweat, the remnants of the dream clinging to him. The weight of his promise pressed on him, urging him to make a decision about you. He knew he couldn't ignore Jeonghan's final wish any longer. Determined, Seungcheol rose from the bed, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. Seungcheol took a deep breath, steadying himself, as he made his way to the dining room. His crew stood in respectful unison, bowing their heads as he entered. He motioned for them to continue, acknowledging their presence with a nod. His thoughts were still consumed by the revelation from the night before.

"Joshua," Seungcheol inquired, "is she awake?"

Joshua looked up from his meal, his expression calm. "Yes, she's up and had breakfast already."

With a nod of gratitude, Seungcheol left the dining area, heading back to his bedroom, now shared with you. As he approached the door, he felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. 

But when he opened the door, he was met with a sight that took him completely off guard. You stood in the middle of the room, in the process of changing, your back exposed to him. Seungcheol's eyes widened in a, and he immediately averted his gaze, hastily closing the door.

He turned to Joshua, his voice low and incredulous. "Why didn't you tell me she was changing?"

Joshua looked nonplussed, offering a casual shrug. "I thought you might knock."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in bewilderment. "It's my own bedroom. Why would I need to knock?"

Before Joshua could respond, the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side. "I'm done," you mumbled, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Seungcheol swiftly averted his gaze, the atmosphere tingling with an undeniable awkwardness. 

"We need to go," he stated with a sense of urgency, turning to face you. With determined steps, he entered his room as he beeline to his closet. You followed, curiosity knitting your brows.

"Why?" you queried, seeking to understand the sudden need for urgency.

He paused, pivoting his body to meet your gaze, his expression bearing a weighty concern. "It's not safe here," he explained, his words carrying the gravity of a man well-acquainted with danger.

You held his gaze, surprise flickering in your eyes at the sincerity in his tone. "You want to help me?" The question hung between you, a silent plea for confirmation.

Seungcheol's response was a resigned sigh, his shoulders sagging as he grappled with the complexities of the situation. "You want to see me change?" he quipped, a touch of wry humor attempting to diffuse the tension.

You responded with a nonchalant shrug, crossing your arms in a self-assured stance. "You saw me change," you reminded him, a wry smile dancing on your lips. 

Seungcheol couldn't help but notice a glimmer of Jeonghan's personality in your demeanor, though he chose not to comment on it directly. Instead, he proceeded to lay out the plan to leave the penthouse and head to his villa in Jeju. It was a strategic move, combining the need for safety with a business meeting.

"As for the business," you inquired, your tone laced with a hint of sarcasm, "which one are we talking about? Your vast array of illegal enterprises, perhaps?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He didn't appreciate the reminder of his less-than-legal dealings. "You saw me punching the guy last night. I don't exclude women, woman," he warned, his tone laced with a sharp edge.

Your smirk was quick and sharp, a challenge glinting in your eyes. "And you saw me shooting that guy last night," you retorted, refusing to back down, your voice echoing the same defiant spirit.

A timely knock shattered the tension that had settled in the room. Joshua's voice called out your name, signaling that he had something to discuss. You excused yourself to attend to Joshua's call, leaving Seungcheol alone in the room.

Taking the opportunity, Seungcheol set about changing his clothes and assembling his belongings. The task was done with a practiced efficiency, each item packed with purpose. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency, a reminder of the weighty decisions that needed to be made in the face of mounting uncertainties.

As Seungcheol made final adjustments to his belongings, his thoughts raced through the upcoming plans. The trip to Jeju was a necessary step, but it also meant delving deeper into a world that held no shortage of dangers.

"Seungcheol, we need to talk."

 "What is it?"

Joshua's gaze met Seungcheol's, his expression grave. "We have to be cautious. With Y/n here, things are more complicated than ever."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "I know. We'll have to tread carefully."

Joshua's voice lowered. "And what about her connection to NIS? That's a wild card we can't ignore."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, a surge of apprehension coursing through him. "We'll need to find out more. But for now, we need to get to Jeju. It's our best chance to regroup and plan our next move."

Joshua nodded in agreement, the weight of their circumstances hanging in the air. 

With a shared understanding of the complexities they were about to navigate, Seungcheol and Joshua left the room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. The gravity of their situation pressed on them, a reminder that every move they made held the potential for both danger and revelation.

As they approached the main area, Seungcheol's crew stood at the ready, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Seungcheol addressed them with a voice that carried authority and purpose. "We're leaving for Jeju. Make sure everything is in order."

The crew members nodded in response, swiftly moving to carry out their orders. The sense of urgency in the air was palpable, each person understanding the weight of the circumstances they faced.

Seungcheol turned to you, his gaze steady. "Y/n, we need to stick together and be vigilant. This won't be easy, but we'll do our best to get through it."

You met his gaze, a sense of resolve mirrored in your eyes. "I'm ready," you affirmed, your voice holding a determination that matched his own.

Seungcheol's expression grew serious as he considered the weight of the decision. Without a word, he reached into his coat and retrieved a compact pistol, handling it with the practiced ease of someone intimately familiar with such weapons.

He extended the gun towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it," he instructed, his voice low and steady. "You may need it."

You accepted the weapon, feeling the cool metal against your palm. The gravity of the situation settled over you, the weight of the gun a tangible reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

Seungcheol's gaze held yours, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that trust would be your greatest asset on this perilous journey. With a nod, you secured the gun, a silent promise to yourself and to Seungcheol that you would do whatever it took to navigate the treacherous path that awaited.

 

*

 

"FUCK YOU CHOI SEUNGCHEOL! YOU DOUBTED ME?!" The words burst forth, a torrent of raw emotion that reverberated through the charged atmosphere of the villa. The scene that met your eyes was a brutal tableau, a testament to the 'loyalty test' you had just endured. Seungcheol's men, once a formidable force, now lay strewn across the floor, some nursing wounds, others utterly broken, their blood staining the very foundation of the villa. It was clear now, with visceral certainty, that this had been a test - a trial of your allegiance to Choi Seungcheol, and he had orchestrated it with brutal precision. Is this his plan?

Seungcheol, his countenance unyielding, stood at the entrance, a silent observer to the chaos he had set in motion. He offered no words, only a casual shrug, as if the mayhem that had unfolded was but a casual affair. This calculated trial had served its purpose, a ruthless measure of your loyalty to him.

Earlier, just before his departure, his directive had been succinct and commanding. "We're leaving for a meeting. Make sure this villa is safe." His tone brooked no debate, and with a seamless transition, you shifted into your assassin mode. Adrenaline surged, senses heightened, as twenty assailants launched an assault on the villa. In the midst of the fray, a searing pain shot through your arm, a cruel reminder of the peril that surrounded you.

Grimly, you surveyed the bleeding wound, the realization settling in. Was this why Seungcheol had handed you a gun? The revelation underscored the unforgiving nature of the world you now navigated, where trust was a currency often traded for survival, and alliances were forged in the crucible of adversity.

As you tended to your wounded arm, a surge of bitterness welled within you. The betrayal by NIS was a jagged thorn in your side, a question that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Why had they turned on you? Why had they orchestrated a mission to terminate you, sending Seo Myungho as the executioner? It was a betrayal that cut deep, a wound far more insidious than the one you now tended.

Memories of your years of dedication, the sacrifices made in service of your country, flashed before your eyes. The sleepless nights, the countless missions executed with precision, all in the name of duty and honor. And yet, here you were, marked as a target by the very organization you had pledged your allegiance to.

The implications of their betrayal were far-reaching. It wasn't just a matter of personal vendetta, but a shadowy web of intrigue that extended into the highest echelons of power. Questions swirled in your mind, each one a shard of a puzzle that refused to be pieced together. Who had ordered this mission? What were their motives? And perhaps most pressing of all, how had they infiltrated the seemingly impenetrable walls of NIS?

The truth eluded you, shrouded in a fog of deception and hidden agendas. But one thing was clear - you could trust no one, not even the very organization that had once been your steadfast ally. As you contemplated the depths of the betrayal, a resolve took root within you. You would uncover the truth, expose the puppet masters pulling the strings, and ensure that those who had betrayed you would face the consequences of their treachery. 

"You cry?"

Seungcheol's voice jolted you back to the present, shattering the fragile reverie that had taken hold. Startled, you hastily wiped away tears that had silently betrayed you. His mock tone and the smirk on his face grated on your nerves.

"Shut up," you retorted, the irritation plain in your voice. Meanwhile, Joshua, who was now tending to your wound, observed the exchange with a small, appreciative smile. He couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance you bore to Jeonghan. It was a revelation that brought with it a sense of gratitude, knowing that you were capable of eliciting a playful side from Seungcheol, a side that had perhaps been buried beneath the loss of Jeonghan.

The room held a curious energy, a blend of tension and familiarity, as you each navigated the complexities of your newfound alliance. It was a precarious dance, one that required finesse and an acute understanding of the intricate dynamics at play. As Joshua continued his ministrations, the unspoken bond between you and Seungcheol seemed to solidify.

Seungcheol's voice held a gravitas that cut through the air, breaking the tension that lingered in the room. "You need to know the truth," he began, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Kanga is a puppet, dancing on the strings pulled by NIS."

His words hung heavy, the weight of their implications settling in the room. You exchanged a wary glance with Joshua, both of you keenly aware of the gravity of the revelation.

Seungcheol continued, his tone unwavering. "They receive secret information, illegal permissions, all in exchange for their services. The most lucrative of which is the import of drugs from Japan, a trade that lines the pockets of those in power."

The revelation was a bitter pill to swallow, a glimpse into the shadowy underbelly of the world you had once called home. The intricate web of deception and betrayal now stretched even further, revealing the sinister dance between organized crime and the very agency sworn to protect the nation.

Seungcheol's revelation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depths of deceit that surrounded them. 

As the weight of the truth settled, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and betrayal. The organization you had dedicated your life to had fed you misinformation, leading you down a treacherous path that had ultimately led to this moment.

"You mean to say... I've been fed wrong information all this time?" The words left your lips, laced with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the extent of the manipulation that had been orchestrated by NIS.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, his expression one of grim acknowledgment. "You might know something about them that they decided to eliminate you."

The weight of Seungcheol's revelation settled over you, each word sinking in like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. The mission, the betrayal - it all makes sense.

The black file.

Contained within its darkened pages were the damning records of illegal activities, a trove of evidence implicating powerful figures, including your own chief. It was what they were after, what they desperately sought to retrieve. And unbeknownst to them, you held it in your possession.

In that moment, you knew that the stakes had escalated to a perilous height. The file was not just a collection of papers; it was a weapon, a leverage that could shift the balance of power. The revelations had transformed the journey ahead into a high-stakes game, one where every move would be a calculated risk, every decision a potential turning point.

Where did you put that damn file? 

The black file, a digital repository of evidence, held the potential to turn the tide in your favor. But now, in this critical moment, you found yourself grappling with a nagging uncertainty. Frantically, you cast your thoughts back, retracing your steps in a desperate bid to recall where you had put the file. The room seemed to close in around you, each passing second a reminder of the ticking clock. Your heart raced as you mentally rifled through your memories, searching for the elusive location.

"You'll be safe with us," Joshua mumbled, his voice a soothing presence as he finished tending to your wound. Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a quiet determination.

With a gentle pat on your shoulder, Joshua left, leaving you alone with Seungcheol. He took a seat in front of you, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Jeonghan wanted me to take care of you," he began, his voice tinged with a solemn weight. "Those were his final words to me - find you and look after you on his behalf."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, your skepticism clear in your gaze. "And that's why you orchestrated that earlier?" you asked, alluding to the attack his men had initiated.

Seungcheol let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I needed to be sure. You worked with NIS. I had every reason to be cautious, to doubt your intentions," he admitted, his tone tinged with a mumble of apology.

He continued, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "Me, Jeonghan, and Joshua built this association from the ground up. Jeonghan was my right hand, handling all aspects of the business, while Joshua helped me manage our resources." He paused, a flicker of emotion crossing his features.

"My relationship with Jeonghan... it was different. He was like a brother, someone who completed me in a way that no one else could. I hope you understand why I view Kanga with such animosity," Seungcheol explained, his words carrying a weight of history and sentiment.

You tilted your head, offering a hesitant observation. "I didn't expect you to be this... emotional, Seungcheol. You might just be the most melancholic person to run an illegal business," you remarked, earning a sigh from him.

"I'm a businessman, not a robot, Y/n," he replied, rising from his seat. "We'll be here for five days. After that, we'll move to Busan, and perhaps even Japan. Be prepared for a lot of traveling. Once you join us, there's no turning back."

With those final words, Seungcheol left you alone in the bedroom, leaving you to contemplate the weight of the journey that lay ahead.

 

*

The sleek black car cut through the night, slicing through the darkened roads like a shadow. Inside, it was an atmosphere thick with tension, with only the low hum of the engine breaking the silence. Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed ahead, the muted glow of passing streetlights painting fleeting streaks of light across his focused expression.

Beside him, you sat in contemplative silence, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. The file, the association, Seungcheol's motives - it was all a whirlwind of complexity that demanded your utmost attention.

Abruptly, the car jerked to a stop, sending a jolt through your body. Panic flashed in your eyes as you instinctively glanced at Seungcheol, who already had his hand on the gun tucked at his side. The driver, Seungcheol's trusted bodyguard, was on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Seungcheol's phone chimed, breaking the silence, and he quickly answered. Joshua's voice crackled through the speaker, fraught with urgency. "Seungcheol, I've had a tire blowout. I'll be delayed. Go ahead without me."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in concern, his gaze flickering to you briefly before refocusing on the situation at hand. "Understood, Joshua. We'll proceed. Be safe."

As the call ended, the car suddenly rocked violently, the sound of screeching metal filling the air. The windows shattered, showering you with glass, and the world outside seemed to explode into chaos. The driver fought to regain control, but it was clear - they were under attack.

Seungcheol's training kicked in, his movements swift and calculated as he returned fire, the staccato bursts of gunfire filling the confined space. The assailants, masked and armed, were relentless, their bullets finding purchase in the car's reinforced chassis.

With a steely resolve, you reached for the concealed weapon at your side, your training taking over. You fired back, your shots precise and calculated, each one a declaration of your determination to survive.

The battle raged on, a fierce clash of wills in the heart of the night. The car became a battleground, a symphony of gunfire and shattered glass.

With a final surge of determination, Seungcheol's onslaught forced the assailants to retreat, their presence vanishing into the night. The car, battered and smoldering, sat in the aftermath of the brutal assault.

The air inside the car hung heavy with tension, suffused with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Seungcheol's gaze bore into the darkness outside, his mind racing with thoughts on their next move.

Without hesitation, he swung open the door, motioning for you to follow. The night air was cool against your skin, carrying with it a sense of urgency that matched the pounding of your heart.

Seungcheol took the lead, his every movement calculated and purposeful. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. "We can't stay here. We need to find shelter," he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos that had erupted around them.

You nodded, falling into step behind him, the weight of your weapon a reassuring presence in your hand. The driver, still recovering from the shock of the attack, looked to Seungcheol for guidance.

"Head towards the nearest safehouse," Seungcheol instructed, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

As the driver navigated the damaged vehicle through the treacherous terrain, Seungcheol's mind raced, formulating a plan to ensure their safety. "We'll need to regroup, gather our resources, and assess the situation," he murmured, more to himself than to you. Seungcheol's jaw clenched, the weight of responsibility settling firmly on his shoulders.

When the car finally came to a stop outside a nondescript building, Seungcheol wasted no time. He directed the driver to secure the perimeter while he ushered you inside.

The safehouse was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Seungcheol's eyes scanned the room, assessing its potential vulnerabilities. "We'll need to fortify this place. It's not ideal, but it will have to do for now," he declared, his tone unwavering.

"You're bleeding." You stated as your gaze fell into his shoulder. Blood stained his baby blue shirt, signing that he got shot there. 

As you swiftly moved around the safehouse, your eyes scanned for a medical kit. It was a testament to the intensity of the night that you didn't even flinch at the sight of the supplies, grabbing what you needed with the precision of someone well-acquainted with field medicine.

When you returned to Seungcheol, he watched you intently, his gaze never leaving your hands as you tended to his wound. It was a clean shot, but it still needed attention. The room was hushed, save for the soft rustle of the bandages.

"You're a pro," Seungcheol's voice cut through the quiet, his tone a mixture of admiration and respect.

"I received a lot of training," your reply was simple, a reflection of the life you had led.

Curiosity danced in Seungcheol's eyes as he asked about your time with NIS. You shared snippets of your missions, the work you did in the security and international affairs division. The topics ranged from diplomatic protection to intelligence gathering in high-stakes environments.

"What kind of training did you receive?" Seungcheol inquired, genuinely interested in the life you had lived.

You listed off the various disciplines you had honed: firing, martial arts, endurance, criminalogy, psychology. Each word held weight, a testament to the breadth of skills required in your line of work.

"Is that hard? Being an agent?" Seungcheol's question was measured, a genuine curiosity about the world you navigated.

You met his query with one of your own, turning the spotlight back on him. "Is that hard being a mafia?"

Seungcheol blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from a man who exuded confidence in every step he took.

"Even answering is hard," you mused softly, a wry smile touching your lips. With a final adjustment to the bandage, you finished tending to Seungcheol's wound. The room settled into a thoughtful silence, each of you lost in your own reflections.

"Have you ever thought of leaving the job?"

Seungcheol's question hung in the air, a weighty inquiry that cut through the silence. It was a question that carried a depth of understanding, born from the recognition of the sacrifices that came with a life dedicated to a cause.

You looked at him, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the veneer of professionalism fell away. It was just two individuals, bound by circumstance, facing the complexities of their chosen paths.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice soft but resolute. "There have been moments when I've wondered what it would be like to walk away, to have a life that doesn't demand constant vigilance."

Seungcheol listened, his eyes fixed on yours, his expression a mirror of contemplation. It was a conversation that touched on the vulnerabilities that lingered beneath the surface, the unspoken desires for a different kind of existence.

"And have you?" Seungcheol's question was equally gentle, a reflection of the trust that had begun to form between you.

You nodded, a subtle admission of the complexities that colored your journey. "There have been times when I've come close, but duty always called me back."

The weight of your shared confessions settled in the room, a heavy presence that underscored the gravity of the paths you both walked. It was a moment of vulnerability, a rare glimpse into the hearts that beat beneath the professional exteriors.

You mustered the courage to speak about your brother, Jeonghan. "I found out about Jeonghan's death through a covert channel within NIS. It was a blow, a revelation that shook me to my core." The memory was still fresh, the pain of loss a constant ache in your heart.

You pondered over what Jeonghan's life must have been like, what secrets he held. "I always assumed Jeonghan was running a clothing line," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. The memory of your last encounter with him flashed before your eyes. It was then that he had learned about your affiliation with NIS.

Seungcheol listened intently, his eyes fixed on you. It was a story that resonated with him, for he too had lost Jeonghan, a brother in a different sense. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," he offered, his voice laced with genuine sympathy.

Every time you considered leaving the job, the specter of your brother's death loomed large. It was a reason to stay, a burning desire to unravel the mystery of who had taken him from you. The need for closure, for justice, fueled your determination.

"He never said anything about you. I think he was just being secretive to protect your privacy. It must have been a surprise for him to learn you work for NIS," Seungcheol mused, offering his perspective.

The thought of NIS potentially being involved in Jeonghan's death hung heavy in the air. "If Jeonghan's death is related to NIS, I would do anything to rip them apart," you confessed, your voice edged with determination. The words held a weight of truth, a vow to seek justice for the brother you had lost.

Seungcheol's gaze met yours, a solemn understanding passing between you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your shared purpose settling around you.

"I can assure you, Y/n," Seungcheol began, his voice carrying a quiet resolve, "we both want the same thing. I'll kill Kang Jaehoon with my own hands. I'll do it by my self to whoever did that to Jeonghan."

You nodded, grateful for his words. It was a reassurance that you weren't alone in this pursuit, that you had an ally in Seungcheol, even if your worlds were vastly different.

As the conversation lingered in the air, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was a recognition of the bond that had formed between you, a connection forged in the crucible of shared loss.

"We'll find the answers together, Y/n. No matter where they lead us," Seungcheol vowed, his eyes steady and unwavering.

With those words, a pact was sealed. You and Seungcheol were now bound by a shared purpose, a determination to uncover the truth that had eluded you both for far too long.

In that moment, the boundaries of your worlds seemed to blur. 

 

*

 

The shadows of intrigue danced around the dimly lit room where Joshua stood, a man cloaked in secrets and allegiances. Before him stood a figure whose face was veiled in shadows, a powerful presence in the criminal underworld.

"Yoon Y/n has met Seungcheol," Joshua reported, his voice carrying the weight of significant revelation. "Seungcheol seems to have taken an affection to her, especially upon learning she is Jeonghan's sister."

The man nodded in acknowledgment, absorbing the information with calculated interest. It was a revelation that held implications beyond what was immediately apparent.

Joshua continued, his voice steady, "Tonight's assault was successful. Seungcheol has informed me that they will stop at the safe house."

The man wasted no time, instructing his associates to mobilize towards the designated safe house. It was a calculated move, a chess piece carefully maneuvered into place.

"As you promised, make sure my name remains clean," Joshua stated, a reminder of the intricate web of alliances and agreements that bound them.

Seo Myunho, a formidable figure in his own right, extended his hand for a handshake, sealing a pact forged in the shadows of their clandestine dealings. Joshua, however, shifted his hand to another figure in the room, Kang Jaehoon, a gesture that spoke volumes of the shifting alliances and hidden agendas at play.

In the complex tapestry of loyalties and betrayals, Joshua's decision to betray his own association was woven from a history that ran deep, entangled with the fates of Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

From the inception of their criminal enterprise, Joshua had always been the steadfast third pillar, his words overshadowed by Jeonghan's charismatic influence. His loyalty was unwavering, his execution of tasks impeccable. Yet, when a deal with Kang Jaehoon emerged, a sinister plot was set into motion. Jaehoon sought to eliminate Jeonghan, recognizing him as the linchpin to Seungcheol's success. With Jeonghan removed, the balance shifted, and Joshua stepped into the void, his influence expanding, making it all the easier for Kang Jaehoon to tighten his grip on Seungcheol's empire.

As Kanga sought to escalate their operations, delving into the drug trade, they required political backing, and that's when Kim Chul, Chief of NIS, entered the picture. Seo Myungho was deployed to play his role, a lethal pawn in the intricate game.

Yoon Y/n, an NIS agent of unparalleled dedication, possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the geopolitical intricacies between nations. Her resolve was unyielding, and she became a potent force within NIS. When her familial connection to Yoon Jeonghan was discovered, it provided a strategic advantage, a means to chip away at Seungcheol's empire from within.

The plan was deceptively simple: bring S.Coups and Y/n together, knowing that their union posed the greatest threat to Kang Jaehoon and Kim Chul. It was a calculated move to weaken their adversaries, setting the stage for a termination mission that could shatter Seungcheol's empire.

Yet, in the twisted dance of deception, Seo Myungho failed to convey the full extent of Y/n's power—the possession of The Blackfile. And Joshua, blinded by the intricacies of the game, failed to realize the magnitude of the force that would be unleashed when Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n stood united.

Jaehoon's operative delivered the report with a somber tone, "Hyungnim, report. Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n had left the safe house. We failed to get them."

Jaehoon's gaze narrowed, a steely resolve settling into his features. He turned to Joshua, seeking answers, "Any information from Coups?"

Joshua's expression registered surprise, shaken by the fact that Seungcheol hadn't disclosed his whereabouts. He shook his head, uncertainty etched in his eyes. This unexpected move was a curveball that had caught them off guard.

Jaehoon's voice held a note of determination, "Okay, let's go with plan B." 

 

*

 

The small, unassuming bookstore loomed in front of both you and Seungcheol. His driver took a separate route, following instructions issued by Seungcheol himself.

"Is this the right place?" Seungcheol inquired, a note of skepticism threading his words. The decision to leave the safe house was a precautionary one, a response to the looming threat of Kanga's relentless pursuit. The only refuge you offered was this hidden bookstore, a sanctuary where trust still held sway.

A boy stood behind the counter, his eyes flicking up to greet you. You wasted no time in your inquiry, asking if 'Gameboi' was present. Without hesitation, the boy gestured towards a concealed door, hidden behind a curtain. Seungcheol followed your lead, stepping into the dimly lit corridor.

With practiced precision, you input a code and scanned your fingerprint, unlocking the hidden passage. 

"What kind of place is this?" He asked again. 

You smiled at Seungcheol, a silent invitation for him to enter the room ahead of you. As he crossed the threshold, the stark transformation in atmosphere struck him.

The room burst forth in a riot of color, adorned with an array of vibrant and eclectic decorations. It resembled nothing short of a teenager's bedroom from high school. Seungcheol's gaze swept over the lively surroundings, a stark contrast to the dark corridor outside.

Just as the intrigue deepened, a bespectacled man entered through another door. He exuded an air of warmth and welcome. He approached you, enfolding you in a genuine embrace. Then, he extended a hand towards Seungcheol, introducing himself as 'Wonwoo'. 

"I know you," Wonwoo said when Seungcheol introduced himself, his curiosity piqued. "You haven't visited for a long time. Any news?" He turned to you, inquiring while the three of you settled on the couch.

Seungcheol found amusement in witnessing how at ease you appeared in this room compared to his own. Your legs rested casually on the table as you sank into the couch.

"Seo Myungho and that damned organization turned their backs on me, Jeon Wonwoo! I can't believe the time has come," you sighed, frustration evident in your voice.

"What do you mean? You're the one and only gem in the division," Wonwoo remarked, revealing his knowledge of your work with NIS.

You stood up and turned to Seungcheol, "Wonwoo was a former NIS agent as well. Specializing in programming, hacking, whatever," you explained, shedding light on your connection with Wonwoo.

"Cybersecurity agent," Wonwoo corrected, "I resigned two years ago," providing a little background on how he knew Seungcheol's name from earlier.

You assumed they were looking for you because of The Black File, a file that Wonwoo had contributed to before he left NIS. You explained to Wonwoo how Seo Myunho had nearly killed you that night, and Seungcheol had saved you, revealing that he was a friend of your brother Yoon Jeonghan. 

Wonwoo was taken aback by the news, both the fact that they wanted to terminate you and that you were Yoon Jeonghan's sibling.

You then requested Wonwoo's help in tracking down Seo Myunho. He beckoned for you both to follow him to his room, where his equipment was neatly arranged.

As he typed Seo Myungho's name, he initiated a thorough search. Wonwoo combed through Myungho's location via his cellphone, bank transactions, and car GPS. After a few moments, he pinpointed a location and immediately pulled up a live feed from the nearest CCTV.

Seungcheol couldn't help but question the legality of their actions, only to be met with scoffs from both you and Wonwoo. "You ask that like you've never done anything illegal, Choi Seungcheol," you retorted.

You watched intently as Myungho emerged from a building that bore the appearance of a club. Seungcheol confirmed that it was indeed one of Kanga's establishments.

"Then it's true that Myungho has worked with Kanga," Wonwoo concluded, the gravity of the situation becoming even clearer.

As you observed Myungho, a thought crossed your mind - was he merely a puppet in this intricate web? You recalled a crucial event months ago when you intercepted one of Kanga's transactions, a move that had ultimately led to your current mission of apprehending Choi Seungcheol. There was a possibility that someone within NIS was colluding with Kanga.

You turned to Wonwoo and inquired if he had a copy of The Black File. He shook his head, affirming that you were the sole holder of it.

Seungcheol, sensing the gravity of the situation, asked, "What is The Black File?". 

Wonwoo explained that it contained information on powerful individuals engaged in illegal activities, including politicians, celebrities, and leaders. Both you and Wonwoo had worked on compiling it for several years, believing it would prove valuable. Little did you know, it had now become a weapon that held your fate.

You admitted to Wonwoo that you had forgotten where you stashed the flash drive containing the file.

Wonwoo's expression turned serious. "We don't have time for memory lapses," he stated firmly. "You need to remember where you put it. It's crucial. This file holds immense power, and if in the wrong hands..." He left the implications hanging in the air, emphasizing the urgency of retrieving it.

"But i don't think they were looking for the file, Y/n." Wonwoo began. "They won't kill you if they knew the file exists. There must be another reason why they had to terminate you."

Wonwoo's revelation sparked a realization. If they were after The Black File, they wouldn't be attempting to terminate you. Their motives ran deeper, and you couldn't quite fathom the underlying cause.

Seungcheol's sudden question pierced the air, "Does NIS know about your brother?"

Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots. How could Jeonghan, who was long gone, be relevant to this?

Wonwoo's inquiry brought forth more details. Seungcheol explained that Jeonghan's tragic demise occurred five years ago, a casualty of a successful deal he had struck with Kanga. The revelation sent a jolt through you. Three years ago, you received the news from the NIS channel, indicating a two-year delay in information. 

There must be reason for NIS to inform you about your brother's death. 

Morning bathed the room in a soft glow as you and Wonwoo delved into the intricacies of the case that had entangled both you and Seungcheol. Seungcheol momentarily stepped out to take a call, leaving you alone with Wonwoo.

Out of the blue, Wonwoo dropped a bombshell. "He likes you," he declared. "And you like him too."

You shot him a look, dismissing his words. "Shut up."

Wonwoo merely shrugged, undeterred. "Why not? Can't I be happy for you? He seems to genuinely care about you. Plus, he's in this danger too," he pointed out.

"He sees me as a sister," you retorted, brushing off his claim.

Wonwoo couldn't resist a sarcastic agreement. "Right, because every brother looks at their sister with such affectionate eyes." He knew how to push your buttons, and it irked you.

There were a pregnant pause before you suddenly chirepd, "But seriously?" you pressed, the seed of doubt taking root.

Wonwoo smirked, triumphant. He had you.

"Damn it," you muttered, landing a playful punch on his arm.

Seungcheol entered the room, his expression tense. "We need to go. Kanga's people are looking for us, whether it's me or you, I'm not sure. They were spotted near the safe house last night."

You bid a hasty farewell to Wonwoo and left the bookstore with Seungcheol. Sensing his exhaustion, you offered to take the wheel, knowing he hadn't slept since the previous night.

Your plan was to head to Japan by ship later that evening. It was the only solution Seungcheol could think of, a way to put some distance between you and the danger lurking in South Korea.

As you discussed your next moves, Seungcheol mentioned Joshua's unusual situation. His tire hadn't been repaired despite the supposed breakdown last night, his bodyguard had checked it for him. There was no repairment service that handling his car last night. The unspoken suspicion hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to voice it aloud.

"Are you trying to say that Joshua..." Seungcheol, however, nodded in grim acknowledgment. The truth seemed painfully apparent.

At the rest area, Seungcheol stayed in the car while you hurriedly went to grab some food. Just as you were about to return, you caught sight of individuals with distinctive dragon tattoos etched on their arms. Panic surged through you, propelling you to rush to your car and start the engine with a burst of urgency. The abrupt motion woke Seungcheol, his eyes widening at your alarmed announcement about Kanga's henchmen tailing you.

With Seungcheol's calm guidance, you maneuvered the car with precision, skillfully evading the pursuers. Eventually, he directed you to a public parking lot, providing a temporary sanctuary where you could catch your breath.

As the car rolled to a stop, you released a trembling exhale, your fingers still gripping the steering wheel tightly. Seungcheol's concerned gaze met yours, his worry palpable as he took in your shaken state.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" His voice held a mixture of concern and a trace of remorse for allowing you to take the wheel amidst the heightened tension.

You nodded, though the rapid rise and fall of your chest, coupled with your trembling hands, betrayed the underlying tension that still clung to you. With deliberate movements, you unbuckled your seatbelt and rose from your seat. As you nestled into Seungcheol's lap. You lips crashed his. Without a doubt, his arms enveloped you in a protective cocoon. The kiss that followed was a fusion of relief, gratitude, and an unspoken understanding of the danger that lurked around you.

His lips met yours with a gentle urgency, a silent promise of safety and support. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could scarcely capture. Time seemed to stand still, and the world beyond the car became a distant backdrop.

The touch of his lips against yours was both tender and reassuring, a testament to the unspoken connection that had been forming between you. In that stolen moment, you found solace in each other's arms, seeking comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

When the kiss finally ended, there was a lingering warmth, a shared understanding that hung in the air. You pulled back, your eyes meeting Seungcheol's with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that hinted at the complexities of the situation you found yourselves in.

Seungcheol's gaze held a rare vulnerability, a glimpse into the depths of his emotions that he seldom allowed to surface. It was a fleeting moment of raw connection, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the circumstances that brought you together.

Without a word, you shifted back to your own seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. The events of the night had forged an unbreakable bond, a shared experience that bound you in ways that words could not express.

"I'll drive." Seungcheol said and went out to switch the seat. 

 

*

 

"The boat will be ready by tonight," Joshua assured Seungcheol over the phone, a sense of anticipation in his voice. "Yes, I'll report to you about that. Please take care, the two of you."

As the call concluded, Joshua's eyes shifted to Seo Myungho. "Easy," he remarked, a sly smile playing on his lips. He motioned for Myungho to join them, setting their intricate plan into motion.

Their objective was clear: secure The Black File before executing their plan to eliminate both you and Seungcheol that night. Myungho's valuable insights into The Black File, a compilation of your intelligence and that of a former NIS agent, made it a potent weapon for seizing control of the industry.

Joshua couldn't help but smirk, satisfaction evident in his expression. The alliance between him and Myungho, forged in the crucible of shared secrets and calculated trust, held the promise of a meticulously planned revenge. The culmination of a long-simmering vendetta was now unfolding step by step.

Myungho, behind the wheel, sighed in relief as he drove. "You finally could be the boss of your association by tonight."

Nodding, Joshua turned his gaze to Myungho, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "And you finally could gain what you've deserved with Y/n out of the frame."

Myungho smiled slyly, understanding the gravity of their collaboration. "It's mutual, right?"

Joshua chuckled softly, his amusement blending with a hint of menace. "Yeah. Once we get The Black File, it's time for Kanga and your boss's end."

As they drove towards their destiny, the tension in the air was palpable. The night held the promise of transformation, and each calculated move was a step closer to the realization of their shared ambitions.

Joshua sighed, his mind drifting back to a time when camaraderie thrived among them—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and himself, the third wheel in their trio. In the beginning, questions about their friendship never crossed his mind. Jeonghan's insatiable need for attention seemed to explain Seungcheol's profound admiration for him. Yet, as the dynamics shifted from friendship to business, Joshua's perception underwent a seismic change.

He came to the realization that he had never truly been considered family from the start; he was more of a distant relative, someone known but not entirely trusted. The shift became painfully apparent as their bonds transformed amidst the demands of their new business endeavors. What once felt like an unbreakable connection now seemed tenuous, as he found himself relegated to the sidelines.

The tipping point occurred when Seungcheol, in a move that cut deep, was elected as the boss. Instead of recognizing Joshua's unwavering dedication to the association, Seungcheol chose Jeonghan as his right-hand man. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a stark revelation of the hierarchy within their supposedly close-knit circle.

Life, Joshua mused, was undeniably unfair. Yet, he harbored a growing understanding that life could be twisted, transformed by unexpected events. And that twist entered the frame in the form of Kang Jaehoon.

As Joshua delved into these memories, a mixture of nostalgia and resentment played across his features. The emotions he had bottled up over time simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to unfurl. 

Turning his head towards Myungho, Joshua couldn't help but voice his curiosity, "What kind of person is Y/n?" His interest in unraveling your persona evident in his inquiry.

Myungho, with a momentary pause, described, "She's naive, perhaps the most naive agent I've ever met." There was a hint of both assessment and a touch of amusement in his words. Myungho's insight into your character seemed to amuse Joshua, who couldn't resist a scoff. "Pretty much like her own brother," he remarked, drawing a subtle parallel between you and someone else close to Joshua.

"But she's smart, detail-oriented, and quick," Myungho continued, offering a more comprehensive picture of your capabilities. "Truly speaking, she has an undeniable charm that could make everyone like her. That's how she got into her position."

Joshua, listening attentively, shook his head slowly, a mix of acknowledgment and resignation in his expression. "Right? People with charm always beat the hard workers like us," he mused, releasing a sigh that carried a hint of bitterness.

Myungho, however, added a layer of perspective. Nodding thoughtfully, he turned to Joshua, "But only a hardworking one could steal that." His words hung in the air, emphasizing the value of perseverance and diligence in their cutthroat world.

As the conversation unfolded in the confined space of the car, the atmosphere became charged with unspoken truths and the acknowledgment of the intricate dynamics at play. Myungho, growing impatient, stepped on the gas, propelling them forward towards a destination where destinies would intersect and choices would define their futures.

As Joshua and Myungho arrived at the port, they spotted Seungcheol's car parked nearby, a silent testament to the unfolding scheme. Joshua swiftly dialed Seungcheol to relay the exact location, establishing the designated meeting point. In the shadows, Myungho concealed himself, poised for the opportune moment to secure you and The Black File.

"Boss," Joshua greeted both you and Seungcheol with a facade of politeness, his demeanor belying the intricate web of betrayal that had been spun. He gestured for both of you to embark on the waiting boat. Seungcheol took the lead, extending his hand to assist you, an innocent enough gesture that masked the underlying deceit.

However, the engine roared to life unexpectedly, disrupting the carefully choreographed plan. Joshua observed Seungcheol's momentary surprise as he, with calculated intent, pushed Seungcheol onto the boat just as it began to glide away. The abrupt departure left you momentarily stranded, only to find yourself being pulled aboard by none other than Myungho.

"Y/N!" Seungcheol's desperate scream echoed through the port, his voice carrying the weight of genuine concern for your well-being. The urgency in his tone betrayed the turmoil within, a realization that the situation had taken an unexpected turn.

Yet, before Seungcheol could comprehend the full gravity of the unfolding events, someone stealthily emerged from the shadows behind him. With precision born from sinister intent, they clamped a hand over Seungcheol's mouth, the cold touch delivering a swift introduction to a sleeping drug. As the sedative took effect, Seungcheol's struggles faltered, and he succumbed to the encroaching unconsciousness.

 The abrupt silence that followed Seungcheol's desperate cry hinted at the abrupt shift in dynamics, leaving only the sound of lapping waves and the muffled breaths of those entangled in a web of deceit.

"Let me go!" Your desperate plea echoed through the air as you struggled within Myungho's unwavering grip. Every fiber of your being seemed determined to break free from the confining hold.

The air crackled with tension as you, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and determination, engaged in a physical struggle with Myungho. Your attempts to break free were met with calculated resistance, his grip unyielding as he maintained control over the situation.

Myungho, seemingly amused by your defiance, continued to taunt, "Give us The Black File, and maybe we'll reconsider your fate." His words hung in the air, a sinister bargain that underscored the high-stakes nature of the unfolding confrontation.

In the midst of this struggle, Joshua stepped forward from the shadows, his expression betraying a mix of amusement and cold detachment. "Y/N, you always were a formidable opponent," he remarked, his voice carrying the weight of shared history now tainted by betrayal.

Undeterred, you fought fiercely against Myungho's hold, refusing to succumb to the impending surrender. The port became an arena for a clash of allegiances, the sounds of the scuffle blending with the distant cries of seagulls and the lapping of the waves against the dock.

A sudden, desperate maneuver afforded you a brief respite, breaking free from Myungho's grasp. As you distanced yourself, the intensity of the confrontation hung in the air, a palpable tension that mirrored the fractured alliances in this shadowed port.

 

In that fleeting moment, your eyes met Joshua's, sparking a glimmer of recognition. A shared history echoed in that exchange—a whisper of the camaraderie that once bound you together. The gravity of the betrayal seemed to pause briefly as the weight of the past flickered in your gaze.

 

Yet, the fragile thread of nostalgia snapped as Joshua, devoid of sentiment, raised his hand. A calculated gesture, a silent command to Myungho to resume the pursuit. The camaraderie dissolved into the cold reality of betrayal, leaving you with a bitter taste of disappointment and the knowledge that any remnants of trust had been irrevocably shattered.

"The Black File was with Jeonghan," your voice cut through the tension, a revelation hanging in the air like an electric storm. Joshua and Myungho, masters of manipulation, found themselves momentarily caught off guard. The revelation was a jolt, and vulnerability flickered across their faces, bared for just a moment amid the chaos they had orchestrated.

The port, once a canvas for clandestine alliances, now bore witness to the unraveling of carefully laid plans. The shock on their faces mirrored the seismic shift in power dynamics, a stark reminder that even the architects of betrayal could be blindsided.

Seizing the moment, you acted swiftly, drawing a concealed gun and aiming it at Myungho's stomach. The sudden threat disrupted the calculated dance of deceit, leaving Myungho staggered by the impact of the shot. The crack of gunfire echoed in the night, punctuating the escalating drama.

With the grip on you released, you walked purposefully toward Joshua. "If you really want to get it, then get it by yourself," you asserted, the words laden with a mix of defiance and resolve. The revelation had turned the tables, and now the power dynamic teetered on the edge of retribution.

Raising the gun, you pointed it at Joshua's head, the port's ambient sounds providing an eerie backdrop to this dramatic showdown. "To hell with both of you," you declared, the words carrying the weight of betrayal and the determination to break free from the shackles of their deceit. The air crackled with a charged intensity, marking a turning point in this intricate dance of loyalty and betrayal.

 

*

 

"As we knew, both agents Y/n and Myungho were very diligent and loyal. They were our siblings, our children, our family, and our friends. May their souls rest in peace," solemn words hung in the air, marking the culmination of a funeral that served as a testament to the sacrifices made in the clandestine world of espionage.

As the NIS agents stood united in both grief and silent acknowledgment of the perils they faced daily, the atmosphere remained heavy with the weight of loss. The caskets, side by side, symbolized the interconnected destinies that had led to this tragic end. Flowers adorned the area, a feeble attempt to inject a touch of solace into the stark reality of their fallen comrades.

After the formalities, Wonwoo stepped back from the circle of mourners. His eyes caught a figure wearing a mask and hat lingering in the shadows. Carefully, he approached, recognizing the need for discretion in their covert world. Together, they walked towards where Wonwoo had parked his car earlier.

"Your funeral would pretty much look like that in case you'll curious," Wonwoo remarked, acknowledging the clandestine nature of their existence.

In response, you scoffed and hissed, "Fuck you," tossing the cap and mask onto the backseat. The exchange carried a residue of bitterness, a reminder of the thin line between duty and personal sacrifice in the intricate dance of espionage. The port, once a hub for secrets, now bore witness to the aftermath of lives lived in the shadows and the heavy toll extracted in the pursuit of elusive truths.

A week had passed since the discovery of "your" lifeless body submerged in water alongside Myungho's. The pursuit of Choi Seungcheol had come to a somber close, marked by the tragic demise of two dedicated agents in a public spectacle. The National Intelligence Service (NIS) found itself thrust into the spotlight, with the media seizing the opportunity to expose the agency's inner workings, tarnishing its once-respected image. 

In the aftermath, you handed a necklace to Wonwoo, solemnly instructing him, "Do this last favor for me." Wonwoo, eyebrows raised, initially puzzled, finally grasped the situation. "As Yoon Y/n? Alright, I was taken aback for a sec. Dude, I was just attending your funeral!" he exclaimed in relief.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you replied, "Agent Yoon is no more, Wonwoo. Please welcome the newest persona, Jeon Y/n!" Your announcement was met with your own sense of excitement, while Wonwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes at your characteristic flair for the dramatic. 

If only you didn't promise him big money, he won't let you use his surname.

 

*

 

Two years later, you find yourself standing in front of the iconic statue of Marcus Aurelius in Rome, reflecting on the profound changes that have unfolded since adopting your new identity as Jeon Y/n. Life has taken unexpected turns, leading you down a path of reinvention. Shedding the cloak of espionage, you embraced a role far removed from the covert world – that of a counselor.

Roaming the world, your journey eventually brought you to Rome, a city steeped in history and timeless beauty. A client, seeking solace and guidance, had specifically requested a month of regular sessions. The cobblestone streets echoed with the whispers of ancient stories as you navigated through the enchanting blend of past and present.

As a counselor, your days are now filled with meaningful conversations, helping others navigate the intricate tapestry of their lives. The weight of secrets has given way to the liberation of shared emotions, and the art of healing has become your newfound purpose. The serene atmosphere of Rome serves as a backdrop to these sessions, adding an extra layer of tranquility to the therapeutic journey.

Standing before the stoic statue of Marcus Aurelius, you ponder the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of embracing a new identity. The winds of change have carried you to this moment, where the echoes of ancient wisdom mingle with the whispers of contemporary souls seeking guidance.

Your phone rings, and it's your client representative on the line. "Hi, Ms. Jeon. I would like to inform you that Mr. Lee would be available today at 3 o'clock. I'll send you the location for the counseling session. And I'm so sorry for the sudden reschedule."

You reply calmly, "It's okay, I'll be there first to prepare the counseling session if you don't mind."

The representative reassures you, "It's totally fine. Enjoy your time in Rome."

With the call ended, you take a moment to appreciate the city's timeless charm before gearing up for the upcoming session. The cobblestone streets and ancient architecture seem to whisper tales of resilience, mirroring the very themes you navigate in your counseling sessions. As you await the location details, the anticipation of another transformative encounter with a client adds a layer of purpose to your journey through the heart of Rome.

Arriving at the hotel room designated for today's counseling session, you meticulously organize your materials, mentally preparing for the upcoming encounter. The ambiance of the room exudes a mix of professionalism and quietude, a fitting space for the intricate nature of your counseling work. 

As you immerse yourself in thoughts, the distinct sound of footsteps interrupts your focus. A familiar voice, unexpectedly speaking Korean, greets you. Turning your head, disbelief washes over you as you meet Choi Seungcheol's gaze, his sly smirk adding an element of intrigue.

"You are Mr. Lee?!" you demand, your tone revealing a blend of astonishment and assertiveness. Seungcheol nods, seemingly amused by your reaction.

With a nonchalant tone, he responds, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Jeon. Should we start the session?"

 

*

 

Your breath hitched, lingering in the air, though the kiss had ended moments ago. Seungcheol, face flushed, entered the car, tapping clumsily on unnecessary features of his own car, seemingly surprised by his own actions. As you turned your head toward him, his eyes locked onto yours, a profound connection established as if you had discovered something essential in this vast world.

The sensation surpassed the satisfaction of profits in Seungcheol's clubs or the triumph of a successful case. It was a peculiar feeling, one that transcended tangible accomplishments.

Your gaze drifted to his neck, where a familiar necklace rested. Without a second thought, you grabbed his collar, surprising him once again. "Your necklace," you mumbled, and his eyes followed your gaze.

Seungcheol, flustered, stammered, "M—my necklace. Oh, it was... Shoot! I thought you were gonna kiss me again." His attempt at diversion was met with skepticism.

Locking eyes with him, you asked, "Is this from Jeonghan?" Seungcheol nodded slowly, still in an awkward position, but his gaze remained fixated on your lips.

Closing his eyes, Seungcheol suppressed a surge of longing within him. "Give me," you demanded, suddenly unhooking the necklace. Your proximity was dangerously close, and he swore he could detect the scent of your body.

Seated again, you opened the necklace, revealing something Seungcheol had never known. "You can open it?" It turned out to be a flash drive. Plugging it into your phone, you discovered something crucial that you had been searching for – "The Black Files." Without hesitation, you showed Seungcheol the file on your phone and promptly sent it to Wonwoo.

In the tense atmosphere, with evidence of Joshua's betrayal in hand, Seungcheol's bodyguard unveiled a revelation that brought clarity to the mysteries lingering in Seungcheol's mind. You proposed an audacious plan to Seungcheol, urging him to seek Joshua's assistance for your swift departure to Japan tonight. Initially resistant due to the inherent danger involving you, Seungcheol hesitated, his internal struggle palpable.

"I could be a better fighter than you, Seungcheol," you confidently asserted, persuading him to entertain the daring idea. As Seungcheol reluctantly agreed to be part of the plan, you swiftly connected with Wonwoo, seeking his alliance in this perilous endeavor.

"I just have to hide on the boat and pretend I'm one of their people, right?" Wonwoo's words unveiled his cyber expertise, underscoring the contrast with his lack of field experience.

Rolling your eyes at Wonwoo's comment, you took charge, instructing him, "Pretend to sedate Seungcheol. I know they're after me for The Black Files." The gravity of the situation hung in the air as you navigated the intricate details with determination.

Hooking the necklace back onto Seungcheol's neck, you expressed gratitude, saying, "Thank you for taking care of my brother's stuff." The gesture carried a weight of acknowledgment and trust. As a token of appreciation, you kissed Seungcheol's left cheek, leaving a lingering sense of warmth amidst the impending dangers that lay ahead. 

 

*

 

"So, how have you been since then, Seungcheol?" you gently inquired, your voice breaking the silence that enveloped the car as the complexities of your mission unfolded.

"I'm having a very good life. I was dropped in Japan, and Wonwoo had left me without a word. He was a very cold man," Seungcheol revealed, his tone carrying a hint of abandonment that lingered from his past experiences.

"He is."

"Still? I don't understand how you're still a friend of his," he remarked, curiosity etched across his features, his gaze seeking understanding.

You smiled, your eyes studying his demeanor. "You're different, Seungcheol. I mean in a good way."

Seungcheol responded with a playful smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "How do you know that just by our first session? Am I in good hands?"

Laughter bubbled from you, a refreshing sound amidst the tension. "Thanks for reaching me," you expressed sincerely, the gratitude apparent in your voice.

"I'm more grateful for you, for staying alive," Seungcheol confessed, acknowledging the significance of your presence in his life.

The conversation took an unexpected turn as you playfully probed, "Did you have a crush on me, Seungcheol?"

Caught off guard, Seungcheol blushed, attempting to articulate his feelings. "You know what? Yes, I did have a crush on you, and I might still. But how could someone not? You're amazing and—"

Before he could finish, a sudden peck landed on his lips, catching him by surprise. A genuine smile formed on his face, reflecting the warmth of the moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Seungcheol reached for your hand, pulling you closer. His touch was both gentle and possessive as he cradled your neck, initiating a more passionate exchange of kisses. What began as a simple peck evolved into a deeper connection, emphasizing the unspoken emotions between you.

"I actually like you," he admitted, the confession lingering in the air, signaling a shift in the dynamics of your relationship amidst the intricate dance of the mission's complexities.

 

*

 

"She's indeed so pretty," remarked Seungcheol, a university student whose gaze remained fixed on your figure as you fought fiercely to secure your position as a national Taekwondo athlete.

"Ya! Don't you see she's drenched in sweat? Disgusting..." Jeonghan mumbled, expressing his dissent to Seungcheol's admiration.

"No! I mean, she radiates beauty," Seungcheol clarified, his admiration for you evident in his eyes.

Jeonghan, unimpressed, rolled his eyes. "That's why I never asked you to come to her competition, you moron," he stated, walking away and leaving Seungcheol in a state of starstruck infatuation.

Seungcheol, determined, chased after Jeonghan, making a request that lingered in the air, "Introduce me to her."

"No!" Jeonghan bluntly refused.

"Come on..."

"I said no! Why are you so hard-headed?"

[ferrari55lover]

Rivalry and Reverie- Ollie Bearman X driver girlfriend

*WARNINGS*- Smut, fluff, MINORS DNI

Last year Ollie Bearman was crowned formula 2 champion, this was a life changing achievement for him not just because it was his dream but because it lead him to her, Y/N L/N the girl of his dreams. At first ollie thought that it would never work between them, they were racing against each other how could it ever work between them, But boy was he wrong. A year had passed since they first got together, and everything between them was perfect. Everyday they fell more and more in love. they continued to race against each other and were both involved in a lengthy and violent title fight one that ended in Y/N winning the title and an offer to race for McLaren in the 2025 season Ollie was unbelievably proud of her but he also felt kind of sad that they wouldn't be racing against each other anymore. That was until ollie got offered to race for Haas this made him extremely happy, sure it wasn't as good as a team as McLaren of Ferrari but it was still formula one.

*fast forward to the first race of the formula one season*

Today was the day, the day that Ollie and Y/N would fulfil their life long dreams of racing in formula one, it was a few hours before the race and Y/N and Ollie were sitting sharing a meal together in McLaren hospitality. "so are you ready for me to beat your ass" Y/N asked, this blunt statement made ollie laugh and say "hey its not my fault you have a better car" Y/N laughed in response and said "Your right, but still". a little while later they were both in their separate team garages getting ready for the race ahead. they got into their cars started their engines and completed the formation lap. Ollie was starting from P6 and Y/N was starting from P3 They started the race and slowly Y/N was climbing her way to P1 and by the end of the race she had managed to keep that position winning her very first race in formula one. After the race

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Y/N crossed the finish line, her name lighting up the leaderboard in P1. She could barely believe it—her very first Formula 1 race, and she had won. Over the team radio, the cheers of her engineers filled her ears. "Y/N, you're incredible! P1 in your debut! What a way to start the season!"

Her grin stretched wide beneath her helmet as she waved to the crowd during the cooldown lap. Pulling into parc fermé, she jumped out of her car and was immediately swarmed by her team, celebrating the monumental victory.

Ollie had finished in a respectable P5, scoring solid points for Haas. He parked his car and climbed out, making his way toward Y/N. Despite his own result, all he could think about was how proud he was of her.

As Y/N completed her media duties and the podium ceremony, she caught sight of Ollie waiting near the McLaren garage. His arms were crossed, but the broad smile on his face gave away how happy he was. When she finally reached him, she barely had time to say a word before he scooped her up in a tight hug, spinning her around.

“You’re unbelievable,” Ollie said, his voice filled with awe. “P1 on your debut? That’s insane!”

Y/N laughed as Ollie set her back down on her feet, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement of the day. “I still can’t believe it,” she admitted. “It feels like I’m dreaming.”

“Well, if this is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up,” Ollie said, his gaze softening as he looked at her.

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “You did great too, Ollie. P5 in a Haas? That’s impressive. You’re going to be fighting at the top in no time.”

He chuckled, shrugging modestly. “We’ll see. But today isn’t about me—it’s your moment, and you deserve every bit of it.”

The rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind of celebrations. Y/N basked in the glow of her victory, surrounded by her team, fellow drivers, and the endless flash of cameras. But through it all, her eyes kept drifting back to Ollie. No matter how many people congratulated her, he was the one she wanted to share this moment with the most.

Later that night, after the festivities had finally wound down, Y/N and Ollie found themselves back at the hotel. The hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the roaring crowds and bustling paddock they’d left behind.

Y/N unlocked the door to her room and stepped inside, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. “What a day,” she said, turning to face Ollie, who had followed her in.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes fixed on her. “What a day,” he echoed, a small smile playing on his lips.

She walked over to him, her steps slow and deliberate. “Thank you for being there,” she said softly. “It means the world to me.”

Ollie reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Seeing you up there, standing on that podium… I’ve never been prouder.”

Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, the weight of his words settling over her. “You’re making it hard to focus on anything but you right now,” she whispered.

Ollie’s smile widened as he cupped her face in his hands. “Maybe that’s the point.”

She laughed softly, but the sound was quickly silenced as his lips met hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building all day. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, Ollie slowly walks them both backwards the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she lays on the bed and ollie lays on top of her, they continue to kiss passionately, then ollie breaks the kiss looks at Y/N and asks "Are you sure" Y/N nods and says "yes" ollie then kisses her again his hands slowly traveling down her body, eventually they find themselves in their underwear Y/N wearing a black and red lacy set one that looks very similar to ollies team colors Ollie notices this and says

Ollie paused for a moment, his eyes trailing over her with a soft smile. “Did you plan this?” he teased, running his fingers along the delicate lace of her bra.

Y/N bit her lip, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe. You like it?”

“Like it? You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice husky. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers again, his touch tender yet electrifying.

Y/N's heart raced as Ollie's kisses traveled lower. He reached the edge of her lacy garment, his calloused fingers tracing the lace with a reverent touch. His voice was a rough whisper against her skin. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?"

Her breath hitched at his words, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with desire. Her fingers gently tugged at his own underwear, a silent invitation. "I want you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Those three little words hit Ollie like a freight train, igniting a fire within him. He had been holding back, trying to be considerate, but hearing her say those words was all the encouragement he needed. With a low growl, he claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, his hand tangling in her hair.

Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, both desperate to feel more of each other. He moved lower, his kisses now hot and hungry as his lips traveled down her chest, pausing briefly to pay attention to each curve and contour. She let out a soft moan, her hips arching towards him in response.

He continued his journey down her body, his hands roaming over her skin, tracing every dip and curve. When he finally reached the edge of her lacy underwear, he slowed his movements, his eyes meeting hers once more.

She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. "Please, Ollie," she whispered, her voice laced with need.

His own breathing was erratic now, his body taut with desire. The pleading tone of her voice was almost too much to bear. With one swift motion, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and slowly began to pull them down, his gaze never leaving hers.

As her underwear slipped off, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Her body was a canvas of smooth, supple skin, the lace of her bra the only piece of clothing remaining. He leaned down, his lips caressing her hip, his touch gentle yet possessive.

She shivered, the sensation sending shivers down her spine. Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white as she fought to keep herself grounded. He continued his path, leaving a trail of kisses along her inner thigh.

Her body ached for him, every fiber of her being crying out for more. "Ollie," she gasped, her voice thick with wanting, "Don't tease me. Please."

The plea in her voice was like music to his ears, and he couldn't resist any longer. He moved back up her body, positioning himself above her, his arms braced on either side of her head. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with want and need.

"Tell me what you want, love," he murmured, his voice rough.

Her eyes met his, her gaze just as intense as his. "You," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I want you, Ollie. All of you."

He didn’t need to hear anything more. With a low groan, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his body pressing down upon hers, their hips meeting in a perfect fit.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, her body molding to his. Their kisses grew more urgent, more intense, as their hands began to roam, exploring every inch of each other. Every touch, every caress stoked the fire burning between them, driving them closer and closer to the edge.

Ollie's hands tangled in her hair, his mouth never leaving hers, his tongue exploring every inch of her, claiming her as his own. His hips moved against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, their breathing ragged and uneven.

The room was filled with the sounds of their panting breaths and soft moans; the air thick with the electricity of their desire. She ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles tense and ripple under her touch, while he traced kisses along her neck and collarbone, his lips hungry against her skin.

The heat between them was almost unbearable, the room filling with a thick, sultry air. They moved together, their bodies writhing against each other, seeking release from the mounting tension. She clutched him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin "Ollie im... im" Y/N stutters out before ollie says "Y/N Shhh.. i know me too" he says grunting as they both release he can feel her clenching around him as she moans his name

a few moments later after they've both taken a moment to cool down from the heat of the prior moments. they're lying next to each other in a comfortable silence their limbs intertwined, Ollie is the first to break the silence saying "I love you Y/N" he brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear and she says "I love you too Ollie".

[astrophileous]

Thunderstorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Spencer Reid was never a fan of thunderstorms. On one particular night, he woke up to one.

Warning(s): established relationship, mentions and/or depictions of gun violence/injury, protective spencer, parent-child relationships, I think that's it (?) this one is really just fluff wrapped in more fluff 🥰

Word Count: 2400-ish

Author's Note: HELLO! I'm finally back from the dead (yayyy)!! To celebrate, and as we all wait for me to finish rewriting the remaining chapters of love bugs, I'm posting this fic here for you all to enjoy :) I think it's the fluffiest piece I've ever written (srsly, not even a drop of angst!) so I hope you will enjoy! Let me know what you think okkk, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG if you like this one xx btw I'm pretty sure this can be read as gender neutral reader since I'm positive I didn't use any gender-conforming words, but pls lmk if I'm wrong!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer hated thunderstorms.

He had many memories of them, not particularly good ones. Most of them involved him being on the field during yet another atrocious case, gun and flashlight in hand, trekking after muddy footsteps that belonged to an UnSub he was chasing.

He had been shot, once, during a thunderstorm. The bullet lodged itself against his bulletproof vest before the perpetrator had received a retaliation shot from Derek's gun. The vest had saved his life that night. The nasty bruise decorating his torso for the following week, though, served as a sufficient reminder in Spencer's mind.

Thunderstorms were a natural enemy whenever he was on the field. Unfortunately for him, the rivalry seemed to continue past the doorstep of his home, too.

Back when sleep was a luxury that he had to scour and cherish, thunderstorms would be the antagonist that kept the two even further apart. The sound of heavy rain against windows was a line of needles prickling into his circadian rhythm, erasing any possibilities of sleep if he was even lucky enough to have them in the first place.

On those nights, Spencer would sit against the headboard with a book in his lap, hoping that the passage detailing the fall of Joseon Dynasty in Korean Peninsula--or the rise or Majapahit Empire in the island of Java, whichever had caught his interest more at that specific moment in time--would be enough distraction to take his mind off the disaster wreaking havoc outside of his apartment.

Thanks to years of therapy, Spencer now had found it easier to chase sleep whenever he needed it. Still, its sweet relief stood no chance against the chaos brought by a raging thunderstorm.

This time, too, was no different.

Spencer had been dreaming. A land of reverie where his tongue had tasted honey, where his nose had recognized the hint of mint and juniper berry before the image was rattled by a high-pitched shriek in the sky.

When Spencer opened his eyes, the bedroom was enveloped in a near state of total darkness.

The sharp cry he heard had come from a lightning that struck momentarily before he woke up. Five seconds later, another one struck again, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Spencer's body as he waited for the imminent thunder to shatter the atmosphere.

Spencer shut his eyes in an attempt to get his racing heart back under control. Once he opened them again, the remnants of sleep had washed away from his pupils, allowing him to take in the empty bed, the chill bedroom, and the opened door right across from where he was sitting.

Frowning, Spencer thought back to a few hours prior. How he had promptly retired to the bedroom after coming home from work. He remembered clearly--courtesy of his eidetic memory--having slammed the door shut before he got ready for bed.

A creak in the floorboards outside his bedroom door compelled Spencer to reach into the bedside drawer, fingers inching nearer to where the secret holster of his gun was located.

Before his hand could wrap around the weapon, the bedroom door was pushed ajar, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway, outline cast by a hazy kind of luminance.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were an intruder."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement. A playful smile sweetened by the gentle glow radiating off the flickering candle in your hand.

"It's just me," you assured him, finally stepping into the threshold and placing the candle on top of the dresser.

"I can see that." He watched you approaching, gaze never straying even when you picked up the comforter a tiny bit to slip back into bed. "Where did you go?"

"Went down to check the breaker. Power's out completely, by the way. Looks like the storm took out the whole block."

He made a disapproving face at your response. "You were in the basement? Alone?"

Your forehead furrowed at the tone of Spencer's voice. It wasn't until you glimpsed the telltale sign of worry in his eyes that your shoulders eventually deflated. "I'm okay, Spencer."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because," you began, an amused smile threatening to split your face into two, "it's a three flights of stairs walk from our bedroom, darling. I think I can manage it just fine."

"But--"

"Besides," you cut him off, silencing him with a gentle palm pressing on his cheek. Spencer instantly melted at the contact. "I know how you get during nights like this. I wanted to let you have as much sleep as you could before the storm eventually wakes you up."

His hand circled around your wrist, then, bringing it upwards so that he could leave tiny kisses on your palm before he entwined his fingers with yours. "You still should've woken me up."

"Spence--"

"I know, I know. You could've done it yourself, I don't doubt it. I just--" he paused, swallowing a lump before continuing, "--I could've just waited here. In the bedroom. But in case anything happened, I would've been there for you."

The admission was quiet within the four walls of your bedroom. You knew that Spencer's plea had nothing to do with a toxic need to be controlling. Instead, it had stemmed from the vulnerability within. A naked truth that nestled in the deepest corners of Spencer Reid's soul.

The years that you had spent together allowed you to understand Spencer at a level nobody else could. They allowed you to understand that this silly request was nothing more than a fruit of his vigilant bones, forged consistently throughout his years in law enforcement. Spencer Reid, underneath his soft eyes and tender touches, had witnessed all of the gruesome layers of the world, lost far more things than anyone ever should.

It was only logical, now that Spencer had you in his life--a miraculous reprieve to his otherwise ghastly world--he would spend every waking moment to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

Always.

With this knowledge in mind, you couldn't, in good conscience, bring yourself to deny Spencer's plea, no matter how foolish it might seem.

What you did, instead, was shifting yourself closer to his body, seeking permission with your eyes before you leaned forward for a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry, darling," you offered sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, yeah? How does that sound?"

The relief was blinding as it washed over Spencer's whole being. "Thank you," he muttered before kissing your knuckles. "And I'm sorry, too, for being like this."

You shook your head firmly. Not because you didn't accept his apology, but because you didn't need one. Spencer didn't have anything to apologize for.

When you told him as much, Spencer's only reply was to press his lips to yours.

You were rendered pliant underneath his ministrations, your body molding into his as if you were two fabrics cut from the same cloth. Spencer poured all of his emotions into the kiss. Wishing--begging--that you could taste just how consuming the love he harbored for you was. The same way he could taste your heart beneath the hint of honey on your lips.

Once breathing became a chore, Spencer took the heavy decision to pull away, settling for resting his forehead on top of yours instead.

"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" you whispered.

Spencer wanted to nod, feeling a huge load pressing on every inch of muscle in his body. But before he could take you up on the offer, a distant sound between the roaring of thunders caught his attention, stopping his words right in their tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked.

"Hear what?" You frowned. "The thunder?"

"No." He rushed to get up from the bed, gaze apologetic as he looked at you from the doorway. "Stay here? I'll be back soon."

Soft footsteps trudged along the landing of your two story house, leading Spencer towards another door located right by the stairs. He knocked slowly on the wooden door, twice, before pushing it open with a gentle nudge of his hip.

The room he entered was smaller than the room he shared with you. During the days, the windows on the far end of the wall would offer a mesmerizing view of the creek that ran along the backside of the neighborhood. During nights like this, however, they merely provided another harsh peek at the tantrum that mother nature was throwing against the world.

Although the room was swallowed in darkness, Spencer could still make out the silhouettes inside. From the haphazardly scattered toys on the floor, the colorful drawings taped on the walls, even to the lavender-colored furniture that seemed to fill every available corner in the entire space.

Amongst them all, the one silhouette that managed to pull at Spencer's heartstrings was the one curled up on the center of the bed. A usually joyous sunshine, reduced to a whimpering ball under a cotton unicorn-themed blanket.

"Princess."

Spencer tugged the blanket down, revealing misty eyes and pouting lips on a face he held dearly. A sob managed to wreck itself out of the little girl's chest, plummeting Spencer's heart further down the abyss of no end.

"Oh, sweetheart."

He gathered the 4-year-old in his arms, feeling her immediately hugging his neck. Her body was still shivering with tiny whimpers and sobs, all of which Spencer tried to subside gently by constant strokes down her back.

"It's okay. You're okay," he shushed quietly, rocking his body to a phantom tune while she clung to his chest. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

The girl sniffled aloud before lifting her head, her tiny hands rubbing rigorously on the tear stains around her eyes.

"The-the thunders," she murmured. "It was so loud. I woke up and everything was d-dark. Daddy, I'm scared!"

She threw her arms around his neck again, crying softly into the collar of his sleeping shirt. Spencer tightened his embrace around his daughter, heart breaking into pieces with every tear shed from her innocent eyes.

"Sshh, it's alright, princess. Everything's alright. Daddy's here now," Spencer cooed. "Do you wanna sleep with us tonight? Hm?"

His daughter started to nod frantically. "Don't forget Mr. Elphie, Daddy."

Chuckling, Spencer quickly grabbed the elephant stuffed animal lying next to her pillow. "Of course not. Mr. Elphie is coming with us, isn't he?"

Spencer began to retreat back in the direction of your bedroom, all the while conversing with his little girl to keep her mind off the storm that was still raging wildly outside.

You were checking something on your phone by the time Spencer finally returned. Immediately, you tossed the device aside once you saw him, eyes widening in concern when you saw your daughter's limbs entangled around Spencer's form.

"What happened?" you asked.

Spencer headed for the bed, slowly putting down the little girl who instantly cuddled your side after he had tucked her under the duvet.

"The thunders are scary," your daughter mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes flicked towards Spencer, who gave a single nod of confirmation before settling back on his side of the bed.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." You brushed back the hair from her face, taking in the sight of your favorite pair of eyes that seemed to have lost their usual sparkles in the wake of her tears. "What do you wanna do, hun? Should I tell you a story? Play a little music?"

"I wanna sleep here with you and Daddy," she said in a shaky voice. "Is that okay?"

Kissing the crown of her head, you answered, "Of course it's okay, sunshine. Come here."

Your daughter fell back into your awaiting arms. Her small frame fitting so easily into the front side of your body. You watched as her tiny fingers clutched Mr. Elphie tighter, breath evening out while her face burrowed even deeper into your chest.

It felt as if hours had passed before you could find the will to rip your gaze away. In all honesty, you could probably have spent an entire eternity staring at the little miracle in your arms had the universe given you the chance. When you lifted your head, your eyes automatically locked with Spencer's, who looked as if he, too, had been entranced by the sight in front of him.

"She's incredible," Spencer confessed into the night, voice fragile with the weight of awe it seemed to carry. "I can't believe she's ours."

You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly once Spencer secured it in his own.

"Seems like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," you mused, eyes glinting mischievously from the knowledge that your daughter--just like her beloved Daddy--also had a fear of thunderstorms. "Like father like daughter, huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I'm just... not fond of them"

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up." He bit your knuckles playfully, seemingly pleased with himself when he managed to elicit a laugh out of your chest. "Go get some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, Mister." You settled your head back on the pillow, Spencer mirroring your position without breaking his hold around your hand. "Where are you going again?"

"Florida. Miami."

"Damn," you muttered, temporarily panicking about your terrible choice of words before calming back down once you saw your daughter sleeping soundly. "I bet it's nice there this time of year."

"It's Miami. The weather barely changes there all year-round."

"Exactly my point."

"Besides," Spencer added, squeezing your hand once, "it's not a vacation. It doesn't matter where I'm going, I'll only be seeing dead bodies all day long."

"Okay. I really don't need to start seeing corpses in my head right before going to sleep, so thanks for that."

"You started it."

"I most certainly did not." You scoffed. "I'm not liking this conversation. Now, can we please go to sleep?"

Spencer had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But once he saw how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, entangled as one with your daughter, he decided against it.

At last, he opted to shuffle closer on the bed until he could wrap his arm around the two of you, letting the scent of mint from your shampoo and juniper berry from your daughter's body wash to wrap around his whole being.

Spencer was still not a fan of thunderstorms.

But on nights like this, he had to begrudgingly admit that maybe, maybe, they weren't really that bad after all.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic.

Chapter 20: f song by strawberry guy..

The engine of the car hummed steadily beneath him, but inside Jimmy, a storm was brewing. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white, as the thoughts raced through his mind. He wasn’t sure when it had started, when the shift had occurred in him. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was no going back.

He’d always been the backup—the one who came second. Even now, with his brother Jey struggling to hold everything together, Jimmy knew where his place had been. Even with their shared history, the shared blood between them, there was always a divide. Jey had been the one to win Rhea’s heart. And Jimmy? He was the one who had been there, watching. Watching as Rhea fought her own battles, lost in a relationship that had never truly allowed her to be herself. Watching as Jey’s mistakes, his emotional wounds, spiraled out of control.

But Jimmy wasn’t going to let it slide anymore. He was tired of standing in the shadow of his brother, tired of watching Jey be with Rhea—tired of not being the one who held her when it mattered.

The decision to go to Niagara Falls had been impulsive, born of a conversation that lingered too long in his thoughts. He should’ve known better than to let his feelings get in the way, but the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: Rhea didn’t belong with Jey. She didn’t belong with someone who had hurt her, who used her, who didn’t see her for who she truly was.

Jimmy was different. He had always been different. He had been by her side when Jey wasn’t. He had heard the cracks in her voice when she talked about their relationship. He had seen the sadness behind her eyes when she thought no one was looking. And he knew—he knew—she was capable of so much more than she gave herself credit for.

A sharp ring from his phone broke his reverie. He glanced down, but he didn’t recognize the number. He let it ring out. There was only one call that mattered right now, and it wasn’t the one waiting on the other side of the line. He shoved the phone back into the cupholder and focused on the road ahead.

The airport came into view, and his heart pounded with anticipation. This wasn’t a trip for business or pleasure. It was a mission. His brother was the one who had hurt Rhea, not Jimmy. And now, it was time to make her see that. Time to make her understand that she didn’t need to keep choosing someone who couldn’t give her the love she deserved.

Parking the car in the lot, Jimmy grabbed the small duffel bag he had tossed together at the last minute. His heart thudded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him as the weight of what he was about to do settled in.

He had no illusions about the difficulty of what lay ahead. Rhea might hate him for this. She might tell him to leave, that she couldn’t choose between him and Jey, that she still loved his brother. But Jimmy wasn’t going to back down.

This wasn’t about some petty rivalry or some brotherly competition—it was about Rhea’s happiness. It was about her freedom. And Jimmy had finally realized that he was the one who could offer it to her, if she would only see it.

The weight of the decision pressed on him as he made his way toward the terminal. The flight was only a few hours long, but it felt like a lifetime. He had no idea what he would say when he saw her, but he knew it didn’t matter. Words could always be found. The most important thing was that he was there.

And once he saw her face, once he stood in front of her, he wouldn’t let her walk away without at least considering the possibility of a future with him. Because Jimmy knew, deep down, that he could give her everything Jey couldn’t. He could show her what it meant to be truly loved. And if she gave him the chance, he would spend the rest of his life proving it.

He took a deep breath as he handed the clerk his ticket, he entered the airplane with a renewed sense of purpose. There was no turning back now.

After about thirty minutes, the plane’s engines roared to life and the nose tilted upward, Jimmy’s heart raced in tandem with the ascent. He leaned back in his seat, trying to steady his breathing, but the nerves had a hold on him now, tightening around his chest with each passing second. The sound of the engines fading into the hum of the cabin did little to calm him. His mind was elsewhere, far away in the past, retracing the moments he could never forget.

The memory of that night at the Omni hotel hit him first. It was quiet, the two of them watching The Addams Family in the flickering light from the TV. Rhea had always had this way of being fully present, even in the simplest of moments. It was one of the things that drew him to her. They’d laughed together at the absurdity of the movie, but there was something in the air between them, something unspoken yet so tangible. He’d felt it, even then—the pull that had always been there, like gravity, pulling him closer, making him see her in a way he hadn’t before.

Then after the movie, the walk down the bayfront in Corpus Christi. The salty air had mixed with the distant hum of the water, creating a peaceful silence between them. They didn’t need to fill it with words. Just walking beside her felt like enough. And then, stopping at Whataburger by the Bay for breakfast on a bun, the grease and salt from the food mixing with the coolness of the evening air.

Rhea had tried the sandwich first, her eyes lighting up in that genuine way she had, like nothing else mattered in that moment but the taste of something new. It wasn’t just the sandwich—it was the way she let herself enjoy it, fully immersed in the experience. He remembered how she had offered how she said she had to make it a regular thing, the way her smile reached her eyes as they shared something simple, something that felt right.

After that, he couldn’t help but feel like they were teetering on the edge of something bigger, something unspoken, a line that could be crossed if they weren’t careful.

But he couldn’t forget the whole day the spent they making their gear for the first time. Hours together, not just sewing and stitching, but building something far more intimate. He could still remember the feel of her eyes stealing glances. Every moment spent with her felt like it was laying the foundation for something deeper. Something that didn’t just belong in the ring but in the space between them, growing with every shared experience.

But nothing compared to that night. The night he kissed her for the first time.

The memory crashed over him in vivid detail—how her breath caught, how it was everything he wished for and more. When their lips finally met, everything around them fell away. Time stopped, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them. The kiss had felt like a release, like they had both been holding something back for so long, and it had all poured out in that one, perfect moment. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise. A promise he hadn’t fully understood until later.

His fingers clenched around the armrests as the plane leveled off. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but now it wasn’t from nerves. It was from the intensity of the memories—the way he had fallen for her, quietly and slowly, as he had watched her navigate her life, thinking she was meant for someone else.

But no more. He wasn’t going to let her choose someone who couldn’t see her, couldn’t appreciate her the way he did. Not anymore. He remembered how much he had tried to bury the feelings, to convince himself that this wasn’t meant to be. He had let himself believe that Jey deserved her. That he was the one who had the right to make her feel loved. But the truth had been there all along. It was always supposed to be Jimmy.

And now, as the plane cut through the sky toward Niagara Falls, Jimmy realized something. This wasn’t just about showing up at that hotel and hoping she’d see the light. This was about showing her that the love she needed wasn’t just something she could find—it was something that had always been there, waiting for her to accept it.

He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers again. This was his chance. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

—

The soft glow of the city lights outside their window illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows that danced across the bed as Jey and Rhea returned from their date at the Skylon Tower. The night had been breathtaking—romantic and full of laughter—but now, with the door to the hotel room shut behind them, the weight of everything else seemed to settle back into place.

Rhea stepped into the bathroom, and Jey flopped down on the bed, kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs out, sinking into the comfort of the sheets. He couldn’t shake the warmth from the evening, though. The view from the top of the tower had been stunning, and the quiet moments they shared had felt like they could’ve lasted forever. It was a rare kind of peace, something he knew he’d been craving for far too long. But he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut, the nagging sense that Rhea wasn’t as present as she had been earlier.

Moments later, the bathroom door opened, and Rhea emerged, her wet hair towel-dried and falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She was dressed in a blue babydoll slip dress, the satin fabric clinging to her curves, the color of the dress contrasting with the paleness of her skin. Jey whistled at her, the sound low and appreciative.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her.

Rhea gave him a soft smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers up as she settled down beside him, her back to his chest. The room was quiet now, just the sound of their breathing filling the space between them.

“You okay?” Jey’s voice broke the silence, a hint of concern in his tone.

Rhea didn’t answer right away, her eyes staring ahead at the dark window, the city skyline outside still shining brightly. She nodded slowly, but her lips pressed into a tight line.

“This really has been perfect,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight beneath the words. “But…”

Jey’s brow furrowed, his body instinctively leaning closer to her. He reached out, gently turning her face toward his. “What’s wrong?”

Rhea averted her gaze for a moment, her eyes searching for something, some way to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside her. She didn’t know how to articulate it—didn’t know how to make sense of the pull she felt, the confusion that continued to haunt her.

But Jey wasn’t having it. He used his two fingers to gently lift her chin, coaxing her eyes back to meet his. “Rhea,” he said softly, his voice steady but raw, “every day I’m trying, don’t you see that?”

Rhea swallowed, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. She nodded, her chest tightening at his words.

“I do,” she whispered, though it felt like the words weren’t enough. She could feel the ache in her own heart, the weight of what she couldn’t say.

Jey’s face softened, but there was a fire in his eyes now, something that burned with both regret and determination. He took a deep breath and looked her over, really looking at her—like he was trying to search the depths of her soul. “I know I screwed up for an entire year and a half, Rhea,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his hands gripping the sheets beneath them. “But fuck, Rhea, I’m trying. I’m trying every damn day to fix it, to show you that I’m worth it. I’m not perfect, but damn it, I love you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and real. Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him, feeling the rawness of his sincerity. But at the same time, something else tugged at her—something she couldn’t name. There was a part of her that still hurt, that still wasn’t sure she could let herself fall back in completely. The year and a half of mistakes, of broken promises, had left scars. And even though Jey was trying, even though his love was clear, Rhea wasn’t sure if she could trust it again, if she could trust herself to choose him.

She took a shaky breath, turning away from him to hide the emotion welling up in her chest. The vulnerability she felt in this moment was too much to bear. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to return the love he so desperately wanted to give, but the fear of repeating the same mistakes haunted her.

“I need time, Jey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as she turned back to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I need to know that you’re really here, really present for me. I can’t keep living in the shadows of everything that’s happened. You’re trying, I see that… but I’m scared. I don’t know if I can let myself trust you again.”

Jey didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. His gaze softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t demanding answers. He was just there, ready to wait.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rhea,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

—

2:21 AM

Rhea’s mind was still spinning from the intimacy she’d shared with Jey awhile ago. He had fallen asleep beside her, his steady breathing a comforting presence in the quiet room. The weight of the day had taken its toll on him, and the exhaustion had pulled him into a peaceful slumber. She, however, couldn’t seem to quiet her thoughts.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Jey, and quietly grabbed a plush robe to wrap around herself. The soft fabric felt soothing against her skin as she stepped toward the balcony door, the cool night air beckoning her. Without a second thought, she slid the door open and stepped outside, feeling the familiar chill of the evening brush against her skin. The balcony overlooked the majestic Niagara Falls, and the sound of rushing water below mixed with the crisp, clean scent of the mist rising from the falls. The sight was breathtaking, but Rhea wasn’t really looking at the falls—her mind was elsewhere.

She leaned against the railing, staring out into the distance, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. She was thinking about everything—about Jey, the uncertain path they were on, the future, and whether she could continue down the road she had been traveling. She felt a heavy sense of conflict weighing on her chest, even as she stood in the quiet of the night.

The silence around her was peaceful at first, but then she heard it—the sound of tires crunching on gravel. She turned her head toward the parking lot, her gaze immediately locking onto the headlights of a car pulling in. Her heart skipped a beat as the vehicle came to a stop. She couldn’t make out who it was at first, but as the car’s engine cut off and the lights dimmed, the familiar figure of Jonathan merged from the shadows.

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened.

Jonathan.

Without thinking, she called out to him, her voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

“Jon?!” she called down, her heart pounding in her chest.

Jimmy froze for a moment, his eyes immediately finding hers. He looked up at her from the parking lot, his gaze steady and intense. Rhea’s pulse quickened as she felt the weight of the moment settle around her. What was he doing here? Why now?

“Rhea,” Jimmy’s voice floated up to her, soft yet urgent. His eyes didn’t leave hers, his focus unwavering. “I need to talk to you.”

Rhea’s stomach twisted, and she leaned a little further over the railing, her mind racing. She had no idea what Jimmy could possibly want, especially now, after everything that had happened with her and Jey.

“What do you mean, Jon?” she called down, trying to steady her voice, though the anxiety bubbling in her chest made it difficult.

Jimmy didn’t hesitate. His voice was firm, raw with emotion as he spoke again.

“Rhea… I need you to know… you’re making a mistake.”

Her brow furrowed, and her chest tightened with confusion. She was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to react. What was he talking about?

Before she could speak, Jimmy continued, his words coming out in a rush, as though he could no longer hold them back.

“I love you, Rhea. For fuck’s sake, I’m in love with you.”

The words hit Rhea like a slap in the face, her entire body going rigid with shock. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, a strange mix of disbelief, anger, and something she couldn’t quite name rising within her.

She took a step back from the railing, her mind reeling. What was he doing here? Why now? She didn’t know how to process his words, how to process him showing up here, in front of her, saying these things.

“Jon…” she called out to him and returned to the railing, the emotions swirling in her chest made it hard to keep her voice steady. “You don’t understand. I’m with Joshua. We’re… trying to make things work.”

Jimmy’s face remained unreadable as he stared up at her, his expression hardening, but the pain in his eyes was undeniable.

“Trying?” he scoffed, his voice shaking with frustration. “Rhea, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it. You can’t tell me you don’t know that there’s something between us—something real.”

Rhea clenched her fists by her sides, trying to hold herself together. She knew what Jimmy was saying, but it wasn’t that simple.

“I’m with Joshua now, Jon. I care about him. I’m not—”

“You’re not in love with him?” Jimmy cut her off, his voice rising with emotion. “You’re telling me you’re okay with just settling for him after everything that’s happened?”

Rhea shook her head, the words biting at her. “It’s not about settling, Jimmy. It’s about trying to move forward, to make things work. Jey and I have been through so much together—our past, our mistakes. But we’re trying, Jon. I’m trying.”

She could see the raw emotion flickering in Jimmy’s eyes, the desperation in his stance.

“And I’m trying too, Rhea,” he said, his voice low, intense. “I never stopped caring about you. Never stopped loving you.”

The silence between them stretched on, heavy with the weight of his confession. Rhea could feel the intensity of his gaze from where she stood, but it didn’t make things easier. In fact, it only deepened her conflict.

“What do you want from me, Jon?” she whispered, her voice catching. “You can’t just show up here and—”

“I just want you to know the truth,” he interrupted, his voice raw. “I’m not asking you to choose right now, but I need you to know that I love you. I always have.”

Rhea’s breath hitched as she looked down at him. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the more she thought about his words, the more she felt her own walls start to crumble. I love you, Rhea. The weight of that confession settled deep within her, and she was left standing there, caught between the man who had once been a part of her world and the one who was trying so desperately to prove himself now.

And the question rang out in her mind, loud and clear: What was she supposed to do now?

Jey’s eyes shot open as the sound of voices reached him from outside. His pulse quickened, and instinctively, his body tensed. The soft murmur of a conversation filtered through the thin walls of the hotel room. He could hear Rhea’s voice, but the words were indistinct. A strange, growing unease filled the air around him. He blinked, feeling disoriented, before swinging his legs off the bed. His mind still wrapped in the remnants of a dream, Jey’s instincts told him something wasn’t right.

He stood up, crossing the room quickly. The door to the balcony was closed, the faint sound of the falls below mixing with the voices outside. Without a second thought, Jey opened ithe balcony door wide, stepping out into the cool air.

Rhea was there, standing by the railing, her back to him. She was looking down, talking to someone below. His heart rate sped up as his gaze traveled past her. A flash of recognition hit him like a punch in the gut.

There, below, standing in the parking lot, was Jimmy.

Rhea turned at the sound of the door opening. She immediately saw the change in Jey’s posture—the way his jaw clenched, the sudden flare of anger in his eyes. He didn’t even need to speak for her to know what was coming. He was pissed.

Jey’s gaze hardened as he stepped forward, moving past Rhea to the railing. He leaned forward, looking down with unrelenting fury. Jimmy was standing there, eyes locked on Rhea, the same smug look Jey had seen so many times in the past. His heart boiled. It was a look Jey knew all too well—one of defiance, and one that had always been tied to his brother’s need to stake a claim. But this time, Jey wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

Without warning, Jey spoke, his voice low and sharp with venom. “What the hell are you doing here, Jon?”

Jimmy didn’t flinch. Instead, he raised his head, his gaze unwavering. “I need to talk to her, Josh,” he called up, his voice steady but with an edge. “I need to talk to Rhea.”

Jey’s fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing. The sight of his twin brother below, seemingly so calm while everything in Jey’s chest was screaming in anger, only made him more furious.

“Talk to her?” Jey repeated, his voice rising. “You’ve got nothing to say to her. You need to leave. Now.”

Jimmy stood his ground, his expression cold, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here because she needs to hear the truth. She needs to hear how I feel, Josh.”

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat, but she stayed silent, knowing full well that this confrontation was bound to happen sooner or later. She could feel the tension between the brothers, a storm brewing, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Jey leaned further over the railing, his fists shaking. “I told you before, Jon. Stay the hell away from us. You’ve had your chance. It’s over.”

A brief silence hung in the air before Jimmy spoke again, his voice firm but with an edge of something deeper. “You’re not the only one who’s been trying, Josh. Maybe you’ve been too caught up in your own shit to see that.”

Jey’s body stiffened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You really think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know what this is about? This is about you, trying to worm your way back into something you’ve already lost.”

Jimmy’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, they stood in a tense standoff, each brother seething in their own way. But Jey was done with the games. His patience was thin, and he had no intention of letting this go on any longer.

He took a deep breath, his voice low but sharp as he finally addressed his twin. “Stay the fuck away from us, Jon. I mean it.”

Rhea’s heart was pounding in her chest. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but it was all falling apart in front of her. She looked at Jimmy for a brief moment, then turned her gaze to Jey. The anger in his eyes, the raw hurt—it was hard to watch.

She lowered her head, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. She could feel the rift between the two brothers widening with every word, every accusation. She was torn, caught between the love she felt for Jey and the guilt she felt for the unresolved emotions with Jimmy.

“Demi,” Jey said, his voice softer but still filled with an undeniable force. He turned to her, his eyes searching hers for some sort of answer. “Tell him, baby. Tell him this is over.”

Rhea felt a knot form in her throat as her gaze shifted between the two brothers. She felt suffocated, caught in the middle of something she had never wanted to be a part of. With a deep breath, she turned back toward the hotel room, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the decision she knew had already been made.

Jey’s eyes stayed fixed on her for a long moment before turning back to Jimmy, his voice cold and final. “She chose me, Jon. Get the fuck over it.”

He didn’t wait for a response, storming back into the room, slamming the balcony door shut behind him. His heart was pounding, his mind racing with everything that had just transpired. He wanted to believe that what he had with Rhea was real, that it was strong enough to withstand anything, but right now, all he could feel was anger.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Jey leaned against the door, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly, his knuckles white with the pressure.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the painful reality that no matter how hard he fought, how much he tried, Jimmy was always going to be there. But for now, Jey knew one thing for sure—Rhea was his, and he wouldn’t let anything tear them apart.

He just hoped that was enough.

Jimmy stood motionless for a moment after Jey’s words cut through the air, each syllable sinking deeper into him like a heavy weight. His eyes stayed locked on the balcony above, where Rhea and Jey had disappeared inside, leaving him standing in the cold silence of the parking lot. The harsh words Jey had spat echoed in his ears, and for the first time in a long while, Jimmy felt small. Like a man who had been defeated without even realizing the fight had started.

Rhea was gone. She had chosen Jey. The bitter sting of that realization settled in his chest, hollowing him out from the inside. Jimmy’s mind replayed the past few weeks, the moments of connection with Rhea, the tenderness they had shared, the hope he had clung to that she might return to him, that they might pick up where they left off. But it was all just a fantasy.

He had thought he could change things. He had convinced himself that he could win her back, that he could be the one she turned to. But it was clear now—Rhea had made her choice. And that choice wasn’t him.

With a resigned sigh, Jimmy turned away from the balcony and began the slow walk back to his car. Each step felt heavier than the last, like the weight of his failure was pressing down on him, making the ground seem further away with each stride. The lot felt cold, empty, just like the pit growing in his stomach. His fingers brushed the cool metal of the door handle, but he didn’t immediately open it. Instead, he stood there, staring at the car in front of him, as if it could offer him any answers.

The reality was sinking in like a brutal truth he couldn’t escape from. Rhea had moved on, and no matter how much he wanted to believe she still cared for him, Jey’s words had shattered that illusion. She had chosen him, and Jimmy was left standing in the shadow of his twin brother’s victory.

A rush of emotion hit him—anger, frustration, and above all, a deep, gnawing sadness. He had always known that life had a way of throwing curveballs, but this felt like a punch to the gut. He leaned against the side of his car, his arms crossed tightly as he closed his eyes. The cool night air did nothing to ease the heat rising in his chest.

“God, what the hell am I supposed to do now?” he muttered to himself, his voice quiet but filled with the weight of years spent chasing something he could never fully grasp. He had been so sure, so confident that Rhea was meant for him. But it was clear now that those feelings were one-sided. She had given him everything at one point, but now she was giving it all to Jey. And no matter how much he wanted to believe it could be different, the reality was inescapable.

With a deep, slow breath, Jimmy pushed himself off the car. He opened the door and got in, the sound of the engine rumbling to life as he started the car. But even the hum of the engine didn’t fill the empty space inside him. The radio sat silent, the world outside passing by in a blur, and Jimmy’s mind was consumed with a single thought—he had lost her. He had lost Rhea, and there was no going back.

As he drove away from the hotel, the night stretched before him like a never-ending road, but all he could see was the image of Rhea standing on that balcony, looking down at him with something he couldn’t quite place. He knew it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t regret. It was something final. Something that told him everything he needed to know.

Rhea had chosen Jey. And there was nothing Jimmy could do to change that now.

The journey ahead felt lonelier than ever, and with each passing mile, the weight of his heartache seemed to press harder against his chest.

—

Inside the hotel room, the silence felt suffocating. Rhea sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight but her shoulders heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened. The remnants of their moment lingered in the air, but they felt like distant echoes now. Jimmy’s words, the confrontation with Jey, and the cold realization that she was in the middle of something that was slipping through her fingers, filled her mind.

Jey, still standing at the balcony door, watched her silently. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but as he turned back to face her, the adrenaline shifted to something else—concern, maybe even fear. He could feel the tension in the room, could sense the shift in her demeanor. He had been so sure that he had won her back, but now, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes, he wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.

He pushed himself to walk to her and he slowly made his way. Rhea didn’t look up as he knelt in front of her, but Jey reached for her hands, hoping for some reassurance. He held them gently, trying to convey that everything would be okay, that he was here and that it was just the two of them now.

“Rhea… it’s just me and you, baby. You know that, right?” His voice was soft, sincere.

Rhea’s gaze was distant, her mind far away as she stared at their hands. But then, something shifted in her eyes. Slowly, she pulled her hands away from his and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable.

“Let me see your phone,” she said, her voice calm but edged with something deeper—something Jey couldn’t quite decipher.

Jey blinked, taken aback by the request. It caught him off guard, sending a ripple of confusion through him. “What? Why?”

Rhea’s gaze didn’t waver. “Just… open your phone, Jey.”

The room seemed to freeze around them. Time, for a brief moment, held its breath.

Jey’s chest tightened, a pang of unease shooting through him. He swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the beating of his heart in his ears. Rhea’s voice was steady, but there was something beneath it that he couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t asking him this because she didn’t trust him. She was asking because she had trusted him once, and something had shifted between them. Something had broken.

Rhea had trusted him so blindly once. Back when everything had seemed perfect. When she had never doubted him, when she had given him everything without question. But now… now it was different. The space between them felt heavier than ever, and Jey realized that, in a way, she was asking for more than just the phone. She was asking for the piece of her that he had betrayed—the trust that had been shattered when he had made that mistake, the one that now loomed over everything.

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over his phone. The idea of her seeing his messages, seeing his calls, his photos—everything he’d done while she had been gone—was too much. The lies, the distractions, the things he had kept hidden, even from her. He had told himself over and over that he was doing this for them, for their future, but now… now it felt like a wall was closing in on him.

Jey looked up at her, the weight of the moment pressing on him like a vice. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes, those eyes that had once been full of love and trust, were now clouded with something else. Doubt. Pain. Maybe even betrayal.

“I’m not hiding anything, Rhea,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. But the lie felt too big, and he knew it. His stomach churned. “You don’t need to see my phone. You know I love you. I’m trying—”

Rhea cut him off, her voice low but firm. “I need to see it, Jey.” Her gaze softened for just a moment, and she added quietly, “I need to know you’re really trying.”

It was a simple request, but it felt like the entire foundation of their relationship was being tested. The trust they had built, the connection they had once shared, was now hanging in the balance.

Jey exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to summon the courage to hand over the phone. He had to prove himself to her. He had to show her that he was committed, that he was done with the mistakes of the past. But the phone was more than just a device; it was a symbol of everything he had kept from her.

Jey slowly reached for his phone and unlocked it, then handed it to Rhea. She took it without a word, her fingers trembling slightly as she swiped through the screen. Time seemed to stretch on forever as Jey watched her, his heart pounding in his chest.

[runicmagitek]

Laughing at the Top (Like They Can’t See the Bottom) (Ekko/Jinx - Arcane)

( for day 1 of Timebomb Week: musicians/bands, featuring some battle of the bands rivalry meet-cute goodness! )

The final chord reverberated as the curtain dropped. Screams from the audience overpowered the music, even as the house lights flicked back on. Pentakill was a fan favorite and after that performance? Yeah, Ekko could see why. Of course his band, The Firelights, was slotted to play next. No pressure, he mused, lingering backstage while roadies tackled the changeover.

In fifteen minutes, Ekko would take to the stage for Zaun’s thirtieth annual battle of the bands, graciously hosted at The Last Drop. The rules were simple: four elimination rounds total and two songs per band for each round, except for the finale duel. Ten of them made the cut out of hundreds of entrants, but only one walked away as the victor. The prize pool promised ten thousand gold hexes to first place’s charity of choice; Ekko hoped to donate that to the Undercity Refugee Center. Anything to see those kids smile.

Oh, and the bragging rights were a sweet deal. Street cred around Zaun was literally worth its weight in gold.

“Firelights?! You’re up!”

Ekko jerked out of his reverie as a stage manager beckoned for them. It was one thing performing in the vent pipes, but playing live at the battle of the bands? The very one he snuck into as a kid to witness his favorite musicians in the flesh? Yeah, no amount of deep breathing banished those pre-performance jitters.

But he navigated the dimly lit corridors once the house lights died out. The emcee introduced his band while they plugged into amps. Ekko adjusted his guitar strap and approached the microphone as the curtains rose. Green ambient lights ebbed and flowed, to his delight; it always paid off to befriend the tech crew. And when their drummer counted down with four stick clicks, The Firelights burst into song.

[read more on AO3]

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

:33 jealous pavitr x reader bc the reader just bought merch of him in his spider form and its an adorable little plushy and he gets mad bc they keep kissing and cuddling it instead of him the entire day/night

I'm (Not) A Jealous Guy

👉MASTERLIST 🕸️

Pairing: Pavitr prabhakar x Gender neutral!reader Tags: Jealousy Summary: Pavitr is totally NOT jealous of a Spider-Man plushie. Not at all. Never. (..or is he?👀) Jealousy prompts credit :  @creativepromptsforwriting

Also Read on AO3

“Pavitr!”, you yell, hugging your wall of muscle from behind. He smiles, pecking your cheek.

You were out shopping with Pavitr Prabhakar, your boyfriend and your superhero. He evidently hates shopping, with what having to stand for hours at a clothing store, but savours evey moment with you. The increasing crime rate in Mumbattan has him on his heels all night, and with having to study for finals it’s a tad too much of a stressor- which is why he never turns down an opportunity to let you pamper him.

Plus, it’s a great excuse to be cozy. To constantly hold your hand, kissing it intermittently, throw an arm around your waist and hug you close to feel your comforting warmth and, of course, admire you in your little moments -the kink in your brow when you think too hard, the amazed eyes when you find the exact thing you were searching for…

Is it even possible to fall for the same person so many times? Again and again and again?

“Look what I found!”

Your cheerful voice snaps him out of his reverie and he looks down at the toy in your hand. Oh, wait- it’s a merch: a plushie. Not just any plushie, it’s a plushie of him.. as Spider-Man.

Pushing his coveted raven curls aside for closer judgement, his eyes narrow in scrutiny. Huh. No one told him they made these. (Aren’t they supposed to get, like, a copyright or something from him..? )

“You don’t like it, Pav?”, You ask, seeing his slightly frowned lips and narrowed brows.

The plushie had a big head and comically smaller body, stuffed to make him look more like a teddy than a crime-fighter. The mask was a lot less detailed -admissible, but –good God, are those webs under his armpits?!  Well, at least they got his hair right. Just the perfect amount of curls, nothing less or more. 

“No, I’m just.. surprised”, he said, finally. “He’s okay.. But, Y/n, do I really have a big head?”

You giggle, giving his shoulder a playful punch as you hug the toy close to your chest. “Of course not, babe. It’s just a plushie, it’s made to look comfy. And sooooo cute!”

“Hey!”, he pouts, “You said I was the cutest! And he doesn’t even have dimples like me”

Pavitr aggressively points to his dimples to make a point but you take the opportunity to poke and pinch his cheeks. He tries to slap your hand away, giggling.

“Gods, I have made a terrible mistake”, you say dramatically, failing to hide your laughter. “You’re right! Nothing matches your cuteness, Oh, Prince of Dimples!”

“Y-Y/n..”, Pavitr stutters, going instantly pink in the cheeks, bashful. He’s always been shy about his dimples. You’re the only person allowed to touch them, apart from Maya aunty, which you take full advantage of.

You giggle clutching the plushie closer and pull him towards the next aisle, not noticing his eyes comically narrow at his cotton counterpart. As if he vows rivalry with it.

‘This isn’t over, fiend.’

-----

The plushie is evil. That’s the only reasonable explanation Pavitr could think of. A minion sent by some evil overlord to take your love away from him. Yes, that must be it!

What else makes sense? You’ve been spending more time with the cotton-head than with the real him, cuddling it all the damn time and taking it with you everywhere. You no longer hug him, preferring the stuffed imposter instead.

His nostrils flare comically as you snuggle the plushie closer to your chest, kissing it. Oh, the audacity! It has even commandeered Maya aunty’s attention, making her call it cute and adorable!

Pavitr must put an end to this before the evil plushie minion harms either of you.

“Why do you insist on flaunting him in my face?”

Maya auntie had invited you both over for tea and you were watching TV when Pavitr asks this out of the blue.

In his defense, he’s had enough of his stupid fabric-faced doppelganger taking you away from him. 

The cookie is stopped halfway to your mouth as you turn to him, brows raised in confusion. “Who?”

Pavitr makes a stressed noise, jerking his hand towards the plushie seated cozily in your lap. As if it owns you.

“I just don’t understand what you see in him.”

Amusement colours your features as realization dawns. “Pav, babe”, You begin as normally toned as possible, trying so hard not to giggle in his face. “He’s a plushie.”

“Exactly! Why would you need him when I’m right here?”

With a smirk he stands up on the coffee table and stretches his arms out in the classic Shah Rukh Khan pose.

You can no longer control and burst out laughing, clutching your tummy as you fall sideways onto the couch, much to Pavitr’s confusion.

“Oh my God, you’re so jealous! This is great to watch! Maya aunty, come, you have GOT to see this!”

He jumps down, mouth fallen open and cheeks gone pink as he stutters out a denial. “W-what? You’re crazy! Jealous? Me? Pff. Never.”

The face he makes as he tries to save face is even more funny. Maya aunty passes by, tapping her nephew’s shoulder. “Oh beta, jealousy can wreck a relationship.”

Pavitr scoffs, putting his hands on his hips for emphasis. Oh yes, he definitely isn’t jealous of a toy.

“M-maya aunty, I’m not jealous, I’m being absolutely reasonable. What would I even be jealous about? Pfft! Why would I ever be jealous of a.. a plushie? That's ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. I am sooo not jealous, Y/n”

But even Maya aunty can control for only so long. She cups her mouth to hide her giggles, holding onto the arm of the couch for support as she sits down.

Pavitr huffs, watching the two important people in his life laugh like crazy at him. He just squints his eyes at you both and turns away, pouting.

“Oh, Pavu…”, You go up to him and hug him from behind, finally managing to get your reigns. Turning him around, you cup his face and press your foreheads together. A shy smiles blooms in his face as your noses touch.

“The plushie is no match for you, meri jaan, you’ll always be my hero; my Spider-Man. Nothing can replace you.”

He laughs, pulling you Into an embrace, blushing and giggling as you kiss his dimples.

“Plus”, you say, pinching his dimples as you feel them go hot under your touch, “You’re so adorable when you’re jealous.”

“I…- I’m not- oh, C’mon guys!”

Maya aunty joins your laughter when Pavitr pushes you away, playfully rolling his eyes as he escapes your pinching fingers.

______

A/N: look who's alive !1!!! Sorry for going mia all of a sudden! Hope you enjoyed the fic tho <3333333 lots of love - plhh

[ilovejungwonandhaechan]

a little knack — yjw pt. 2

read part one here!

pairing: acadmic rival!jungwon x academic rival!reader

🎧 - paper tulips by gallant

note: jungwon is the student council president and the salutatorian (2nd rank) and reader is the valedictorian (1st rank). there's just a lot of tension in between them tbh

a/n: part two!! not proofread bc i’m lazy lol

wc: 789

fic under the cut!

jungwon stood there, watching you leave with a mix of frustration and something he couldn't quite place. his mind raced, trying to process what had just transpired between the two of you. he paced back to his desk, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"damn it," he muttered again, more to himself this time.

the room felt strangely empty without your presence and your sharp retorts echoing in his mind. he sank back into his chair, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. he couldn't deny the electricity that sparked whenever you two clashed, the way you effortlessly got under his skin.

with a sigh, jungwon closed his eyes briefly, replaying the confrontation. he realized there was more to your interactions than just academic rivalry or witty banter. there was a tension, a pull between you that was undeniable and unsettling. he wasn't sure if he wanted to confront it or ignore it altogether.

minutes passed, and Jungwon finally reopened his eyes, staring at the door through which you had exited. he couldn't shake off the feeling that things were about to change between you, whether he liked it or not.

jungwon’s thoughts continued to circle back to you throughout the day. he found himself distracted during meetings, absentmindedly flipping through papers without really registering their contents. your presence had an uncanny way of lingering, like an unresolved chord in a melody that refused to fade.

as the day wore on, he couldn't help but replay your last encounter in his mind. your confidence, your teasing words—they echoed in his thoughts with a clarity that surprised him. he had always prided himself on composure and control, yet you seemed to effortlessly dismantle both whenever you crossed paths.

by evening, when the student council room was finally quiet, jungwon leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. he couldn't deny the attraction simmering beneath the surface, nor could he ignore the frustration that came with it. he was used to being in control, but with you, he felt like he was constantly teetering on the edge of something he couldn't quite define.

the sound of footsteps outside interrupted his reverie. he looked up to see you standing in the doorway again, a wry smile playing on your lips. 

"back for more, jungwon?" you teased, your tone a blend of challenge and amusement.

he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "i... didn't expect to see you again tonight."

"surprise," you replied, stepping closer. "can't get rid of me that easily."

jungwon studied you, his expression guarded yet curious. "what do you want?"

you shrugged casually, taking a few more steps into the room. "maybe i just wanted to see if you're still mad."

"mad?" jungwon raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "why would i be mad?"

"because i seem to have a knack for getting under your skin," you remarked, your eyes meeting his challengingly.

he chuckled softly, the tension between you palpable. there was a pause, a charged silence hanging between you as you stood mere feet apart. Jungwon's mind raced with conflicting thoughts—should he push you away or give in to the magnetic pull drawing him closer to you?

finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "do you feel it too?"

unspoken words filled the room as he searched your eyes, seeing a vulnerability beneath your confident facade. he knew exactly what you were referring to. "yeah."

the admission hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. without another word, you closed the distance between you, standing so close that jungwon could feel your breath against his skin. his heart raced as he hesitated for just a moment before leaning in to meet your lips with his own.

the kiss was electric, a rush of conflicting emotions and desires intertwining in that singular moment. jungwon found himself losing track of time, of everything except the sensation of being with you, of finally surrendering to the undeniable chemistry that had simmered between you for so long.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes locked in a silent conversation of their own. jungwon couldn't help but smile, a genuine warmth spreading through him despite the lingering tension.

"i guess you're not leaving just yet," he murmured, his voice husky.

you shook your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "not a chance."

as you stayed there together, the air around you seemed to shift, carrying with it the promise of something new, something neither of you had anticipated when you first crossed paths that day in the student council room.

tagging @en-chantedtomeetyou @avaleyshin

[mjrtaurus]

More Monkey D Family headcanons to counteract the Urpi sadness from yesterday :,)

- Garp's Fist of Love does not exist in the Urpi canon or at least not in its usual state: it’s more like a quick jab in the arm or a knock on the head. What the kids really are afraid of is his noggies, he keeps teasing them, saying he’s gonna give them a bald spot!

- Urpi is no doubt one of those moms who just..doesn’t get Mother's Day. She'll say that she’s a mother everyday and having one day blocked out to acknowledge a yearly fact is silly. She does NOT understand that they just wanna pamper her a little. They’ve taken to making sure the cat is in her lap all day so she can be doted on for the day.

- Speaking on the pets!! The cat's name is Whiskers but everyone calls him Whisk, the vulture is named Javier Bird-em, the raccoon is Spikette and Camel is Camel

- Garp even joins in on the animal fun when he brings a retired military Labrador home one day. He is newly dubbed Bow after his favourite part of the ship and is a big old softie. All the other animals like to pile around him for group naps!

- None of the kids will hear any Once upon a times during storytime! They want stories of Kalgara and Noland and Shandian legends only! All attempts to deviate from their regularly scheduled routine will results in major pouty faces.

- Occasionally when they would call a super special night, Urpi will tell them a story about a nameless pair of daughters of Shandora. They always listen in a soft awe, not daring to make a sound lest they break the soft reverie cast over their mother.

- Family vacations at the beach! Dragon building elaborate sand castles (and also burying a napping Kuzan), Garp teaching Dadan how to windsurf, Urpi reading her book and sipping on a virgin piña colada! It’s easily one of their favourite times of year!

- On one of these beach trips the kids, full of jittery energy, run up to Urpi with hands full of slightly cracked shells. She doesn’t fully understand their hype until Dragon presses down on the apex of a shell and a jet of wind shoots out.

- None of the Monkey D kids like pirates. Dadan thinks of them as lesser bandits, Kuzan doesn’t like how they disrupt peace and the destruction they bring and Dragon is just straight up scared, the stories Garp tells him about his job are all told jovially but it still freaks the little guy out. Suffice it to say, meeting Gol D Roger for the first time was nothing short of complete chaos. (His uncle Roger era ended before it started)

- Urpi and Kuzan are coffee drinkers and are borderline hipster about their brews, Garp and Dragon are devout tea people, green tea specifically, with snacks of course! Dadan has no real preference between the two and thinks they’re all a little ridiculous for being so particular.

- Despite not having the Monkey D blood, Kuzan and Dadan certainly have that Monkey D appetite! Urpi is flabbergasted but doesn’t really mind. She does wonder occasionally if they’re really tasting the food though.

- While Nina loves her nephew dearly, she was a little skeptical about Garp with his time as a Marine and all but she trusts her sister’s judgement so she lets it go (mostly).

- Dadan occasionally goes to her parents to ask for advice on being a better older sister.

- Kuzan and Dadan definitely DIDN'T have a bet about who Luffy's other parent was…that absolutely didn’t happen…and Kuzan definitely didn’t lose it either-

- Garp & Urpi are the quintessential supportive parents! Sport tournaments, recitals, awards ceremonies, you name it! If their kiddos are involved, best believe you’ll find them in the front row!

- Urpi is also vice president of the PTA and has a very catty rivalry with its president, Eleanor. Bake sales for new equipment for the soccer team turn into something straight out of war zone or at least that’s how Garp describes it.

- The Strawhats meeting Urpi and feeling a sense of Deja vu with her warm eyes and wide smile, they’ve definitely seen that somewhere before…

- After being reunited, Garp and Urpi decide to renew their vows and throw a big party to celebrate! All their family and friends were invited and the celebration lasted at least 48 full hours.

Thank you for this meal, let me give you dessert!

- One of Dragon’s favorite treats is licorice root. No, not the candy. The root. Dig it up, clean it, strip the bark, chew on it. It’s as much of a stim as it is a treat, and Urpi introduced it to him. He gets teased by other kids for “eating” sticks, but you know what? The sticks taste good.

- Urpi once was subject to an attempted mugging while out getting groceries. She knocked the man over the head and lectured him for the whole ten minutes it took for authorities to get there and apprehend him. He looked thoroughly shamed.

- Garpi snores like a bear. If he falls asleep on his back, you can expect noise complaints from the neighbors. Urpi has a solution to this. Get up and grab herself a glass of water, come back to bed and then brush her night air chilled legs against him. Shuts him up real fast. Might have him on the floor in a heap, but it works.

- One of the only times Kuzan was ever openly not laid back about something was the time some local punks stole his bike. Dragon, who was on leave and visiting them at the time, took descriptions, tracked the punks- and the bike- down, scared the shit out of them with a lot of official and intimidating sounding Marine lingo, and stole the bike back. Nobody steals from his little brother!

- When Dragon first started dating, it wasn’t Garp or Urpi that those dates needed to worry about. It was Dadan. Dragon’s first ever heartbreak was from a guy that ended up being really shitty to him. Once Dadan found out, she broke his nose and told him if she ever saw him come around again it would be his fingers that got broken. Individually. Nobody hurts her little brother! Garp and Urpi couldn’t have been more proud of her.

[brizadeiro-doce]

🇬🇧 My project sekai AU .°*

— !!!! This AU contains abusive dynamics and abuse of substances ! Antis dni + block 🚭

Echoes of Reverie: A Band AU

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

E choes of Reverie is a band AU set in the streets of London around 2014-2016 (maybe i will stick with 2014). It has 6 main units/bands inspired on real-life bands (all chosen randomly by my playlist). They are recognized so they don't follow the og formula. You can read + find more info about it on my AO3 fanfiction.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Band 1: Eclipsed Reverie (The Cure-Inspired Band)

Members: Kanade(leader), Ichika, Toya, Nene;

Mentor: Miku.

Band 2: Mourning Sun (The Smiths-Inspired Band)

Members: Saki(leader), Honami, Shizuku, Kohane

Former members: Ichika.

Band 3: Paradox (El Cuarteto de Nos-Inspired Band)

Members: Akito(leader), Ena, Shiho, Airi, An

Band 4: The Rivers (Weezer-Inspired Band)

Members: Emu(leader), Tsukasa, Minori, Haruka

Band 5: Crimson Nocturne (Malice Mizer-Inspired Band)

Members: Rui(leader), Mizuki, Mafuyu, Kami (OC)

Band 6: VIRTUALZ (Gorillaz-Inspired Band)

Members: Meiko(leader), Kaito, Len, Rin, Luka

Former members: Miku.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

→﹐ ⛩ ﹒ Family Dynamics ﹒⟢

Tenma Family: Kanade and Toya are cousins with the twins( Tsukasa and Saki). The Tenmas share a bond filled with rivalry and support, contributing to their individual and collective musical identities.

Kamishiro Family: Rui is Nene older brother. They are both cousins with Mafuyu. Actually, the most healthy family.

Hinomori Family: Shizuku has a weird sis complex over Shiho. It's not 100% an incestuous feeling, but something more violent.

Shinonome Family: Akito is 1 and a half years younger then Ena. They both have the same father but different mothers. Akito's mom is German and half Japanese, and Ena’s mother is full Japanese. Their dad is Uruguayan.

Kagamine Familly: Len and Rin are twins instead of clones. All the vocaloids are adults(and only the vocaloids), the youngest (the kagamines) being 24, and the oldest (Meiko) being 31.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

˙ . ꒷ Headcanons . 𖦹˙—

Ichika is a transman. He uses he/him pronouns.

Nene is enby. They uses she/they pronouns.

Shiho is a transwoman. She uses she/her pronouns.

Mizuki is a transwoman. She uses she/they pronouns.

Mafuyu is a transmasc. He uses he/they pronouns.

Mafuyu is autistic and has albinism.

Kohane is AroAce and half polish.

Akito is an Gyaruo

Akito is half Japanese, half Uruguayan and half German.

Ena is half Japanese and half Uruguayan.

Ena and Miku have smoke problems.

An is a lesbian and filipino.

Rui is gender queer and gay.

Tsukasa is bi.

Haruka and Airi are Catholic.

Meiko is an alcoholic.

[voidsentprinces]

Good Evening, this is a piece of the Dance of the Knights from the 1935 production of Romeo and Juliet, also known as simply as: Montagues and Capulets by Sergei Prokofiev

Classical pieces don’t exactly have lyrics, so I thought I’d post some pieces and make a poll to help this super niche set of people maybe find the music they have been looking for one day.

This particular piece has been attached to some Youtube videos meant to be taken in cringe inducing reverie or where something has gone terribly wrong in what follows. Considering it is based for music done for Romeo & Juliet, it is hard to argue that even near a hundred years after this production. It doesn't invoke the same manner of knowing the impeding doom and still be enamored by it. Two houses of such arrogance and rivalry to bring the downfall of two star crossed lovers...who could of stood to wait a few moments longer.