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osaemu · 1 year ago

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GETO SUGURU: ❛❛ SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE KISSIN' ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ your boyfriend can't be home for christmas? fine then, you'll just spend it with his best friend! but be prepared, 'cause your boyfriend's gonna be mad when he gets home. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. modern!au. best friend!gojo. degradation, spanking, p –> v, you guys are loud and you get walked in on! gojo gets slutshamed.. a lot. and he's very annoying!! also there's lots of borderline crack in this fic, have fun with that! 3.6k words, not proofread.

author's note: it's been a hottt minute since i've written for geto and i lowk forgot how to write him.. anyways.

“what do you mean, you’re not coming home for christmas?” you huff, hopping on your bed and lying on your stomach.

the man on the other end of the phone sighs exasperatedly, and you can almost see suguru massage his temples when he replies, “i have work, baby. i’m sorry, but i really can’t miss this chance to—”

it’s the night before christmas eve, and you just learned that suguru won’t be home in time to spend christmas with you—obviously, you were upset, because you’d been looking forward to spending the holidays with him. but to your dismay, holiday season’s always the busiest time of the year for businessmen like suguru.

“fine,” you groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you do so, and you mutter something about life not being fair as suguru lists all the reasons he can’t be home by christmas morning.

“i have a big meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, and there’s no way i’ll be back by the morning after,” suguru explains tiredly. you can hear the sleepiness in his voice, but the selfish part of you wants to keep him on the phone longer—it’s only seven, and you could easily spend the next couple hours convincing him to come home sooner.

“but suguru—” you try, even though you know nothing’ll convince him at this point.

“i’m sorry, honey,” he interrupts. after a moment, suguru’s voice softens and he continues, “i just can’t make it home by christmas. we can spend the day after together, though—i think i’ll be free for the rest of the week.”

you roll off the bed, stuffing one hand in the pocket of your hoodie—suguru’s hoodie—as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a mug of hot chocolate. the other hand still holds your phone to your ear, and you swallow back the rest of the protests you have to suguru’s absence.

“anyways, i gotta go,” suguru murmurs, obviously suppressing a yawn. “love you, baby. n’ i’m sorry, but i really can’t do anything about it.”

he hangs up before you can reply.

almost instantly, you dial satoru’s number—he’s probably the only other person you and suguru both trust enough to confide in about your problems, and like always, satoru picks up right away.

“hey, satoru?”

“heyyy, i already heard about it from suguru,” satoru replies, and there’s some suspicious squelching sounds in the background. are those grunts, too?

“uh, what are you doing?” you ask tentatively, hopping on the counter and sitting with your back pressed against the wall. the oddly wet sounds continue for a couple more seconds, and then they stop. “satoru?”

“shit, sorry, i was in the middle of something,” he replies with a breathless laugh. “yeah, i’m done now. wanna see?” your phone lights up with an invitation to facetime, and you hit the ‘x’ immediately.

“no, i don’t want to see whatever the fuck you’re doing,” you grumble, ignoring his laughter. “you’re disgusting, i’ll call you ba—”

“no, i’m free, i’m free!” satoru interrupts, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “suguru won’t be back for christmas, right?”

you pause and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. “yeah, he won’t be.”

“and you want a way to get him to come back sooner, right?”

“yep. you have anything in mind?” you ask, half-hoping that satoru’ll be able to come up with some genius plan to get your boyfriend to fly back here to make it in time for christmas. but if you’re being honest, you know that there are very few things that could convince suguru to drop his supposedly important meeting and come straight home.

and somehow, satoru devises a plan that makes you certain he will.

————

the next morning, you receive a text from suguru asking you to facetime—under normal circumstances, you’d just ask him to call instead since you’re at a cafe, but not today. today, you want him to see you and your mischievous little plan, so you eagerly accept.

“hey, sweetheart,” suguru says the second the call connects. his dark hair is pulled back into its usual half-down half-up style, and he props up his phone on something to use his reflection to adjust his tie. “how are y— wait, is that satoru’s jacket?”

you smile innocently and turn the phone to show satoru, who’s sitting just across from you at the table by the window. after satoru’s taken his time to wave and blow a kiss to suguru (who rolls his eyes in response), you turn the phone back and say, “oh, i just got a little cold. it’s pretty chilly down here!”

suguru frowns, brown eyes narrowing at your cheeky expression. “very funny. why didn’t you just bring your own jacket? or one of mine?”

oh, this is the question you’ve been waiting for. you shrug off satoru’s rather comfortable jacket and show suguru the tight, long-sleeved shirt you’re wearing underneath it. the fabric hugs your skin in a way that shows off all your curves, and even better, it’s a light shade of blue that’s somewhere in between the color of satoru’s eyes and hair.

“i did! but then it just got so cold and satoru was nice enough to offer me his jacket,” you say nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way suguru’s jaw tightens. you flutter your eyelashes innocently and smile at suguru, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes focus on your outfit.

“you jealous?” satoru chimes in, snatching the phone out of your hand and posing in front of it, admiring himself in the camera.

“no,” suguru mutters, but it wouldn’t take a genius to tell that he’s just lying through his teeth. satoru grins in response, making a peace sign with his hand and winking.

“good, ‘cause i’m gonna be hangin’ out with her all day long!” satoru cooes, blowing suguru another kiss before you swipe your phone back out of his hand.

“is he joking?” suguru grumbles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. you shrug in response, not buying his cool and collected persona. you know suguru better than most, and the subtle way his shoulders tensed the second he saw you in satoru’s jacket gave it all away.

“nope,” you reply, soft lips tugging themselves into a little smile. “we might spend christmas together too, ‘cause you won’t be here. but i guess i don’t really mind anymore—satoru’s good company!”

satoru covers his mouth to hide his laughter at your comment, giving you a thumbs-up when suguru doesn’t reply. your boyfriend says something about already being late and having to go, and this time, you’re the one who hangs up.

“oh, we definitely got him,” you grin, smugly lifting your mug of hot cocoa and clinking it with satoru’s in a celebratory expression. satoru hums in agreement before he takes a sip of his cocoa, face growing pink at the sudden warmth.

“so, how long d’you think it’ll be until suguru texts you that he’s on his way?” satoru asks, leaning back in his chair and blowing on his cup to cool off the smoking-hot liquid.

“hopefully soon.”

“i’m betting on… three hours.”

three hours later, you don’t get a single text from suguru. four hours later, nothing. on the fifth hour, you finally receive a message from him, but it’s just a “how are you?”

“was that not enough?” you whine, half-looking at your phone as you walk through the mall with satoru. “how else can i convince sugu to come back by tomorrow?”

satoru shrugs, pulling the red lollipop he got from a toy shop’s cashier out of his mouth. “i mean, we tried jealousy, so how ‘bout we go the other route?”

you tilt your head curiously, waiting for satoru to elaborate.

“y’know, why don’t ya tempt him in… other ways?” satoru wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your face grows warm despite the chilly air around you.

“satoru…” you pause, face unreadable as you stop walking and turn to him. satoru holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for your verdict.

“that’s a really good idea.”

————

and that’s how you ended up in a clothing store, sifting through hundreds of dresses in search of one that’d be alluring enough to draw suguru back home.

“what color does he like on you?” satoru asks, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he’s receiving from the other people in the store as he examines handfuls of dresses with interest. “red? black? white?”

you shrug, running your fingers over a form-fitting dress the color of suguru’s eyes. “i dunno, do you think he’d like this?”

satoru turns, takes one look at the dress, and instantly grabs it. “c’mon, let’s get you into a dressing room.”

the second you and satoru get there, the dressing room attendant gives you both a weird look. her eyes settle on satoru, and she asks, “weren’t you just here a week ago with another girl?”

satoru’s face goes redder than you’ve ever seen it. “uh, yeah, i was. oh, this one’s my best friend’s girlfriend, not mine—”

you shove him aside and hand the dress to the attendant, smiling bashfully. “just trying on this one, thanks.”

the attendant eyes satoru suspiciously and then nods. “okay, but he doesn’t get to go inside. last time, we got a noise complaint from the other customers.”

if you thought satoru’s face was red before, now it’s a shade redder than you knew was possible. in fact, you’re almost considering sending him to the hospital to get checked on as you close the dressing room door behind you and try the dress on.

it’s a little tight, but that’s expected given the skin-hugging fabric. after a couple minutes, you turn and admire yourself in the mirror—the dress, thankfully, fits perfectly. the fabric accentuates your features in the best way possible, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from staring in the mirror any longer.

“how do i look?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room and doing a twirl for satoru. his jaw drops, and he nods instantly.

“yeah, this is the one,” satoru affirms, taking out his phone. “want me to be the one to send the pics to suguru? that way we can still make him jealous!”

you give him a thumbs-up and blow a kiss at the camera, trusting satoru to take a flattering picture before you head back into the room to change out. on your way out of the store, you buy the dress at the counter—knowing suguru, he wouldn’t reply to satoru’s text, but you just knew he was dying to see you in that in person.

————

later that night, well after satoru’s gone back to his house and you’re relaxing in your own, suguru texts you again.

sugu: can we call?

you grin and roll over onto your back, nestling yourself deeper into your pillows before you dial his number. it only rings once before he picks up, and he instantly asks if satoru’s still with you.

“nah, he went home,” you say offhandedly, toying with the corner of your sheets. “did you like my dress?” you ask coyly, enjoying the way suguru pauses for a long second before replying.

“yeah, it looked good on you.”

“that’s it?”

“it really brought out your eyes.”

you bite your tongue to suppress a groan, instead opting to bury your face in a pillow instead. you had just spent the past twenty-four hours running around in circles, doing everything possible to get suguru to come back, and that’s all you get? really?

“anyways,” suguru continues, and you hear a soft rustling sound in the background—if you had to guess, he’s probably in bed right now. “how was your day, baby?”

“good,” you respond briskly, a soft scowl appearing on your face. suguru, being as observant as he is, picks up on the subtle change in your tone, but he doesn’t say anything. “satoru and i had a really good day. how was yours?”

suguru pauses before answering. “i missed you.”

“then come home, sugu,” you plead, even though you know that there’s no way he’ll be back in time. but it’s worth a try, right?

“you know i can’t,” suguru murmurs, exhaling softly. “no way can i get a flight back this late and make it back by tomorrow morning. i—”

“then get a sleigh!” you huff indignantly, unable to resist smiling when you hear suguru laugh. “please, sugu? christmas won’t be christmas without you.”

“just spend it with satoru,” suguru mutters under his breath, and that’s when you realize that your efforts haven’t entirely been in vain. he’s obviously sour that you spent the whole day with his best friend instead of him, and a small spark of hope starts to fester in your heart.

“maybe i will,” you reply coyly, and you can hear your own smile in your voice—and you’re sure that suguru can hear it too. “anyways, i’m a little tired. good night, baby.”

“night.”

————

the next day, you host a party in your otherwise empty house—after all, it’s christmas, and it’d be rather depressing for you to spend it alone. so you invite satoru, satoru’s friends, and their friends, and so on. word gets around fast, and people show up in droves.

which is why you don’t notice when suguru himself slips in through the back door.

you’re giggling with satoru and his stoic friend kento when they both stop laughing, and you look up at them, confused. “what is it?” you ask, sipping the sweet liquid in your glass with a smile.

“suguru?” satoru asks, lips tugging themselves into a wide smile. “guess you didn’t wanna spend christmas alone, yeah?”

you turn around, half-expecting satoru to be joking. but to your surprise, your dark-haired boyfriend stands in front of you, smiling dryly. you stare at him for a solid two seconds, certain that you’re hallucinating. “sugu? but i thought—”

“thought you could mess around with my best friend?” suguru muses, arching one of his eyebrows. his suit’s a little wrinkled, and his hair’s more disheveled than normal, but somehow, he seems more alert than ever. suguru’s amber eyes go from yours to satoru’s wide blue ones, and satoru shrinks away from him with a nervous smile.

“i’m gonna go,” kento says offhandedly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving you, satoru, and suguru alone in the living room.

“hey, bro, it was her idea!” satoru says instantly, raising his hands as if he’s a burglar in front of the police. you turn to him in disbelief, scoffing indignantly at his pitiful attempt to get out of trouble.

“no, it was your idea!” you insist, jabbing your finger at satoru. he gasps dramatically and pretends to faint, to which you roll your eyes good-naturedly. you turn back to suguru, rounding your eyes in an attempt to gain his favor. “i swear, sugu, this was all satoru’s idea!”

“you liar,” satoru grumbles, crossing his arms and huffing childishly. you turn and glare at him, and coupled with suguru’s unimpressed look, it’s enough to scare satoru off.

and now it’s just you and suguru, alone in your mint-scented living room. christmas pop plays in the background from another room, and maybe it’s just the dim lighting but you swear you can see suguru’s face go a shade redder than before.

“hey,” you mumble, averting your eyes.

“hey,” suguru replies. he smiles, and just like that, all his features soften. “don’t you want to know how i got here so fast?” he drawls, reaching out and brushing something off your shoulder. his fingers trail down from your shoulder to your collarbone, which is all the more prominent thanks to the dress you’re wearing. incidentally, it’s the same dress you had sent suguru a picture of yesterday—maybe that’s why he can’t take his eyes off you.

“yeah, how did you get here so fast?” you ask curiously, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace your figure down to your waist. suguru’s eyes go from your dress to your face, and he grins.

“well, i had to leave right before my meeting started and bribe some passengers with a shit-ton of money for their seats,” suguru starts, taking you by the hand and leading you to your shared room. “and believe me, it was a lot of money. and most people still said no, ‘cause they want to be with their families for the holidays.”

he makes a face as he pushes open the door, and stops in his tracks. your face grows warm as you realize that you had set up your room for him too—it’s illuminated with soft candlelight, the linen sheets are changed, and you—oh, you look perfect in suguru’s eyes. it takes a great deal of his willpower to stop himself from fucking you right there and then.

“oh, yeah, it was a lot of money,” suguru continues, smiling down at you coyly. “between the deal i just fucked up and the ridiculous amount of bribes i had to make, i think you owe me.”

suguru makes his way over to your bed and sits, spreading his legs and showing off his growing erection. you grin, following him and sitting in his lap. “did you miss me, sugu?”

“damn right i did.”

and barely a minute or two later, he’s got you face-down ass-up in the sheets, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your increasing moans. “shh, wouldn’t want our guests to hear ya,” suguru whispers, breath hot against the side of your face.

you squirm underneath him, mind hazy from the feeling of his dick buried in you for the first time in.. how long? does it matter? “s-sugu, please fuck me,” you mumble, pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t bothered doing anything to you besides use you as his personal cockwarmer.

in the short time he’s been inside you, suguru’s barely moved—and fuck, he enjoys watching you squirm around and beg him to do more than just.. nothing.

“sugu, plea—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass, relishing the lewd whine that slips out of your lips in reply. “fuck, you thought y’could get me back here by fuckin’ with my best friend?” suguru cooes, shifting his hips.

“we didn’t—”

“yeah, no shit, baby,” suguru interrupts dryly. “otherwise this’d be a lot worse for you—and for him.”

suguru’s dark eyes flit over to where the dress you bought lies, discarded somewhere in the corner of your room. he grins and uses his hand to turn your head, gesturing at the fabric. “and i bet he was the one who gave you the idea to do whatever the fuck that was,” suguru drawls, clicking his tongue. “tell me, whose idea was it to have him send me that pic? yours, or his?”

when you don’t reply, suguru sighs dramatically and grabs your hair, pulling your head up enough for him to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this’ll be a lot easier for you if you just answer—the—question,” suguru breathes, punctuating each word with another slap to your ass.

“it wasn’t m-mine!” you cry, looking up at suguru with shiny, rounded doe eyes. “i just wanted to—”

suguru cuts you off by pulling out of your drenched cunt just enough to allow him enough space to go back in, and his thrust is harsh and hits all the right places inside of you. your walls clench around him, and shit, suguru realizes that he missed fucking you like this more than anything else in the world.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he hisses, shifting his hips again to allow himself more space to move. “did ya not touch yourself at all while i was gone?”

“n-no,” you stutter, swallowing another pornographic sound from escaping your lips. “i waited for you, sugu,” you gasp, feeling him hit spots you haven’t felt throb in a painfully long time. and fuck, you’re so out of practice that affer just a few thrusts, you’re mewling all over his cock and whining about how you’re close to cumming.

your vision gets speckled with spots of white as thoughts of suguru take up every corner of your mind, even as he teases you for getting so close so fast. but it’s not your fault you’re about to cum faster than you’ve ever done—you’ve tried fucking yourself with your fingers on times when suguru was out for work, but he’s spoiled you with his dick more than you can imagine.

and that’s why you cum all over his cock in what has to be a record-breaking time, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you mumble indecipherable words.

“aw, look at you,” suguru murmurs, stroking your hair as you tremble underneath him. even though it’s unbearably cold outside, it feels scorching hot in here—but maybe that’s because of both of your heaving chests in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you mumble hazily, and suguru chuckles in response.

“it’s alright, baby,” he responds lightly. “y’know i like fucking your bratty cunt dumb every once in a while, heh.”

you two lie there, basking in each other’s presence for a little while longer before the bedroom door creaks open. and to your horror, satoru stands there, seemingly bored by the whole scene.

“can you two keep it down?” satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “we’re trying to have a karaoke competition, but you guys keep going agh—”

suguru hurls a pillow at satoru, cutting off his mocking moan. “you’re next, asshole,” suguru grumbles, getting off of you and covering you with the sheets.

“you’re gonna fuck me next? wow, what happened to hi, hel— oww, okay, i’m going, i’m going!”

#osaemu #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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lale-txt · 1 month ago

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EXOPLANETS ; Iwaizumi x gn!reader

five times Iwaizumi almost kisses you and one time he does

contains: gn!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), strangers to lovers, 5+1 things, fluff, mutual pining, diy tattoos, alcohol mention, weed mention, Oikawa mention, shotgunning, five slightly suggestive lines if you squint, a lot of easter eggs and cross-references. written as a gift for @eggyrocks ♡

word count: 4.5k

✧. ┊⁭ ONE

It’s Kyotani’s birthday party and you’re sitting outside on the fire escape, covered in five buckets of fake blood and rolling yourself a cigarette. The wind is icy on your face and the air would smell like early snow if it wasn’t for the dubious popcorn experiments happening in the kitchen right now. You weren’t allowed to smoke inside anymore after someone set one of the dried up houseplants a little bit on fire when stubbing out a cigarette on it (it was just once but the pot was fuming for two days and a half).

Kyotani always brings a mix of the strangest people together. There’s you and your other fellow students from your gender studies class, then guys from his former highschool volleyball team. There is also a bunch of men with face tattoos and a criminal record from his underground fight club (who are currently nailing the choreo to Rihanna in Just Dance), some nerds he met at a Pokémon TCG tournament (you and him once bought a hundred booster packs together while high and he thought he could recover from the financial ruin by winning one of these things) and the small group of housewives from his DND group who he meets once a month.

It’s unclear why Kyotani asked everyone to dress up for this but you’re not mad about having an occasion to drench yourself in fake blood and call it a night. In true Patrick Bateman fashion you also spent hours with excessive skin care prior to the party while you watched your best friend and roommate Atsumu zip himself up in the skimpiest maid outfit you’ve ever seen. It may be early December but that wouldn’t hold him back from showing off his thighs and a bit of his ass cheeks–maybe at heart he was just a 2000s British party girl trapped in the body of a 6’3 athlete. You shared the same cheap cherry lip gloss before heading out in the cold.

A few drinks into the night and your head starts to hurt, which is when you retreat outside through the kitchen window to your usual spot on the fire escape. With the rolled cigarette dangling from your lips, you pat down the pockets of your suit in search of a lighter. You let out a frustrated groan when you realize you lent it to two guys dressed as Melody and Kuromi and that you’ll probably never get it back, which sucked because it had a kitty cat leaning on an eight-ball while smoking on it and you got it for free from your local conbini girl in exchange for a hand-crocheted triangle bikini top.

Someone taps your shoulder and you almost drop your cigarette if it wasn’t for the stranger’s quick reflexes, catching it for you before it would be gone with the wind. His fingers tilt your chin up a little and he puts the cigarette back between your lips. You look up and meet the gaze of Inuyasha.

Or well, a guy dressed as Inuyasha, but it might as well be your childhood crush come to life. Tan skin, sharp snaggleteeth that weren’t part of the costume but still fitting, and a pair of eyes that feel like they’re piercing straight through you. Your stomach does the little flip thing and you briefly wonder what was in the drinks you let Atsumu mix for you, but that was something to ponder on later. For now you only stare back at him, nodding when he asks if the seat next to you is free.

He sits down close to you and then reaches for something hidden in his sleeve and pulls out–your lighter.

“Sorry about my friends. They have a knack for never returning things,” he huffs and you snatch the lighter from him, your face cracking into a smile.

“Very noble of you,” you say, then hold up the light for him when he reaches for the cigarette behind his ear and puts it between his lips as well. His hand comes to cup yours to shield the flame from the wind and for a second your faces are close, so close, before you lean back again, taking a deep inhale of your cig.

“Cool costume. You watch a lot of movies? Me too,” he says and rests his chin on one palm, looking at you. There’s something about his gaze that makes you feel drawn to him and you briefly wonder what he’d look like without the cheap white wig and also if he’d keep the costume on if you were to hook up with him and ask him nicely about it.

“Is that so? Name every movie then,” you retort and it makes him laugh. Fuck. He has a really nice laugh.

You lean over and brush a few strands of the plastic hair behind his ears because the combination of the wind and the lit cigarette seems like a potential fire hazard (you learned a lot about fire hazards this year) and you’d kinda hate to see him combust too soon.

What you don’t expect is him leaning in, almost nuzzling his face into your palm when you do, and looking back at you with a flicker that can only be described as drunk and lovesick. It makes your heart stumble in your ribcage a little.

“Or you can just tell me your name. Unless you want me to save your contact as ‘Inuyasha’ in my phone. I can do that too,” you add when you pull your hand away, as if you’ve burned yourself by getting a bit too close to the sun. You put your cigarette between your lips and pull out your phone, tapping the screen a few times before glancing up at him again.

“It’s Iwaizumi. Hajime Iwaizumi.”

You think a lot about kissing Hajime Iwaizumi for the rest of the night.

✧. ┊⁭ TWO

Osamu and Suna share the apartment directly below yours and when they text you that they made weed brownies, you didn’t really think about just how many of them they made. Together with Atsumu you shuffle downstairs, not expecting a bunch of other people to be there. Maybe then you would’ve worn something that wasn’t Atsumu’s old highschool club shirt and a pair of velour track pants you bedazzled yourself so it would read “soup” across your butt, but here you are.

“Is this some kind of side business now?”, you ask Suna when you pull him aside. He has the biggest, shit-eating grin known to man plastered across his face and shakes his head.

“A bunch of guys from his culinary school said they didn’t know how to bake weed brownies and Osamu offered to teach them, and somehow it turned into a ‘bring your own weed, get a tray of brownies’ party,” he replies and leans a little closer to you, which you know means he has a piece of juicy gossip to share. “One guy here totally got scammed, too. Spent ¥24,000 on some, can you believe?”

You almost choke on the piece of brownie in your hand. Osamu pressed it faithfully into your palm the moment you entered the kitchen, knowing he could trust you with it. Both of you had a very loose definition of trust–to Osamu it meant believing you won’t be dumb enough to eat more than one piece of the brownies, to you it meant you won’t change the contact names in his phones to soup ingredients again, no matter how high, and you both respected that.

“What, was it gold-dusted or something?” You cough and laugh, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes while Suna pats your back with empathy. “What a guy. Introduce us, I need to add him to my dream blunt rotation.”

Your eyes follow the direction Suna is nodding at, somewhere in the living room, and you meet the gaze of Iwaizumi Hajime slash Inuyasha from the fire escape. You start laughing again and head over to him, the sulk written all over his face.

“Not a word. I know, I know,” he groans when he makes space for you next to him on the couch. You squeeze in beside him and hug your knees to your chest, then catch the pillow he’s throwing at you when you can’t stop laughing the second you look at him.

“It’s okay. Actually, it’s kinda cute.” “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” “So what if I do?”

Iwaizumi huffs again and his arm just happens to be behind you on the couch, his fingertips ghosting over your shoulder. Appreciate it, he grumbles, and eventually his face softens when you start telling him some anecdotes of your high life that definitely make the ¥24,000 weed purchase seem a little less dramatic.

It’s loud in the apartment, with music blasting and people chattering, but you barely register any of it; too absorbed by his eyes that dart to your lips every now and then, and his tongue poking out from between his lips when he does, and the rattling desire in your chest that he could kiss you right here, right now.

His fingers grab your chin and tilt your face up again, just like they did last time on the fire escape, except now he’s brushing over the corners of your mouth, collecting a few crumbs that were still there. He brings them to his lips, licking them off in one clean swipe of his tongue, and you’re pretty sure you’d let him devour you.

✧. ┊⁭ THREE

Mattsun–the Kuromi from Kyotani’s party–and his friends from the forensics science department are hosting an Addams Family themed christmas party on their floor of the dorm and this time you don’t make the mistake of giving your lighter away. Atsumu is on a noble mission to “get laid by one of the goths” and you’re on your own, but not for long.

“Oh, it’s you! Almost didn’t recognize you without all the fake blood,” Makki–the Melody from Kyotani’s party–shouts across the room when he spots you in the crowd and squeezes past all the people to clink his drink against yours. “You left quite the impression.”

“That so?”, you ask with a raised eyebrow and Makki gives you a boyish grin. You already have a feeling where this conversation is heading.

“Hajime won’t shut up about you. Like, ever,” he says and links his arm with yours, dragging you to the other end of the hallway. “He’s here too, by the way. Last time I saw him he was winning some kind of arm wrestling contest, but if you ask me people just wanted to ogle at his biceps. Can you blame them?”

Speaking of the devil, you find Iwaizumi stumbling out of the bathroom, stilling when he sees you. His hoodie is tied around his waist and he’s wearing some baggy jeans and a tight, sleeveless compression shirt that does show off his arms nicely. Very nicely. So nicely you forget what to say for a brief second.

Makki shoves you into Iwaizumi’s arms before heading off somewhere else, probably asking Mattsun to push him against the nearest wall, and you’re alone with the boy again. He caught you by your shoulders, his hands now resting on top of them while he looks you up and down. You wonder if he’ll do the chin thing again, and maybe if third time’s a charm and he’s gonna kiss you tonight for real.

Instead he asks, “do you want to check out the tattoo station they set up in the other room?” and because your impulse control has vanished the moment you entered his orbit, you agree without a second thought. Maybe not even a first thought. Ten minutes later you’re wearing a pair of black latex gloves and hover over Iwaizumi who is lying shirtless on his back in front of you.

“Kinda sad you don’t want a tramp stamp. It’d look good on you,” you sigh with feigned annoyance while rubbing an alcohol soaked pad over his hip bones to disinfect that part, trying hard to keep your eyes pinned on there, but it’s kind of an impossible thing to ask of you. It would be a shame if you didn’t appreciate the canvas in front of you.

“Maybe next time,” Iwaizumi exclaims with the confidence of a man who simply doesn’t do the whole ordeal of regretting. It’s admirable, really. “And I let you pick the design of this one, didn’t I?”

That he did. You drew a wonky oval shape on the stencil paper which was kind of impressive as it was, given the drinks you had prior to that. Iwaizumi took the pencil from you and added a similar one, overlapping with yours.

“That’s two eggs,” you muttered, tilting your head to the side and trying hard to focus–which again, was a hard task at hand, given that Iwaizumi leaned over your shoulder shirtless. He smelled nice. You noticed that the first time you met already. Something between fresh laundry, a spritzer of YSL Y on the side of his nape and a hint of sweat, but not unpleasant. It made you want to dig your teeth into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“It’s a heart, dumbass,” Iwaizumi huffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, second to how much both of you were thinking about kissing the other.

✧. ┊⁭ FOUR

When Kenma invited you over to his place for the Bouncing Ball winter party, you were promised free unlimited food and a goodie bag, but all you got was ancient rage and a badly rolled cigarette passed back and forth between Iwaizumi and you.

“I will fucking kill Oikawa with my bare hands,” you mutter under your breath and squeeze the can of lychee soda (branded with the Bouncing Ball logo) that you’re holding a little tighter.

“Believe me, I’ve tried many times in the past but this bastard always comes back. Like some demon lord or something.” Iwaizumi takes an angry drag of the cigarette before holding it between your lips again. His fingers brush lightly against your skin when he does and it’s the only thing that calms you down a little.

“Like. The blue shell right before the finish line felt so personal, right?”

Kenma had sent both of you into timeout outside when you almost flung the unstrapped Wii remote towards the flatscreen and Iwaizumi might or might have not punched a hole into the shoji door after Oikawa won the third round of Mario Kart in a row and was being awfully smug about it.

You’re sitting on the backstairs together, huddled close to each other from the cold and the unspoken desire to kiss the other one stupid. With every minute you spend like this your anger vaporizes little by little, until all you can feel is the body heat radiating off Iwaizumi’s body and how calloused his hand is when he takes yours into his.

He’s wearing the hat you crocheted for him, an apology for the crooked hand poked tattoo you gave him a few days prior to today which now adorned his hip bone. At least it wasn’t infected which was a tiny miracle given the circumstances. His face lit up when you handed the hat to him, wrapped in some tin foil because neither you nor Atsumu own gift paper and that’s the most festive you could do with the utensils you had at hand. At least you threw in a little bit of confetti which was now stuck in his dark hair.

You pick some of it off his strands and Iwaizumi leans a little closer. It reminds you a lot of a big cat asking for head scratches.

“‘s nice, with you,” he mumbles without looking at you and gives your hand a small squeeze. His thumb rubs over your knuckles with unexpected gentleness and your head sinks against his shoulder.

“Really nice,” you agree quietly, allowing yourself to close your eyes.

The moment could have been perfect. Just the two of you, the stubbed out cigarette at your feet and the sweet taste of artificial lychee on your lips, the slowly falling snow. If only it wasn’t for the backdoor being flung open again, carrying the chatter and the music from inside towards you and a too familiar voice that will surely haunt your nightmares chirping “yahoo~”, making Iwaizumi next to you groan in agony.

You spend the rest of the night losing another ten rounds of Mario Kart and Oikawa manifests as your sleep paralysis demon from now on, but at least you got to hold Iwaizumi’s hand under the table a little longer.

✧. ┊⁭ FIVE

Hinata is back home from his semester abroad in Brazil. He texted the groupchat a photo of him (wow, he got really tan and buff, you think) and the three giant boxes of oranges that he brought with him and invited everyone over for an impromptu reunion party at his place.

It’s not as excessive as other parties of your friends, more of a get together that lasts an entire weekend with everyone dropping by and going as they please, as long as they take a few oranges with them.

You quite literally ran into Iwaizumi on your way there, your hands full with a bunch of books you borrowed from the library prior to that and him almost crashing into you when he skated around the corner on his longboard. He wore the hat you crocheted him again (with less confetti this time) and offered you his scarf and a ride. You almost wish Hinata would live at the other end of the world just so you’d have an excuse to sit cross-legged on his board in front of him while he pushes it slowly for a little longer.

Maybe he’ll give you a ride home if you ask him nicely. Maybe the right words would fall out of your mouth this time. Maybe he’ll kiss you on the threshold, with his fingers tracing your jaw and your lips parting for him so willingly.

At Hinata’s place you find your way underneath the kotatsu with Iwaizumi by your side. The air smells like hot punch and christmas cookies and you listen for hours to Hinata talking about the things he experienced while abroad. You swipe through photos on his tablet while around you people come and go, and the entire time Iwaizumi sits so close to you that your knees keep touching underneath the table. Occasionally his hand brushes over the small of your back or pulls you a little closer towards him when someone else squeezes beside you, his touch lingering but never overbearing.

It’s getting late and you should probably go home soon, considering the last looming deadline you still had to tackle before your winter break, but it’s not easy to peel yourself away from Iwaizumi. Not when he draped his jacket over your shoulders and his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and especially not when he starts peeling oranges for you and starts pushing the slices directly between your lips when you’re too lazy to lift your head.

You watch him quietly as he does, his fingers that are usually a little bruised and roughed up now impossibly gentle as he digs through the citrus skin, peeling away layer after layer. It’s beautiful, you think. He’s beautiful. You wonder if he could do the same to you, tearing through every bit of resistance you put up to protect your heart, or maybe if it was already bare in front of him the entire time, ready for him to sink his teeth into your flesh.

You hope he’ll peel a thousand more oranges for you in this lifetime.

✧. ┊⁭ ONE, AGAIN

It’s winter solstice and Atsumu and you decide to host one last party at your home before the year ends. Together you go out to buy liquor and one mistletoe (for the festive spark of it all) but the lady from the flower store insists you take all of them for free since they’re closing soon and she would throw them out anyway. So now there’s around fifty mistletoes hanging from every ceiling of your apartment and the entire hallway of your floor, and you briefly wonder just how many mistletoes it would take for Iwaizumi to kiss you tonight.

Osamu begrudgingly agrees to prepare some food since you’d end up raiding their fridge around 2AM anyway if he doesn’t, meanwhile Suna shows you some paparazzi-esque photos on his phone that he took of Iwaizumi and you over the span of this month. For once you’re grateful that he snaps a photo of everything and everyone, because swiping through these makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

There’s one with both of you smoking on the fire escape, leaning in close to catch the flame of the lighter. You with your legs thrown over his lap on their couch while waiting for the weed brownies, his arm resting behind you on the couch. The moment when Iwaizumi takes his tight compression shirt off in front of you (it’s slightly blurry and Suna blames it on the goths and their shitty lighting). Iwaizumi and you pinning Oikawa to the floor and a Wii controller on the verge of becoming a murder weapon. You napping with your head on top of your folded arms, a plate with some orange peel in front of you, Iwaizumi’s hand in the back of your neck while looking down at you fondly.

To be adored by Iwaizumi Hajime feels tender and mellow. There’s something magical about it; never loud or overwhelming, and yet never leaving room for doubt how he does love you with his entire being. It comes to him as natural as breathing. A love as toasty warm like a black cat basking in the sun, storing sunshine in every fibre of your soul.

When you open the door for him later that night, he hugs you longer than usual, his arms caging you in his embrace. He murmurs something about all these mistletoes against the shell of your ear and you laugh.

“I think it’s a dumb tradition, but they’re quite beautiful, aren't they?”, you ask and Iwaizumi pulls back slightly to look at you, his hand cupping one side of your face now.

“More than just beautiful,” he mumbles, not talking about the mistletoes.

You learn that night that Iwaizumi doesn’t dance (other than Oikawa and Atsumu who are currently destroying the Dance Dance Revolution dance pads in the living room), but he’ll happily spend hours watching you do your DJ thing. Anything as long as he can be in your proximity. He’s leaning back in the chair in the corner behind your pult, a cold Tiger beer in one hand, his chin resting on the other and his gaze never leaving you. It’s like he’s your personal bouncer for the night. You quite like that. It’s an oddly protective gesture but it makes you feel warm and giddy.

“Someone just asked me if they can snort protein powder off my biceps,” he tells you when you return from the bathroom back to his side. He holds up a cigarette he rolled for you meanwhile. You lean down and let him put it between your lips before he reaches for your lighter stored in his pocket.

“And did you let them?”, you ask, your face illuminated for the flick of a second when he lights up the cigarette for you. You’re standing between his spread legs and Iwaizumi reaches for your hips, making you stumble a little closer to where he was sitting. His chest is heaving now, his pupils dilating when he lets his eyes wander over you. You’ve seen this expression before, you think. It’s been the same from when you touched him for the first time, back then on the fire escape.

“Told them I was already taken,” he murmurs, almost not audible, and even in the dim light you can see the tip of his ears dusted in a dark pink color. His eyes flick up to yours and his expression is something between pleading and demanding. Oh.

How brazen.

He lets out a labored breath when you push him back in his chair, making room for you to straddle his hips. His hands find your thighs, fingers digging into your supple flesh and it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on letting you go for the rest of the night. Or, forever maybe.

You take a long drag of your cigarette and this time it’s you cupping his chin, tilting it up and hovering above him. Iwaizumi doesn’t need to be told what to do, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly before he parts his lips and lets you blow a mouthful of smoke into his lungs. It’s greedy, how he swallows it so willingly, watching you through half-lidded eyes. Hungry. Begging. Adoring.

He’s in love with you like no one else ever was.

“I need to kiss you or else I’m going insane.”

His voice is hoarse, strained. As if he is clinging to the last bit of his resistance and sanity. In one swift movement he snatches the cigarette from your lips with one hand and carelessly drowns it in his half-empty beer bottle, his other hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you closer to him again.

“Please,” he huffs and it sounds like he’s pierced with ten swords, in agony over not feeling your lips against his. “Pretty please.”

Your arms wrap around him and you kiss him. During the longest night of the year it’s like the sun is rising just for you. You don’t think, just let the feeling wash over you as your body melts against his. Iwaizumi lets out a quiet growl and kisses you back, gently at first, until your tongue slides against his and his calloused hands against your bare skin start trembling slightly. He’s using every ounce of self-restraint so he wouldn’t devour you on the spot. He knows you’d let him and that is a problem.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble against his lips once you pull apart to breathe, which could have been an hour later or a lifetime. Time becomes a blur under the soft caress of Iwaizumi. He mirrors your smug smile, stealing another kiss from your lips.

“I’ll make up for it,” he rasps, closing his eyes when you rest your forehead against his. His hands on your waist pull you impossibly closer again, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, caressing the sliver of skin there. He lets out a quiet hum, a sound very close to purring. “Gonna kiss you stupid till you forget your own name and can only remember mine.”

“Silly,” you huff back and kiss him again. “Is this a threat or a promise?”

“Both. With you, it’s both.”

a/n: hi eggy ily!! your wishlist was spectacular and i had a lot of fun writing this for you (at some point it got a little out of hand i'll admit lmao). hope you enjoyed your gift and that the rest of your 2024 will be warm and tender. trying not to get sappy here, just know you always leave such a mark with anything you write, it's something i deeply admire. happy holidays & all the love for you <3

#hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu imagines #hq reader insert #hq fluff #hq imagines #iwaizumi fluff #hq x reader secret santa 24

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livinginshambles · 1 year ago

Text

No, you listen to me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Notes: Not proofread. Mistakes. Once again because people keep forgetting, english is my third language, be kind. Themes of bullying, discrimination, very bad sister relationships. Regulus is like a BROTHER. James tries?

Masterlist Part one. Part three

_________________________

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out hand. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of, Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius' grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Two weeks flew by in a blur. You and Regulus had set up a Christmas tree inside your small apartment and had made a competition out of finding the most impressive gift for each other, with only 10 galleons.

You had found the most gorgeous black quill and enchanted ink set for him and were rather confident until Regulus had somehow shown up with what looked like emerald, antique and gorgeously over the top earrings. You had shot him a look and he had immediately provided a receipt to prove he had played fair.

“I just have great negotiating skills,” he’d said.

You had hummed skeptically in reply but had happily tried them on.

All in all, the holidays were a very welcome break for you. Which is why you were so very reluctant to pack your bags. The door to your room opened and Regulus stood in the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

“Get out,” you groaned in dismay at the interruption. Regulus shot you an unimpressed look.

“Not until I see you pack; we leave in less than an hour.”

You huffed in annoyance and threw a pillow at his head. “I’m not asking you again, Black.” You flopped back down on your bed dramatically in dismay at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. Regulus elegantly tilted his head and let the pillow fly past him.

“One hour,” he enunciated, before walking off.

You threw another pillow his way and yelled, “Close the door when you leave, you twat!”

With a flick of his wand, your door closed.

Regulus waited for you with a bag in his hand.

“Where’s the rest of it,” you teased as you motioned to the small amount of luggage he held.

Regulus turned red but stuck his chin up. “Left them here for the summer,” he off-handedly replied. You laughed. “Great, so you can help carry this bag then,” you grinned and pushed your smaller bag into his hands while you marched out the door with your heavy luggage, dragged behind you.

When you entered the platform, and were handed the Hogwarts newspaper, you did not expect to find a picture of you and James at the Yule ball on the front page. ‘Who are you, Willow?’

You immediately folded the paper together and looked up in panic at Regulus. He looked around and found different students excitedly chittering to each other, all while pointing at the newspaper.

“That is so romantic,”

“I thought James was with Lily?”

“No, they’re just friends now.”

“I was wondering who he was dancing with.”

“She looks so pretty.”

“If I found out that my date was James Potter, I’d take off that mask immediately.”

“Well, she could just be shy.”

“So true, probably Hufflepuff, don’t you think?

“I really hope he finds her.”

You grimaced at everyone and all you wanted to do was disappear. “Relax, Y/N,” Regulus smoothly pulled you on board the Hogwarts Express. “No one will know it’s you.”

Despite knowing that he was absolutely right, you still faced the floor as you looked for an empty compartment. You didn’t realize that you were passing James, who had just come back from a train meeting with the other prefects. He had picked up on Regulus’ words and frowned. But before he could really stop to consider Regulus’ statement, Peter happily waved at him from the marauders’ compartment. “We’re over here!” he called out. James forgot about what he heard.

Remus held the newspaper up in the air when James finally took a seat. “Really?”

“It was Pad’s idea,” James immediately said.

Peter curiously grabbed the newspaper. “Any results?”

James shrugged. “It’s only the first day,” he tries to convince himself, but he was not very sure about this approach to find you.

“It’s going to work out, trust me,” Sirius said. “When she sees that you’re going to this extent to find her, you’ll definitely woo her for sure,” he claimed.

Remus pulled a face. “I mean, if she ran off cause you two were being pricks, again,” he gave both Sirius and James a sharp look. “And hasn’t answered any of your messages, I don’t think starting a witch-hunt of sorts is the way to find her,” he voiced out his opinion. ”She clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“What are you calling my methods bad?” Sirius squinted his eyes at Remus in mock offense.

“I’m just saying they wouldn’t exactly woo me,” Remus dryly remarked.

��And yet-“

“Guys,” James interrupted. “I just want to find her and apologize. And ask her for another chance to prove that I’m more than what she saw.”

“Well,” Peter started. He turned red when all eyes were suddenly on him. “She will probably not reveal herself. But she’s still a student here. And she knows who you are. So maybe if you publicly show off kind acts, she’ll see how you can be?”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Peter wanted to change into a rat and crawl into a hole to hide. But suddenly he was patted on the back by James. “Peter, you absolute champ!”

James Potter was acting weird, and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You huffed to yourself as you marched right past him while he held the door open for his friends and you, who trailed in right behind them.

Previously, James would have definitely let the door fall in your face, and you had anticipated so, thus smoothly switching your books to your left arm, putting your right hand in front of you in a bracing manner. And so it happened that you stood there frozen, hand flat against James' chest, because he had turned around fully to hold the door open for you.

You embarrassedly dropped your hand that still lingered against him, and a deep frown settled on your face.

“I’d take ten points from Slytherin for touching a student without their consent, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for today,” he arrogantly said. You wanted to beat him up. But you supposed you could let it slide for today. You scowled at him and fled past him towards your designated seat.

Something tugged inside James’ chest as he watched you turn your back towards him and hurry away. He walked to join the rest of the marauders, a ghost feeling of your palm against his chest.

It hadn’t just been you that he was more civilized with. You noticed when you found him volunteering in the library, putting away books back on the shelves manually. This bothered you, because he tended to specifically linger around the particular section in the back about Egyptian rites, your favorite. You knew he was there to hopefully spot any often-returning students.

You also noticed that less and less students were coming back to the common room, hexed. Aside from snide remarks, you hadn’t encountered much animosity from him anymore either.

Instead, you found yourself on assigned patrol with him, despite the fact that Regulus had kindly offered to jinx his broom during Quidditch practice so you wouldn’t have to.

“So,” James broke the silence. “How was your holiday?”

“Why do you want to know,” you immediately shot back before you could stop yourself. James raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, L/N, just making conversation here.”

You sighed and forced your shoulders to lose their tension. “It was fine.”

“Fine.” James repeated.

“Fine,” you confirmed.

That was the end of your conversation, in your opinion. James however, seemed to think differently.

“So did you get any nice presents?”

You shot him an annoyed look but ended up answering anyway. “Yes actually, Regulus got me these earrings,” you said, and you tilted your head to show him. James’ eyes lingered on your earrings. They looked good on you. The exaggerated gem made you stand out despite your sober attire.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Why, did your parents not buy you anything or what?”

You halted mid-step and stared up at James. He noticed that he had said something wrong, and when your sisters came to mind, he hurriedly tried to take his words back. You didn’t let him.

“I don’t go home for the holidays,” you settled on. “I’m not particularly welcome there. My parents are as big of a fan of me, as Alyssa and Marla are.” You laughed bitterly and continued walking. James followed behind you, he didn’t say a word, instead waited for you to continue.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist. They wouldn’t want to associate themselves with that, of course,” you sarcastically remarked.

James felt guilt slowly seep in. Your words resonated in his mind and his hands grasped the folded parchment in the pocket of his robes tightly. Those were his exact same words of that night at the Yule ball, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. “You’re sorry?” You asked him in disbelief.

James nodded. If he couldn’t say it to his mystery girl, at least he could say it to you, he figured.

James watched your eyes light up slightly and for a moment, he was lost in a trance. He snapped out of it when you returned the question. “So how was your holiday?”

He grinned at the olive branch that you were reaching out. “Mine was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he teased. You fought the smile that threatened to tug on your lips.

Patrol ended without any incidents to report and when you wrote that down, James peered over your shoulder to catch your circled dot on the ‘i’ of “nothing to report.” A sense of déjà vu dawned on him, but the sheer unconscious refusal to even consider you a possibility kept your secret safe.

When you were in bed that night, you couldn’t help but think about how at ease you had felt for the remainder of the night with James, basking in the familiarity of the person behind the paper.

With every patrol, you two put another step forward in the direction of a friendship of some sorts.

James couldn't deny the fact that with each time, he started to look forward to the next time, almost the same giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach as each time he would unfold his parchment to find new kind words written there.

You and Willow would be friends, James thought, as he looked at you while you were casually explaining Transfiguration to him while you two strolled through the corridors, not without the occasional insult at his 'lack of competence'.

But for now, James enjoyed the privilege of calling you by your first name. A friend of some sorts, he liked to think.

Perhaps he was wrong about Slytherins. Sure, there were some rotten apples, but he supposed there were rotten apples in each house. And you weren't so bad after all.

For the first time in a long time, you enjoyed your days at Hogwarts. Truly enjoyed them. You would send Regulus to the library to get you your favourite books, and would patrol every Thursday with James unless he had Quidditch practice. Then you would patrol with Abrams. You’d come across James, who would nod with a kind smile at you as you two have come to be cautious friends and patrol-partners. You hadn’t really heard anything from your sisters either, which was absolute bliss as well.

But then one day, you were studying Transfiguration by yourself in the library, and you just so happened to need to go to the bathroom. When you returned, you noticed your book was missing and you pulled a sour face before requesting a new one from Professor McGonagall who had looked over her glasses at you.

But that hadn’t been the bad part. No, the bad part was that you had completely forgotten that you had put your enchanted parchment that connected yours to James’ inside that book.

Sirius had victoriously grinned at his funny prank idea. He would change some spells in your book so that you would mess up and become a toad in class. He tossed the book on a table in the common room and a piece of paper slid out.

Sirius had seen the piece of paper before, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He jumped up, ran towards his room, and rummaged through James’ nightstand before finding James' parchment under his pillow and wrote something on it. He walked back down the stairs with James’ paper, and he watched in disbelief as a messy ‘hello’ appeared on the paper that your sisters now held. “Merlin,” he breathed out, but your sisters had already stormed out of the room.

You entered the Great Hall and felt everyone staring at you and whispering. Even fellow Slytherin students looked at you in contempt. You gave Regulus a confused look when you walked to the free seat next to him. He quietly slid over the Hogwarts newspaper.

Front page again. ‘Mystery girl uncovered. Not a Willow, but a Hanging Tree.”

You didn’t need to read the rest; you tore your eyes away from the paper. Tears threatened to spill, but you tried to keep a cool front. You turned around to look for James and found him and his friends sitting right behind you.

Whoever thought that putting The Gryffindor table and Slytherin table next to each other should rot in the dungeons, you bitterly thought.

It was your sister who spoke up first. “I can’t believe someone like you would make themselves out to be a victim. ‘Oh no, my sisters bully me,’” she mocked you.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and got up. She got up as well and you stood eye to eye with each other. “You’re pathetic,” She sneered. “You’re the real mistake here. So go do what you do best- run away.”

You wanted to say something. Anything. But you felt weak and small again. So you turned around and walked away. Whispers continued to fill the room as everyone seemed to have something to say about you.

“How embarrassing.”

“She should be ashamed”

“A Slytherin like her?”

“She definitely wasted James’ time.”

With every comment you heard, you bit harder on the inside of your cheek, and when that last comment dropped, you balled your fists. Why should you be the one to walk away?

You turned around furiously and marched back towards James, who had gotten up to follow you and reached out his hand. You recoiled.

“Y/N, listen-“

“No, you listen to me,” you spat at him. You looked him up and down with a pained look, holding back tears of frustration and while trying to convey as much disgust as you could.

“If you didn’t like what you found out, you could’ve kept it to yourself and thrown the damn paper away. You had no right to publicly try to humiliate me like this. All of your kindness in an attempt to be a good person only shows how wretched you really are when you stop pretending and act cruelly true to yourself.”

James' eyes flashed with hurt and he shook his head, words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to cover his ears; he didn’t want to hear you say this to him. This isn’t what he wanted at all. You were wrong. He didn’t even know it was you until he saw the newspaper this morning.

But you weren’t finished talking yet.

“Has it ever even occurred to any of you,” you looked at the people behind him. You stared your sisters dead in the eye. “That maybe your prejudice and thoughtless assumptions and insults about how awful or evil we Slytherins are, is the very thing that pushes us down that path?”

You turned your attention back to James, who had an unreadable expression on his face now. “Your cruel comments are part of the reason and you, James Potter, are especially cruel.”

Your tone was sharp, face hardened and the entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Not even the professors spoke up. James felt like you had hit him in the face, and you might as well have. He looked down in shame at your words.

You shakily let out your breath and lowered your voice again. This time, you sounded tired. Reality seemed to dawn upon you that everyone in the great hall was listening to you, and you shook your head to yourself, taking a step back. You scoffed softly.

“I suppose you are truly worthy of the Gryffindor name; overly proud and arrogant in the name of bravery with a tendency to prove yourself, disregarding others and their feelings.” Your venomous words cut through James' heart.

James watched you walk away again and everything around him seemed to fade. He was losing you again. How had he not seen this?

Your situation with your sisters. The way you ran away at the Yule ball when he made a crude remark about Slytherins. The sense of déjà vu every time you walked past him, back turned towards him. Your handwriting. The feeling of your hand pressed to his chest just as when you two danced. The way you were great at transfiguration and could have easily transfigured those glass slippers. The way Regulus was the only student to frequently visit your favourite book section in the library. The chills you had sent down his back when you had allowed him to call you by your first name, and in return had called him James.

‘I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist.’

‘No one will know it’s you.’

Everyone knows.

Preview if interested

Part three

Taglist:

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#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #young james potter #young james potter x reader #marauder x reader #marauders x reader

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winnie1emon · 12 days ago

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✧.* what happens when theodore nott encounters a sweet girl in the forbidden forest?

chaser!theodore nott x fawn!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.7k

c/w: MDNI!!, smut, sexual language, piv, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, fingering, creampie, one line of google translated italian (IM SORRY), chaser!theo is mostly for the intro, doesn't have significant impact on the plot

a/n: hi this was supposed to be a two-part story, but heh... thank you + sorry to everyone who was patient with me!! this is not proof read i fear꒰(˶◞ ‸ ◟˶)꒱ also also!! ive stopped procrastinating and set up my obx blog @rafesdearest <3

A large breeze entered the pitch, and the crowd cheered as Slytherin's seeker finally caught the golden snitch. Descending off his broomstick, Theodore wasted no time rummaging through the oncoming crowd to find the pitch's exit.

No, he didn't need heaps of Slytherin girls running their hands up and down his arm; no, he didn't need the glory from scoring 70 points for Slytherin; and no, he didn't need to hear the complaints of the opposing team. All he needed was a good fucking cigarette.

"For fucks sake," Theodore huffed, pushing through the rowdy waves of people, scowling as he caught a glimpse of a girl with one of his teammate's names written sloppily on her forehead.

With a final shoulder bump through the crowd, he found himself in the broom shed, tossing his broomstick carelessly inside and opting out of heading to the locker room for a quick change and shower.

He let out a large exhale, beginning to take large strides towards Hagrid's hut, ultimately nearing the Forbidden Forest. Contrary to popular belief, the Forbidden Forest wasn't all that scary; the woodsy smell filled Theodore's nostrils, making him scrunch his nose as the rainwater scent from earlier that day lingered.

Allowing the soft crunch of the leaves to take his attention away momentarily, he hadn't noticed the figure standing at his usual smoke spot, deep in the forest.

Fumbling with his pocket, his carton of cigarettes flew out, landing on the dirt with a soft thud. A frustrated groan escaped his lips as he took a few steps forward, reaching for the fallen pack as he saw another hand pick it up.

Startled, Theodore looked up, only to be met by what seemed to him the most random girl ever. He had never seen her before, despite her appearance suggesting that she was in his year, much to his surprise; he knew most of the people in Hogwarts-- a testament to his popularity.

"Thank you," he said, his voice laced with skepticism.

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “You just win?”

He was somewhat surprised that you knew, or even asked. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You always come here after you have a game. When you lose you usually talk to yourself…” you trailed off, remembering the times you’d hear him cursing himself or his teammates under his breath whenever he lost. You idly gazed around the forest, eyes landing on a small flower by your feet. You crouched down to admire its pretty purple color.

As you did so, Theodore was still confused. “What? How do you know that?” he asked, his tone teetering over being curious and accusatory.

"Sorry, what?" you asked, missing his question as you were momentarily distracted.

Theodore rubbed his temple. Seriously? "I said, 'how do you know that?'"

"Oh! What- I'm always over there," you pointed out, your finger directing his eyes to a small pond about half a dozen yards away. "I come every day at the same time. Usually I start leaving once you arrive though." You stood back on your feet, taking his wrist as you airily led him there. "Here. The deer like to come usually, not anymore though."

You then realized you were just grabbing some guy's wrist without permission-- Theodore Nott's wrist. Letting go, you turned your head in the other direction as your face heated up.

Theodore raised a wry eyebrow as you dropped his wrists, averting your gaze from him before seeing the pretty area. "Why don't they come anymore?"

You had felt the color comfortably return to your face before saying, "There's just been a lot more litter lately. I don't think they like that."

He grimaced, unbeknownst to you, recalling all the cigarette butts he had casually dropped on the ground in the past few months. "Right..."

Unable to find anything else to talk about, you thought it was best to leave. "I'm going to head back."

You turned to leave, awkwardly stepping around a few of the stones on the ground before Theodore spoke. "So soon?" He looked at you teasingly, faint traces of arrogance on his face. "Thought we could get to know each other."

"Well I-- I told Hagrid I'd help him judge his new crop of pumpkins," you told him lamely.

"Mm. Sure."

His eyes followed you as you attempted to leave once more, weaving through the trees, eventually small enough to fade out of sight.

Cute.

--------------------------------------------------------

The following day, Theodore returned to the forest even though he didn't play a game that afternoon. He remembered you telling him that you would go there every day at the same time.

As he walked deeper into the woods, he spotted your form from afar, walking up to you as nonchalantly as possible.

"Hey."

You were currently tending to a few of the insects on the dirt, startled by his sudden greeting. Whipping your head around you saw him again-- Theodore and his gorgeous blue fucking eyes.

"Ah- Hi!" you exclaimed, giving him a large smile before quickly dropping it, subconsciously beating yourself up for being overenthusiastic. "There isn't a game today, what are you doing here?"

"Just you know, thought I'd come and get some fresh air. Didn't know you'd be here," he shrugged.

"I told you I come here at the same time every day," you told him, brows furrowed and lips quirking in a small smile.

"Forgot."

You were a bit suspicious at first, but he said it with such indifference that it simmered away.

This happened for the next few days; you'd constantly come to the forest, only to see Theodore already there, or him arriving shortly after. You both made conversation with each other and oddly enough, he was good company. Of course, you couldn't help but glance at his face for a moment too long from time to time, somewhat admiring his chiseled features or his captivating eyes. Sometimes you'd swear that his gaze would linger on you, tracing you from head to toe, but you swatted those thoughts away immediately.

The two of you grew much more comfortable with one another, even beginning to confide in one another about the teachers you didn’t particularly love or the embarrassing moments you guys had before locked away to never tell a soul.

About a week since your initial introductions, you went back to the pond as always, expecting Theodore to come soon after. Of course, what you weren't expecting, was to see a small herd of deer nearby. Your face melted into that of wonder, eyes glassy, having missed the deer during their disappearance.

Shortly after breaking out of your marveling trance, you noticed how most of the litter near the pond was gone. There were no cigarette butts, no chocolate frog boxes, and only one stray and empty bottle of butterbeer.

You heard someone approaching and by this point you knew it was Theodore. You scuttled over to him, interlocking your fingers before hastily dragging him over to the delightful sight.

“Look, look, look!”

He let you, allowing his body to be pulled by you, a quizzical smirk on his face. "Yes?"

“Theodore- look! The deer! They came back, the-“ you gabbed.

“I know,” he said gently.

“No, seriously! Theodore they’re back! There’s no more mess, so they came-,” you spoke incontinently before pausing. “You what?”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You were crestfallen for a moment, disappointed that you couldn’t have him share your excitement at the same time. “Did you already come here this morning?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I came here last night,” he said. You eyed him curiously, releasing your fingers from his before he spoke again. “I cleaned it myself.”

He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, like it was something he got done in a second.

“Huh?” you questioned, almost unbelieving.

“Come on, do I have to repeat everything for you sweetheart?” he simpered.

You were a bit daunted by his use of a nickname. Sure you two have gotten close over the past few days, but you didn't know you guys were that close...

"No sorry-," you apologized quickly. "It just sounded like you said you cleaned the whole thing yourself. But you wouldn't. I know you," you tried to tease, but his face , just moments ago coy and smug, was now unamused. Of course, you started to prattle as a last resort to not make things weird.

"Not that you're like lazy or anything! I meant that you just don't seem the type, -- er, you probably have better things to do with your time than clean and stuff."

The expression on his face was unreadable, and you could feel your soul wilting away with each passing moment.

"But if it was you then great! That's really, really great and uhm, kind of you!" You forced yourself to bring a finger up to your mouth to shut yourself up, a bead of sweat forming on your head.

Theodore leaned a bit closer, and he looked off. You couldn't tell if he was bothered or annoyed with you, or if he was just pulling your leg.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Were you supposed to laugh...?

You opened your mouth, prepared to let out another incoherent string of apologies and nonsense, before you were interrupted by the feel of his breath on your face, followed by the soft landing of his lips onto yours.

It felt gentle, patient, almost like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn't. He noticed, beginning to bring his hands to cup your face, and your hands found his hair, his tongue beginning seek entryway into your mouth and you granted it to him.

He became a little sloppy, his breathing ragged and his hands bringing your face impossibly close to his own. He got rougher, like he was was a man trapped and you were his first ray of sunlight in years. Somewhat overwhelmed, you brought your hands up to his shoulders, and he took it as a sign to pull away.

His hair had become mussed, his chest heaving up and down as he gasped for air.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he gave you a gap of space. "I got too... too," he huffed, catching his breath.

"No, you didn't do anything," you reassured him. "Just needed to- to soak it all in."

He gazed at you, face flushed and his embarrassment slowly fading. You granted yourself the ability to let your eyes travel down, stopping at the very obvious tent in his pants.

The sound of your heart beating filled your head, excitement and arousal about to pour out of you. You closed the gap between you both once more, pulling him into another kiss. You savored the small sound of surprise he made, your hand roving down to cup his erection that was straining against the denim of his jeans.

You heard him groan, pushing you a few steps back to place your back against a large tree, hands snaking down to flip your skirt up. He fondled your ass, lips detaching from yours to scoff a smile.

"Not chilly in this?" he asked you, fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear.

"Wanted to look cute," you defended.

"For me?"

You looked like you had been hit with a confundus charm, but that moment was short lived as you felt him lower your underwear, the air hitting your exposed cunt.

You ran a finger against the straining denim, making him twitch slightly. He lightly rubbed over your pussy, your arousal coating his fingers. He slipped a finger in, another one quickly following.

Your knees buckled for a moment as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt, finding a quick pace. You dropped your hand from his erection, now using it to hold onto the tree from behind for support as you let out a string of moans and whimpers in his ear.

He curled his fingers, finding the spot that made your eyes roll back, watching you with the most impish look ever. You were so close to orgasming quickly, and right as you were, he pulled his fingers out, releasing multiple incoherent mewls from you.

"Così dannatamente carina." (So damn cute).

Before you could complain about your lost orgasm, he had discarded of his zip up sweater, pulled down his pants, freeing his erection from his boxers, and lined up his cock with your cunt. Theodore lifted one of your legs up, supporting it with his hand to spread your legs. He pushed inside slowly, your pussy time to adjust to his thick cock.

"Shit, you feel so good," he whispered by your ear.

Each thrust of his hips would pressure your back harder into the tree, but the pain was unacknowledged as you could only focus on the pleasure currently pumping in and out of you.

"T-Theo," you mewled, looking at him with wide eyes, maintaining eye contact.

"Hm?" he asked, using his hand that wasn't supporting your leg brush a stray eyelash off your cheek.

You wanted to speak, but instead let out a strangled whine, the erotic noises of his cock entering in and out of your sopping cunt growing louder. You bit down hard on your lip, immensely stimulated because your cunt was getting the stuffing it needed, but because of how gorgeous he was.

He was otherworldly, the beautiful scenery visible past his face, no doubt only complimenting his features. You stared so hard, to the point that your brain had gone fuzzy and your moans and whimpers slipped out more frequently.

Theodore was clearly sharing the same feeling, beginning to bury himself deeper into you, his hips slapping against your clit each time.

He peppered kisses all over your neck, sucking on your skin until it left marks. Soon, his movements grew frantic-- much more than it already was, and his groans were shaky.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm going to come inside you," he panted.

Your cunt clenched against his cock, much like how you clung onto his shoulders, desperately wanting him to get impossibly closer to you.

"P-please," you begged. "I'm so close. M' gonna come."

He moved his head away from your neck, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the fresh hickey left on there. Gently putting down your leg, he used both hands to now cup your face, staring into the eyes, both of your irises dilated, pure lust on display.

You couldn't hold back any longer, your legs shook, your vision went blurry, and your walls tightened around his cock as you came. He followed shortly after, and with a final thrust, he shot warm, thick ropes of cum into your pussy.

He pulled out shortly after, breathing heavily. The remnants of his leaked out of you as you pulled your underwear back up, patting down your skirt.

Theodore returned his boxers to fit around his waist, zipping up his jeans quickly.

You both stood for a while, unsure if the silence was comfortable or not.

"That was," he spoke first, face flushed and hair disheveled.

"That was good," you said, hopeful that he would agree.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

The sun seemed to die down, grey clouds coming in, and you took it as a sign to go. "Should we go back into the castle?"

Theodore nodded in agreement and you pushed yourself off the tree trunk, taking wobbly steps back before he grabbed your wrist from behind.

"Wait." He retrieved his neglected zip up from off the leaf-filled ground, holding it near you, signaling you to outstretch your hands. You did, and he slowly helped you wear the sweater, zipping it up before flipping the hood back to it's intended state. "It's cold."

It was an unusual gesture-- not that it was out of character for him. Just because it was so kind and light, almost as if he didn't fuck the thoughts out of your head just moments before.

You gave him a small smile, allowing his arm to drape over your shoulder as you both started your trek back to the castle.

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

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jaewritesfic · 5 months ago

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Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare.

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand.

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being.

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

#everlasting trio #danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #dc x dp #this has decided independently that its going to have dead tired vibes #if not genuinely dead tired #bats soon #tim pov next

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neocitylights · 2 months ago

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SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door.

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now.

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is.

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along.

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you.

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too.

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward.

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience.

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor.

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes.

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space.

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings.

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words.

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first.

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off.

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school.

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded.

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause.

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames.

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you.

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write.

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases.

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck.

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face.

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend.

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers.

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it.

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine.

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…”

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods.

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar.

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked.

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there.

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t.

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks.

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name.

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens.

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you.

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while.

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times.

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up.

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face.

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance.

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it.

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern.

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days.

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor.

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.”

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.”

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued.

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.”

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.”

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.”

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.”

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject.

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?”

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.”

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry.

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to.

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice.

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.”

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal.

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days.

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project.

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time.

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first.

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways.

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction.

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction.

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk.

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.”

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.”

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing.

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist.

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often.

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.”

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes.

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way.

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day.

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts.

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity.

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming.

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now.

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter.

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days.

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten.

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you.

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link.

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it.

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence.

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours.

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough.

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own.

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around.

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?”

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer.

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?”

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer.

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks.

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!”

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK | MASTERLIST

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fanfic #mark lee fanfic #neocitylights

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ramhaiba · 2 months ago

Text

𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗍. 2

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part one

"For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. It’s me.”

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, oral (f receiving), dubcon, semi-public fingering, groping, choking, biting, manhandling, riding overstimulation, marathon sex, mentions of necrophilia/noncon, implied somnophila, baby trapping(?) A/N- sorry for the long wait guys, writer's block can be a bitch

Sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of your life-

No. letting him ‘help’ you was the biggest mistake of your life.

Ever since you two had sex, he’s been sleeping in the same bed as you. You did attempt to persuade him to sleep on the couch once again but he simply responded with

‘We both saw what happens when I sleep on the couch, sweetheart. Besides, sharing the same bed might bring back some of those ‘dear’ memories you lost.” As you predicted, it would be challenging to sneak out of your room at night, especially when Suna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked on your shoulder, and his stern back against your chest.

You thought about lying to him, telling him you’re getting up from bed to use the bathroom but really you’re planning to find his car keys and drive away from this nightmare. But what if you take too long and he gets suspicious? Last time you got lucky when he misunderstood your attempt to steal his car keys.

You hate that you spent the entire week with him, pretending to be in a loving marriage, kissing him sweetly, and sometimes bathing with him. But he hasn’t fucked you since the first time- well with his dick at least.

If he thinks you look too cute in a nightgown- which you always do, he’ll push you down on the bed, scrunching up your silky slip-on onto your breast and shamelessly make out with your cunt, fingers holding your thighs down and apart to keep you from squirming away. He never fails to give you an intense orgasm. You're so addicted to his touch that you don’t know how you’ll be able to cum again once you escape from him...While on the topic of escaping, you’re finding the idea of freedom too difficult to obtain by yourself. You’re gonna need help.

“ So- I remember you mentioned before that we were still friends with twins from high school” You blurted out while having dinner with your ‘fiancé.’

“ Yeah, Osamu and Atsumu. What about them?” Suna asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think you should invite them over. I think it’d be good for me to meet someone from my past” you suggested.

“ It’d be hard to contact them because the service in this place is horrible” Suna claimed, leaning back in his chair. You let out an instant “oh” with a noticeable pout on your lips.

Then you heard Suna sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay. There is this part of the house where the service is somewhat usable. But it’s on the roof so I don’t want you following me there. Your body is still sore which makes it difficult for you to stay up there without falling” Suna pointed out.

He’s right. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you try going on that roof. So the idea of stealing his phone to call for help isn’t possible.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Rin” You complimented. “ Yeah well, I gotta keep my wife happy” Suna got up and kissed your forehead before retreating upstairs.

You waited impatiently for Suna to come back down. A sick part of you wishes that he’d accidentally slip off the roof, breaking his neck because then you’d be freed from this nightmare. But he only takes twenty minutes to come back down, placing his phone back into his pocket as he walks towards you.

“So? Did they say yes?” you questioned. “They said they would love to stop by. But I had to make Atsumu promise he wouldn’t bring another hookup over. I better start cooking dinner because those two guys know how to eat- especially Osamu” Suna replied, giving you an endearing pat on the head as he went to prepare for their arrival.

You hadn’t seen any pictures of the twins prior before they arrived, so it was quite intimidating when two muscular tall men stood at your doorstep. The dark-haired one holding a classic bottle of wine. While Atsumu opened his arms to you, giving you an unwelcomed hug.

“There is our Y/n. It’s been too long since we saw ya” The bold twin one cooed, his arms around you tightened.

“You’re one foot in and already flirtin’ with my fiance- don’t you have any shame, Atsumu?” Suna replied, subtly informing you of the difference between the twins.

So if the blonde, somewhat pervy, twin was Atsumu. The other one must be Osamu.

“I ain’t flirting. I was just being friendly to a friend who’s gotten into a terrible- just terrible accident “ Atsumu pouted.

“I decided to tell them your situation. I hope you don’t mind” Suna commented, smiling innocently.

It’s unsettling.

They’re completely lying to you- you’re not friends with them. How are they so eerily confident then? How can these two lie straight to your face and pretend that you’re Suna's fiancé?

Because you’re not. You’re not his fiancé.

Right?

Dinner with them made you even more confused. They’re doing the same thing that Suna did. Reciting old stories about your so-called past together. It’s getting more difficult to distinguish what’s the truth or not. Yet Atsumu’s words manage to slip you back into reality.

“You should really be thanking me. If I didn’t set you two up in college- y’all would not be getting married.. at least Suna wouldn’t be” Atsumu teased.

“I thought we started dating in high school?” You spoke up, pointing out Atsumu’s mistake. Rather than Atsumu getting embarrassed for making such an innocent mistake.

Atsumu got nervous.

If you weren’t already so superstitious during dinner, you wouldn’t have noticed how he blinked away, how forced his laughter sounded, and how his brother deadly glared at him.

“Would you pardon us? I think I have to remind Atsumu about some manners” Osamu asked, seeming all friendly while his jawline clenched, a fist under the table.

Suna clicked him, glancing at a nervous Atsumu and then back at Osamu.” Go ahead,” Suna replied.

You were left alone with him once again.

You and your fiancé-No. He’s not your fiancé. You and your demon.

“You’re lookin’ a bit nervous, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay? Just say the word and I can get these idiots to leave any time” Suna suggested. “No- they don’t need to leave. I just need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. That’s all” Your laughter sounded a bit too forced, sweaty palms pushing you up out of your seat. “Don’t take too long” Suna mumbled, watching you march quickly out of the dining room.

This is your chance.

You can ask- no- you're going to beg the twins to help you because surely, they wouldn’t want to risk being an accomplice for a serial killer.

You followed their distant voices, words too unintelligible to understand. Eventually, you ended up in front of the door connecting the garage to the summer house. Luckily, they left the door slightly ajar, allowing you to hear their conversation clearly.

You were about to walk in before you heard Osamu say

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot, ‘Tsumu? At this point, Suna not gonna let either of us have a turn with her” Osamu argued with his brother.

“Shut up- shut up. I’m a fuckin’ volleyball player not an actor” Atsumu huffed. “Yeah and I own a restaurant but I know how to keep my story straight,” Osamu remarked.

“I don’t even know why Suna cares s’much about keeping up this whole game” Atsumu commented.

“he’s just gonna kill her like the rest.”

Your heart is racing because your last hope of escaping this n nightmare just revealed they could care less about your life- fuck they could be worse than Suna. Instinctually, you step away from the door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. But that’s when you feel a stern chest against your back, stopping you from backing away. You slowly turn your head and notice Suna behind you, his eyes glued on the view of the twins arguing about whether they’ll still get a ‘turn’ with you after Atsumu’s mishap.

“Rin-“

“Quiet. It’s always amusing to watch the twins argue, right? “ Suna replied, his hand tilting your face to watch the twins, his chin resting on top of your head, forcing you to watch the truth unfold.

“You know he does sadistic shit like this all the time. Just try to have fun with her while she’s still alive” Osamu huffed.

“I didn’t come here to play an actor. I just wanna fuck her before Suna finally cuts her up or whatever sadistic shit he plans to do with her” Atsumu groaned.

“ Yeah, well, there's no way in hell he’s gonna let you have a turn with her if you don’t play along correctly. You’d be lucky if he even lets you fuck her corpse”

Atsumu hummed, his once annoyed attitude slowly disappearing as he looked lost in thought- until he made the comment

“I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.”

You want to stop listening but Suna won’t let you. “Please, just let me go and I won’t- I won’t tell anyone” you muttered, voice cracking. Suna laid his forehead on your shoulder, you could feel his smile on his skin.

“What about our wedding?” he cooed, voice teasing, his hands wrapping around your waist, tips of his fingers sliding under your waistband.

“Rintarou, please- I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything just don’t hurt me” you begged.

“I don’t like when you call me by my first name, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble” Suna commented, a soft pout on his lips. This time his hands are traveling further down the inside of your pants until his fingers are tracing over your covered slit. You wish you could fight his touch but you’re too scared to upset him.

“Rin, I don’t wanna pretend anymore. I just wanna go home” You’re starting to cry and he doesn’t need to look at your face to know that tears are pouring out of your eyes.

You act like you’re strong but the second you’re faced with a challenge, you crack like glass. So easy to read. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much.

“You wanna go home? Go ahead and ask the twins for help. But I don’t if they’ll be that compliant” Suna suggested. He’s right. He’s always right.

“I like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so infatuated with a person like this before. So I’ll give you two choices. You could either go beg the twins to take you away from this ‘hell house’ or

you can become my pretty wife”

You don't want any of that. You want to run far far away. But he’ll catch you like he did the first time and then he might actually kill you.

“So, what will it be, princess?” He repeats, forcing you to break from your silence. That nickname, it always appears when his true colors are shown. You're starting to hate that word because now you associate it with danger.

“How do I know you won’t kill me,” you ask, in the quietest voice, afraid of his answer. He chuckles at your question, raises his head from your shoulder, and smiles.

“Because I'll never get bored of you.”

That’s all it takes. You nod your head, not wanting to hear yourself agree to stay. To be his, forever.

He leans over, lips almost touching yours, narrow eyes with an unwearying stare forcing you to look at him.

“You know how to keep quiet, don’t you Mrs. Suna?”

That’s when his wandering fingers finally slip beneath your panties and you’re reminded that Osamu and Atsumu are right behind the door in front of you. “Rin, not here” you begged, squirming to get out of his grip, only for him to hold you tighter.

“Why not? Atsumu would probably wanna hear, that fuckin’ freak” Suna laughed. Just as you were about to utter an argument, you’re cut short by the painfully slow pumping of Suna’s fingers, thrusting into your cunt. You feel weak.

Instead of telling him to stop, your words cut into a breathy moan and Suna is forced to lean over to your ear.

“ Careful, princess. You don’t want them to hear you.” He whispered a reminder, tongue poking out of his mouth to lick a stripe down your neck, causing you only to tighten around his long thrusting fingers.

“ Try to argue with me but I can feel how wet you are. Maybe you’re the crazy one huh? Or maybe it’s both of us. Guess we're soulmates then” he’s talking more than he usually does. Maybe because he knows you're scared to get caught.

Or maybe he’s drunk on the success of your agreement to your engagement. Doesn’t matter because he’s only getting more confident, pulling down the neckline of your shirt as long as your bra with his other hand, groping the soft skin of your breast all while his thumb is massaging your clit.

Fuck- you’re so close and he’s so fucking hard, forced to grind his painful erection against your back.

You feel pathetic when you're uncontrollably humping his ruthless fingers, chasing your high.

When you hear him chuckle from behind you, most likely realizing your movement- he has no right to sound so fucking sexy.

“Can’t believe you were begging me to stop, aren’t you just the prettiest liar.” He mumbles.

And you’re finishing on his fingers, legs shaking, eyes tearing up, your hands covering your mouth muffling uncontrollable moans.

Suna slowly pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing his drenched fingers into your mouth, disgustedly making you clean his fingers, tasting yourself.

He spins you towards him, leaning over to wipe off your smeared make up, fixing your appearance for you because you are all too stunned by what has just occurred.

Just on time, Atsumu and Osamu are opening the door, both surprised to see you.

“ Holy fuck- how long were you two standing there" Atsumu called out. You both turn around to look at them, Suna wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

“We just walked in actually” Suna lied for your sake.

“ Well…Wow! look at the time- “ Atsumu said, checking his watch, pretending to read the time. “It’s getting late, ain’t it? I’m a bit too tired to drive…guess me and Osamu gotta stay over the night” Atsumu whistled.

Holy fuck- Atsumu and Osamu still think they have a chance with you.

You’re beginning to tremble at Suna’s side, fully not trusting him to protect you.

“I’ll call you two an uber,” Suna says blankly.

You could see Atsumu grit his teeth, not knowing why he wasn’t getting rewarded for his ‘efforts.’

“Well- can we at least visit tomorrow” Osamu questioned, trying to hint if they’ll at least have a chance to fuck your dead corpse.

Sick mother fuckers. Just like Suna- maybe even worse.

“Next time we’ll see you is at our wedding” Suna smiled passively aggressively, knowing he just pissed off the twins.

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely attending to spoil the truth because Suna ruined all of his ‘fun.’ But Osamu stops him by gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt.

“ No need to argue with an old friend. We’ll leave… just call us next time when we’re allowed to come over” Osamu sighed.

Then they proceed to leave. Not without Atsumu forcing you into a hug, his hand dangerous lying on your lower back, a final act of perversion. They leave and you’re left alone with Suna and his narrow eyes are locked on yours.

“Could fuck you here or on the bed. Pick one”

There is no option to deny him. He is going to be your husband after all.

“Bed.”

He’s not even letting you walk there, probably thinking you’ll move too slowly for his liking. So he's picking you up effortlessly because of his muscular arms, delivering you to the bedroom before and tossing you onto the mattress. He’s on top of you in a heartbeat, his hands tugging off your clothes, not caring if you’re telling him to slow down because they’ll rip.

He’ll buy you a new one- fuck he’ll buy you anything you’d want as long as he gets to fuck that tight pussy of yours.

Your heart is slipping at the sound of his belt unbuckling, too nervous to look at the sight of him sliding down any of the clothes covering his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ you raw, yeah? Doesn’t matter anymore since we’ll be married soon” Suna clicks his tongue, holding his heavy cock in his hands, pressing his leaking tip against your hole.

You shake your head frantically, “Don’t please Rin- don’t do that to me” you shuttered.

“ What? Ya afraid you’ll conceive the devil’s reincarnation? For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real.

It’s me.”

Without another argument he’s forcing himself into your shameless cunt causing a gasp to slip out of your mouth, not waiting for you to adjust until he’s fucking you into the bed. You’re holding onto everything but him. And he doesn’t like this- it’s not wife behavior is it?

So he leans over and painfully bites into your collarbone, “ hurt me back.” He commands.

And you give him exactly what he wants, slipping your hands under his shirt, digging your nails into his toned back, causing him to only get fuck you harder like it a competition on who can break the quickest.

You’re not holding back your moans- thankful for the lack of people near you, only giving Suna the privilege of hearing them.

Once you orgasm for the second time that night, he’s switching positions and forcing you to take him on his lap, his back resting on the bed frame.

You know what he wants you to do but you’re already so tired, you drowsily shake your head, hoping he’ll stop, and let finally you sleep.

Except all you do is annoy him, hissing under his breath as his hands grip your hips, forcing you to bounce on his cock, overstimulating your insides.

“ Slow down, Rin-“ you asked, knowing he won’t let you stop but at least the idea of slowing down seems possible.

“You wanna go slow, princess? Then you gotta do it yourself” he commented. You hesitate before nodding your head, thinking it’s a better option than letting him fuck you relentlessly.

His hands go behind his head while yours leans over on his thigh, slowly pushing yourself up, sucking in your breath and you sink back down.

Suna whistled at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, acting like the perfect wife.

He’s moving the hair out of your face before wrapping his hands around your neck, freaking you out as he lightly squeezes the sides of your neck. The action is causing you to stop your movement.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked, tightening the grip around your neck, making it harder to breathe, a growing light-headed.

Your hands are shaking as you’re lifting yourself up and down on his cock. It’s humiliating, knowing you’re getting off because of him- how easily he has control of your body

“Say you’ll stay” he pants, chest heaving, feeling your cunt squeezing on his cock because of his husky voice.

“ Say you’ll stay forever. Can’t ever leave my side, princess. Dont think I can live without this pussy” he asks, face flushed.

“ I’ll stay—Rin” you managed to croak out with the tightness around your neck.

That’s all he needs until he’s leaning over to your torso, hands moving to grip your waist, forcing you to stay still on his cock, cumming deep into your pussy.

You think that’ll be it for tonight until he’s pulling back and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth, hands moving to grope your breast again until he’s hard once more.

He’s manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees. He's behind you, watching your legs shake as he guides his cock back into your stuffed pussy, fucking his leaking cum back into you.

You’re screaming from overstimulation, tears soaking the bed sheet under your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheet. You feel like you’re being crushed when he presses his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach, cock bullying your insides.

He’s never this energetic.

And you’re also never this honest, finally admitting to knowing the truth behind this charade. But you tell him you’ll stay isn’t something he believes in.

“ Bet you’re thinking about leavin’ when I’m asleep, yeah?” He huffed against the nape of your neck.

“You’d probably find a way to kill me first though. You’re not dumb enough to think I won’t find you” he uttered, talking to you as if he’s not fucking you into oblivion.

“ Doesn’t matter if m’dead or not. I’ll always be with you- every second til the day you fuckin' die, you'll be thinking about me. dreaming about me. haunted by me. So don’t you dare test me. Just be good and I’ll be good back. I fuck you good as well” he adds, his finger rubbing your swollen clit while his hips are forcing you to the edge, squeezing his cock so hard he can’t pull out to cum- not like he was going to do in the first place.

Suna lifts himself and rolls you to the side, admiring your fucked out expression, how you’re staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as you recover from your intense orgasm.

“ Maybe if fuck a baby into you. You wouldn't be able to leave,”Suna commented, the lack of playfulness in his tone suggested to you that he was actually serious about the idea of knocking you up.

“ I'm not - I not planning on leaving— I won’t do it, Rin. I’m telling the truth” you babbled, crying at the idea of going another round, hands frantically wiping down tears that felt never-ending.

Suna chuckles because for once, he believes you. He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll be nice and give you a morning-after pill I got laying around somewhere afterward, yeah? I’ll take care of you, but you gotta take care of me,” he cooed.

You are too cute. So much more innocent than Suna is- never committing the horrendous crimes he’s done. And he thinks you begging him to spare you from sex is so much more exciting than you begging him for your life.

But to you- it feels like you’re begging for the same thing. You’ll die if he fucks you again- that your body is too overstimulated and exhausted.

That doesn’t stop him- nothing will really, from getting hard, thrusting into you again. You don’t know when he stopped fucking you- was it after you passed out the third time? Or did he continue ever after that? When it’s over, you’re half awake, back leaning on his chest, his hand ushering you to take the suggested birth control in his hand. Then slowly tilt the glass of water down your mouth. While you manage to drink the refreshing liquid, you get a glance of the mess between your spread legs, cum shameless dripping out and you wish you never met him.

You’re awake and you don’t feel physically dirty, the evidence of cum wiped off your legs by Suna while you were sleeping.

If he hadn’t marked your body with his teeth and hands, you’d almost pretend last night was nonexistent. Plus the aroma coming from him cooking from the kitchen downstairs only ruins the fantasy even more.

Maybe you’ll run away one day and get away with it. But you can’t say you could ever truly escape, Suna.

Because that would just make you a liar.

taglist @fynn1issshh @kodsuken

#yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna x reader #yandere smut #yandere suna #suna smut #yandere suna rintaro #yandere suna x reader #suna rintarou

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crushpunky · 2 months ago

Text

rafe and kook!reader get into a fight

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

warning: minor injury w/ mention of blood

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Y/n shouted as Rafe rolled his eyes, flopping back onto y/n’s bed, an unlit joint dangling between his lips as y/n closed the door behind her.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna smoke it in here.” Rafe scoffed, tucking the joint behind his ear as y/n shot daggers at him.

“You’re lucky I even let you in here after that shit you pulled.” Y/n said sharply, turning to her vanity that sat in front of the bed. They had just gotten back from a party, their departure rushed after Rafe had gotten into a fight with some guy over a stupid comment the guy had said. Topper and Kelce had tried to intervene, but once Rafe’s mind was set, it was set. The fight had finally ended when y/n ran in, grabbing at Rafe’s arms until he decided he had had enough and climbed off the guy.

“‘That shit I pulled’?” Rafe asked with a smirk, propping himself up to rest on his elbow. Y/n turned around in her chair, her mouth agape.

“Rafe… I’m not messing around. I’m this close.” Y/n seethed, pinching her fingers with a harsh exhale.

“Oh c’mon. That random asshole’s fine.” Rafe scoffed, shaking his head as he shuffled over to sit next to y/n’s nightstand. He dug into his pocket, procuring a small bag of coke. Y/n glanced up at the mirror at the sound of the bag crinkling before whipping around out of her chair. With a step, she had crossed the room and ripped the bag from his hands.

“Hey, what the hell—” Rafe grabbed at her, missing as she pulled further away from him.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Y/n seethed, moving towards her bathroom, but Rafe was able to catch her by the waist. He pulled her into his chest, trying to pry the baggie from her grip.

“Just fucking give it to me, y/n.” Rafe hissed, the two of them grappling as y/n tucked the baggie even closer to her body and fought against Rafe’s grasp. Rafe’s fingers scratched at her hands, causing y/n to elbow him sharply in the ribs, his grasp on her loosening enough for her to get loose.

“Y/n, don’t you fucking—” Rafe shouted, following closely behind y/n as she made it into the bathroom. Without a second of hesitation, y/n tossed the baggie towards the toilet, but missed, causing it to fall onto the ground. She quickly scrambled to pick it up, before she could, Rafe caught her by the wrist.

“Let go of me!” Y/n seethed, attempting to wrangle free from Rafe’s grasp.

“That’s my shit, y/n! You can’t just fucking do that!” Rafe shouted, his voice laced with a rage that made y/n’s stomach churn. Y/n pulled against him harshly, his drunken body crashing into hers, sending the two of them into the wall. With a gasp, y/n’s head hit with a loud thud and Rafe’s hold on her dropped.

“Ow, shit!” Y/n groaned, slinking down the wall. She lifted a hand to where her head throbbed, her fingers coming back covered in blood. Immediately, her eyes began to well with tears as she sat up.

“Y/n I’m sorry I—” Rafe scrambled, his shaking hands reaching out towards her, his face sobering up with fear.

“No!” Y/n sobbed, recoiling as his fingers brushed her skin.

Rafe’s face fell, looking quickly over at the baggie that sat on the ground near where y/n sat crying… because of him. Because of him and his stupid, stupid addiction and anger and violence and—

“Get out, Rafe! Just take your shit and leave! I don’t fucking care anymore!” Y/n screamed, grabbing the baggie and shoving it into his hands. He took it numbly, his mouth agape as y/n sat in front of him, the blood from her forehead mixing with the tears that poured down her cheeks. Rafe felt his mouth dry, his brain begging him to open the baggie and escape from reality for a moment, but his heart clenching at y/n’s trembling form. She had become the one thing he never wanted her to be: scared of him.

“Y/n, please—” Rafe whispered, swallowing harshly.

“Stop, Rafe!” Y/n sobbed. “You– you’re just going to say you’re sorry and then you’re not gonna change and I… I can’t fucking do it anymore, Rafe.”

Rafe sat there for a second, the silence between them only dampened by y/n’s occasional sniffles. She was right. Time after time, he would fuck up, apologize, and then go right back to it, the cycle continuing the next time he did something stupid. Y/n was strong, god he knew that, but he also knew that it was killing her seeing him like this. The boy she had known all her life, fading away into an angry, violent man she couldn’t even recognize.

Without even realizing it, Rafe had begun to cry. Slow tears fell down his cheeks as he looked down at the bag of white powder in his hand; the very thing that had caused all this pain and hurt in his own life, hurting those around him even more. With a trembling hand, Rafe dropped the baggie into the toilet, flushing it away before slinking back to rest against the wall. His shoulder brushed against y/n’s lightly, causing her to flinch before relaxing against him.

“I’m… I’m gonna get help, y/n.” Rafe whispered, his gaze locked on y/n. Y/n’s eyes remained focused on the ground in front of her, her sobs subsided enough to stop the shaking in her shoulders. Rafe could feel his stomach churn, fearing that this time he had really fucked up and she couldn’t forgive him. Fearing he had gone too far. He had hurt her. He had lost her… and he couldn’t fucking lose her.

“First thing in the morning, we’re gonna call that place I told you about.” Y/n whispered, looking up at him, her eyes stern. Rafe nodded, his bottom lip trembling as he looked down at his best friend.

“I’m serious, Rafe. I… I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” Y/n said. With a sigh, she rested her head on Rafe’s shoulders. Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, resting his head on top of y/n’s.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I love you.” Rafe whispered.

“I love you too.” Y/n said.

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader

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marvellous1917 · 2 years ago

Text

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #mob!bucky fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tattoo artist!reader

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sincerelyneo · 10 months ago

Note

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing.

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said."

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it.

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style.

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight.

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night.

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core.

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him.

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant.

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room.

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts.

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago.

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.”

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks.

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it.

Well, you won't be on your knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard.

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go.

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense.

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker.

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him.

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!”

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake.

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours.

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it?

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way."

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you.

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him.

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say."

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest.

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't."

But you do it.

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder.

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely.

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you.

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house.

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground.

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!”

You groan, I'm going to my room."

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know.

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently.

“What are you doing?” You spit.

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan.

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.”

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy.

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him.

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you.

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh.

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel.

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked.

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear.

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep.

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck.

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core.

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that.

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him.

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you.

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach.

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?"

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question."

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head.

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed.

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face.

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway.

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base.

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes.

Fuck no. Absolutely not.

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper.

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?"

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs.

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling.

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs.

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him.

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp.

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it.

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch.

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach.

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling.

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core.

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge.

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again.

"Yes, and what else?" He growls.

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues.

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough.

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down.

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning.

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before.

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.”

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed.

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would."

He’s thought about this? You know you have.

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down.

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions.

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion.

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off."

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy.

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets.

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it.

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely.

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.”

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick.

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt.

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards.

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock."

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat.

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop.

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?"

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod.

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip.

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat.

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl."

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more.

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk.

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself.

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks.

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer?

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him.

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him.

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore.

"You want it." He says point blankly.

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget.

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites.

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them.

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity.

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere.

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on.

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still.

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats.

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes.

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?”

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you.

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined."

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring.

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now.

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him.

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe.

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth.

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it.

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply.

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?"

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased.

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him.

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again.

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth.

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now.

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about.

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling.

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door.

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?"

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door.

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass.

"One second," you shout, jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it.

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you.

"I was hot." You shrug.

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.”

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony.

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you.

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.”

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself.

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you.

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh.

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh.

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling.

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

#jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #jeno scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop smut #nct hard hours

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melanchol1cs · 3 months ago

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WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

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thediaryofaurora · 4 months ago

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𖧐Kinktober - Day 3𖧐

Theme: Car sex / stranded

Pairing: Ticci Toby x colleague!reader

CW: NSFW, dry humping, f!reader, riding

Word count: 1.0k

Side note: Sorry this is late, I’ve been caught up in doctor appointments, but good news is I’m off my crutches 🧚 Also I didn’t prepare for Kinktober what so ever, burnout is going CRAZY. I’m gonna spend the weekend preparing more, but day 4 might be a little late also 💔

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

“I-I already tried, damn en-engine won’t start.” Toby huffs, putting his hands in his pockets while he leans against the trunk.

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do??”

It’s the middle of winter for fuck’s sake, walking nearly 90 miles back to the mansion would take days, probably even get you both killed in the process. You already notified Tim, but even in a car it’ll take over an hour.

“W-we might as well get back in the car. I-it’s better than standing o-out here with the wind.”

“I guess.” You grumble, opening the driver’s side door and slipping in, Toby following suit.

Being shielded from the wind and light snow is definitely better than waiting outside and getting frostbite, but the temperature in the car had still dropped once the heat was turned off.

“It’s too fucking cold for this, are you sure we didn’t pack any matches?”

“No l-lighter either.”

Sighing, you put the keys back in the ignition, hoping for any chance of it turning on.

Vrrrrr, pufk

“Piece of shit.”

You two had already been out in the cold for half an hour, having to walk back from your mission, and looking down at your hands turning a faint purple makes the situation even more urgent.

“Get in the back.” You gruff, climbing over the center console and into the backseat. Toby doesn’t hesitate to follow, if you have an idea to keep you both from freezing to death he’s open to it.

“A-are we huddling?”

He chuckles, resting against the door while you crawl on top of him. No wonder he’s not as worried about the whole ordeal as you, he’s barely cold. You nestle up against him, draping your arm around his chest with a sigh. Even though you both had known each other for a while, he’s obviously nervous, the way his rapid heart beat is thumping in your ear while you rest your head on his chest making that clear.

Trying to take in any warmth you can get, you drape your leg over his hips, then you feel it: the reason he’s so nervy.

Maybe you can help him out, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Gently you grind down on him, enough for him to not know if you actually are or if he just wishes you were. Slowly but surely you begin to add more weight, and more, and more. After a few minutes it’s noticeable the way you’re perfectly rubbing your clothed cunt against his restrained boner.

His breath starts picking up, his wood only getting harder as you make it obvious what you’re doing. Your head is still rested on his chest, his heart thumping even louder than before.

You had been doing it for a few minutes now, keeping a steady pace of dry humping this poor, desperate boy. A small whimper escaping his lips as he begins bucking his hips up into yours, moving his hands down to your ass and pulling you closer onto him, his fully hard cock now rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud.

Now you’re both grinding into each other, the friction too much to handle. You need him.

Quickly you pull off of him, letting a whine. Your knees are on either side of his hips, hastily undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. All he can do is look at you in awe, his eyes big and greedy as he watches you slip his pants down. His dick springs out, the tip already red and shining with precum. You slide off your bottoms, revealing your puffy, wet pussy. His length twitches as you position your hole above his needy cock.

Slowly you begin lower yourself onto him, his tip barely brushing your hole while it pulsates on his most sensitive part.

Toby has always been a beat it and get it over with kind of guy, not bothering to even use lotion while watching porn; so now, you slowly sliding down his girth makes it difficult not to cum immediately.

Your hole clenches around him while you take your time adjusting, his throbbing cock making you want to slam down on it. He stretches you good, but the pain can’t compare to the pure nirvana of him being inside you.

It’s half way in, just almost hitting your cervix. His heavy breaths have turned into pants, sweet little whines in between while you slide down.

“H-mghn… Y-y-y/n- please-“ His voice is a pure whine as he begs for more, his attempts to buck up into you stopped by your hands pushing his hips down to the seat.

The tip finally hit your sweet spot, your hips rolling against his as you adjust to the girth. You start picking up your pace, shamelessly riding him as you feel your high coming to a breaking point. It’s obvious his is too, his mouth agape while he pants and whimpers incoherent pleads.

Your climax comes crashing down over you, riding out your high on his twitching dick, your once freezing face now dripping with sweat. Toby came right after, his cum spilling out of you as you pulled off of him.

The car’s windows were completely unusable, the condensation too thick to see through. Small droplets of water formed and raced down, your body heats immediately filling the streak.

Toby’s dazed panting below you, eyes fluttering open and shut with every breath, his shaky hands still holding onto your hips as you lay back down with him.

A loud knock on the window startled the two of you, Tim’s voice breaking the silence.

“You better be clothed when you come out of there.”

Together you both gather your clothes and redress, stepping out of the humid vehicle into the baby blizzard. Tim’s car is pulled over to the side of the road in the distance, his headlights flashing.

You and Toby stumble behind him, your legs weak and unstable. At least you stayed warm.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

Kinktober Masterlist

Creepypasta Masterlist

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st44rkeys · 18 days ago

Text

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"

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