#sister 2 sister magazine

[rnbria]

Magazine covers on my binder. 2010/2011

[boricuacherry-blog]

[jichanxo]

how it started:

how it's going:

[thursdaymurderbub]

from Silver Screen Magazine, September 1941

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[infictionalwonderland]

The BAU team meeting Hotch’s younger gf who looks like she walked off the front cover of a magazine & she’s so bubbly and has a really comforting energy! How would they react????

The satisfying little clicks of heels against the marble floor wasn’t enough to gain any of their attention usually, but accompanied by the delicately enchanting chimes of true laughter and sweet smell of baked goods—eyes were immediately lifting to investigate to the scene.

“Thank you so much!” An incredibly sweet, honeyed voice gushed genuinely, “here, all of these are meant for my boyfriend but I’m sure he won’t even notice.”

The team traded immensely interested looks as they surveyed the scene, Anderson (who was uncharacteristically blushing a bright flustered cherry red) was being handed a chocolate chip muffin by—wow—a startlingly gorgeous young women who was dressed in inviting soft colours and had a large sweet smile on her face that served to emphasise her lovely appearance.

“My day just got a hundred times better.” Derek grinned, swivelling his chair sideways to speak to the rest of his team while barely taking his eyes off you.

“You’re telling me.” Emily’s mouth hung open a little as she leaned forwards on her elbows to look at you more closely.

“Behave.” JJ scolded before her brief look of reprimand melted under Emily’s pointed stare, “she’s looks so sweet I just wanna eat her.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Spencer reminded them.

“What—?”

“Pretty boy—you and—“

“Oh—oh, no!” Spencer flustered, sputtering out the gulp of his coffee he had in his mouth (JJ handed him a napkin with a mothers readiness). “Not—I would be absolutely honoured—and—and, for lack of a sensical phrase, over the moon, to have a romantic relationship with a woman such as her but—no, unfortunately. She—she said a few moments ago that has a boyfriend.”

“Ah.” Emily blinked, a slow almost sheepish smirk on his lips, “I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, just watching her lips move.”

“Preach sister.” Derek leaned forward for a fist-bump which Emily easily gave, both of them nodding in solidarity.

“Hello!” They all startled heavily as your gentle, happy voice chimed now much closer to them and mouths dropped subtly at just how beautiful you looked up close.

“Well hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Hello!”

You blinked at them, an adorable giggle leaving you at the onslaught of greetings that came all at once. “Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where Aaron Hotchner’s office is would you?”

“Hotch?” Emily furrowed her brows at you curiously and then seemed to forgot about, well, any of anything she was thinking as your bubbly smile and sparkling eyes turned her way and you gave a cheerful ‘yep!’ “Um—just, up those stairs, the first door at the top.”

“Thank you very much.” You told her, voice as sweet as the packet of fizzy haribos hidden in her desk. “It was lovely meeting you all, we’ll probably be better acquainted later on.”

With a sparkly mischievous twinkle in your bright eyes and another adorable giggle, you took off in a small spin that sent the enchanting mix of your perfume and the baked goods wafting over to all of them and they all watched, entranced, as you climbed the steps to their boss’ office.

After several seconds of dazed silence, Spencer gasped.

“Boyfriend—“

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend either.” Derek murmured. “At all—really, no sweat off my back.”

“Hotch.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open as she realised where Spencer was going with his train of thought, rolling back in her chair as they pointed at him in realisation.

“Oh my God!”

“Hotch—hotch, is her boyfriend..?” Spencer sounded extremely confused, mouth falling open and closing repeatedly.

“Huh?”

“Reid, you are having a giggle.”

“No, he’s right.” JJ confirmed, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “She said she was here to see her boyfriend and she’s gone to see Hotch. . 2 plus 2 equals. .”

“. . An incredibly brokenhearted Derek Morgan.” Derek’s own mouth dropped open, craning his neck to see what was going on in the office of his boss before realising that Hotch had shut the blinds. Derek gasped, that sneak.

“And a flummoxed Emily Prentiss.”

“But she’s so—“

“Yeah.”

“And he’s like—“

“Literally!”

“Well, the last few months Hotch has been incredibly more relaxed, in fact his percentage of smiles given has gone up from a measly 30% to almost 84%, his laugh quota has reached high yet levels than I’ve ever known it to be. I had also noted that every Thursday he never goes home as late as he usually retires for the day and with this new revelation of a relationship—I assume this correlates to their date nights.”

“It does.”

Everyone turned in their chairs quickly to face their boss who now stood outside his office a faintly amused smile curving up his lips, at his side was you and you were wearing an amused and loving smile, eyes practically sparkling after Spencer’s speech on your boyfriend’s behaviour as they flickered up to said boyfriend beside you who looked down at you with soft, fond eyes.

“So you figured out my secret.” You grinned at them all, taking in Spencer’s red cheeks and Emily’s flabbergasted, dazed stare. “I’m Y/N, Aaron’s girlfriend!”

“Doesn’t that just crush a man’s hopes and dreams.” Derek pouted quietly to himself, straightening up in alarm when his boss’ intense eyes zeroed in on him.

“Honey, this is JJ—“ The blonde gave a warm, welcoming smile and a wave, “Spencer,” said genius gave a tight lipped awkward smile, hands flailing awkwardly and cheeks a burning fiery red, feeling this pulse thump when they smiled back directly at him, “Emily and Derek.” Both of the aforementioned gave waves with half flirty-ish smirks and half genuine smiles.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and when he stepped out and saw you beside Aaron he smiled happily, walking towards you both.

“Ah, Y/N!” He took you into an embrace, kissing both of your cheeks. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, is this big brute treating you right?”

“Always, Dave.”

He patted you on the shoulders, smiling, before turning to Aaron who was rolling his eyes at him fondly.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Rossi!” Emily’s astounded voice exclaimed, “you—know Y/N—you knew about this—“

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes as he continued walking to descend down the stairs, tutting at her disappointedly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He countered, “who do you think encouraged him to go for it?”

You laughed at that and your boyfriend smiled down at you fondly, looping an arm around your waist—seemingly forgetting he was in his place of work and needed to keep up the facade of stone cold, emotionless boss.

“What—Rossi—get back here—“ Derek leaped up from his seat and trailed after the older man.

“What, you gonna come watch me take a leak?”

“If it means we get some answers!”

“Shoo parassita.”

All you could do was laugh again, smiling up at your boyfriend as his arm tightened around your waist and he pulled you closer into his side. You were very happy with your decision to come and deliver baked goods to him.

[fictionalmenxyn]

hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her

of course I can!!

•———•

ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ

Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.

Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!

🝮🝮🝮

Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.

You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.

You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.

You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”

Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.

You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.

You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”

Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.

Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”

Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…

Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.

🝮🝮🝮

Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.

As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.

You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.

Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.

Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”

His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.

After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.

He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.

Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.

You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.

“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”

He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.

He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”

You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.

He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.

And he knew it too.

You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.

He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”

He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?

He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.

🝮🝮🝮

[nolita-fairytale]

carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

october 2019 | covid & carbonara | heat waves | 2/22/22** | called you again | home**

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

tuesday | wednesday | thursday | friday (**18+ for smut) | saturday/sunday | monday | tuesday, again | the playlist

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

strawberries & cigarettes (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

thursday | **bonus smut scene | friday | saturday | sunday | it's perfect, chef (**bonus smut scene)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

june/july | august | september | the honeymoon pt 1 | the honeymoon pt 2 | epilogue: november

granola blurb

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

part one | part two | part three | part four | give you my wild, give you a child (**smut-shot) | part five | part six | part seven

the social media au

scenes from the relationship & this story depicted as social media posts. won't always align with my other social media/moodboards.

part one | part two: first year of dating | part three |

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

so my darling | sydney adamu x male!chef oc

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

[rnbria]

Binder files: 2007

[traumatrios]

the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely. 

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged. 

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town. 

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment). 

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine. 

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him. 

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy. 

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends. 

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever. 

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer. 

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.” 

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular. 

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes. 

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back. 

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more. 

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade. 

Were you opposed? Not entirely. 

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips. 

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face. 

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose. 

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road. 

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk. 

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader.

a catholic boarding school AU pt 1 🍓

pt 2 here!

you’re somebody that’s virtuous, staying in an all girls catholic boarding school. fallen victim to the vast fear of god, you try your hardest not to sin. however… what happens when an embarrassing incident catches a certain rogue girl’s attention — who absolutely reeks of sin?

content: heavy religious talk, catholic, holy! reader, rebel!ellie, quiet!reader, player!ellie, ellie has piercings, ‘lil raunchy but no smut (yet heheh), v brief mention of drugs, v brief mention of porn.

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i did back in the summer! i had accidentally (and stupidly) deleted my account :,) let’s pray people see this.

having lived in a catholic boarding school for half of your life, it’s only natural you were heavily religious. the fear of god plagued you like a disease. you were nailed on following the Word, and earning a seat in heaven — not it’s roaring, fiery counterpart.

you were a good girl: always following the rules the sisters bestowed upon you. always deemed as pure, and untainted. you prayed every night without fail: knelt beside your bed, elbows against the mattress, hands clasped together.

you had always tried your hardest to stray away from sin. however, there’d be temptations, of course. for instance, that one time you caught a bunch of girls in your dorm giggling and squealing at a porno-magazine they had randomly found somewhere. you had accidentally caught a very brief glimpse at a woman flaunting her tits and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made you feel something. a needy little throb between your thighs. that night, consumed with guilt, you had prayed so hard that your head hurt.

oh, and if we’re talking about temptations? ELLIE WILLIAMS had to be the hardest one yet.

take the word sinful and ellie would come to mind. she was someone you had always tried your best to avoid. rebellious, brash and cocky. it was said she was forced here as punishment from her parents. she had always been hard to discipline: had piercings (spider bites and one on her right brow), always snuck out and was notorious for smuggling in drugs.

even though ellie was a pain, there was no way the nuns could expel her since her parents sponsored the school a generous amount. they had to resort to seeing ellie as someone they could “save.”

whenever she roamed the hallways, every girl would scramble to move out of her way. she was incredibly intimidating and got into fights whenever she wanted to — both with students AND the sisters. of course you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

there were also numerous rumours circling around about her. too many to count, but one stuck with you the most: that she gets it on with girls. hearing from your gossip-gripped friends that ellie had fucked a handful of girls in your school had surprised you. you were brutally naive, so preoccupied with seeming good in the eyes of the Lord that you weren’t aware that something like that could happen. this had only made you want to stay away from ellie even more.

you were quiet, so timid and meek that you believed yourself lucky to actually have friends. your quietness allowed ellie not to notice you, not even be aware of your existence despite you two being in a lot of the same classes. you didn’t mind — in fact, you were glad. relieved, even.

that is, until the school’s annual sports day.

it was a scorching hot day in the middle of june and many of the girls were excited. not particularly because of the sports but because every time, the neighbouring all boys school would join yours. a classic boys versus girls. you didn’t really care whether the boys were here or not, as opposed to your friends who were all bashful and red-faced. you found it understandable considering they’re sheltered away from them most of the time. bless them.

you and your friends were leaning against the fence of the tennis court. you were so hot that your t-shirt stuck to the small of your back, little baby hairs glued to your forehead. bored from all the boy-talk, your eyes decided to drift to a certain auburn-haired girl: manspreading on the bench right across from you. you wondered how a woman could sit so unladylike.

ellie was out of breath, probably from doing a running activity. there was visible sweat gleaming on the corner of her forehead and her cheeks were pink. god knows why, but you allowed yourself to prolong your stare. you watched as ellie grabbed her water bottle, gulping down desperate sips; some of the water spilling and dripping down her slender neck. you watched as the skin on her neck bobbed as she sipped, heard as she panted breathlessly like a dog. you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to prickle, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe. when her pale green eyes caught yours, you immediately looked away, turning your attention back to your friends. that was the first time you two had ever made eye contact.

a moment later, it was your group’s turn to play tennis. ellie remained perched on the bench, and as you waited in the queue to have a go on batting the ball, you happened to be quite near her. you tried your very best to play it cool. ellie paid no attention, spaced-out and obviously too lazy to participate in the activities.

there were also boys in the queue, right behind you, which had got your girls in a frenzy. one of your friends decided to push you against them. “oops” she would say before purposely bumping you towards them again and again. you were awkward and uncomfortable, but you had played it off and giggled, acting as if it was funny. at a point, she accidentally pushed you too hard which made you lose your balance; stumbling on your heel and falling backwards. right onto ellie’s lap. yep! her lap.

“woah?” ellie said, caught off guard. “oh shit. go. go!” your so-called friends murmured as they scrambled off, leaving you completely and utterly humiliated. you immediately bolted off her lap as you turned around to look at her.

“i’m really sorry. that was— i mean, my f-friends were…” you began to ramble, feeling your whole body turn hot. ellie’s lips cracked up into an amused grin.

“it’s chill. not very often you get a cute girl sitting on your lap for less than a second.” she chuckled. you blushed immensely, before rapidly nodding and speeding away.

if only your little innocent self knew how quick things would change…

a/n: hooked? read pt 2 here!

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.2 - january 5 2025

pt.1 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

wordcount: 1810

The door of the ski lodge burst open, making you look up from your drink. Max appeared, the rest of the group having found Lando and you, waving and dragging his snowboard behind him, with Dylan close on his heels. Flo and Cisca followed.

“Absolute perfection out there,” Max declared, his grin as wide as the horizon. He dropped into the chair across from you and immediately launched into a story about his wipeout. Dylan followed, unstrapping his boots with practiced ease.

“Max, you forgot to mention the part where I saved your ass after you faceplanted.”

“Details,” Max said with a dismissive wave before turning to Lando. “Hey, Lan, you know what I’ve been thinking? Quadrant should sponsor Dylan.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” Max said, gesturing toward Dylan. “He’s Red Bull-sponsored already, and he’s basically a legend. Plus, Dylan would kill it in the merch.”

Dylan laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not exactly esports material, and I think Lando’s got the whole ‘speed’ thing covered.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s not a bad idea. Could bring a new vibe to the team, snowboarding isn’t racing.” 

“Exactly!” Max exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself.

The conversation drifted as the group packed up their stuff and made their way back to the lodge. You watched Dylan joking with Cisca, Cisca had dragged Dylan into a conversation about snowboarding tricks and she was clustered to his lips, he was laughing as he sketched a move with his hands.“You’ve got to teach me that,” she said, eyes wide with excitement. “Anytime” Dylan said with a grin. his easy charm blending seamlessly with the group, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for him. 

Later, back at the lodge, Magui arrived, her presence lighting up the room. Lando was quick to meet her by the doorway, pulling her into a easy kiss before taking her coat. They looked perfect together, the F1 driver and the model—a picture straight out of a magazine. Their reunion was quiet and easy, as though they were used to these quick and fleeting moments together. This time she was also only staying for a few days.

You turned back to the kitchen, focusing on the mugs of hot chocolate you were preparing. Dylan leaned in the door opening, watching you with a soft smile.

“Should I take over?” he asked. “You’ve been hostess of the year this trip.”

You laughed, handing him a steaming mug. “I think I’ve got it under control. Go mingle.”

He gave you a mock salute and wandered back to join the others

You busied yourself setting the table for dinner, Lando helping. 

Dinner was a lively affair, with Max recounting his earlier escapades and Cisca chiming in with sarcastic commentary. Magui's laugh ringing out at all the right moments, but mostly at Lando’s stories, which were less frequent since they were having quiet conversations with the two of them, keeping to themselves, her hand resting on Lando’s arm as if it belonged there.

As the evening wore on, the group moved from dinner to games and then to music and dancing. The wine flowed freely, laughter and warmth filling the lodge. By the time the night wound down, most of the group was sprawled across the couches and floor, drowsy but content.

You found yourself beside Lando on the couch, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. He leaned against the armrest, his half-empty glass of wine dangling from his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tucking your feet beneath you.

Lando turned to you, his usual smirk replaced with something quieter. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re just going through the motions?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice low. “Like you’re living the life everyone expects you to, but it’s not really yours?”

You blinked confused, caught off guard by his sudden unexpected choice of subject. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, swirling the wine in his glass. “Magui’s great. She is. But sometimes I wonder if we’re together because we want to be or because it just… fits the narrative. F1 driver and model. Picture-perfect.”

You didn’t respond immediately, sensing he needed to say more.

“You and Dylan…” Lando continued, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You guys are so natural. You actually know each other, and it works. It’s real. I want that. Something real.”

“Lando…” you started, unsure of what to say. “You’ll have that too. You’ve never even wanted that yet—focusing on racing, and look where that’s brought you.”

“You know what, Fewtrell? You’ve got it good with Dylan. That’s what I want. Someone who actually gets me. Not just someone who… looks good on my arm.” Lando repeated himself. 

“You’re drunk, Lan.” you concluded.

“No, I mean it. F1 relationships… they’re all the same. Shallow. Temporary. But you and Dylan… that’s real. I want that.”

You sensed he wasn't going to give it a break. You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. “Lando, you haven’t even been looking for something real.” you also repeated yourself, hoping he would hear it now.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been focused on winning races and kissing other girls in clubs,” you shot back, tone light but edged with meaning. “You don’t get to complain about not having something real when you’ve never made room for it.”

Lando winced, the guilt flashing across his face. You know you should judge him for it—anyone else, and you probably would have. But you also knew his world was different. A life on the road, racing nearly every weekend, with a level of attention and temptation most people couldn’t imagine.

You softened slightly. “Look, I know it’s hard. F1 relationships aren’t exactly a blueprint for stability. You barely see each other because you’re always traveling, and there are... distractions. But if you really want something real, it’s not going to fall into your lap. You’ve got to make space for it.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” he said defensively, though the edge in his voice was weaker now.

“Because I know you,”

His shoulders sagged, and the guilt returned, more evident this time. “Okay. Maybe I haven’t. But I want it now,” he said, quieter, almost like a confession.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so now you’ve decided you want it all?”

He frowned slightly, unsure where you were going with this.

“You know, the McLaren constructor’s championship, driver’s world champion…” You gestured vaguely, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. “You can’t have everything, Lando. Life doesn’t work that way.’’ 

Lando leaned his head back against the couch, his gaze flickering to you. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course, I’m always right,” you said, sticking out your tongue, having had enough of this serious conversation this late at night, sleepiness taking over. 

He glanced at you, a faint smirk forming. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

— London, november 14 2015

At sixteen year old, it had felt like a disaster. Not in a catastrophic way—nothing earth-shattering had gone wrong—but in a teenage life it was one of the worst things. Her first time with her then-boyfriend, a sweet enough guy who she thought had cared. She’d expected… something. Fireworks, a sense of closeness, maybe even just a feeling of satisfaction. But all she’d been left with was disappointment  and a desperate need to shake it off.

When Max hadn’t answered her texts, she’d turned to the one other person who always seemed to know what to say—or at least how to distract her.

Lando had shown up within ten minutes of her cryptic “What are you doing right now?” text, a bag of chips in one hand and a pack of her favorite chocolate in the other.

“Alright,” he’d said, flopping onto the couch beside her. “What’s up? Max is out of commission?”

She hadn’t meant to tell him. She’d thought maybe they’d just watch a movie or play a game so she’d feel distracted. But the words had spilled out before she could stop them.

“It sucked Lan,” she admitted, her voice cracking between a laugh and a cry. “I thought it would be… I don’t know. Better.”

Lando blinked, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “Wait, are you saying—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, burying her face in her hands. “And don’t make it weird, okay?”

“I’m not making it weird,” he protested, though his tone was slightly higher than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, his expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite place. “What, you didn’t think I’d ever have sex?”

“No, I mean—yeah, obviously, you would. I just didn’t think…” He trailed off, ruffling his hair awkwardly. “Never mind. What happened?”

And so she told him. About the awkward pauses, the fumbling, the little to no attention for her, and the overwhelming sense that something was missing.

“It’s not supposed to feel like that, right?” she asked, her voice small.

Lando had been quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t think there’s a ‘supposed to.’ It’s different for everyone, but… yeah, it probably shouldn’t feel like that. You want me to go beat him up? I’m not that big, but I’m scrappy.”

She huffed a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Great. Glad to know I’m just unlucky, then.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s definitely not you. Sometimes it’s just… the wrong person. Or the wrong timing. Or both.”

“Thanks, Dr. Norris,” she teased, but her smile was genuine.

They’d spent the rest of the night watching the movie and talking about everything and nothing. By the time he got up to leave, the heaviness in her chest had lifted, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude.

As he slipped on his jacket, he turned to her, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t believe the first time your first time isn’t with me, it doesn’t work out. Mistakes, Fewtrell.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning. “Oh my god, Lando.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, winking as he opened the door. “We could have had an actual good first time, you know. Just saying, everything’s better with me.”

“Get out,” she said, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed and ducked out of the room.

But even as the door clicked shut behind him, she found herself smiling, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. Only Lando could turn a moment like that into something lighthearted without dismissing how she felt. 

—

WN: Hi guys!! Thanks so much for reading!! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think, not my favorite chapter.... but bear with me please!! I'm open for all suggestions and feedback! Posting part 3 tomorrow!

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05

[joonipertree]

part 2!

Pro-racer Mikey that needs to do photoshoots and commercials every once in a while because he's famous and has a pretty face

He's put into his tracksuit or into lavish clothes to pose for the masses and a lot of people realise that Mikey has a presence on the camera that's unshakeable

And so....they decide to have him model for a photoshoot with one of the biggest models of the industry. Which works!! It's fine

They're just pictures.

But then the model posts a selfie of Mikey and her. and she says nothing but puts a heart in the caption.

And the speculations run WILD

Comments upon comments of shipping them together, calling them a power couple.

And you sit there, stuck in a doom scroll as you see one tweet after the other. You stare at your boyfriend, black hair neatly kept and smile wide like it always was, and you see the pretty girl.

And within seconds, you feel stupid for feeling insecure because Mikey had literally spent all morning peppering you in kisses, it was IMPOSSIBLE to pry him off even though he had a shoot and Draken had to come haul his ass up and out the door.

The man had texted you complaining how the food was blegh and how he missed your face.

There's no reason to be jealous.

So you turned off your phone and when Mikey came home, exhausted but very happy to see you....you let him smother you in kisses.

And it's forgotten

Until an unofficial bonus picture was released, on the magazine's Instagram page.

Him and the model, her leaning down as he sits on a chair...his hand wrapped around her wrist while their faces are inches close to each other.

It took three seconds to switch your phone off, throw it away and break down sobbing with whatever rational thought you had leaving your head.

You didn't need to read the comments to know what they were saying. You didn't need to wait until your friend's message you to ask if you're okay, out of pity. You didn't need his friends to call you in defense of him. You didn't need him to realise what had happened.

It was all a PR stunt so why would he even need to apologize. It was just a picture. Two people who were attractive being in close proximity to each other, being ogled by millions...being perceived as perfect for each other. As 'pleasing to the eye'

Now, Mikey was filming a commercial when this happened. He'd been chatting with the co-star while the cameras rolled when he noticed Ken-chin whisper into his phone.

The man looked annoyed, ready to argue but going rigid before sighing.

With a whisper to the director, everything paused as Ken waved his phone and said it was for Mikey. That it was Emma.

There was immediate panic because there's no way it wouldn't be an emergency. And he was right, his eyes widened and body grew stiff in seconds hearing his sister berate him.

For being a bastard, for breaking your heart like that.

She demanded he fixed it and when he was about to ask what was going on.....Draken shoved another phone into Mikeys hand...the instagram page of the magazine opened.

Oh. Fuck no

"I'm leaving." Mikey yelled out, startling everyone in the room, his years of being a gang leader coming out.

"What do you mean---"

Draken blocked the director's view, hands behind his back as he went back into the position of the second in command.

"You heard him."

"He has a contract--"

"He doesn't give a fuck."

[st44rkeys]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

rafe cameron imagine

pairings: assassin rafe cameron x assassin fem!reader

wc: 17,930..... wow

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

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

part 1 , part 2, part3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was with Topper"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking hell"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strange

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The glare is returned in full force.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quiet, please-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, nodding in agreement, anything can happen 

even love

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

“In three days"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Give each other a hug now.”

“Oh, come on"

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that you mention it-"

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

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

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

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

“At least act like a gentleman” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a tired sigh. “I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your fault.

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

And the feeling was mutual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, he exits the room.

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

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

“Idiot” she mutters, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Gomez?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was kind, perhaps too kind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She’s going to Cuba too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lucky to have her” Andrea adds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously? Get your own food"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Idiots" he mutters under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

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

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

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

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

“Say please" 

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

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

"Rafe-"

"Angel"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andrea lets out a laugh. “Thank god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turning your head, you glance at him. The faint glow of moonlight from outside casts soft shadows across his sharp features, and for a brief moment, his confidence eases your tension. “Tomorrow the real game begins"

But deep down, the nerves linger. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t anxious. The weight of the mission is pressing down on you, you'll be all alone, with Rafe. In an island where maybe, you won't even come out alive 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push those thoughts aside. There’s no room for doubt now, not when everything depends on what happens next. Rafe shifts beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“Get some rest," he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

You nod silently, closing your eyes and letting the tension in your body ease just enough. 

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, and just as you’re about to drift off, Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“You looked pretty tonight" he says suddenly.

Your eyes flutter open, turning toward him in surprise. He’s lying on his back arms tucked under his head staring out the window.

And that made your stomach flutter. It was simple maybe even fake but it didn’t stop the warmth from creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful the lights were off, hiding the blush you couldn’t quite control.

“Uh thanks…?” you mumble, shifting slightly. “What’s with the sudden compliment?”

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know" he says after a beat. “The way that guy was talking about his wife earlier it was disgusting. So I figured I’d give my wife a proper compliment.”

A laugh escapes you, soft and amused. “Fake wife" you correct raising a brow.

Rafe scoffs, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Same thing.”

“Go to sleep" you say, shaking your head with a smile, closing your eyes again.

Instead of listening, Rafe leans closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “What if I want to cuddle with my wife tonight?”

You roll your eyes, placing a hand on his face and pushing him back. “Sleep Rafe" you say firmly, though you can’t help the small grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckles softly, settling back into his spot. Within moments, the room falls quiet again

"Do you really think-"

"Good night Rafe"

"Night angel"

[azzifuddfanpage]

only like myself when I’m with you.

guys I made the executive decision to try and write a pazzi fic in one sitting and I literally almost just died I don’t know how you all do it but here we go

5.2k words 😭 like i literally feel dead.

Let me know how i did tho this is my first one and please give me feedback. Also I edited as I go and got a lil tired by the end

theme: friends to lovers

tw: smut at the end. Most of the story isn’t so if u don’t like it stop when u get to to the French fries being eaten it gets freaky 😛

2021

Paige walked into Ted’s, hair damp from her shower after a tough loss to notre dame. 

She was frustrated with herself for how she played. She knew she should have put more shots up, regardless of her teammates consistent reassurance that she did everything she could, it wasn’t enough for her. 

With Azzi hurt, she felt like there was a part of her that was missing on the court, and she didn’t feel herself. With no Azzi, there were no light taps on her back that sent shivers down her spine when she made her free throws, none of the gentle soft spoken whisper she would hear during the huddles. Her mistakes felt bigger. With Azzi hurt she felt a responsibility to take on her role in the court. If Azzi couldn’t play she felt like she needed to fill that gap, that role, and today she let her down. 

As she walked through the doors she heard KK’s booming voice even before she saw them. 

Paige unzipped her drawstring hoodie letting it fall off her shoulder revealing her black crop top under neath. She smoothly made her way over to the table, stopping to order a dirty Shirley from the bar and 2 shots of tequila. 

“Paige!!” A voice yelled out coming from the table. Turning around from the bar with her tray of drinks she walked back towards her teammates. 

“Where’s Azzi?” Paige asked, scanning the group noticing a hole where her curly haired best friend was.  

“I think she was with the trainer after the game, she will probably be bye later.” Ice said, schooching over so Paige can squeeze in between her and Kk. Paige let out a sigh taking both the shots instead of leaving it for Azzi like she intended.

As much as she hated herself for it, but she needed to hear Azzi’s voice, to hear her tell her she didn’t play bad, that she was okay. Most of all she needed to tell Azzi how much she loved her, and how much she missed seeing her dimpled grin when she sunk a three, or seeing her cheer when paige scored off her. She felt like a burden, Azzi was out hurt with a knee sprain after just 3 games her freshman season, and would give anything to just touch the court again, while Paige needed her to tell her how she played.

Since they were on the USA team 4 years prior, they had an unmistakable bond. Defining the lines between friendship and something more was always a challenge for them. 

Their title remained “Best-friends” to everyone else, teammates, coaches, family, fans, but both girls could tell the feelings ran deeper than they both realized. Touches lingering, snuggling up against each other. Paige even spending an entire month with her family where they kissed for the first time. Since then they continue to kiss each other, to touch each other- which they had convinced themselves was completely normal for best friends to do. 

“She’s like my sister” Paige would tell slam magazine, along with herself, trying to assess what these unknown feelings were. 

Friends that occasionally crossed the line was normal for their relationship, they were just a little closer than others that’s all. As much as she convinced herself of this, the sleepovers she would have with Azzi where they would share a kiss and cuddle up against each other, the tension in the air was thick. 

Paige wanted nothing more than to stick her tongue down Azzi’s throat and kiss her until they couldn’t breathe. She wanted to go all the way. She wanted to make Azzi feel good in anyway she could, and craved Azzi’s touch more than anything, but fear stoped her. 

As much as she knew Azzi loved her, and vice versa, there was no way of knowing how far she could take it. She has herself convinced she was straight. Her feelings for Azzi were simply platonic, which made no sense seeing as she wanted to literally f***. 

But it was fine. She ignored the feelings. Her and Azzi were best friends, who yes kissed sometimes, but it was nothing more than that, she was almost positive that there were other friends that did that too. 

——————

Azzi on the other hand felt just as conflicted. The kisses she shared with Paige in the safety of her room were the most seen she had ever felt. When she was with Paige she felt as though she was unstoppable. Nothing was wrong when she was with Paige, no injury mattered, no person, no coach, no team, no game. Her nights with Paige moved in slow motion, snuggled up against her skin she could hear her heart beating against her. 

Azzi sometimes would push the limits, backing up into paige as they lay in bed together, hearing the shift in her breathing and the way her hands stiffened scared to touch her as if she was made of glass.

Azzi wanted nothing more than to lay with paige forever, to make her feel like the most special girl in the world. 

Azzi knew the pressures of basketball better than anyone, she knew how much Paige put on her self, the weight of the entire team, especially now that she was injured. She hated that Paige would blame herself for losses, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and kiss every worry and doubt away from her, but they were just friends- best friends- who occasionally crossed the line.

——

Paige pulled out her phone and pulled up Azzi’s contact checking her location. With the trainer as Ice said. 

Paige wasn’t surprised. Azzi never gave up, if Azzi could spend every minute of the day in that rehab facility with the trainer she would if it meant she would be closer to playing again. It was one of the things Paige loved and hated about her. She knew she would need a break, but also knew Azzi was too stubborn to accept that until she was cleared by the doctor. 

Paige put her phone back down trying to distract herself from the Azzi sized hole in her heart. She felt the tequila pumping through her blood, the music pounded in her head. Taking a sip of her Dirty Shirley she stood up with Kk and chose to sing (and absolutely butcher) some Sexyy Red. 

An hour, 15 songs, 8 maraschino cherries, 3 shots, and 2 dirty Shirley’s later, Paige shakily made her way back to her seat feeling the effects of the alcohol in effect. She picked up her phone unable to hold back any longer

 Me: AZZZZIIIII WYA👀👀👀

💗: I’m still with the trainer.

        She had me use the cold tub for my knee,        she said it would help with loosening the ligament. 

         Why?

Me: OMF HATE THE COLD TUB 

       miss u thats y

💗: I know it’s awful, but it’s good for u 💗

        I miss u too paige, I’m almost done I have 20 minutes left, 

       where are u?

me: teds 😛

💗: why r u at teds? It’s literally 4 o’clock…

me: u saw the game, and we have tomorrow off. 

Plus the whole team is here I’m not by myself. 

Might as well be since ur not here tho

💗: paige u played well, it was a tough game don’t be so hard on urself. 

Me: idec anymore, I can’t change what happened… but u can by coming and making me feel better 😼

💗: ur already drunk and it’s 4 o’clock paige omfg

Me: I’m not even drunk I just wanna be with u 

💗: do I need to text ice and ask what u have had?

—- 

Paige looks up from her phone and glances at ice and kk singing to drake

—-

Me: I don’t think u will get the response u are looking for 😁 

💗: ugh paige, fine I’m coming to get u 

Don’t drink anything else ur gonna be so sick tomorrow 

Me: YES AZZI COME PLEASE 😫😫😫

actually make me come instead 

💗: I’m not responding to that💗

——

Putting down her phone Azzi got out of the tub. 

As much as she didn’t want to admit, reading paige’s texts she wanted nothing more than to do just that and touch her until she screamed. But right now paige wasn’t thinking straight- literally. 

Her only goal was to get to paige before she literally tried to come find Azzi on her own, which she had tried before.

—-

Paige on the other hand was very satisfied with herself for convincing Azzi to come, unfortunately not in the way she really wanted, but she would settle for this way. 

Azzi’s message ringing in her ear vanished the second she saw the waiter bring out another dirty Shirley

“One more drink won’t do anything now, I’m already drunk.” She thought to herself allowing herself to indulge on the fruity beverage. 

5 minutes later she was sucking up nothing but air through the straw. She sighed defeatedly, making her way over to Aubrey to see what she was drinking.

“I miss Azzi” paige slurred reaching for Aubrey’s sex on the beach. 

“I can tell” Aubrey chuckled pulling her arm away, but paige was destined to have some more. 

“She’s so pretty, don’t u think. It doesnt make any sense. I feel like she was literally a gift from god himself. No one deserves her.” Paige continued finally grasping onto the drink as a big tear rolled down her face.

Aubrey looked at her disheveled state and sighed. 

“Aw paige, don’t cry, Azzi is pretty, and I think she will find someone really nice that will make her really happy some day! I think there is that kid in her accounting class that has a thing for her why don’t u try and set them up?” 

“FUCK NO, Azzi is mine…” paige pauses sniffing in, “I want her, I love her, but what if I’m not enough for her. I want her to be happy she deserves to be with like a god or something idk… “ she trails off rubbing her eyes as tears dripped onto her lap. 

Aubrey rubs her back awkwardly, not really knowing exactly what to say, 

“Paige, azzi loves you more than anything in this world honestly. You see the way she looks at you? Like trust me ur not alone on that. Azzi would be lucky to have you!” 

And just like that paige perks up, maybe it was the drinks, or the extra vote of confidence, or even just the mention of Azzi looking at her, she felt better. 

Paige leans into Aubrey’s embrace and mumbles quietly. 

“Paige what? Speak up I can’t hear u” 

“I BEEN LOOSING FRIENDS AND FINDING PEACE BUT HONESTLY THAT SOUND LIKE A FAIR TRADE TO ME” she shouts singing along to the song in the background. 

Aubrey just shakes her head laughing and mutters something about feeling bad for Azzi and watches as paige bounds back over to Kk and Ice. 

Paige is downing two more shots when suddenly she hears her favorite laugh in the world.

She spins around so fast she knocks over KK’s drink 

“Ugh, Girl boo” Kk shouts disgustedly shaking her head as paige races towards Azzi, stumbling, and getting knocked over by someone she ran into. 

Getting herself back up, without even stopping, she continues to charge towards azzi, throwing herself at her. 

“YOU CAME” she shouts 

Azzi can smell the alcohol mixing with the lavender shampoo she used. 

“Paige oh my fucking god ur actually hammered!” She says hugging paige back and holding her up for support. 

“I feel totally fine Azzi” she slurs, but her body language says other wise as she feels her hands exploring Azzi’s body as she leans into her 

“ I want you so bad” she whispers into her ear 

Azzi shivers at her warm breath hot against her ear. She feels her cheeks redden…

“Paige you’re so drunk, come on you are cut off, let’s get you back home.” Azzi giggles while dragging her towards the door. 

Paige didn’t argue, she just let Azzi pull her to the door. She didn’t care where she was as long as she was with Azzi. 

Once they got to the car, Azzi glanced at her, Paige had a huge cheesy grin plastered on her face, but Azzi saw through it. The second the last bit of alcohol was out of her system, Azzi would be there to pick up the pieces and hold her while she continued to go over every second of the game an micro analyze every mistake she made. 

Regardles, Azzi felt a small tug at the side of her mouth seeing paige this pure, even if it was because of the alcohol, knowing that her presence contributed to any of it was enough to fill her heart. 

Azzi opened the door for her and stuffed her long limbs in before shutting the door. 

As they drove Azzi could feel paige’s eyes on her. She would turn to look at her back and paige would immediately blush and giggle to herself. 

Azzi laughed at her antics. Paige was acting as if she was in middle schoool, and Azzi couldn’t hide that she secretly liked all the innocent attention paige was showing her.

As they pulled up to paige’s dorms, Azzi lugged paige out of the car and brought her towards the door bringing her all the way up to her room all while paige babbled incessantly about random things. 

Once they made there way to her room, Azzi sat her on the bed, but paige pulled her down on top of her.

Azzi tried to regain her balance but even drunk paige’s grip was firm on her arm. To be honest Azzi could have pushed her off if she really wanted to but a part of her enjoyed being on top of her…

They stayed there a second in silence.

Azzi’s beautiful face was enough to immediately sober Paige up. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful u are.” She slurred, releasing her grip off of Azzi’s arm and tracing her finger over her features slowly. 

“You don’t have to Paige.” Azzi giggled at paige’s finger softly tracing over her face, outlining every freckle and crease in her skin. 

“I want to tell you though” Paige pouts. “ I want to tell you every day. I wanna touch you like this every day.” She said proudly as she moved her arms pressing Azzi into a hug on top of her. 

Azzi smiled warmly, but knew that paige was only saying this because she was drunk, whether she meant it or not, she was drunk. 

Azzi sighed against her chest, ultimately wanting to lay there forever. 

“You need to sleep this off, I’m gonna get you some water and advil ur gonna have the worst hangover of all time tomorrow.” Azzi remarked pushing herself off of Paige before she could grab her again. 

Paige reached out her hands squeezing her fists together and releasing repeatedly like a child. 

“ I want you to snuggle with me.” She pouts. 

Azzi laughs at her childlike behavior. 

“Paige baby you need to change first then I will come snuggle with you.” 

Paige looked lazily up at her widening her big blue eyes pulling at Azzi’s shirt to sit herself up. 

“I need help. Do it for me” she whispers leaning into Azzi still gripping her shirt.

Azzi gulps and feels her breath shift. Paige and her had changed infront of each other before but Azzi always made it a point to look away to give her privacy, but lately she has been realizing it was more for herself then for paige. If she looked at her once she may never stop. 

The way paige was willingly giving herself to her so easily putting her arms over her head hinting for Azzi to take off her shirt, she remained eye contact with Azzi the entire time. 

She watched as Azzi looked at her body. She watched the pink cover her cheeks as she pulled off her shirt. She noticed the way she avoided looking at her skin directly. 

Azzi, out of respect, attempted to slide her shirt onto her without really looking.

“Uhm Azzi, you can look at me you know.” 

Paige said teasingly smirking noticing Azzi’s face grow redder matching the team USA t-shirt she slid onto her.

Azzi attempted to laugh it off, quickly pulling off her shorts and pulling on a pair of green pj pants, but the tension hovered. 

Paige pulled at her curls while Azzi fiddled with the draw of her pants trying to fix the tie that mysteriously got all tangled. 

“If you wanted to take off my clothes you could have just asked…” paige trailed off smiling leaning in to smell Azzi’s hair.

Paige loved the way Azzi smelled, she always had, and always will. She could smell her coconut curl cream all the way to her vanilla shampoo. 

Azzi’s smile deepened as paige ran her fingers through her hair. 

“I promise I will be right back Paigey, I am gonna grab you some stuff and get you your tooth brush.” Azzi says walking towards the door before Paige has the chance to pull her back again. 

“Pinky promise?” Paige whines.

“Yes I pinky promise Paige, I will be right back I swear.” Azzi replied finally leaving the blonde.

Azzi feels content, although Paige was drunk, she knew there was some level of truth to what she confessed to her. 

The only doubt that crossed her mind was that Paige would not remember what she said tomorrow. 

She tried to shrug off the doubt, paige’s future hangover was her main priority at the moment. 

She had seen Paige drunk before but never like this, she had always been there to moderate her, but this time she hadn’t. 

“Literally what would she do without me.” Azzi sighed with a smile. 

After grabbing a water bottle, Gatorade, some Advil, and searching the entire apartment for snacks (ending up with half a bag of tru fru- thanks Kk), she walked back into the room slowly. 

Peaking through the door Azzi saw Paige passed out on the bed her mouth slightly open. 

Azzi had to stifle her own laugh as a string of drool trickled out of her open mouth. 

Azzi grabbed her phone snapping a picture laughing to herself, before laying the supplies beside her and climbing into bed gently in hopes to not wake her. 

Azzi wrapped her arms around paige and paige subconsciously snuggled up closer to her letting out a happy sigh. 

Azzi couldn’t lie, there was no place she would rather be, she wished the circumstances were a bit different, but she had never been happier to be with Paige in bed. They had spent numerous nights together having little sleepovers, but to feel needed is to be loved, and that’s exactly how Azzi felt. 

Paige has never felt more cared for by another person, than she did with Azzi. 

Even though it was still early in the evening, like between 6 and 7 o’clock Azzi didn’t care. Paige needed her, so with Paige she would be. 

Honestly if Azzi had a choice she would go to bed early every night if she could if it meant getting to be this close to Paige. 

Paige on the other hand didn’t get much rest, waking up at 11 to run to the bathroom and throw up. 

Azzi feeling the emptiness next to her immediately got up grabbed a blanket off of Paige’s bean bag chair and the water off her nightstand, following her into the bathroom and placed the blanket on her lap holding her hair back.

“I’m never drinking again.” Paige croaked leaning her forehead against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay Paigey, I’m here.” Azzi said soothingly rubbing her hand against her back. 

Paige turned to look at her, eyes glazed, some of the alcohol still running through her veins. 

“I love you so much Azzi.” She whispered. 

“I love you too Pai-“ Paige cut her off before she could finish putting her finger to her lip. 

“No I don’t just love you like before. I love you like I wanna be with you forever and ever. I love you because you would hang the moon for me.” Paige says softly. 

Azzi is surprised by this, she doesn’t exactly know what to say. Paige still is surely drunk, but she doesn’t know just how drunk seeing as she has thrown up a lot of what she drank. 

Before she had to chance to say anything, Paige ends up throwing up again, breaking the loud silence. 

After another 20 minutes of sitting there, Paige’s body leaned up against Azzi, Paige falls back to sleep. 

Azzi, feeling the limpness of her body, carries her to her bedroom and plops her back into the bed, tucking the sheets tightly around her before climbing in with her. 

The next time they wake up fortunately it is morning. Paige is still asleep, so Azzi decides to go look for some sort of hangover food to give Paige when she wakes up. 

After looking in almost every cabinet there was literally nothing. Azzi resorted to running and jumping into her car to grab her some fries from McDonald’s. 

Almost 10 minutes later, Paige started reaching behind her noticing the empty space behind her on the bed. Paige darts up immediately regretting it feeling the blood rush to her throbbing head. 

She struggles to find her phone in the covers. When all of a sudden she hears the door unlock, and her nose picks up on the salty smell of the fries, her mouth immediately watering, and in walks Azzi. 

Her heart fills, tugging Azzi towards her a few fries flying into the air. 

“I thought I scared you away with what I said yesterday, or this morning, I don’t even know…” Paige trails off muffled into her chest. 

“You remembered?” Azzi says extending her arms so she can look at her. 

“Uhm ya I wasn’t even that drunk.” Paige says putting her hands up. 

Azzi raises her eyebrow. 

“You were pretty drunk.” 

“Okay well whatever that’s beside the point, I meant every word I said. I love you. I always have loved you. I can’t imagine my life without you. You take care of me, you love me, why can’t we just be together. I don’t wanna just kiss you. I wanna do so much more. I wanna love every inch of you, I wanna do everything with you, have a family maybe, get a house, I don’t know, and I don’t care as long as you are in it.” Paige says gasping for air as she trials on until Azzi cuts her off. 

“I love you too Paige. I just didn’t know how to tell you she says, tears forming in her eyes at Paige’s words. 

“You didn’t have to say anything I could tell. You make me feel like nothing else matters.” Paige sniffled back tears of her own placing her hands on Azzi’s face. 

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you too. I love you so much Paige, and I always will.” 

Azzi says grabbing the bag of fries and holding it up. 

“You were so hung over late last night already I thought you might need some hangover food… I also thought I could make it back before you got up but I guess I was wrong, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Azzi says opening the bag and grabbing a fry and shoving it into Paiges mouth stopping her from talking. 

“Ketchup?” Paige asks mouth full. 

“Wow, no faith in me huh?” Azzi says pulling out two packets of ketchup and squirting it into another fry watching Paige open her mouth again expecting Azzi to feed her again. 

She complies sticking the fry into her mouth with a laugh. A little bit of ketchup fell onto Azzi’s finger. Before she notices, paige sticks out her tongue and sucks on her finger. Her cheeks hollowing as she bobs up and down on her finger teasingly. 

Azzi’s breath shifts with the tension in the room growing thick. 

“You wanna take off my clothes again?” Paige smirks looking at Azzi’s finger covered in her saliva. Without saying anything they connect their lips. Azzi pushes Paige back against the sheets leaning over her pinning her arms above her head. Paige just smirks watching as Azzi takes off her sweatshirt revealing her beautiful breasts underneath. Paige strains under Azzi’s restraint wanting nothing more than to wrap her lips around her chocolate nipples, but Azzi only tightens her grip.

“You let me get you right first, then maybe I’ll let you touch.” Azzi says pressing her lips against her neck tracking kisses all along her jaw and trailing down her stomach. When she gets to her waist she sucks and leaves three hickeys along her waist band. 

“All mine.” She says softly almost a whisper, making Paige whimper against her touch. Her hips subconsciously thrusting towards her desperately needing to be touched. 

Azzi wraps her fingers lips around her sweatpants and pulls them down along with her panties. 

“You have definitely been this wet since last night when I took your clothes off the first time huh.” Azzi said confidently stroking her inner thigh observing the way her legs twitched for her. 

Paige let out a shaken breath, raising her pussy towards Azzi’s mouth craving her fingers, her mouth, literally anything. 

Azzi instead reaches over to the bag of French fries and eats one.

“No way you are eating a fry when my pussy is literally in your face.” Paige whines frustrated, attempting to close her legs to squeeze or get some form of closure from the throbbing at her  clit. 

Azzi lowers herself at that, leveling herself with her aching pussy. 

“Tell me how bad you want me.” Azzi says dominantly leaning over Paige again and running her fingers closer and closer to where she wants her most. 

“So bad, please anything. Azzi please, need you.” Paige whines attempting to release her hands but is abruptly stoped by the overpowering sensation of Azzi’s tongue against her clit. 

Azzi starts by pressing soft kitten licks at her clit, releasing paige’s hands from her grip so she can use her other hand to separate her folds. 

“Such a good girl for me huh.��� Azzi whispers into her pussy as Paige lets out a loud moan. 

Azzi licks her tongue all the way from her entrance back up to her clit, continuing to tease her switching back and forth between soft kitten licks and small circles. Paige is now a series of moans and whines. Azzi experiments, seeing what gets her to moan the loudest. She ends up sucking on her clit lapping at it, then sucking again. 

“Yes oh my fucking god yes Azzi, right there. Don’t stop.” Paige whimpers attaching her hand into Azzi’s hair and pushing her down to add pressure. 

Azzi hums into her pussy continuing to lick and  dip it into her hole.

“So close omfg.” Paige says in between moans. 

Hearing this Azzi stops. Paige looks at her distressed when all of sudden she thrusts two fingers into her stretching her out and pounding into her. 

“Oh god Azzi.” Paige moans throwing her head back and Azzi reattaches her mouth to her clit pounding her fingers in and out of her. 

“I’m gonna cum oh my god. Don’t you dare stop.” 

Azzi feels paige’s gummy walls tighten around her fingers. Smirking she continues to pound into her motivated by her loud moans. 

A band snaps in her stomach and Paige crumbles beneath her into a series of moans pulling at Azzi’s curls as Azzi continues to ride out her high. 

“Azzi oh my god why the fuck is that the first time we have done that.” 

Azzi laughs. 

“ya I don’t know” she says laying down next to her on the bed. 

She is ready to cuddle, a little aftercare hopefully, when all of a sudden, paige is on top of her kissing her shoving her tongue into her mouth massaging her tongue with her own. 

“I can’t be the only one with no pants on” paige says with a smirk. Briskly ripping them off and shoving her hand against her panties. Azzi moans loudly in shock, the feeling of paige’s fingers against her core was one she could get used to. 

“Wow this wet just from my pussy?” 

Azzi nods shakily letting out another breathy moan as Paige toys with her clit through her panties.

“Use your words baby.” Paige says pulling her panties to the side and running her fingers through her slick. 

“Yes all from you.” Azzi moans begging to be touched. 

Paige waists no time thrusting her pointer finger inside her in and out while using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi clings to her as she feels her legs start to shake. 

“ More please more” Azzi begs craving more of paige to be inside of her.

Paige adds another finger continuing to pound in and out of her hitting her G spot Azzi arches into her grinding against her fingers to get more friction. 

“You need more sweet girl?” Paige questions pulling her fingers out to put them in Azzi’s mouth. Azzi bobs her head against her fingers, nodding. 

Once they are covered in spit, paige pulls them out of her mouth and plunges three back into Azzi grabbing her cheeks and pulling her into a long wet kiss swallowing her moans. 

She begins to feel Azzi’s walls tighten.

Azzi can feel that band in her stomach ripping.  The orgasim crashing down on her hard with every thrust of paige’s fingers. 

“Holy shit im so close” azzi groans 

Paige presses down on her stomach with her other hand. Instantly Azzi lets out a series of moans as her band snaps and she gushes her juices out. Paige lowers herself to clean Azzi up licking up every bit and savoring her juices before coming back up and kissing Azzi letting her taste herself. 

“You’re amazing” she whispers into her ear snuggling up against her. 

“Ya ya, I love you too.” Azzi responds her focus beginning fade. 

They lay there together just enjoying each others company. 

After like 30 minutes Azzi can’t take in any longer. 

“Paige?” 

“Yes baby?”

“I’m hungry”

“There are some fries.”

“I don’t want that. We worked up an appetite. I need real food.”

“Fine we can go get some.” Paige sighed rolling out of bed throwing on a pair of sweats before handing Azzi some of her own. 

They walked out of the dorm together running to Aubrey. 

“Guess you’re not that sad about how you played anymore huh.” Aubrey said chuckling at the two staring lovingly at each other. 

“Nah nothing really matters anymore.” Paige said wrapping her arm around Azzi securely. 

All her problems seemed to fade aways with Azzi near. And it seemed like there was gonna be a lot less problems now that she had finally bagged her. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: I'll Never Let You Go Again Like I Did

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Little bit sad, DENIAL, Homophobic Comments (Soldier Boy), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of using drugs, Sexism, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of torture (Soldier Boy's Time in Russia) Loneliness, Longing (I mean… as close as Soldier Boy can get to it), Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.4K

Song Inspiration For This Chapter: Until I Found You (chapter title is lyric from this song) and Coming Back For You

Note: Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

Playlist for Series (Spotify)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness I'm so excited about this series and thank you so much to everyone for all the wonderful love and support so far! It really means the world to me 🥰

One Year Ago: Ben POV

Ben squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning, shouldering the strap of his worn backpack with a huff. The people on the crowded, gum covered sidewalks shot him odd looks and gave him a wide birth as he made his way down the path, but he didn't care, in fact he didn't notice them. His mind was somewhere else.

He wasn't sure where he was going, just that something in the pit of his stomach was pointing him in this direction. Ben had started walking in what he thought was the way to Legend's apartment, but the streets looked so different than the last time he was in New York and he was a little turned around, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.

And there was something in the pit of his stomach, some instinct or gut feeling, that was telling him he needed to go this way.

It was an odd feeling that prickled on the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something. Ben wondered what exactly it was that he'd forgotten. He hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone other than the scientists who kept him locked in a cage so he didn’t exactly have a social calendar to follow up on.

I've been locked in a lab for forty fucking years, what is there to forget?

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed just out of reach.

Ben raised his eyes from the sidewalk with a sigh to look at the people passing by, taking in their new clothing and different hairstyles to distract himself. He frowned at the bizarre groups of people to him that flit by on their merry way, muttering little things under his breath about how things used to be.

Ben had a feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot.

New York City was different, the same, but different. Even though Ben had been gone for forty years, it still felt like the center of the universe. There were still hot dog vendors on every street corner, still magazine stands with freshly printed newspapers that smelled like ink and were warm to the touch, still coffee shops that lined the streets and caffeinated the masses, and there were still cab drivers who wove through traffic as if they were unstoppable shouting at pedestrians as they went.

The memories he had of old New York City merged together with what he was seeing around him and felt himself slipping into the past only to be jolted back into reality by the strangeness of the future.

He didn't like feeling disoriented, but it was there, brimming just under the surface. His body was tense as he walked prepared for anything, unable to relax as he continued on his way to wherever the hell it was he was going.

The morning sunlight reflected off the glass windows of the skyscrapers that worshiped the rising sun and the sounds of the city vibrated against the brick and mortar. There was a buzz of electricity in the air, the low hum of power that Ben could always hear beneath it all. Cars honked sharply, people shouted in colorful language to one another, and the wind rustled through the long strands of Ben's hair crinkling against his ears and scratching against his neck.

He hadn't had time to cut it or his beard and it didn't seem to be as important as finding Legend and getting his affairs in order.

The smell of hotdogs, earth, cologne, and heavy perfume wafted up with the breeze that tugged and pulled at his sweatsuit. The same stained sweatsuit he had found in a rust covered locker before hiding in the cargo hold of a plane headed back to the U.S that was probably almost as old as him. The plane ride had been long, but when he'd been in a lab for the past forty years it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He spent the whole time stewing in his thoughts. He'd slept enough and like hell he was going to drift off and let those Russian fucks take him again.

Ben sighed when he felt his memories begin to unravel on the edge of his mind, unfurling and asking to be relived. It wasn't unusual or unwelcome. Ben was using those memories to justify what he was going to do to his old team. As long as the rage continued to burn against his skin, Ben would have no problem breaking each of them down piece by piece.

Ben didn't understand how his team could have done that to him or why they'd done it to him. He thought that he'd been a good leader, a good American, a good soldier, a good hero, and yet they'd all stabbed him in the back. Sure, maybe he'd been a little rough on them, but Ben saw it as the only way to toughen them up. They needed thicker skin if they were going to survive in a world like this.

All I've done is give my fucking life to this country and what did they do? They gave me to the fucking reds.

His hand tightens on the strap of his backpack as he weaves through the crowds, trying his best to keep to himself when all he can feel is his anger and frustration building and burning hot under his rib cage. His new power stirred beneath the surface, energy beginning to travel through his body, tracing his veins and pulsing in the center of his chest.

I should have seen it coming. I should have killed that entire fucking bunch of pussies the second I had the chance. Especially that bitch.

His frowned at the thought of Countess.

Truthfully, when the two of them started messing around it was only because Countess's soulmate had died a few years before and Ben knew he wasn't going to meet his soon if anytime. He'd messed around with plenty of other women for the same reason and well…

Ben's frown deepened as he stepped around a couple that was walking arm and arm, the dates on their wrists flashing gold in the sunlight. He ignores the feeling that comes when he sees them, pushes it down into the deep recesses of his mind as he has done his whole life.

Since he was a kid, Ben wasn't sure that he believed the "soulmate thing." Sure he'd seen hundreds of other people around him find "the one," but Ben wasn't sure that he was made to be a soulmate. Especially not with a birthdate on his wrist so far in the future. He assumed that it meant he wasn't going to get a soulmate and he'd spent the better part of his life pretending that he didn't care about that. He was a man after all, and Ben didn't want to need anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

Ben had lived long enough to see other soulmates find one another, witnessed the goofy looks on their faces when they locked eyes for the first time, and had the super hearing to listen to what came next.

But instead of focusing on the impossibility to meeting his own, Ben focused on the lie he told himself, that it seemed ridiculous to be intertwined with someone as soon as he was born. Not to mention that Ben wasn't sure that he wanted to be with someone, not when he didn't age and not when he'd have to watch whoever it was, if anyone turn to dust.

Yes, he could see himself settling down with someone, having a few kids, but Ben wasn't sure that whoever was supposed to be his other half was within reach anyway so why care? Ben knew that he didn't age, but he didn't actually think he'd ever get to meet you or that you would actually ever exist. Not when you were born so far away from him and not when he'd been trapped in that lab.

But that didn't stop a part of him from thinking about the possibility of meeting you. When things were quiet in the lab and he was left alone for a few precious moments, he felt his mind begin to slip into the question of what if?

What if you existed and what if you came for him?

He knew that it was a long shot. The only people that knew he was there were the people who stabbed him in the back. And Ben didn't want to cling to some fantasy, it felt feminine to fanaticize about the person who was supposedly meant for him breaking down the thick metal door and pulling him from the lab.

Again, Ben was trying not to believe in the "soulmate bullshit."

Countess had been a way of passing the time as had the numerous other women, but with them were moments when he'd feel something odd settle in his chest, something that he never could put a name to. In those moments he would raise his right arm and look at the birthdate printed on his wrist, the same one that Ben had kept hidden for most of his life, the one that when he was a boy people mocked him for, and the one his father chastised him for having as if it was Ben's fault that some celestial body had decided to single him out.

All of his childhood friends had found their soulmates and Ben had spent the better part of his life covering it up to avoid the conversation that always happened when someone saw the date. No ones soulmate was born so far in the future and Ben’s father had spent a lot of money making sure that word didn’t get out his son was a freak.

His father already made Ben feel like a disappointment and a fuck-up, but Ben was already thinking it himself every time he looked at the date printed on his wrist that seemed impossible. When his mother was alive she would try her best to make Ben feel better telling him that it wasn't impossible, that one day it would all make sense, but after her death Ben stopped feeling comfort, joy, and anything warm. All he felt was the cold shoulder from his father and the words that Ben pretended didn't hurt when his father was halfway through his second bottle of scotch with a third prepped and waiting on the kitchen table.

It made Ben feel like a pussy every time he looked at the mark and thought about his future soulmate, but he did it in private, usually after he'd had a few glasses of something and a few puffs or snuffs of something else to numb his mind. And he'd allow himself a single moment to think of you, wonder if he'd ever meet you, and wondered if you'd ever actually exist. In those few fleeting moments he believed in soulmates, but then he'd snap out of it and wake up the woman in bed next to him to distract him for another hour or so.

Ben's eyes flick to his right wrist covered by the gray and maroon tracksuit, his brow furrowing together. He was trying not to think about you or rather the possibility of you today. He didn't have time for that, not when all he wanted was to make his old team pay for everything they did to him.

But there was a little whisper of something in his ear, a small wisp of hope that he had finally made it to you, the one thing he didn’t think would ever happen, that he lived long enough to be alive the same year you were, and that you were out there somewhere waiting for him.

No. Ben tenses. I'm not going to think about her, not when those butt fucks need to be dealt with. I'm going to go to Legend's and then I'm going to-

He didn't see you in front of him until it was too late to move out of the way. Your body hits his full on in the chest, sending the bagel between your lips tumbling into the street, but Ben barely feels the hit, what he does feel is the dam he built forever ago burst open and warmth soaks into his body. Electricity skitters along his skin, crackling in the air as his eyes lock with yours only for a second. He feels like he's caught fire, as if the pieces of himself deep down inside are overheating and vibrating until there's nothing left, but you and him.

Any thoughts he had of his team and revenge are lost in the flood of emotions that fill the hole inside he tried so hard to ignore with the lie he continued to tell himself: “I don't believe in soulmates.”

And yet, there you were.

He can hear his heart and yours beating together as one, his own pounding so hard under his ribcage as if it wishes to break free and cross the space between your bodies. Seeing you for the first time feels like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp jolt backwards when it lands and the pinch of flesh against Kevlar. It was worth the bruise if looking at you was the same way each time.

Ben can feel the world slipping away, going silent, and in that silence Ben is lost in you.

Holy Fuck.

You were the perfect amalgamation of every single beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen and fantasized about in his entire life. And yet you weren't what he was expecting. Over the years Ben had bedded many women, the ones who captured his attention for a night, but none of them were anything like you.

In all the ways those women were bold and dramatic you were confident, but not boisterous, beautiful but not haughty, respectful but not prude, and there was a kindness reflected in the warmth of your eyes that Ben had never seen before, but there it was staring back at him unblinkingly.

You reminded him of the women that came arm in arm with men to his parents lavish parties when he was a boy, the ones who were classically beautiful and reserved with the golden dates on their wrists catching in the light. The exact kind of woman he hadn’t seen for the better part of eighty years and the opposite of the women who had thrown themselves at his feet forty years ago.

Your hair falls forward into your face from the force of your body hitting his and Ben itches to push it back, to touch you, to feel his skin against yours to quench the burning that he can feel in his soul.

All of his instincts are telling him to pull you against him, that you're too far away even though you're standing only inches apart.  That he needs to breathe the same air and feel the warmth of your skin against his rough fingertips.

The birthmark on his right wrist sears his skin and he knows what it means, that you're the woman he's been looking for his whole life, the woman that always seemed just out of his grasp, the woman that was made just for him, and the woman he thought would never exist.

He watches your eyes widen with the same realization about him behind your round glasses, eyes that are the perfect color and eyes that Ben can imagine staring in to every day for the rest of his life. He'd never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman, never wanted more, but all of that fades into you.

The idea of a soulmate no longer seems ridiculous, no longer seems like something he’d never have, not when he’s looking into your eyes and nothing else seems to matter.

Not when looking at you is like seeing the sun sink into the earth at the end of the day and feeling the hope that it'll rise the next morning.

The lie he told himself for so long is slipping away the longer he stares at you, because although he never wanted to want anyone he knows that he needs you. It's an odd feeling for him. He's never once cared about anyone, told himself that it was weak to, that having a soulmate was a stupid idea and not for him, but all of the things he ever thought about soulmates is evaporating in the heat that is consuming his body by being in your presence.

Why now?

The thought makes the world come back into sharper focus.

I've lived decades without her and now the moment I come back to the U.S I just run into her?

It was laughable .

The moment of clarity allows the fantasies of his revenge to come creeping in and Ben feels the anger and rage ebbing on the edge of the wonderful feeling building in his chest when he looks at you.

You weren't a supe. Ben could tell that just by looking at you. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so soft and yet someone that he wanted to possess so badly that it almost hurt to stand inches away from you.

I don't want her to be apart of this.

The thought is immediate, stirring some primal urge within to protect what's his. Because you were his. You were the missing piece that he pretended not to need and the woman who always seemed to slip into his mind when he was alone and all was quiet,.

The thoughts of what he's about to do to his teammates come surging up and he didn't want you involved in any of that. Not when he knew that he needed to protect you, that he'd drag you along, and you'd see all the ugly parts of him and see the horror of what he was about to do.

He didn't want that for you, he didn’t want the first time that he met you to be like this, him looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock and full of so much anger, rage, and frustration it felt like he was going to explode, him having a new uncontrollable power that meant he might hurt you, and him being unable to give you his full attention when all he could think about was the team that stabbed him in the back.

What he was, was selfish, he knew that about himself.

But I won't be this selfish.

Ben had made many mistakes his life, he knew that, had done some things that he wasn't proud of, but you wouldn’t be one of them. He didn't want to put you in danger and realized that there was only one way to protect you, because after all, he was the only one who knew that you existed.

His eyes trace your face one more time, memorizing it before he does what he thinks is right. Ben turns away from you and forces himself to keep walking. Each cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around, to run back to you, but he can't. He doesn't want it to be like this and he knows that you deserve better.

I won't do this to her.

“Wait-“ He hears you shout over the sounds of the street.

The sound of your voice is a soothing melody, a warm soak in a hot bath, a steady hand against his back, and a salve over the gaping hole where a piece of him was missing for so long, the hole that he tried to ignore  his whole life. He grits his teeth and continues to walk away from you, each step feeling like he's walking through tar the further he gets.

And deep down Ben is hoping that he did the right thing and makes a promise that he'll come back for you.

Present Day Ben POV

Why the fuck am I coming to this thing again?

Ben thought to himself standing outside the closed apartment door holding an expensive bottle of scotch. The same bottle of scotch that he was going to break open as soon as he crossed the threshold to get through this. He didn’t think that Hughie would appreciate it the way he would anyway.

Probably drinks those fucking fruity drinks with the umbrellas.

Ben didn’t understand why Hughie had invited him to this party or why Annie would let him invite Ben to it. Ben knew how much she hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Ben sighs as he stares at the door thinking about walking back to the elevator. 

Invited was a strong word. Ben had overheard Hughie talking about it in the break room with MM and when Ben walked in, Hughie felt the need to fill the awkward silence by inviting Ben to the housewarming party. 

Ben didn't know why anyone needed a housewarming party, but he chocked it up to another thing about the 21st century that he didn't quite understand.

He thought about all the people inside that he saw at work everyday, the ones that he tried to avoid all shoved in the apartment in front of him and groaned to himself.

Fuck, I should just go home.

Ben frowned at the thought of going back to his extravagant penthouse apartment downtown. The one that was two stories with a private balcony, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a media room, an exercise room, and overlooked Central Park with a view that would make anyone else salivate. His real estate agent had been surprised when Ben hadn't batted an eye at the price, but Ben didn't think about money the same way everyone else did.

He didn't have to, not with the money he'd earned over the years and not with the money his father, grandfather, and great grandfather in his accounts.

When he'd first bought the apartment he had been happy to get out from under Butcher's eye, who had a tendency to watch Ben like a hawk whenever he thought that Ben wasn't paying attention. But the apartment was large and cold, furnished with furniture that Ben had hired some twenty year old interior designer to buy, who charged him an outrageous amount of money to do absolutely nothing. She'd called it "minimalism," Ben called it "a fucking rip off."

Not one piece of furniture was comfortable to him and being there never felt like home. Then again, Ben didn't have a "home" to compare it to. His family mansion back in Philadelphia after his mother died had been cold and most of the rooms were closed off and the apartment he had in New York before he went to Russia was almost as big as his new one, but it never seemed like home. It always seemed like a way station, a place for Ben to entertain women for a short while before he went to a commercial shoot, a party, or on location for a film.

Even his cleaning lady and housekeeper would comment on the little things about his apartment that Ben tried to ignore. Honestly, Ben thought that she was fucking nosy, but she did her job well so he kept her on.

That and because he couldn't seem to remember her name no matter how many checks he wrote.

Ben didn’t like being in his apartment at all, but he knew that it wouldn't change if he moved. It wasn't where he lived that was the problem, it was that you weren't there with him.

It had been an entire year since he'd seen you and every day Ben walked the same path he had the day he met you for the first time hoping to run in to you. He didn’t have your name or your address or anything that he could have someone at work plug into a computer to find you. He'd tried to "google" you, but there was only so much he could do with the little information he had and he didn't understand how to find you other than the old fashioned way.

So he was back to sitting home alone every night trying his best not to notice how empty the apartment was, the one he bought that was more than big enough for two people. Sometimes he tried to stay out as long as he could to avoid going back to it, but each time he went through the front door it only emphasized how empty it was.

Ben's life was empty. He hadn't realized that before, but nowadays he was hyperaware of it. In the past he would have filled his life with women eager to warm his bed, but ever since he saw you Ben hadn't been able to think about anyone else.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he felt this frustrated and it only made everything harder for him. And as much as he tried to relieve the tension it never seemed like it was enough. He needed you.

And after he spent twelve months trying his best and he was tired of feeling restless he tried to pick up a woman in a bar.

Every cell in his body screamed wrong at the top of its lungs when he spoke to her, using lines that he'd perfected since he was a teenager. Ben knew he was good at that, but he fumbled the ball each time he opened his mouth. He tried to shake off the ghost of you, but when he spoke to the woman leaning against the aged wooden bar with a martini in her hand and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, he got a flash in the corner of his eye of someone coming in through the door and he'd thought it was you.

He hadn't been expected to feel so ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed at the thought of you catching him with someone else. He'd been sleeping with women longer than you'd been alive and he'd never felt that way, but now that he knew you existed and knew there was a possibility of you running in to him, it was all different.

Ben's outlook on soulmates being "ridiculous" had evaporated on the spot the moment he locked eyes with you. He couldn't pretend that he didn't care anymore and couldn't pretend that you didn't exist.

How could he when you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he when a piece of him was with you? How could he when you were always on his mind?

He'd never had a woman have a hold on him so completely in his entire life, but you did.

She fucking does and I only saw her once.

It only made him feel worse. He wondered if he'd made the right decision when he turned his back on you.

Sometimes he liked to think back to the moment of when he first saw you when everything was quiet and he was sitting up in his bed staring down at the mark on his wrist that shone a brilliant gold. His mind would slip into those few moments of bliss and he would wonder what would have happened f he just said "fuck it" and didn't go after Payback, if he'd stopped and asked for your name, and allowed you to let him forget everything that happened in the past forty years so he could start his life with you.

Unfortunately, those moments were usually followed by the same self-deprecating thoughts that Ben had, the chauvinistic ones that he'd carried with him over the years, and the ones that his father had impressed on him from the moment he could walk and Ben couldn't seem to shake.

He'd berate himself about how it was stupid and pussy-like to pine over a woman.

Because that's what he was doing, he was pining over you and he didn't like it.

He didn't want to think of you as much as he did, but he couldn't help it. Now that Ben knew you existed he didn't want to miss out on another moment of your life.

Of course, he couldn't find you and that was the problem. Sometimes he wondered if you were looking for him as hard as he was looking for you, if you walked the same way each hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The dreams didn't make it any better. He'd never heard of someone living the memories of their soulmate when they slept, but every night he was subjected to watching your life and it only made him want to find you more.

He'd never knew that someone could feel so lonely surrounded by people, never knew that someone could feel so out of place, and never knew that someone could be as sad as you were, but each time he relieved a memory of yours at night Ben could feel his heart twinge.

Ben watched the lonely birthdays you spent with a cupcake and a beer for him, saw the jeers of the people in your hometown and the pitying looks from your parents, felt your shoulders shake when you cried alone in your room and stared at the birthdate on your wrist, and he felt you losing hope as each year passed.

Ben didn't usually allow himself to feel emotion like that, but watching you go through it all hurt him more than anything those Russian fucks did to him. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't used to thinking about other people as much as he thought about you.

But something about him felt different after meeting you.

Ben had asked Legend about soulmates, specifically the dreams, but Legend had muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took another snort of cocaine from the mirror on the coffee table instead of answering. Their relationship had been a little awkward after Ben slept with Legend's soulmate forty years ago, but Legend didn’t seem to be too upset about it… anymore. Mostly because Legend's soulmate tried to pull a Lorena Bobbitt one night and Legend caught her before any permanent damage was done.

She was in prison, and Ben didn't understand why Legend still went to see her for conjugal visits, but he figured that she was as much of a freak as his old handler.

Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy.

Ben thought staring at the clean white door in front of him.

Truthfully, Ben was tired. He'd been running himself harder for the last month, throwing himself into his work because he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet you again, and it seemed like work was the only thing that could distract him long enough. But he couldn't escape sleep.

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had avoided sleeping the best way he could and he got through a few days before he collapsed. The first dream he'd had of you had come on suddenly, but clear as day.

You reading on your bed in your apartment smiling down at the pages as if it the book was telling you a secret.

Ben wasn't a reader, didn't see any merit in it if it wasn't a western or a war book. The most he could tolerate was Ernest Hemingway, but he could have sat there and watched you read forever. You looked so peaceful, content, and happy that Ben was afraid to interrupt you even though it was just a dream.

But whenever he thought about you dreaming his memories, something dark settled in the back of his mind, because what were you seeing? He'd done a few things he wasn't proud of and Ben didn't want you to think that he wasn't a hero or that he was a bad guy.

Ben sighs and raises his hand to knock hard against the door with his free hand, trying not to open the bottle preemptively before entering the apartment.

"Ben?" Hughie says it like a question when he opens the door, eyes wide with the same stupid look on his face that always grates on Ben.

Ben forces his signature tight lipped smile that he flashes around the office. "Hey there sport."

"Hey. Wow, you're here." Hughie clears his throat and looks over his shoulder as if he's nervous about something.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I was invited."

"Well yes but-"

"But?"

"Um-"

"Spit it out dipstick."

Hughie clears his throat. "I didn't think you would come."

Fuck I should have stayed home. He doesn't want me here, neither does his fucking beard.

Ben frowns listening to where Annie groans under her breath further inside the apartment and talks low under her breath to someone that Ben can't see.

"Well surprise and congratulations or whatever." Ben rolls his eyes holding out the bottle of scotch. He was hesitant to lose sight of it, not when talking to Hughie for less than five minutes made him want to down the whole bottle.

"Oh wow this is really," Hughie's eyes widen as he takes in the label and realize how much money Ben spent on the bottle. "Expensive stuff, thanks Ben."

"It'll put some hair on your chest." Ben claps Hughie hard on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the foyer of the apartment.

The entire apartment could have fit in Ben's living room and kitchen. It was made in a similar fashion to his, sleek white walls, sterling silver appliances, large glass windows that let in the light-

Ben stops so suddenly inside the area that leads into the kitchen that Hughie plows into his back, but Ben doesn't feel it.

He can't move, can't breathe, because he's noticed the person talking to Annie is you. This was the last place that he'd expected you to be, but he doesn't care, because you're here and you're more beautiful than he remembers.

You're standing there pouring ice from a large bag into a pink acrylic bucket with an adorable amount of concentration for such a simple task wearing the same sweater you were the day he first saw you. You're also wearing a little more makeup and your hair is longer, and not pulled back into the messy bun as it was that day, but you’re still you and you’re here.

His fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands through the tangled tresses, to feel if they're as soft as he imagined for so long.

Ben's body swells with emotion, goosebumps flicker over his skin, and all other sounds in the room vanish, because seeing you was like watching the sun rise and feeling the world hold it's breath as it basks in the early morning rays.

And Ben wanted to bask in everything you were, every day for the rest of his life. Now that he found you again he wasn't going to let you out of his sight.

Your soul sings to him as he nears you, the cells in his body vibrating so fast that he can feel every single one begging him to touch you.

You turn into him by accident, sending the bag of ice tumbling to the floor, but feeling your body against his sends him into overdrive and he can't hold back anymore. He reaches out to grab your shoulder as gently as he can without hurting you.

Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. And because you weren’t a supe he knew how fragile you were.

You gasp under your breath at the contact from his hand, but to Ben it sounds thunderous in his ears. Ben trails his hand across your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your chin and raise your face to look at him. He feels like his whole body is igniting as he makes contact with your skin.

He can feel an odd vibration in his chest as he does so, energy crackling and pulsing around the two of you, but the rest of the room falls silent. He can’t look away from you, not when seeing you again is like staring too long at the sun and he's left with the imprint of your light and beauty on the inside of his eyelids.

Ben can't focus on anything else, doesn’t hear the awkward chatter, doesn't feel the discomfort he had upon his arrival, doesn't notice the way everyone has turned to stare at the two of you, and doesn't feel the air conditioning turn on and blow cool air against his warm freckled skin.

All he knows is you.

Your eyes are wide and he suspects his are as well, pupils blown but still beautiful and hypnotic as they were one year ago. Ben feels a smile pulling at his lips and he lets it go, because standing in front of you, feeling like this, it’s impossible to do much else.

Your skin is warm to the touch beneath the roughness of his fingertips and he touches you with a reverence that he has never graced anyone else with, because you were his. Every part of you was made for him just as every part of him was made for you.

The your soul was calling out to him, weaving a golden cord of energy in his mind that snagged in the center of his chest and made him feel whole for the first time in life.

You reach out to touch him, the soft palm of your hand falling just over his heart and it makes something inside him break open to flood the space between the two of you.

Hope stirs in his chest with your gentle touch and your unblinking gaze, warmth trailing from where your hand lays against his shirt. His eyes drop to the wrist to see his birthdate, a glowing ember against your skin where the sleeve of your sweater has fallen down an inch.

Your eyes lock with his once more, full lips slightly parted, and breathless.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." Ben murmurs, trailing his thumb across your cheek with a gentleness that he's never possessed.

Ben was not a gentle man, but for you he would try. He would be anything you wished him to be, for as long as he lived, because now that he found you, he was never going to let you go.

And he welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to stand in his way.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

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