#third international airport

[reasonsforhope]

On her fingers, Chicago’s Chief Sustainability Officer Angela Tovar counted the city buildings that will soon source all of their power from renewable energy: O’Hare International Airport, Midway International Airport, City Hall.

[Note: This is an even huger deal than it sounds like. Chicago O'Hare International Airport is, as of 2023, the 9th busiest airport in the world.]

Chicago’s real estate portfolio is massive. It includes 98 fire stations, 81 library locations, 25 police stations and two of the largest water treatment plants on the planet — in all, more than 400 municipal buildings.

It takes approximately 700,000 megawatt hours per year to keep the wheels turning in the third largest city in the country. Beginning Jan. 1, every single one of them will come solely from clean, renewable energy, mostly sourced from Illinois’ newest and largest solar farm. The move is projected to cut the Windy City’s carbon footprint by approximately 290,000 metric tons of carbon dioxide each year, the equivalent of taking 62,000 cars off the road, the city said.

Chicago is one of several cities across the country that are not only shaking up their energy mix but also taking advantage of their bulk-buying power to spur new clean energy development.

The city — and much of Illinois — already has one of the cleanest energy mixes in the country, with over 50% of the state’s electricity coming from nuclear power. But while nuclear energy is considered “clean,” carbon-free energy, it is not considered renewable.

Chicago’s move toward renewable energy has been years in the making. The goal of sourcing the city’s energy purely from renewable sources was first established by Mayor Rahm Emanuel in 2017. In 2022, Mayor Lori Lightfoot struck a deal with electricity supplier Constellation to purchase renewable energy from developer Swift Current Energy for the city, beginning in 2025.

Swift Current began construction on the 3,800-acre, 593-megawatt solar farm in central Illinois as part of the same five-year, $422 million agreement. Straddling two counties in central Illinois, the Double Black Diamond Solar project is now the largest solar installation east of the Mississippi River. It can produce enough electricity to power more than 100,000 homes, according to Swift Current’s vice president of origination, Caroline Mann.

Chicago alone has agreed to purchase approximately half the installation’s total output, which will cover about 70 percent of its municipal electricity needs. City officials plan to cover the remaining 30 percent through the purchase of renewable energy credits.

“That’s really a feature and not a bug of our plan,” said deputy chief sustainability officer Jared Policicchio. He added that he hopes the built-in market will help encourage additional clean energy development locally, albeit on a much smaller scale: “Our goal over the next several years is that we reach a point where we’re not buying renewable energy credits.”

Los Angeles, Houston, Seattle, Orlando, Florida, and more than 700 other U.S. cities and towns have signed similar purchasing agreements since 2015, according to a 2022 study from World Resources Institute, but none of their plans mandate nearly as much new renewable energy production as Chicago’s.

“Part of Chicago’s goal was what’s called additionality, bringing new resources into the market and onto the grid here,” said Popkin. “They were the largest municipal deal to do this.”

Chicago also secured a $400,000 annual commitment from Constellation and Swift Current for clean energy workforce training, including training via Chicago Women in Trades, a nonprofit aiming to increase the number of women in union construction and manufacturing jobs.

The economic benefits extend past the city’s limits: According to Swift Current, approximately $100 million in new tax revenue is projected to flow into Sangamon County and Morgan County, which are home to the Double Black Diamond Solar site, over the project’s operational life.

“Cities and other local governments just don’t appreciate their ability to not just support their residents but also shape markets,” said Popkin. “Chicago is demonstrating directly how cities can lead by example, implement ambitious goals amidst evolving state and federal policy changes, and leverage their purchasing power to support a more equitable renewable energy future.” ...

Chicago will meet its goal of transitioning all its municipal buildings to renewable energy by 2025, the first step in a broader goal to source energy for all buildings in the city from renewables by 2035 — making it the largest city in the country to do so, according to the Sierra Club.

With the incoming Trump administration promising to decrease federal support for decarbonizing the economy, Dane says it will be increasingly important for cities, towns and states to drive their own efforts to reduce emissions, build greener economies and meet local climate goals. He says moves like Chicago’s prove that they are capable.

“That is an imperative thing to know, that state, city, county action is a durable pathway, even under the next administration, and [it] needs to happen,” said Dane. “The juice is definitely still worth the squeeze.”

-via WBEZ, December 24, 2024

[emmg]

Lucanis is 100% the passport dad of the group. He has a color-coded folder of everyone's documents, a pen, a backup pen, and snacks. He’s already memorized the gate number, and honestly, he’s just tired. Tired of all of them.

Meanwhile, Harding and Taash are at the duty-free perfume counter, trying to huff their way into new allergies. "What if I sprayed this directly into my eyes?" "Only one way to find out."

Davrin and Assan have declared war on a vending machine that ate his money.

Emmrich is in the VIP lounge, where he’s sipping a $20 coffee and having a full-blown academic debate with Johanna who happens to be taking the same flight. It’s about something absurd, like "Does the number of airport Wi-Fi bars correlate with societal decay?" Hezenkoss did not come to play, and now the barista is their unwilling moderator.

Neve’s at the bar. She’s on her third martini and halfway through some case files, glaring at anyone who so much as looks like they might strike up a conversation. She’s also definitely pretending she doesn’t know any of them.

And Bellara? Bellara is just gone. Like, not even in the airport anymore. Somehow she’s ended up in a completely different country. There’s a 50/50 chance she’s fine and living her best life, or she’s single-handedly causing an international incident. Wherever she is, she has absolutely no regrets.

[arminsumi]

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟐 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.𝟗𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it.

There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[thoughtportal]

It takes approximately 700,000 megawatt hours of electricity to power Chicago’s more than 400 municipal buildings every year. As of January 1, every single one of them—including 98 fire stations, two international airports, and two of the largest water treatment plants on the planet—is running on renewable energy, thanks largely to Illinois’ newest and largest solar farm.

The move is projected to cut the carbon footprint of the country’s third-largest city by approximately 290,000 metric tons of carbon dioxide each year��the equivalent of taking 62,000 cars off the road, according to the city. Local decarbonization efforts like Chicago’s are taking on increasing significance as President Donald Trump promises to reduce federal support for climate action. With the outgoing Biden administration doubling down on an international pledge to get the U.S. to net zero emissions by 2050, cities, states, and private-sector players across the country will have to pick up the slack. {read}

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, the last hooray 

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series masterlist

summary - in order to give finn some extra attention before the baby comes, the young family heads to the english countryside, visiting lando’s parents, and granting finn the last little bit of time all about him. 

masterlist

-

“okay finn, what else do you want to bring?” you crouch down and ask your son, attempting to aid his independence while he tries to pack himself. 

“hmm,” he mumbles, glancing around his room and then back towards his suitcase, “my toy!”

you chuckle at his enthusiasm, grabbing the toy he was pointing at and throwing it into the bag, “alright, baby, i think you’ve got everything,”

“otay!” he squeals with a clap to his hands, “i show dada?”

“you can show daddy what a big boy you are once he gets home, baby,” you direct to the boy, zipping up his suitcase and pulling him into your arms, “are you excited about this week?”

“yes!” he claps again, “i miss nan and gwampa,”

“i know, but now we’ll be with them for a whole week!” you cheer to him, tickling finn in your lap as he squirms around in a fit of giggles. 

“woah, woah,” lando makes his entrance known in the room, leaning against the doorframe, “who’s having all this fun without me?”

“DADA!” your son jumps from your arms, sprinting towards his father to engulf him into a hug. lando scoops up your son, receiving the hug and placing a few kisses to the top of his head. 

“hi bubs, what are you and momma doing?” he asks, looking around the room, sending you a wink before taking a seat next to you on the floor.

“packing,” you reply to your husband’s question, “finn didn’t you wanna show daddy?” you nudge your son.

“dada i big like you! i pack myself!”

“really, buddy? good job, ‘m so proud of you,” lando squeezes his giggly son a little tighter, finn absolutely beaming at the praise. he then looks towards his suitcase and starts to show you and lando everything in it. you both giggle in front of him, sounding out a chorus of 'oo's' and 'ahh's' to the little boy. once he was finished, he starts to repack, you internally sighing knowing you'd have to do it properly later.

“alright, baby, daddy and i now have to go pack,” you sigh, “why don’t you read your book for a bit?”

“otay, momma!” finn runs over to his bookcase, grabbing his few dr seuss books and getting situated on his little reading chair. lando glances over at you, six months pregnant and struggling to stand up, holding out his hands to lift you into his arms. once you’re both standing, you leave the room, hearing the quiet mumblings of your four year old trying his best to read the books in front of him. 

“i already have most of your clothes set aside that are clean from the wash,” you start, moving around your room to grab both of the suitcases, laying them out on the floor. 

“okay, i’m chartering a private flight,” lando breathes out, “so we’ve got to be at the airport by four in the morning tomorrow, the car will be here at three,”

“oh god,” you sigh, “i hope finn sleeps the whole time,”

“it’s like a two hour flight, so we’ll get there around six, but the time difference so it’ll be five-”

“love,” you cut him off, reaching out to take his hands in yours, “everything will be fine, we’ve done this a million times,” 

“i know,” he shakes his head, squeezing your intertwined hands a bit, “just never when you were this pregnant and with a toddler,”

“i’m not in my third trimester yet, it is more than safe for me to fly,” you reassure him, a hand coming up to stroke his cheek as he leans into your touch, “and finn will be fine, he’s flown before he knows how it is and he’s always well behaved,”

“okay,” lando’s stress releases a bit, the tension in his shoulders visibly weakening, “you’re right we’ll be fine,”

“yes we will,” pecking his lips quickly, you begin to gather more of your clothes, readying your suitcase for the trip. 

-

“baby,” you shake finn lightly, “we’re here,” he was currently sprawled across your husband's lap, head on yours as he slept throughout the whole flight. he doesn’t budge an inch, ever the heavy sleeper, and lando just laughs at his son’s persistence. 

“i’ll carry him, y/n,” he whispers over to you, now grabbing finn in his arms along with swinging your bag over his shoulder. you gather your things, along with some of lando’s, and head down the steps off the jet. 

“there they are!” adam hushes out, noticing the tired boy in his own son’s arms. 

“hi, hi” you nod towards cisca and adam, lando’s dad rushing to grab the things from your arms as he begins to carry them to the car. you hush out a quiet ‘thank you’ and keep moving, climbing into their backseat. lando begins tucking finn into his carseat in between the both of you, sending you a wink as he finally buckles him in. the drive goes on, lando’s parents asking about the doctor’s appointments, upcoming races, and all around catching up with their son and daughter-in-law. 

before you knew it, you had arrived at the parent’s country estate, beyond excited to breathe some fresh air along with having some peace away from the city. exiting the vehicle, adam makes his way to grab your things, lando carrying the sleeping boy yet again, and you all head into the home. 

“it feels so good to be here,” your husband whispers out, his mother giving him a side hug to emphasize her own love of her son being near them once again. 

“the guest room is all set up for the both of you, and lando, your old room is set up for finn,” cisca directs him, “why don’t you all get settled in, let the boy wake up, and then we can talk about breakfast?”

“that sounds perfect,” you sigh, “thank you, cisca,” she nods in your direction as your young family brings yourselves up the stairs and down to your rooms. once lando had laid finn down onto the guest bed, he moved over to where you were beginning to unpack your things.

“hi baby,” he whispers, still trying to not wake the four year old just a few steps away.

“hi, lan,” you smile, tossing your arms around his neck, his own hands holding your waist steady, “see? i knew we’d be fine,”

“you are always right, my lovely wife,” he shakes his head with a smile, kissing your lips as you sink into him.

“mm, you keep talking like that and we won’t leave the bedroom this week,” lando groans at this imagine, pulling you even closer for another kiss. 

“momma? dada?” your son begins to stir, bringing his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“yes baby?” you ask, lando groaning quietly at the halting of your momentum, dropping his head down onto your shoulder.

“are we here?” finn mumbles, now sitting up on the bed and beginning to look around.

“yeah, love, we just got here,” you whisper to him, watching him slightly nod and take in his surroundings. 

“where nan and gwampa?” he asks, now scooting towards the edge of the bed, struggling to hop off. your husband now noticing his struggling son, heads over and lifts him onto his hip. 

“they’re downstairs, bubs,” lando replies to him, dropping a kiss down to the top of his head, “wanna head down there? say hi?”

“yes! dada carry me?” he looks up at his father, his bright eyes staring up at him in awe, the way he always looks at lando, his hero. 

“of course, bubs, let’s go,” another kiss dropped to his son’s forehead and a slight nod to you, the family heads downstairs to be greeted by adam and cisca again. even though finn was still a little tired, the minute he saw his grandparents there was plenty of squirming in his dad’s arms before he was finally set down, sprinting towards them at full speed. after so many hugs and excitement, you catch you and your husband yawning at the same time, both laughing at each other once spotted. 

“you both must be exhausted,” adam states, eyeing your appearance, “were you up the entire flight?”

“since three,” lando nods as adam’s eyes widen.

“why don’t you lie down for a while after breakfast,” cisca says, still holding onto her grandson, “we’ll catch up with finn, here,” she smiles in your direction and you give her a smile of thanks, proceeding to sit down at the table. you all share breakfast, stories, and laughs, watching your son ramble on and on to adam about how he is so excited to kart soon. lando emphasizes that it won’t be for a while, but finn doesn’t care, too excited to understand the correction. after the conversation dies down, you and your husband decide to excuse yourselves, ready for a much needed nap. 

“oh my god,” lando groans as he collapses on the bed in front of him, “i am so fucking tired,”

“me too,” you mumble with him, joining him on the bed.

“why don’t we have a quick shower and then nap?” he suggests in your direction.

“i don’t think i can get up,” you laugh quietly in his direction. 

“i don’t think i can either,” he chuckles with you, “how about a shower after we nap?”

“beautiful,” you sigh, rolling over slightly to be face to face with your husband, “and then we’ll have more energy for, other things,” you smile at him. he leans forward, catching your lips in a kiss, as you hum, loving the feeling after such a long day. 

“later, baby,” you giggle into his mouth, “i’m falling asleep right now,”

“you’re right,” he laughs, “i am too,”

-

two hours later, a steamy shower and a nice nap, you and lando are getting ready to spend some more time with your son and his parents. 

“what time are we meeting your mom tomorrow?” lando asks you as you both make your way outside, already hearing the sweet baby giggles approaching. 

“five in the evening, she grabbed us some reservation in the city near my dad’s office,” you shrug, “so we’ll meet her and then make our way into town,”

“that sounds perfect,” lando nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“MOMMA! DADA!” finn comes running at you both like a bullet, his knees and hands filled to the brim with mud, just as you’d hoped. living in monaco, in an apartment building, he didn’t have as much time playing outside as you’d hoped. both you and lando grew up in the country, and you’d wished for him to still have those experiences when he can. 

“hi baby!” you laugh out, “are you having fun?”

“yes!” he giggles, holding onto your husband’s leg, “i play with dada’s old car!” you look off in the direction of adam, standing near lando’s old kart he had when he was finn’s age. 

“how’d you get so dirty, bubs?” lando asks, looking down at his little twin caked with mud. 

“i play in dirt,” finn shrugs, beginning to head back over to his grandfather. 

“oh,” lando laughs, still holding onto you, “well that’s specific,” he jokes.

“that’s your son,” you shake your head with a laugh, moving towards cisca where she was sitting on a bench near the family. 

you and her both watch as the boys run around with finn, hearing his giggles along with your own husband’s and father-in-laws. you can’t help but smile at the scene in front of you - lando attempting to instruct finn the right way to drive, showing him everything he knows. in return, your son is eyeing his father with focus, holding onto every word that drops from his mouth. you watch the duo, and relax, knowing that once baby girl norris was here, finn wouldn’t feel left out or forgotten, him and lando held such a special bond that couldn’t be broken. 

-

[zepskies]

RED-EYE

Pairing: Jason Teague x Reader

Summary: Your best friend is getting married. Naturally, you’re running late for your flight back home to good old Smallville, Kansas, and so is the handsome stranger who saves you.

AN: Here’s my second to last entry for @jacklesversebingo!

**Remember that Smallville was circa early 2000s, the time of flip phones, physical clocks, and paper airplane tickets. Also, this story is going to be AU in certain ways from the season 4 storyline with Jason. (You’ll see.)

Jacklesverse Bingo Prompt: Running late for the same flight.

Posted on Patreon: 3/24/3025

Song Inspo: “First Time” by Lifehouse – in true 2000s alt-rock fashion.

Word Count: 4.8K

Tags/Warnings: Meet cute, fluff and hijinks, hint of college woes, twist ending~

Despite all your meticulous plans, you still managed to be late to the airport.

But you’d been prepared, damn it! Packed to perfection as you made sure you had everything for your trip with all your luggage laid out and ready to go for your flight.

You even had a sandwich waiting on the kitchen counter, along with a thermos full of ice-cold water and an apple for extra nutrition and sustenance. You were so damn prepared that you got cocky.

Smiling and inwardly patting yourself on the back for a job well done, but also bone tired from said preparing, you decided to reward yourself with a quick nap. You fairly face-planted on your bed and released a sigh that you felt in every muscle of your body melting into the mattress.

Ten minutes. Twenty, tops. Then you’d wake up refreshed and ready to get a taxi over to JFK.

Three hours later, you woke up like the parents in Home Alone, bolting upright frazzled and confused. Then you checked the clock on your nightstand.

Oh, SHIT.

You scrambled out of bed and nearly twisted your ankle in the mess of blankets.

It was lucky for you that you lived in a city that never slept. Within ten minutes, the taxi you called pulled up to the curb outside your apartment building. You had your carry-on bag slung over your shoulder, basically resting on your back as you heaved your monumental suitcase down the concrete steps. Those last ten were easy, compared to the first few flights from your third-floor apartment unit.

Getting this thing back up there is gonna be a bitch when I come home, you realized, but that was a Future You problem. Present You had enough shit to deal with.

It wasn’t until you settled in the backseat of the taxi with a huff that you remembered what you forgot: your sandwich. Thermos. Apple. Health all gone out the window.

Perfect.

You’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on, came the thought that suspiciously sounded like your best friend. You didn’t think that was exactly fair though, considering she got into way more trouble than you on a frighteningly consistent basis—and way worse than nearly missing your flight back home.

You got to the John F. Kennedy International Airport at 11:30 at night for a flight that was supposed to leave at exactly 12:15 a.m. Yes, red-eyes suck, but it was the best you could afford that didn’t have any layovers. Living by yourself in Manhattan wasn’t easy, and not just financially. Somehow though, you were doing it.

You were proving your parents wrong, along with everyone who said smalltown girls couldn’t make it in big cities.

You stormed into the airport through a pair of heavy glass doors, lugging your purse and carry-on over one shoulder and the handle of your suitcase in hand. You were halfway to the line to get your ticket verified and your bag checked, when the weight you were dragging behind you suddenly felt much lighter. You stumbled in your ankle boots.

You looked down and realized you were holding a broken plastic handle in your hand. With wide eyes, you turned back and found your suitcase lying on the floor, a sad monstrosity on its side, now with two prongs of black metal poking out without a handle. The damn thing fucking broke.

“You gotta be shitting me!” you groaned as you struggled to pick up your suitcase by one of the now jagged beams coming out of it. “You can’t just give up, dude! You’re killin’ me here.”

To be fair, the suitcase was heavy as hell. You’d probably overpacked.

“Uh, you need some help?”

You looked up at the question, meeting a pair of green eyes and the handsome face of a young man. His short, blondish hair caught on the overhead lighting, brandishing the ends of it golden. He was dressed down in some dark wash jeans, a forest green shirt, and a sporty looking jacket. He looked preppy, like the jocks you used to avoid like the plague in college, but his concern seemed genuine. He held a green duffel bag casually strapped over his shoulder.

“Uh, thanks, I’m good,” you said, your face warming in embarrassment. With a valiant heave, you got your suitcase up on its little wheels and dragged it rolling behind you by one of the broken extended parts. You paused, looking down at your other hand where the severed handle lied. Shaking your head and not knowing what else to do with it, you tossed it into your purse.

Preppy Guy graciously let you get in line ahead of him. You nodded at him in thanks with a brief smile, not quite able to look him in the eyes through your embarrassment.

Another few minutes, and you made it to the front of the line. Iris read the name tag of the woman at the reception desk. She greeted you with a bland smile at best. You didn’t blame her. It was almost midnight, and your flight was set to take off in less than half an hour.

“I’m going to need your ticket and ID, hun,” she said.

“Of course.” You were already digging through your purse, nodding, but you stopped short. You found your wallet with your driver’s license, but where the hell was your ticket?

“Oh my God,” you uttered, more furiously digging through your purse. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

When you still came up empty, you began rifling through your little duffle bag next.

“Miss,” Iris tried, but you held up a hand.

“Wait, I have a ticket. Coach, Seat B12, Gate 9. I know because I printed it off and put it in here just a few hours ago…”

You gasped when it dawned on you.

You’d switched purses, opting for your messenger bag that could hold more stuff. You sort of remembered a folded-up piece of paper getting tossed to the floor when you stuffed the smaller, cuter purse in your suitcase.

“I forgot it. I can’t believe it,” you breathed. “I forgot my ticket. Oh God, I can’t miss this flight! My best friend is getting married tomorrow. I’m the Maid of Honor!”

“Okay, miss, calm down. It’s…cutting it close, but we might still have a seat available on this flight,” said Iris. She checked her computer screen again after typing in something. Her brown eyes narrowed on the screen. “Okay, wow, we actually do have a couple of seats left.”

“Great! I’ll take it,” you said, shaking your head. You were going to be out an extra $200 at least.

“They’re in first class,” she said. Her eyes met yours, and your face fell.

“And how much is one of those?” you asked dryly. Her face remained unreadable, but considering your broken and frayed ten-year-old suitcase on the platform, you both knew the answer. Too damn much.

“That’s going to be $1,000 with the late booking fee,” she replied.

You gaped. “Excuse me? $1,000 for a three-hour flight?! What, are you gonna tattoo the seat number on my ass? Is the fake leather chair actually made out of gold?”

Iris inhaled a deep breath, like she was just barely holding herself back from rolling her eyes. You knew you were being that bitch right now, and part of you hated yourself for it. You just couldn’t help it. You loved your friend like your own sister, but there was no way you could justify forking over what little savings you had to cover this, even if you were staying with your parents to save money while you were in Smallville. 

“Ah, excuse me,” a smooth voice interjected.

Once again, you found yourself staring into the eyes of a stranger—the same Preppy Guy from earlier. He was still behind you in line, but now closer, hovering a respectful distance to your left. He raised a hand that said, I come in peace.

“I couldn’t help but, um, overhear,” he said, making you frown. Your cheeks lit aflame with embarrassment, but before you could offer a sharp retort, he shocked you with an offer. “I’ve got like, a bunch of frequent flyer miles. I can help you out, use ‘em to get you a ticket.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. Look, I can’t ask you to do that—”

“Well, good thing you’re not asking,” he said. He gave you a smile infused with boyish charm. “Really, it’s no trouble. Also considering I’m on the same flight, and it’s about to take off in…”

He checked the silver Rolex on his wrist. “About twenty minutes.”

Your frown dropped in shock. Fuck! You needed to get through security and to your gate before the plane took off without you.

You debated internally with yourself for a moment, chewing on your lower lip. Was this guy for real? Or was he just trying to hook you in, like a man who thought you’d owe him something extra just because he decided to buy you a drink at the bar. And this was a little bit more than a $10 cocktail.

Ultimately though, the man’s earnest demeanor and his kind green eyes won you over. You thanked him profusely while he paid for the ticket, and again afterward, when Iris handed it over to you. It may as well have been made of shining gold, like you were gaining admission into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

“I’m Jason,” he said, and shook your adrenaline-trembling hand after you gave him your name in return. His smile could probably melt butter. If not, the cut of his jaw would slice right through it. 

You held the ticket tightly in your hand, still somewhat in shock as you and your savior jogged together over to Security. You checked your big suitcase after he paid for the ticket, which left you with just your carry-on messenger bag.

“I still can’t believe you did that for me. Thank you,” you said, trying to regain your breath while you set down your things in a bin to get through the security checkpoint.

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t kidding about those miles…mostly,” he said, while taking off his jacket, followed by his shoes. The man was tall, with broad shoulders to match despite his lithe frame. Your gaze couldn’t help but follow the movement of his muscles flexing under the thin shirt and jacket. He looked…athletic. Your instinct was probably right about the preppy jock thing.

“Sure,” you said, beginning to smile.

The two of you managed to make it without hassle through the security checkpoint. All you needed was your belongings to come through on the conveyor belt, like groceries you already owned.

“I’ve never flown first class,” you admitted.

He chuckled and glanced over at you. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me. You know what is?”

“What?”

“Good company,” he said. A hint of flirtatious charm in his eyes made your insides flip with butterflies, despite your lips pursing.

“Ooh, buddy. What exactly do you think you’re getting out of this? I’m grateful, but I’m not that grateful,” you warned. You grabbed up your stuff from the bin and quickly put your sweater back on and your bag over your shoulder.

Jason faltered, his brows furrowing, but his smile won out. “Okay, not what I meant.”

His bin slid toward him, and he grabbed his jacket and other things quickly as well. You two had about ten minutes before the flight was set to take off. They were still boarding from what you could hear on the intercom.

“It’ll just be nice to have someone to talk to. I usually fly alone,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” you said after a moment, offering him a smile. At the end of the day, he did just save you from disappointing your best friend and missing her wedding. His returning smile for you made your chest fill with warmth. You studied him while you hastened to the gate.

Okay, so he was attractive beyond belief. You also seemed to have been sucked into the first twenty minutes of a romcom, complete with a crazy, ridiculous, would-never-happen-in-real-life meet cute. Except that somehow, this was your real life.

But life isn’t a movie, you stubbornly reminded yourself. And you weren’t about to stick around if it took a turn from 50 First Dates to an episode of Law & Order.

Meaning, you still didn’t know if you believed Jason’s motives as a Good Samaritan just yet. So, you wouldn’t drop your guard. You tugged your sweater up higher on your neck, but you also found yourself discreetly checking your reflection on your tiny phone screen. Your clothes were a bit wrinkled and your hair was on the frizzy side, thanks to all the hustle just to get to this seat before takeoff. At least you’d managed to throw on some makeup before you scrambled out of the apartment.

Hopefully being first class meant you could actually relax on this flight.

“It better come with unlimited peanuts,” you said.

You couldn’t stop the flood of girlish giggles, and it was all Jason’s fault. While most of the plane was trying to sleep on the red-eye, your ex-college pro football companion was too busy telling you story after story of all the crazy stuff he’d had to do in freshman year to appease his buddies on the football team.

Like getting overripe fruit from the cafeteria and coating the floor of their coach’s office, so every time he entered, he’d have to squish on something just to get to his chair. (That one earned him an entire week of wind sprints.) Or your personal favorite: a mental image of Jason streaking through the quad wearing nothing but a plastic bowl filled with whipped cream, placed strategically in front of him. Very interesting when he stopped in front of the sorority house. 

“So you were good, huh?” you said.

“Weeell,” he shrugged, smiling impishly.

Your lips curved. “What position did you play?”

“Quarterback,” he admitted. Your brows rose, and you whistled softly.

“Look at you,” you said. “Mr. Quarterback. Mr. ‘I’ve got sorority girls at my beck and call.’”

He laughed at your teasing, taking it in good stride.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t quite like that. I, uh…I actually only played for about a year before I got hurt,” he said.

You sobered then. He was keeping it light, but you noticed the change in his demeanor, like there was genuine regret and old disappointment well-hidden behind his eyes. You asked the predictable question.

“What happened?”  

A wry smile tugged at his lips, but he told you.

“Tore my rotator cuff,” he said. “NFL recruiters tend to frown on that sort of thing. Disappeared like bong smoke.”

So just like that, the future he thought he was building for himself was over. It made you think about all those “meatheads” you sort of used to make fun of back in college. It made you feel a bit guilty, and it gave you some new perspective, wondering how hard they were working, knowing they were putting their all into something that could potentially be taken away from them in a single game.

“What’re you doing now?” you asked. Already an hour into the flight, by now Jason Teague had told you he was from Metropolis. He even played for Metropolis University back then.

“Working for my father’s law firm,” he said, though he didn’t seem all that happy about it as he retrieved a bag of M&Ms he’d set on his fold-out tray. “I managed to fight off the law degree. Got one in business to compromise. He still thinks I should get some experience, learn from him, so I’m shadowing him, essentially.”

You frowned. “Shadowing him? For a career you clearly have no interest in?”

Jason sighed with a rueful, humorless kind of laugh.

“Yeah, trust me, I tried the whole rebellion thing. Didn’t really work well for me,” he said.

You were kind of sad for him, if you were honest. Daddy’s money could buy a lot of things, but it couldn’t buy you passion, or love for that matter. It sounded like his father was trying to control him with it.

Though you now felt less bad about Jason buying your ticket.

“Well, look, it’s not like I have my life figured out either,” you confessed. “My parents think I’m wasting my life and my money in New York.”

“Yeah, but you’re a musician. At least you get good tips,” he said, a bit of his flirtatious teasing returning as he popped a peanut M&M into his mouth. He offered you the bag, and you took a couple of M&Ms for yourself. You spoke around thoughtful chewing.

“Oh sure, I play in musty clubs and hope even one person’s paying attention while they get shitfaced at the bar,” you say, chuckling. “That’s exactly how I imagined my life when I got a degree in music composition.”

“From NYU,” Jason pointed out.

You inclined your head in acknowledgement. “Okay, yes, I got to go to one of the best schools in New York. I’m grateful for that. Honestly, I am. But they don’t tell you how hard it’s going to be to even get a job after college, let alone something you’re passionate about. God forbid you can make money doing something you love.”

Jason nodded in commiseration, stuffing his face with a few more M&Ms. You sipped at the cocktail he got you, despite your protests. He’d grinned and flashed his silvery company card before handing it to the flight attendant.

“I’m not giving up though,” you said, after a beat. “If something’s worth it, you hold onto it. That’s what my dad always told me…even if it bit him in the ass later when I said I wanted to leave Smallville.”

Jason chuckled, tipping his head back. He eyed you in amusement, and something else, like this was a moment he was trying to commit to memory.

“Smalltown girl, huh?” he remarked. “Livin’ in a lonely world.”

A smile threatened your lips. Now he was quoting Journey at you?

“City boy, huh?” you countered. “Born and raised in…Metropolis.” You laughed at your own lameness. “Blech. That doesn’t work, does it? Maybe I should’ve thought harder about that whole career as a songwriter thing.”

He joined you with some laughter of his own, and it was a rich sound that showed off his charming smile.

An hour later, the tremor and bouncing of turbulence startled you awake. Jason grasped your hand, since you’d grabbed his arm on reflex.

“It’s okay, we’re just landing,” he said.

You cleared your throat and paused, realizing that you’d been sleeping with your head resting on his shoulder. Your face was mere inches from his, your lips parting in surprise. He looked back at you softly, his gaze briefly lowering to your lips, and back to your eyes.

You leaned back while embarrassment began to make your face and neck flush.

“God, I’m so sorry,” you said bashfully.

Jason’s smile returned, lighting up his eyes now that the overhead lights had turned back on.

“It’s okay. The drool will probably come out of the jacket,” he replied.

You gasped and checked his jacket sleeve, but it was clean. You bit your lip against a smile and lightly smacked his arm in retaliation.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” you said.

“I think I’m adorable,” he replied, leveling you with a grin.

“Hmph.” You crossed your arms, but you couldn’t quite stamp down that smile.

Because he was damn right.

Even though he didn’t even check a bag, Jason hung out with you in baggage claim after the plane landed. When you two made it outside the airport, you each hailed a cab. He made sure to give you his cell phone number.

“If you ever have some time to grab dinner while you’re here, or hey, even just a cup of coffee, let me know,” he’d said, with a certain gleam in his eyes. “If not, we’ll always have First Class.”

His cheesiness made you laugh. You hadn’t taken him for a Casablanca kind of guy, but you liked that. Your heart was kind of hurting though. Your return flight was the morning after the wedding, and you highly doubted you’d have time for more than raiding the mini fridge in your hotel room, let alone another meet-up. Or a date…

Besides that, Jason told you that he didn’t live in New York. He’d just been there for a business he didn’t even like. Your life and your dreams were in New York. You weren’t likely to see this man ever again.

So before he turned to leave, heading toward the taxi parked at the curb, you found yourself rushing forward to stop him. You leaned up on your toes and pulled him into a hug, circling your arms around his neck while the wind nipped at you both in the early morning darkness.

“Thank you,” you whispered near his ear. “Thank you so much. You really don’t know what you did for me.”

Jason’s smile was warm when he finally released you. He tucked a wind-swept strand of hair behind your ear, letting his thumb brush your warming cheek.

“Can’t let you forget me, can I?” he said. “Hope you have fun at the wedding. Just be careful. You know, bridezillas and all the uh, hairspray.”

He mimed getting blasted in the face with a spray can, with an exaggerated grimace.

Your smile pulled at the corners. Like you’d ever forget the man who bought you a first-class plane ticket without even knowing you.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll remember that,” you laughed.

You turned to head back to your waiting taxi, but something made you turn back around. Jason did too, as if he was as reluctant as you were to end whatever this was.

“I forgot to ask. What’re you up to here in Metropolis? Coming home?” you called to him.

“Yes and no,” he called back with a shrug. “Mostly just attending to some business.”

You shook your head. “That’s not vague at all.”

Jason chuckled and gave you a wave.

“This isn’t goodbye. I’ll see you someday soon,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, unable to temper your smile. What a flirt.

You laughed as you let him spin you again. The skirt of your bridesmaid’s dress billowed out in shades of lavender and violet. Jason drew you back into him smoothly with one hand curled in yours, and the other wrapping back around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, looking down at you with a subtle smile when you gasped lightly.

You stared up into his eyes shook your head. Someday soon, my ass.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were the Best Man?” you said, laughing incredulously.

Jason drew his plush lower lip between his teeth, and he dipped you. The move was sudden enough to get a squeal out of you, but he held you securely, bringing you back up with his usual charming (and slightly mischievous) grin.

“Now where’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he replied.

You shook your head breathlessly. You caught sight of Lois and Clark passing by as they made their rounds, greeting guests. Jason spared a hand to slap Clark’s back in a brotherly gesture. The other man turned around with a bright smile, as did Lois. You blew her a kiss, becoming somewhat teary-eyed.

She was beautiful, and it had been too long since you’d seen her in person. Video chats just weren’t the same, but you were so grateful to be able to share this day with her. You’d been best friends with Lois since you were kids, fellow army brats who met in some dusty town in Arizona. When your father retired and settled back in Smallville, you became friends with Chloe, her cousin, but you and Lois never stopped writing, emailing, and later Instant Messaging and Skyping.

And while you were friendly with Clark, you'd never met his "mysterious" college friend from Metropolis...who apparently was an excellent dancer.

“I see you guys hit it off!” Lois called out across the dance floor, boldly teasing and not caring how many people heard her (including your parents).

You gave her an incredulous look, but she just laughed at you and went back to holding Clark’s arm. He looked at her like she was his sunny sky.

Your smile softened. You drew your attention back up to Jason’s face. He’d slowed things down to gentle swaying, now that the band was playing something softer, “Everything” by Lifehouse.

“You know, you look beautiful tonight,” he said. His gaze drew down your form in your dress, back up to your eyes. He cleaned up well himself in the charcoal black suit and gray tie.

“Thank you,” you said softly, a slight smile curving your lips. “Better than some old joggers and a ratty sweater.”

He smiled too. “Nah, it was a good look. Now I already know what it’s gonna be like when we’re five, six months in. Me in my sweatpants that have holes in all the wrong places, and you with that messy bun on your head, no makeup, potentially no underwear.”

You smacked his arm for that last bit, even though he was making you laugh already.

“Just chillin’ together on the couch with How I Met Your Mother playing on the TV, couple of beers, and one hot, pepperoni pizza,” he said. He squeezed your waist on the word hot.

You couldn’t prevent your sillier, giddier laugh from escaping. But then, reality just had to check in.

“I hate to roll the credits on your feel-good sitcom, but…I live in New York,” you said, even as the words tugged sharply at your heart. “I barely have the money to get back to Kansas once every six months, let alone for…”

Jason gave you a gentler look, if still with that mischievous gleam. “That business trip I had? It was to scope out locations for a New York branch of my father’s firm. He’s finally trusting me to handle the management side of things. Comes with a potential relocation…if that’s what I want.”

He gazed at you meaningfully. “I figure, maybe it gives us a chance to grab that cup of coffee. So I’m thinking…Monday morning, before your shift. I can take you to this little café I know in Little Italy.”

Your shock overtook you. But slowly, ever slowly, it faded away. You smiled. Your hands slid over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, your fingers carding through his dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck. He guided you even closer to him, until you were sharing a breath. His lips became mere inches from yours.

“You sure know how to paint a picture,” you said, almost a whisper.

“Yeah?” Jason quirked his head slightly. “Let me try one more.”

He leaned in slow, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. Your breath caught, but you let him touch his lips to yours, soft and plush and warm.

You melted into his second kiss even faster than the first, tightening your fingers in his hair and tilting your head. It gave him a better angle to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss. He held you gently, but strong and secure at the same time.

You couldn’t see it, but his brows were furrowed. You didn’t know it, but Jason’s heart felt full, even though he’d just met you. Each new sweet kiss with you was like he was taking his first real breath in years. 

For you, it felt like the first good thing you’d had in months, and yes, even years of struggle trying to build your career. His voice, his lips, his touch, it all was like heady wine, making proverbial tannins prickle under your skin, then dissolve warm and honeyed in your body.

Just then, you didn’t care who was watching or what music was playing.

Whatever this was, and whatever it could be, maybe it was worth holding onto for longer than tonight.

AN: I've been holding onto this little fic for quite a while, so it's so nice to finally share some more Jason with you guys! I would like to write more of him in the future. ❤️ In the first half of season 4, he just gives me such "Dean if he got to go to college" vibes. 🥰

In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this little adventure in AU Smallville!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories; send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo 2024-25 Masterlist

Jason Teague Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Jason Teague Tag List

@kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @luci-in-trenchcoats

@roseblue373 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @supernotnatural2005

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester

@fromcaintodean @deanbrainrotwritings @jackles010378 @rachiem4-blog @my-stories-vault

@jessjad @alwaystiredandconfused @sweettimelady @iprobablyshipit91 @leigh70

@kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters

@deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @chriszgirl92 @hobby27 @waynes-multiverse

@twinkleinadiamondsky @ultimatecin73 @sexyvixen7 @cheynovak @ladysparkles78

@rizlowwritessortof @mistressofallthingsgeeky @hobby27 @iloveyou2mia @deanwinchestersgirl8734

@whimsicalcherry @samslvrgirl @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2

[sheerfreesia007]

Love Postage

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word count: 1,986

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: You’re used to traveling a lot for your career and would often buy Minho souvenirs from the places that you travel too. But what happens when you find a new way to show him that you’re thinking of him on your travels? And what happens when he displays those gestures proudly in his apartment?

Jagi: Sweetheart

Walking through the departure gate of your flight you enter the Cairo International Airport and take in a deep breath of air, after being on your flight for hours you were more than happy to finally be off of it and able to stretch your legs and breathe in fresh air. You’re traveling on a work trip for a project that has been months in the making and a project that you were not only spearheading for your company but also very passionate about. You were helping the start up of the Egyptian branch of your company and couldn’t wait to see all of your hard work come to fruition, this would now be your third time in Egypt and you were finally becoming comfortable with the country and the area that the new branch would be in.

As you walked through the airport towards the exit where you knew your counterpart here would be waiting for you, something brightly colored caught your eye in one of the little shops in the airport. Turning towards it you saw a tall spinning rack full of postcards with different scenes of Egypt on them. You grinned softly as you spotted one with a zoomed in picture of a camel. But you gasped softly when you found one with a picture of the three pyramids at sunset and a duo of camels in front. You quickly plucked the postcard from the rack and brought it to the register to pay for it knowing that your boyfriend Minho would love it.

Ever since you started dating Minho almost a year ago you had formed the habit of picking him up little souvenirs from all the places that you would travel to for work. It was your way of showing him that you were thinking about him on your travels and always wanting to show him that you cared. But recently you started noticing that his collection of souvenirs was becoming too big for him to store comfortably so you had figured that you would have to find a new way of showing him that you were thinking about him. As you paid for the postcard you thought maybe this would be an easier way for him to see that you cared and thought about him while you were away.

*-*-*-*

Two days later and half way through your work trip you were met with some down time that you were able to spend going sight seeing around the city. You had managed to tour the pyramids for a few hours before returning to your hotel room where you would need to get ready for dinner with the employees for the Egyptian branch. Laying back on your hotel bed you grabbed your phone and sent Minho a text asking if he was free for a video call. When you quickly received a response you couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness before your phone began to ring.

“Jagi!” he cried happily as his face appeared on your screen and you beamed happily at him.

“Hello my love.” you cooed at him and he bashfully smiled at your greeting just as Jisung could be heard in the background calling out for you.

“Hi Jagi!” Jisung called out and you laughed as Minho rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“She’s my Jagi, not yours.” he scolded Jisung who butted his way into the video screen causing you to laugh at the two of them as they bickered back and forth.

“I miss you. Both of you but mostly Minho.” you told them around your laughter and the two men settled together with their faces pressed together as they watched you on the screen.

“Are you having a good trip Jagi? Are you eating well?” Minho asked curiously as his eyes darted around the screen.

“No, ask her if she’s seen any of the tourist sights there.” Jisung argued and you grinned at the two of them

“I am eating well, I have a dinner that I have to get ready for a little bit. But I wanted to call you and tell you about the Pyramid tour that I went on today.” you told the both of them fondly. “It was so amazing being able to walk through some of the pyramids! It’s cramped in there in certain places but other parts of the pyramids opens up and you’re able to walk at full height.” you explain to them and they nod their heads along to your words. “I can’t wait to bring you here with me Minho.” you say wistfully and he grins lovingly at you at your words.

“When your company has the opening ceremony for the new branch, I will make sure that I can come with you. I’ll clear it with the company and we can go visit the Pyramids together.” he promises you and you blow him a kiss which makes his ear tint pink with delight.

“I would love that. How are you doing? Are you able to relax or are you all super busy with work?” you ask worriedly and Minho shakes his head at your questions.

“We’re okay Jagi. No need to worry about us.” Minho tells you fondly as he smiles softly at your worry.

“Alright, I have to start getting ready for dinner. I’ll send you a picture of my outfit before I go, okay?” you tell them and Minho nods while smiling at you. “I love and miss you Minho.” you say softly to him with a dreamy smile and he blushes heavily at your confession while Jisung makes kissy faces at you before pouting. “Love and miss you too Jisung.” you say teasingly while rolling your eyes as the man cheers and exits the screen with a holler as Minho scowls at him. “But I love you most Minho.” you say sweetly and he grins at you sweetly.

“Love and miss you too Jagi.” he tells you before hanging up on the call. As you get up from the bed you spot the plastic bag from the airport that holds your postcard in it and you grin widely. Moving to the desk in the corner you take the postcard out of the bag and grab the hotel pen that they provide. You think for a moment before you put the pen to the postcard and start writing out a lovely letter to Minho. When done you grin down at the postcard and make plans to have it mailed out before you leave for dinner.

*-*-*-*

The next time you see Minho it’s after your work trip and you’ve returned home, he invited you to his apartment for dinner to welcome you home and you gladly accepted. When you arrive he’s in the kitchen cooking already as you let yourself into his shared apartment with Jisung. You walk into the kitchen and wrap your arms around him behind as you press your body flush to his back humming softly as your lips graze his neck gently.

”Hello, my love.” You coo at him and he chuckles softly as he melts back into you while still stirring the food in the pot on the stove.

”Hello, Jagi.” He responds fondly to you. “Dinner will be ready shortly.” He says softly before turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. You breathe him in with a quiet hum as you squeeze him a little tighter in your arms. “You alright?” He asks quietly and you nod your head before resting your forehead on his shoulder.

”Just missed you.” You say softly and he pats your crossed hands on his stomach.

”I miss you too Jagi.” He tells you and you smile fondly at him before kissing his clothed shoulder and then let him go.

”I’m going to go put my overnight bag in your bedroom. Then I’ll be back and set the table.” You tell him and he nods at you before you slip out of the kitchen and head to where you had dropped your overnight bag. As you pass the desk resting against the wall near the living room you spot Minho’s cork board that he always pins important things to and something catches your eye. You halt your movement and turn to the cork board before a wide smile blossoms on your face, there in the middle of the cork board is your postcard from Egypt pinned as if it was the most important thing on that board and you feel your heart thud heavily in your chest with love for the man.

After putting your bag in his bedroom and returning to the kitchen you can’t help but to tease the sweet man. You walk up to him as he stands at the stove and press a quick kiss to his cheek which makes him jolt in surprise before turning to you with slightly tinted ears and wide eyes. You chuckle at his reaction and he clears his throat to try and distract himself from your gesture.

”What was that for?” He asked curiously and you grin at him.

”You put my silly little postcard up in the middle of your important cork board.” You tease him gently and he scoffs softly at you as he continues to cook. You figure he won’t respond to you so you turn to the cabinets and begin to pull out bowls and silverware for the two of you.

”Of course I put it in the middle. It’s the most important thing on that board.” He tells you honestly and you whip your head to stare at him with wide eyes. He smirks at your reaction before explaining more. “I loved your postcard. It made my heart race when I received it in the mail. And then when I read all your wants of bringing me to Egypt with you to show me all the sights that you’ve come to love already, it made my heart feel as if it was there in Egypt with you. Like I was already there sharing those experiences with you.” He admits. “Whenever I pass the board and see your postcard there I’m reminded of my reaction to receiving it and it’s like I’m receiving it all over again. It’s a reminder of how you think about me and love me even when you’re countries away. I love that reminder.” He said honestly and you beam happily at him before setting the bowls and silverware down. He turns to you hurriedly already knowing your plan of attack as you near him quickly. He wraps his arms around you tightly and holds you close before his lips fall against yours lovingly. “I absolutely adore you and the love you hold for me is something I hope to never lose.” He confesses softly against your lips and you hum at him.

”You never will, my love. You’re mine and I’m yours for however long we deem fit.” You tell him.

”And if I want forever?” He asks breathlessly as his eyes search your own.

”Then I will give you forever.” You whisper against his lips before pressing yours against his lovingly. He sighs softly against you before the two of you fall into your kiss.

*-*-*-*

Over the years the postcard was swapped with different ones from different countries that you traveled to for work telling Minho about the sights that you would like to take him to. But as the postcards were swapped for new ones soon pictures of the two of you in each country at different tourist sights started to appear on the important board. Some pictures even featured an excited Jisung as well. Soon the important cork board turned into a cork board filled with love and while Minho had originally planned for it to be filled with important things that he would have to keep track of he was perfectly fine with its new evolution.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[dear-ao3]

ok so considering im decently sure a good chunk of the f1 drivers dont actually like driving road cars on roads (fair) i propose a new grand prix to determine the real Best Driver.

behold. the rush hour grand prix.

1 lap. at rush hour on a friday night. all the usual normal commuters and terrible drivers are still on the road along with all the drivers. in the rain. everyone drives a car of their choice. they have to count out all their tolls using change, no one gets ez pass. and you get disqualified if you veer from the instructions (no wrong turns!)

and where does this take place?

thats right.

new jersey. (and new york city) (but mostly new jersey)

here is the proposed track:

we start and end on route 22 right outside the staples. a terrible awful road that would cause harm to any driver, especially european ones. route 22 is so terrible because there is a long stretch that has a center median with shops in it, so theres shops on the right the left and in the center with u turns every 500 feet.

they go east on 22 towards us route 1 and 9 and, thats right, newark liberty international airport. here they have to do a loop around all of the departure terminals before exiting and heading towards jersey city on route 78.

they take route 78 through the holland tunnel, which is a hilarious tunnel to go through as you can literally blink and miss the signs because theyre so small.

upon arriving in new york city they will head towards the canal street station, doing an awful little loopy loop to take hudson street to 8th avenue. new york will prove a challenge for many of them because every other street and avenue there is pretty much a one way in the opposite way.

theyre going to turn right on 23rd street and take it three blocks towards the flatiron building on fifth avenue before doing another turn around and heading back up sixth avenue

here theyre going to turn left on 40th street, then right on 7th avenue then immediately right again on 41st street and then back to 6th avenue which they'll take all the way to the bottom of central park. here they'll turn left onto 59th street then go around columbus circle, exiting on broadway and then going right onto 57th street, which they'll then take down to 11th avenue, then after. few blocks cut over to the west side highway (12 avenue) and then they'll get off at 40th street and enter, you guessed it, the lincoln tunnel.

they'll exit the lincoln and get onto route 3 which they'll take down to route 120 and then they'll do a single doughnut in the parking lot at the american dream mall (a terrible place) before getting onto, you guessed it! 95!! they'll take 95 (devil highway) to 78 to the garden state parkway before getting back on route 22, doing a quick hairpin turn at one the first u turn and then end up straight back where they started. outside the staples.

i think maybe 3 people would finish the whole thing. logan sargeant, being the only american, would come in first. fernando alonso takes second and valtteri bottas takes third.

[oaks-and-willows]

So Kanaky-New Caledonia is going through the most violent times it has seen since the 1980s revolt and it's barely on the news. I'm not a local, let alone indigenous, but I'm stuck in Brisbane on my way there because the international airport of Nouméa closed, and worried indigenous friends are keeping me updated.

The Southern Province is seeing a lot of lootings and armed barricades, and two youths were killed by French special forces today.

Why? Because the French government passed a law that changes who gets to vote in Kanaky New Caledonia, from indigenous people, people born in KNC, and people who have lived there continuously since 1998, to everyone who has lived there for at least 10 years. Less than half the population is Kanak, and the strong influx of French people is shrinking their proportion even further. Immigrants who like the sun and the tropical sea but don't need that to mean that they'll learn about the cultures and the country, i.e. expats. So far, this influx was bad for the job prospects of locals and for property prices, but it didn't matter in local elections. The current government is pro-independence, a stance strongly congruent with Kanaks but not with Europeans.

This is Darmanin's and Macron's reaction to the third referendum on independence from France having failed. Darmanin called it 'a minimum of democracy'. The first two referendums were close calls and the second (51/49) more so than the first (53/46). The third was 90% against independence, which was due to a boycott of the referendum; it happened during Covid, electoral campaigns were impossible except vis TV, which is easier for the well-funded loyalists than for their opponents. Macron ignored this. The referendums were very peaceful and disciplined, but since this discipline was used by the State against the indigenous population to legitimize neo-colonialism, the current violence is not a surprise. Last time barricades were used, in the 1980s, they were very successful. We'll see what happens this time.

[seat-safety-switch]

Snowblowers are the kind of tool that is born out of frustration. When you're out on the sidewalk, shovelling for the third time today, it can seem obvious that the best thing to do is to apply internal combustion power. And I agree: the best thing to do is to apply internal combustion power, in the direction of the airport, where you then use another internal combustion engine to leave this accursed province and go somewhere that's warm all the time and has cars that don't rust.

Barring that, though, snowblowers also seem like a good idea. You start the appliance, push it down the street, and all the snow becomes your neighbour's problem at incredible speeds. There's just one problem: snowblowers are a complex mechanical system that requires maintenance. In fact, their primitive small-enginey ways require more maintenance than a car, which is already well beyond the capability envelope of most so-called adults in the current era. Nobody knows how to rebuild a carburetor anymore, not when they can just spend another $600 to get another snowblower.

This means that in the spring, tons of snowblowers with dicky carbs, broken augers, or seized engines turn up on the curb or for a few pennies. These infernal machines let the owners down when they needed them most, and now the humans are getting their revenge. To me, it is shocking that someone would throw away a perfectly-good appliance just because it doesn't work at all in any way.

I like to scoop them up, give them a little freshening job, and flip them for a profit on the first week of a snowfall, when everyone is already sick of shovelling and wants to just buy something that makes the problem easier. Really, it's a public service. I don't want the sidewalks to be covered in snow because it makes it way harder for me to drive on them.

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 10

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

...................................................................................

Jude was coming back from the international break today. England had qualified for the Euros, with matches to spare. And he had been the shining star of both the games. Scoring a goal and winning a penalty.

Ananya was so proud of him. But ten days apart felt like forever this time. They spoke everyday, sometimes twice a day, and exchanged messages throughout. It just wasn’t enough though, and she couldn’t wait to reunite with him.

Jude came straight to her apartment from the airport, lifted her by her waist & swung her around like a madman. Legs bumping into the furniture of the living room. She giggled away merrily, while trying to keep them from tumbling over.

‘Easy there, tiger.’

His eyes glinted with mischief.

‘Ooh do I finally get a nickname?’

‘Maybe. You like it?’

He nodded eagerly, & she kissed his nose.

‘Okay then. Dinner is ready, tiger.’

‘Are you on the menu? Coz I’d rather have you.’

‘Maybe for dessert.’

She winked as she untangled herself from his hold. While he stared after her, replaying what she had said & the way she said it. Something had been different about her lately & he was loving every bit of it.

‘Oh my god you are backkk.’

Roma emerged from her room and Jude pulled her into a bearhug too.

‘Gosh you rocked in both the games.’

‘I know right?’

He shrugged smugly and both the girls rolled their eyes at him.

‘So the modesty is only for the cameras, is it?’

Roma quipped, and Ananya chuckled from where she was setting the table.

‘Now don’t gang up on me, you two. It’s my day. Heck its my week.’

‘When is it not?’

The girls said together, looked at each other & burst out laughing. Jude pouted for a second, but joined in the banter later, sitting next to Ananya on the table. His palm never left her thigh throughout dinner.

She had cooked his favourite pasta. Exactly how he liked it. The way his mom made it. 

He leaned over & kissed her cheek, earning a sweet smile. Jude loved it when she remembered the little things & spoiled him like that.

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them, as always. Jude spoke about the new tiny Italian town he discovered where they had their camp, and the girls made plan to visit there. Roma joked about the posters the Italian fangirls carried in the match, saying ‘Marry me Jude’ or ‘Be my boyfriend’. The cameraman had some fun with it, popping it on the screen a few times. Some of the players on the field had noticed it too, & it had become quite a joke in the post match pressers as well.

Jude smiled sheepishly, while looking at Ananya from the corner of his eye.

‘Yeah, some of them came to our hotel too.’

‘Excuse me?’

Ananya’s head whipped in his direction, while Roma wondered if she had opened a pandora’s box.

‘Honest, they did. Just wanted some photos & merch. Then we hung out for a bit.’

‘Define we.’

‘Me & them. And some other lads.’

‘This is not funny.’

‘Wanna see some photos?’

Ananya just stared at him, and he lost the will to carry on the charade.

‘Jeez I left, dove. I just clicked some pics and left. Though I think the girls weren’t too happy about that; lads told me later, honest.’

The smugness & cockiness was on full show. Coupled with a dashing smile.

‘Such a heartbreaker, aren’t you?’

‘Like you aren’t one.’

Roma mutterred from her seat, sipping her third glass of wine, only realising the slip up when she felt the full force of Ananya’s glare.

Jude looked between the two, trying to decipher their code language. Failing miserably.

‘What’s going on, girls?’

‘Just had too many of these, should stop now.’

‘Yes. Yes you should.’

Ananya said pointedly. Roma took her leave soon after. She was supposed to go to a house party though something about the moment felt odd. But Jude was too happy tonight, so he let it go.

He grabbed her waist from behind as Ananya was clearing the table.

‘How about my dessert now?’

His mouth started trailing down her neck & shoulder as he pushed her towards the bedroom.

‘There is choco-fudge brownie in the fridge, your fav.’

She really had gone all out for him today. His lips curved into a smile against the crook of her neck.

‘Can I eat it off you?’

Before she could even process his words, he sat on the edge of the bed & pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

His hot mouth was on hers in a flash, & she forgot her last lucid thought, losing herself in his frenzy.

His hungry, sloppy kisses left a wet trail all over her face, neck & exposed cleavage.

‘Oh I missed you. All of you.’

His hands moved under her butt, kneading them with force, making her yelp into his mouth.

‘Did you miss me? Miss this?’

She threw her head back as he bit along her jaw. Everything about their intimacy hit deeper today. Like their bodies knew they were at a pivotal juncture.

‘Yes. So much, Jude.’

It was true. She had missed his touch like hell, feeling empty & starved without it.

Her breathless response spurred him no end. His large, warm hand slid up her fitted top, cupping one of her breasts. 

This was unchartered territory between them. Her eyes flew open instantly, & met his dark, hooded ones. He held her gaze, squeezed harder, making her mewl & tremble in his arms.

‘I thought about these babies every night. Touched myself thinking about doing this.’

His fingers circled the centre of her clothed boob, finding the nipple & rolling it with intent. In no mood to stop. The continued assault made her fall forward, clutching his shoulders.

Tonight was supposed to be the night where she told him she was ready for more. Ready to be fully his. The longing she felt while he was away made her see it even more clearly. 

She had planned this to the T - his fav meal & dessert, his fav fitted top on her, his fav lip-colour on her, leaving her hair open the way he liked, keeping the apartment to themselves tonight. She had spent hours in the salon too, wanting to look pretty for him. She knew he noticed & appreciated these things, & cleaned up well himself for date-nights. 

But she was fast losing control of the situation. He was taking over, with his hot & frenzied moves, dragging her along. Did he read her mind or her mood? Or was he in a mood of his own? She couldn’t tell. But his touch felt firmer tonight, his gaze more intense, filled with purpose. The spark between them more charged.

Her body was responding to him fully, but her conscience kept messing with her head. She had to tell him. Now. Before anything happened. He had the right to know. 

But does it even matter? It’s inconsequential. Why bring it up now?

She tried to debate with her conscience but it was a losing battle. It won’t be inconsequential to him. And if the roles were reversed, she would most definitely want to know this. The start of something special between them could not be done with a heavy conscience.

‘Ju-de.’

Her voice was barely a whisper. He was too occupied with her curves to register that. She spoke louder.

‘Jude…wait.’

He looked up, his hands still continuing his ministrations.

‘Whyyy?’

‘I need to tell you something.’

‘Now?’

His pleading puppy eyes tried to sway her, but she knew it was the right thing to do. 

Ananya gave him a few moments to compose himself. His hands came down to loosely wrap around her waist, and hers cupped his cheeks. Still in his lap, straddling him.

Jude searched her face, a sudden unsettling dread buildingin the pit of his stomach. He could tell something was coming, something unpleasant. 

She decided to let it out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

‘Remember our office party last Friday, the one where we all dressed up in ethnic wear?’

‘Yes.’

He already didn’t like the direction where it was going.

Ananya looked down, unable to meet his eyes for this, feeling a weird sense of guilt.

‘That night, Arjun proposed to me. I didn’t see it coming but you were right about this. About him. I-I thought you should know.’

Jude was still as a rock. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. She looked up to his face. It had gone cold. No expression. His eyes were shut - as if wanting to process this in some privacy.

Slowly, his arms dropped from around her, gripping the edge of the bed. Leaving her feeling empty.

She desperately wanted to pepper kisses all over his face, to make him look at her, to show him how none of it meant anything, but she wasn’t sure if any intimate touch would be welcome right now.

So she just stroked his face slowly with her fingers, waiting for him to open his eyes. He did open them, but looked behind her, almost through her.

‘How did it happen?’

His voice was cold, distant. Unfamiliar.

‘I..I don’t understand your question.’

‘When he PROPOSED to you, what did he do? What did he say?’

Her face contorted in discomfort, unable to understand why he wanted these images in his head.

‘We were dancing together and..’

‘You were dancing with him?’

His voice & tone were even but she knew his emotions were anything but that.

‘No. We were all dancing individually, but in a group. 5-6 of us. He was next to me, said he wanted to talk to me, we stepped aside and then he….then he….’

She looked at him pleadingly, to stop this torture, but he wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy right now. Defeated, she continued. 

‘He said I was looking beautiful in that sari & that he….has had feelings for me…for a while. And if I’d like to go on a drive with him.’

‘A drive? Sure, that’s all he wanted that night.’

Jude scoffed mockingly. Unable to shake the image of that leech checking her out, wanting to whisk her away to put his hands on her. 

Facing Jude seemed like such a difficult task suddenly for Ananya. Maybe coz his eyes were screaming bloody murder. And her own conscience kept making her feel like she had wronged him somehow. But she hadn’t. How was this her fault?

‘What did you say?’

Her whole body jerked at his question. He really needed to ask?

‘I-I obviously said no, Jude. Told him I’m not in the right headspace for a relationship, just wanna focus on my work.’

His accusing glare again bore a hole through her, as if this was the wrong response too. As if he expected her to say something else. But they had discussed this before. He knew this is what she was telling people.

She could tell how hard he was trying to keep a lid on his agitation, for her sake. How hard his hands were gripping the edge of the bed, knuckles going white. A volcano simmering inside him, ready to erupt any moment. 

Wanting to comfort him, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing the side of his face. His hands didn’t move from the bed. 

‘Why was I not told immediately?’

‘You were away, baby.’

‘We spoke twice everyday. This was 7 days ago. Why didn’t you tell me that night itself?

‘You were playing Italy next day.’

‘So?’

‘So how could I tell you something that would mess with your mind? When I knew how important that match was and how hard you were training for it? How could I be the reason to meddle with that? I know football comes first for you.’

‘Oh don’t you throw that in my face. Don’t use that against me. Football coming first doesn’t mean I should be kept in the dark about other important things.’

‘Kept in the dark? I am telling you the first time we are meeting in person after that. How is that keeping you in the dark?’

He wasn’t the only one agitated now. Her guilt had made way for a fair bit of irritation. Everything seemed to be blowing up in her face, despite her best efforts to make the right call for everyone. 

‘Would you have told me if Roma hadn’t blurted it out?’

Jude had finally put two & two together on the heartbreaker comment. He understood that exchange now, and why Roma left so quickly after that.

‘Do you seriously believe I would have kept this from you?’

Her voice was small now, filled with hurt.

‘I don’t know. I never thought you of all people would ever hide something like this from me for so long, but you did. So now I don’t know anymore.’

He said honestly. Matter of factly. She was supposed to be different. Jude didn’t think there was an iota of deception in her. So how could she talk to him the whole week & pretend everything was ok? 

It hit her like a truck. Because she could see it was coming from his heart. And she knew he didn’t use any filters in his closed circles. 

She clutched his shirt tightly, trying to shake him. It didn’t make a dent. 

‘Jude, please, look at me. It meant nothing. It means nothing. It’s done. I genuinely thought it was the best thing to do, I couldn’t bear it impacting your performance. That’s the only reason I delayed telling you. There is nothing more to it. Please, try to look at it from my POV.’

Jude laughed a dry little laugh, which sounded almost cruel to her.

‘Your POV? Ok, let’s do that. How would you have reacted if the situation was reversed? If I had kept something like that from you.’

She was stumped. Unable to come up with a response that could further her case.

‘You would have been out of that door by now. I would have gotten zero benefit of the doubt. Guilty on sight.’

She looked down at her hands. Coz he was right. She would take taken this badly. 

‘Because you are you - above any reproach. And I am me, the quintessential slut. Right?’

Ananya shook her head in pain, covering his mouth with her palm.

‘Don’t say that, baby. Please, I can’t.’

She reached out to caress his cheeks but he flinched. The rejection felt worse than a slap in the face.

‘I should leave.’

Jude muttered in a cold voice, almost to himself, as he lifted her out of his lap, placing her on the bed.

She felt numb. Shocked at the turn of events. Broken with the hurt in his voice. 

Coming to life only when he tried to get up.

She clutched his elbow with both hands, placing her head on his shoulder. 

‘Stay. Please. Don’t leave me like this.’

Jude sighed audibly, looking at her trembling form. Fighting every bone in his body that was yearning to hold her. Comfort her.

‘It’s for the best, Ananya.’

She clutched him tighter. Her own name never sounded so foul, so bitter to her. She had gotten so used to his terms of endearment. 

‘I’ll do something, or say something I’ll regret. It’s best I leave right now.’

How did things come to this? What was this game god was playing with her? How did she hurt this precious man so much that he couldn’t bear being in her company? Couldn’t bear looking at her face without flinching? Why did it have to happen now, when she was ready to give her all to him? 

No, she couldn’t let him go like this. She wouldn’t. 

‘Say what you have to say. Don’t bottle it in. It’d be worse.’

‘You won’t be able to handle it, Ananya.’

The cold & mocking tone was back. There was only one way to get it all out of him now. Confrontation.

‘Don’t patronise me. I am a big girl.’

His head whipped in her direction. 

‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

She could see her provocation had had the desired effect. Jude jerked his arm away from her hold and paced around the room.

‘Oh you are quite something, aren’t you? You refuse to listen to reason. You refuse to admit you are wrong. And I am patronising? Jesus fucking Christ what a joke.’

His tone was cutting through her but she needed to get this out of him. Else they would fall into a bottomless pit of misunderstanding.

‘That fucker - I told you from day one. I told you he wanted you. But no, you didn’t listen. Coz you think you are smarter than me. Well in many things you are. But it some things I know better. Especially when it comes to men. I am one of those men. I know what guys want when they look at girls a certain way. But you were too stubborn to admit it. You made it a matter of your independence, like I was trying to dictate your life, to control you, by asking you to stay away from  that leech. You took his calls in the middle of the night, let him bring coffee for you, calling it all harmless, when I told you repeatedly it wasn’t. YOU LET HIM THINK HE HAD A SHOT, ANANYA. When you knew, you knew I hated his guts.’

He lifted her by her upper arms, making her stand in front of him.

‘He didn’t just want to take you on a drive, he wanted to fuck your brains out. To rip that sari off of you. When it should have been me. Only me. To get to picture you like that. To get to do that to you. Just me.’

He pulled her closer for a rough kiss, pouring his frustration into her mouth. When she started moving her lips to his tune, he broke the kiss abruptly.

‘Makes me wonder if you want him as your side-squeeze.’

‘W-hat?’

She choked out, still reeling from his kiss.

‘Makes sense, doesn’t it? Why you always defend him. Why you took this week to maybe think about his proposal, before telling me. What is he, a safety net? If things don’t work out between us? Is that why you have been keeping me away, not letting me have you?’

She stared at him in disbelief. Debating whether or not to really slap him - anything to get him out of this madness spree he was on.

‘You are out of YOUR FUCKING MIND if you think like that.’

‘Oh really..’

‘SHUT UP. You idiot. Fine I fucked up by not telling you sooner. But if you, even for a moment, believe that I want anyone else but you, then you are an even bigger dimwit than I thought. And then you say you can tell these things. Can you not see how I look at you? How you make me feel? The effect you have on me, CAN YOU NOT SEE ANY OF IT?’

Jude was quiet now, this rant had been unexpected. She found herself unable to stop. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘I spent days trying to make today perfect. Your fav meal, your fav music, and all of this.’

She pointed to herself, head to toe. All the effort she had made to doll up for him.

‘And this.’

She grabbed a paper bag from her dresser and shoved it in his arms. He looked inside, finding an RM jersey. HIS jersey. HIS name. HIS number. Something he had always wanted to see on her. Something she had said he needed to earn.

‘Any distance between us was not coz of Arjun. Or my ex. It was me. It was us. Like I always told you. And tonight….I wanted to wear this for you. Just this.’

She didn’t say more. She didn’t need to. He got what she meant. 

But Jude was unhinged tonight, letting out every thought unfiltered.

‘Pity sex? Guilty sex? That’s what I get? After waiting for ages, that’s what I get?’

’Sometimes I forget how immature you are.’

Jude grabbed her arms, locking them behind her back, caging her in his hold. Towering over her, leaning down to stare into her eyes.

‘And you are the queen of maturity, right? While I am a juvenile?’

‘When it comes to matters of emotional complexity, of adult relationships, YES.’

‘Who has more experience between us?’

‘SEX is not relationship experience.’

‘Dealing with women is experience.’

‘Dealing? Or stringing them along? Or toying with them? Or sleeping with them once & never calling them back? Or using them just for sex? I AM GLAD I don’t have that experience.’

‘Didn’t know you were making a documentary on my sex life. Is that all you do in your free time?’

‘I don’t get much free time. Given I have to deal with a child like you.’

‘And you’re so proper aren’t you? With all your rules, and do’s and don’ts for anyone to be with you.’

Ananya squirmed in his grip, wanting to break free, to smack his pretty face that was spewing garbage non-stop. Rules. He had the gall to talk about rules. 

‘Let me go.’

Jude tightened his grip further. Sure to leave bruises.

‘Make me.’

‘If you hated the rules so much, who asked you to chase me, huh? I didn’t force you to wait. To give up all the amazing sex you were getting. Didn’t force you into this celibacy. I told you it would take time, I told you on Day 1. Then what fucking rules are you moaning about, huh? Don’t tell me you didn’t indulge in these 45 days. That you didn’t look elsewhere. That you weren’t tempted. Don’t fucking tell me that.’

“I WAS TEMPTED. But I didn’t act on it. Fuck I even stopped the Insta likes. AND I wouldn’t have been tempted at all if I HAD YOU.’

‘Sex. It’s just all about sex with you.’

‘Really? I haven’t touched you in 45 days and THATS WHAT YOU THROW IN MY FACE?’

‘And you aren’t used to that, are you? Jude Bellingham isn’t used to waiting for any girl, is he? Because he always gets what he wants, whenever he wants it. However many times he wants it. Because women just fall at his feet left, right & centre.’

‘When did you become so filthy, so nasty?’

‘Since I met you.’

Jude let her go abruptly, stepping away from her. She rubbed her wrists, trying to soothe the reddened area.

‘Maybe you were right. Maybe this is too complicated. Too hard.’

The haze lifted, and she felt her heart sink to her stomach.

‘Maybe.’

Jude had his back to her now. He rubbed his temple repeatedly, questioning his life choices. Maybe this relationship thing was not for him. Maybe Jobe was right, he wasn’t ready. He had tried with sincerity, but still fallen short. Or maybe they were just not right for each other.

She stayed still, waiting for his next move. Waiting for him to look at her again. He didn’t.

‘Umm…I should probably head back.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Jude picked up his phone from her desk, paused at the door of her bedroom, torn, but eventually walked out. She heard the main door slam on his way out.

That’s when the tears finally started. She fell on the bed face down, letting it all out.

In hindsight, not a single argument had been worth fighting over. It just escalated like mad, due to both their faults, and ballooned into a point of no return. 

Was it that, a point of no return?

She buried her head in the pillow as reality slowly started to sink in.

But she didn’t have to stay there for long. The door flew open two mins later, and there he was.

Jude had tried to storm out but ended up just pacing around the living room. Unable to walk away. He had never been good at letting her go.

No words were needed. She ran to him ecstatically. And he caught her as she jumped into his arms. Pressing her against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Their lips crashed together - nipping, sucking, kissing with abandon. A clash of teeth and tongues. He won eventually, invading her mouth at will. Both gasping apologies in between kisses.

Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging & pulling, as he continued to wreck her mouth, her face, her neck. 

‘Lets not fight like this again.’

‘Done. And don’t ever walk out on me again.

‘Done.’

They went back to the frantic kissing, but she to break for air a few moments later.

‘Jude - I should have told you earlier about him. Should have listened to you. I am sorry.’

His face suddenly turned all serious, and she wondered if she had walked into a hole again.

‘Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’ll tell him you’re seeing someone, that you’re practically living with someone. That the person is famous, so you want to keep it low profile. And then, you will stay away. No conversation outside of work. No messages. No calls. No social get togethers. I don’t want him in a 5 mile radius of you outside of work. AND, if after this, he still doesn’t get the message, you’ll come straight to me & then I will deal with him my way. And you, dove, will stay out of it. I don’t wanna hear a peep from you then. Understood?’

The absolute authority in his voice left no room for disobeying. She nodded instantly, and was rewarded with a fierce kiss.

‘Now…go & get ready for me.’

‘Huh?’

She couldn't’ think straight, with his tongue still in her mouth.

‘I was promised you in my jersey. Just my jersey.’

She had completely forgotten all else after their fight, but he hadn’t. His eyes glinted suggestively, as he set her down on the ground & patted her ass, nudging her towards the washroom.

‘Don’t keep me waiting. I have plans for you tonight.’

...................................................................................

Phew! I posted ahead of time, yayyy!

This was meant to be angst plus smut but the angsty piece itself went on for 4.4k words. Too much fun :)

You can guess what's gonna happen next. That is the next chapter :)

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. They keep me going :)

[missmadella]

Professional, My Ass (Atsumu x Reader)

Got a little carried away again—but I hope you enjoy it :3

Summary: When you're assigned as the translator for pro volleyball star Atsumu Miya during his international media tour, you expect long hours and short patience—not endless flirtation, elevator arguments, and a slow-burning tension that refuses to fade.

Words: 9558

The arrivals hall buzzed with noise—chatter in multiple languages, wheels clattering over tile, and the constant overhead drone of flight announcements. You stood just outside customs with a small placard that read "MSBY BLACK JACKALS – Translator", dressed sharply but casually—clean lines, black jeans, tucked-in tee, blazer. Hair pulled back, expression focused. You weren’t here to fangirl. You were here to do your job.

This was your third time working as a translator for an international sports team, but your first time with a Japanese volleyball team, and definitely your first time with a player like Miya Atsumu on the roster.

You’d done your homework—watched the press clips, read the interviews, even a few Twitter threads (regrettably). Everything pointed to the same conclusion: talented, cocky, and kind of a menace.

You were bracing for the worst.

Your earpiece buzzed as the team’s coordinator updated you.

“They’ve landed. Should be heading through customs in a few minutes.” “Got it,” you replied, already scanning the crowd with practiced calm.

As the wave of black tracksuits emerged from the gate, you spotted him instantly. Platinum-blond hair under a black cap, duffle slung over his shoulder, walking like the world owed him a trophy. Miya Atsumu—grinning, stretching like he owned the airport. Yeah. He looked exactly like the videos.

He walked right past you at first.

Then stopped. Reversed. Squinted at the sign you were holding.

“Yer the translator?” he asked, his Japanese sharp and casual, accented just enough to feel familiar.

You nodded. “Yes. I’m [Your Name]. I’ll be with the team during the tour. Language, logistics, media.”

“Ya don’t look like a translator.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You raised an eyebrow.

He blinked. Then grinned. “Dunno yet. Guess I’ll find out.”

You didn’t blush. You never did. But you did silently reevaluate the situation. Charming—in a smug, trouble-magnet kind of way. The kind of guy who tried to push your buttons just to see what would happen.

You decided right then you weren’t going to let him win.

He glanced down at your sign again.

“Wait, lemme try somethin’,” he said, holding up a hand. “Been practicin’ a little.”

You watched him pause, think hard, then point to your sign and say—very slowly— “Can… I… touch… your grandmother?”

A beat of silence.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He frowned. “That ain’t right?”

You stifled a laugh—barely. “You meant to say ‘Can I ask your name,’ didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

You sighed, pulling your phone out to type a quick correction into his notes app. “We’re gonna need to work on that.”

He leaned a little closer than necessary to peek at your phone screen. “That your way of sayin’ I need ya?”

You turned to him, deadpan. “It’s my way of saying I don’t want to be responsible for you offending anyone’s grandma.”

That got a full-on laugh out of him. Loud and unfiltered. And just like that, the tension broke.

You didn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to get the feeling: this job wasn’t going to be boring.

___________________________________________________________________________

Outside the terminal, the city air was thick and warm, heavy with humidity and the scent of traffic and foreign soil. Cars zipped by in orderly chaos as you flagged down a taxi. Atsumu followed you, dragging his overpacked duffle behind him like a stubborn child. He was still grinning from his failed language attempt.

The cab pulled up with a low rumble, and you popped the trunk open smoothly, helping him load his things before sliding into the front passenger seat. He got in the back, and the driver glanced at you for the destination.

You fired off the hotel’s name and address in fluent, clipped local dialect, then turned back to check that Atsumu was buckled. He was sprawled across the seat already like he’d just finished a five-set match.

“Y’know,” he said, tapping the window as the cab pulled away, “this city’s kinda pretty. Not as pretty as you, though.”

You didn’t even blink.

“No flirting,” you said flatly, adjusting your seatbelt. “I’m here to help you navigate, not stroke your ego.”

He whistled low under his breath. “That was cold, translator-chan.”

You glanced back at him. “Do you want to get to the hotel or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, kicking his foot up against the opposite door. “Just sayin’. You’re not what I expected.”

“And you’re exactly what I expected.”

That made him snort, hand going to the back of his neck. “Aww, c’mon. I’m not that bad.”

“You’re a professional athlete who can’t order food, navigate street signs, or conduct a press interview without accidentally proposing marriage,” you said coolly. “Yet.”

He was silent for a moment, either offended or impressed—you couldn’t quite tell.

Then he leaned forward, resting his arms across the back of your seat.

“But you’ll be there when I need ya, right?”

His voice dipped just slightly lower, a little softer, a little too close to your ear.

You exhaled. Slowly.

“I’ll be there,” you said. “When. You. Need. Translation.”

You didn’t look at him. He sat back, laughing again, but this time quieter, maybe slightly sheepish. The cab rolled on in silence for a moment.

___________________________________________________________________________

When you finally arrived at the hotel, you stepped out first, scanning the entrance before he even opened the door.

The hotel was a sleek, modern tower in the heart of the city’s business district. Gleaming glass, uniformed staff, a lobby so polished it felt like a film set. As soon as you walked through the doors, the front desk staff approached with bright smiles—one of them already eyeing Atsumu like they knew who he was.

You gave your name and presented the booking confirmation on your tablet, switching languages fluidly. Atsumu stood beside you, smiling politely, until the receptionist addressed him directly—rapid-fire and enthusiastic.

He froze.

You glanced up. “Do you want me to—”

“Please,” he muttered, scratching his cheek.

You stepped in immediately, smoothing over the confusion with ease. The receptionist laughed, nodding, and handed over the room key.

“You’ll be on the twelfth floor,” you told Atsumu, passing him the card.

“Coulda handled that,” he grumbled.

“You were about to nod and agree to a wake-up call at 4 a.m.”

“...Fair.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, chaos officially began.

You were in the hotel’s small conference room by 9 a.m., sorting through a stack of printed schedules, athlete profiles, and local broadcast notes when the team PR rep dropped a bomb on you.

“Atsumu’s got a solo interview in thirty minutes. Live stream. One of the major broadcasters.”

You blinked. “Thirty minutes?”

“Yeah, sorry. It got moved up.”

“Does he know?”

The rep’s face said: not yet.

You sighed, grabbed your badge, and went on the hunt.

You found him in the hotel gym, tossing a volleyball in the air and hitting it against the wall while two hotel guests watched, enchanted.

“Atsumu,” you said sharply.

He turned. “Oh hey! You came to watch me work out?”

You tossed a rolled-up schedule at his chest. “Interview. Thirty minutes. Let’s go.”

He groaned. “Do I gotta wear somethin’ nice?”

“Preferably something that doesn’t scream ‘I slept in this.’”

“Yer scary when yer bossy.”

“You haven’t seen scary yet.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The media studio wasn’t far from the hotel—ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops—but in the backseat of the taxi with Atsumu Miya beside you, it felt like an eternity.

From the moment the doors closed, he was in full “entertainment mode.”

“Y’know,” he said, shifting in his seat so he was half-facing you, “I bet this city’s got a good dating scene.”

You didn’t even glance up from the itinerary in your hands. “Try experiencing the volleyball scene first.”

“But I’m a multitasker,” he said with a grin.

You inhaled slowly through your nose. “Atsumu. Please. For five minutes. Just… exist silently.”

He blinked. “Why, ‘cause yer scared you’ll fall for me if I keep talkin’?”

That made you actually lower your folder and stare at him.

“No,” you said, deadpan. “I’m scared I’ll throw you out of the moving vehicle.”

He laughed—loud, unbothered. Like your threats were flirting. Like everything was a game.

You turned your face toward the window, muttering, “You are such a pain in the ass.”

But you said it in your native language, sharp and low, making sure he wouldn’t understand.

“What was that?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” you replied, eyes still fixed on the passing streetlights. “Just hoping we hit a red light… forever.”

By the time the cab pulled up to the curb, you were holding onto your professionalism by a thread.

“Finally,” you exhaled, pushing the door open before the car even came to a full stop. “We’re here.”

Atsumu slid out behind you, stretching his arms over his head and grinning like the trip had been the highlight of his day.

“You’re so tense,” he said casually. “Maybe after the interview, we grab lunch? Clear the air a little?”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “I don’t eat with my clients. I babysit them.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”

“You’ll live.”

You were already walking toward the studio entrance when he jogged a few steps to catch up, still smiling. Still too tall. Still too loud.

“You’re kinda mean, translator-chan.”

You didn’t look at him, just held the door open with a polite smile and said, “Good. Maybe it’ll keep you in line for the next twenty minutes.”

He walked in first, and under your breath, you added, “God, I hope the mic cuts out.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The studio lobby was chilled with air conditioning and that faint scent of wires, dust, and too much coffee. A wall of glass separated the front room from the broadcasting space beyond, where crew members darted between lights, cameras, and tangled cords like ants before a storm.

You approached the check-in desk and introduced yourself in the local language, all crisp syllables and quiet confidence. The staff member behind the counter smiled, nodded, and gestured toward the waiting area.

“They’ll be ready for him in ten minutes,” she said brightly.

“Great. Thank you.” You turned to Atsumu. “Sit. Don’t wander. Don’t touch anything.”

Atsumu blinked at you like you’d just asked him not to breathe. “You make me sound like a kid.”

“I’ve worked with kids,” you said. “They’re easier.”

He let out a dramatic sigh and flopped into one of the sleek leather chairs, manspreading immediately. You sat beside him with your tablet, scrolling through the notes from the PR team.

After exactly two seconds of silence, he leaned toward you.

“So… what’s your sign?”

You didn’t even look up. “Stop talking.”

“But what if we’re astrologically compatible? That’s important.”

You finally glanced over. “Atsumu, I don’t care if the stars themselves came down from the sky and told me we were soulmates. I’d still run.”

He laughed, clearly delighted. “Yer killin’ me. Seriously. What do ya do when you’re not translating? Like… for fun?”

You considered lying and telling him you played with knives.

Instead: “I rest. And I try to avoid volleyball players who think they’re God’s gift to women.”

He smirked. “So you admit I’m a gift.”

You gave him a dead stare.

Before you could make him regret being born, a production assistant appeared at the door. “We’re ready for you, Miya-san.”

You stood immediately, voice switching languages effortlessly as you thanked her and gestured for Atsumu to follow.

Inside the studio, it was even colder, the kind of place designed to keep people sharp and sweat-free under pressure. Lights blazed down on the center stage—just a small round desk with two chairs, mics, and a modest backdrop featuring both the local league’s logo and Japan’s team emblem.

Atsumu was ushered to his seat. He glanced up at the overhead cameras, then at his reflection in a blackened monitor.

“D’you think I need more gel?” he asked, running a hand through his already-perfect hair.

“No,” you said flatly. “You need less ego.”

He smirked again but dropped it after you stepped behind the camera setup and put in your earpiece.

You double-checked the translation stream in your headset, confirming your mic would stay off-camera as you whispered cues to him during the live interview.

The host entered next, all polished confidence and perfect posture. He shook Atsumu’s hand and greeted him warmly—in fast, enthusiastic local dialect.

You leaned slightly toward Atsumu. “Smile. Nod. Don’t commit to anything.”

He nodded, flashed a winning grin, and said something like, “Yoroshiku,” in a way that made it sound vaguely flirtatious.

You resisted the urge to hit him with your clipboard.

Then the red light over the camera blinked on.

They were live.

You exhaled, bracing yourself.

Let the chaos begin.

__________________________________________________________________________

The cameras blinked on, signaling the start of the live broadcast.

The host gave a confident smile, his voice smooth as he welcomed the audience.

Host (in local language): "Welcome to today’s special coverage of the International Volleyball Tournament! We are honored to have one of Japan’s finest athletes, Miya Atsumu, with us today. Miya-san, how are you feeling?"

Atsumu was already grinning, his usual playful demeanor taking over as he leaned forward, looking straight into the camera.

“Feeling great!” He spoke slowly, probably to make sure the host and viewers understood him. “The team’s looking good, and I’m excited to show everyone what we’ve got.”

You gave him a quick glance from behind the camera, hand on your tablet, ready for the next cue.

Host (smiling): "And we’re sure they’ll be excited to see you in action. Now, tell us, how do you prepare mentally for a match? What’s your ritual?”

You leaned in, whispering the translation in Atsumu’s ear. “They’re asking about your pre-match routine.”

He nodded. “Ah, okay. I focus, get in the zone, maybe listen to some music, and just relax.”

You translated smoothly for the host, but Atsumu added his own flair, looking back at the camera with a smirk.

“But honestly, the real key is my teammates. I just let them do all the work while I score the winning point.” He winked at the camera.

You froze, blinking. “Atsumu. Don’t.”

But he was already on a roll.

Host (laughing): "Ah, Miya-san, always with the confidence! But we love that about you. Now, you’ve been in the spotlight for quite a while. How does it feel to be so famous, not just in Japan, but globally?"

You quickly translated, but you could already tell Atsumu wasn’t about to let this slide without his usual commentary.

“Well,” he began, leaning back, “It’s cool and all, but...”

He turned toward you, locking eyes with that trademark grin.

“I’d rather be known for my skills, ya know?” He pointed toward you, “Like my translator here—she’s the real MVP.”

You felt your face flush with an awkward half-smile. This guy…

The host chuckled, clearly entertained. “I see! Miss L/N, you must be doing something right to earn such praise.”

You: “I just make sure he doesn’t insult anyone too badly,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “So, you think I insult people?”

You gave him a look. “If you keep calling the crowd ‘pretty’ every time you see them, you’ll get arrested.”

He laughed. “Only if they’re not flattered.”

You winced internally. This was already spiraling. You couldn’t even keep up with his antics anymore.

Host: “So, Miya-san, we’ve heard some rumors about you being quite the ladies' man—what’s the truth in that?”

You glanced down at your tablet, keeping the translation flowing. This was going to be interesting.

Atsumu flashed another grin, turning to face the camera directly. “I mean, I’m just a humble guy, y’know? But hey, if a fan wants to grab coffee sometime, I’m not one to say no.”

You choked on your breath and shot him an incredulous look.

You whispered, “Atsumu—stop flirting with the entire city.”

He looked at you, genuinely surprised. “I thought I was just being friendly.”

You didn’t bother responding. Instead, you got straight to work.

“Maybe it’s time for a change of topic, yeah?” you said quickly, turning to the host. “How about the team dynamics? How do you work together as a unit?”

The host nodded, grateful for the smooth save, and tossed the question back to Atsumu. “Yes, tell us about how the team prepares to support each other, especially during crucial moments.”

You relaxed slightly. You knew this was something Atsumu could talk about seriously, and finally, he settled into the role.

Atsumu: “It’s all about trust. We’re a team, not just a group of guys trying to score points. Off the court, we hang out, we joke around, but when it’s game time, we’re all in it together. We push each other.”

This time, you translated without feeling the need to edit too much. It was genuine.

Host: “That’s wonderful to hear, Miya-san. Now, before we wrap up, can you share with us what you’re most looking forward to in this tournament?”

Atsumu smiled widely, sitting up straighter in his chair. “The fans,” he said, with a soft but serious tone. “I can’t wait to hear their energy. Volleyball’s not just about the game. It’s about how the crowd makes you feel alive. I wanna give them something to remember.”

You caught the sincerity in his words and translated it carefully. The host nodded, clearly moved.

_________________________________________________________________________

As the final questions rolled by, you found yourself silently thankful that the interview was almost over. Yet you couldn’t deny how effortlessly Atsumu switched from playful flirt to focused athlete.

When the light above the camera clicked off, signaling the end of the live broadcast, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

_________________________________________________________________________

Host: “Thank you so much for your time, Miya-san. You’ve been a fantastic guest.”

Atsumu stood and bowed. “Thank you. It was a blast.” He shot you a look with that same mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, translator-chan, I’ll try to be good next time.”

You smiled politely, but the sarcasm in your eyes made it clear: you didn’t believe that for a second.

You quickly motioned for him to follow you out of the studio. “Let’s get this over with,” you muttered under your breath.

He stepped up beside you, nudging your shoulder playfully as you made your way out the door.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. You think the crowd liked me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just pray they liked your volleyball, not your… charming personality.”

He gave a mock pout, but then softened. “Alright, alright. Thanks for makin’ me sound better than I am.”

You didn’t say anything back. You just wished for one peaceful moment in the hotel room before his next “charming” idea popped up.

___________________________________________________________________________

The buzz of the studio fades as you and Atsumu exit into the hallway. The crew is still packing up, voices low in the distance, but it’s quieter here, away from the cameras.

Atsumu stretches out his arms, clearly relieved. You catch his gaze for a split second before you turn toward the elevator, already mentally preparing for the rest of the day.

“Well,” he says, voice lighter, “That wasn’t so bad, right? I think I nailed it.”

You keep your eyes ahead, already scanning your phone for the next set of details. “You didn’t ruin anything, so I’ll give you credit for that.”

“Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel special,” he says, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

There’s a beat of silence as you both step into the elevator. The doors close with a soft ding, and for a moment, you’re trapped together in the small, quiet space. His scent—a mix of cologne and something subtly woodsy—fills the air, almost too close. You turn your attention back to the tablet in your hands, pretending you don’t notice the way his eyes flicker over to you now and then.

Then, just as the elevator hums upward, he speaks again. This time, it’s quieter, softer, and a little more genuine.

“You know,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low, “I didn’t expect you to be so... tough on me.”

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze, his usual cocky grin softened, something more real there now. “You’re all business. Cold even.” He lets out a small laugh. “I thought you’d be, I dunno… more impressed by me. Or at least have some fun with it.”

You’re not sure what makes you do it, but you roll your eyes—slightly. Just enough to let him know you’re not falling for it. “You really think I’m impressed by your… charm?”

He shrugs, still smiling, but this time it’s not as confident. “I figured you might be one of the few people who could keep up with me.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, thick with something unspoken. You could’ve said something sharp to cut the tension. Could’ve thrown out another sarcastic quip.

But instead, you feel it. That flicker. Maybe it’s the quiet of the elevator. Or the way his eyes are just a little too focused on you.

You shift slightly, looking away as if the air got a little too thick. “I’m not here for your charm, Atsumu. I’m here to do a job.”

Your voice doesn’t waver. It’s still cool. Professional. But there’s something in the way you say it that feels... sharper.

He leans against the wall of the elevator, a strange seriousness in his expression. “I get it. You’re just doing your job. But, you know, you don’t always have to be so... cold.”

You don’t look at him this time, but the words settle somewhere unexpected inside you. You feel his gaze on you, but you don’t acknowledge it—just keep your face neutral.

Finally, the elevator reaches your floor with a soft ding.

You step out first, trying to shake off the sudden shift in the air between you two.

You’re almost out of the elevator when Atsumu catches up to you, this time his voice lighter, almost teasing again.

“But hey,” he calls, with a smirk you can almost hear. “If you ever do wanna have some fun...”

You stop in your tracks and glance at him over your shoulder.

“Don’t.” Your voice is firm, but you’re not angry—just unamused.

Atsumu grins, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. He raises his hands in mock surrender, looking almost innocent. “Alright, alright. But you can’t say I didn’t try.”

You just shake your head, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips—only for a moment, before you return to your usual cold demeanor.

It’s just another day.

And maybe that’s exactly how you want it.

___________________________________________________________________________

The hotel lobby was unusually quiet for a busy morning, the soft hum of a few guests chatting in the distance. You sat near the large windows with your coffee, catching up on your emails and glancing at the schedule for the day. The warm sunlight bathed the space, and for a moment, it felt like you could forget the chaos of the previous day.

That is, until you noticed someone else in the lobby—one of the local press members. Tall, dark-haired, with sharp features, and a smile that seemed just a little too eager. You couldn’t remember his name, but you definitely remembered the way he looked at you during the press conference.

He approached you with a casual step, his smile already in place as he glanced down at your coffee.

“Hey, good morning,” he greeted, his tone warm, almost too familiar for a first meeting.

You didn’t look up immediately, trying to give off a disinterested vibe. “Morning.”

But he wasn’t deterred. He stood by your table, glancing at the empty chair across from you.

“Mind if I join you? You look like you could use some company.”

You gave him a tight smile, hoping to brush him off. “I’m actually fine. Just trying to catch up on some work.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he pulled the chair out and sat down anyway. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you since yesterday’s interview. I thought you did a great job translating. Not easy work, I bet.”

You gave a polite nod, but you didn’t want to encourage him any further. “Thanks, but I really do need to get some work done.”

The guy ignored your hint and leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower in an attempt to seem more intimate. “You know, you seem different from the other people here. So serious, focused… I like that in a woman.”

You clenched your jaw, annoyed. He was crossing the line, but you weren’t sure how to get rid of him without making a scene.

Just as you were about to give him a polite but firm “I’m not interested,” you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Is everything alright here?”

You turned your head slightly, and to your surprise, it was Atsumu. He stood in the lobby doorway, his hotel robe hanging loosely over his shoulders, freshly showered and looking effortlessly handsome.

For a moment, you felt a strange sense of relief, like a wave of cool air had swept through the space. But you didn’t show it.

The local guy seemed to hesitate for a second, his eyes darting between you and Atsumu. His smile faltered slightly as he stood up from the table.

“Oh, no problem,” he said quickly, offering a halfhearted smile. “Just wanted to chat with her for a bit.”

Atsumu stepped closer, his presence larger than life. “You sure about that? Looks like she was pretty busy.”

You watched the exchange, your fingers gripping your coffee cup tighter. You hadn’t expected Atsumu to step in like this—but the guy wasn’t giving up so easily.

The local guy finally raised his hands in mock surrender, not wanting to escalate things. “Alright, alright. No need to get defensive.” He flashed you one last look before walking away, a little annoyed that his charm hadn’t worked.

Atsumu stood there for a moment, watching him leave with a knowing smirk, before turning to face you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. He wasn’t just playing the role of the protector; there was a certain edge to the way he asked it. Jealousy?

You took a slow breath, still feeling the weight of the encounter. “I’m fine. Just didn’t realize some people couldn’t take a hint.”

Atsumu leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes scanning you with a glint of something unspoken. “Yeah, he didn’t seem to get that. Guys like him think they can just talk to you like that without knowing a thing about you.”

You looked up at him, slightly confused. “And you think you’re any different?”

Atsumu didn’t miss a beat. “I’m just a guy trying to make sure you don’t get annoyed by random people who don’t know how to back off.”

You felt the subtle tension building, but you didn’t want to let him see you react to his words. Instead, you straightened up, trying to keep things neutral.

“Well, it’s not like you’re doing this because you care, right?” You kept your voice even, not giving too much away. “You’re just doing it because it’s your job to make sure I don’t get distracted by ‘random guys.’”

He didn’t immediately respond. There was a pause as he looked at you, the playful edge in his eyes dulling slightly. It wasn’t his usual cocky grin, but something closer to a quiet acknowledgment.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice softer than you expected. “It’s part of the job. But, I mean... I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t have to deal with guys like that every day. It’s annoying.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling an unexpected warmth creeping up your neck. “I’m fine, really. He wasn’t that bad.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I saw the way you looked at him. Not impressed at all.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I wasn’t impressed because I’m not interested. He just doesn’t get that.”

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than usual. His smirk returned, but it was tempered by something deeper—something real.

“Well,” he said, standing up straight again, “I’ll just be here making sure no more guys try to talk to you. Just in case.” His tone was light again, but you could see the shift in the way he moved now. He wasn’t just being a cocky teammate; there was something more to it.

You couldn’t quite place it, but it left a flicker of something in your chest.

“Thanks,” you said, standing up as well, your tone still cool. “But you don’t have to—”

Before you could finish, Atsumu was already walking away, a little smirk tugging at his lips. “I know. But I want to.”

As he walked off toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest buzz of confusion running through you. What was that?

__________________________________________________________________________

The following day, things were a little different. Atsumu had been quieter than usual, his attention shifting from one thing to another, though his eyes would often linger on you, a strange sort of nervous energy hovering around him.

You were sitting in the hotel lobby again, sipping your coffee—alone this time, as you’d gotten there early—and glancing over your notes for the upcoming press conference. Atsumu, after all, wasn’t exactly the best at staying on schedule.

Suddenly, he appeared in front of you, this time without his usual cocky swagger. Instead, he seemed almost... unsure?

“Hey,” he said, his voice strangely soft. “I’ve been thinking...”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your coffee down. “What about?”

He shifted on his feet, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, I figured maybe I should step up a little.” He gave you a hesitant smile, as if trying to seem casual. “Maybe I should learn a bit of the local language, y’know? That way I can talk to you without needing you to translate everything.”

You were taken aback, not expecting him to care about this at all. "Atsumu, you don't need to do that."

But Atsumu was insistent. “I want to. I’ve got this, uh... friend, who’s teaching me. So… I learned something.” His face flushed, a little unsure of himself as he pulled out his phone, tapping something quickly. “You’re gonna like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

Atsumu cleared his throat, a bit of determination in his voice. “I like you,” he said, trying to sound confident, but his words were strained. He said it in the local language, but his pronunciation was... off.

It came out as something closer to “Ai… lke... yu” instead of anything even remotely coherent.

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. The moment was awkward, and his face turned an even deeper shade of red as he realized how badly he’d messed up.

“Oh God, I... I didn’t mean to—” Atsumu stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I was trying to say it properly... but, uh... guess I didn’t really nail it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a real laugh this time, as you placed a hand on your forehead. “Atsumu… You really butchered that.”

He sighed, looking absolutely mortified. “Well, I tried. You know, I thought it would be a nice gesture...”

You smiled, a little softer now, but you were still amused. “Maybe next time, you could leave the language lessons to me.”

He scratched his head sheepishly. “Yeah… I’ll stick to the basics. Like ‘hello’ and ‘thank you.’”

“You know,” you teased, “That might be for the best.”

Atsumu chuckled nervously, his usual cocky grin returning, but now with a little more sincerity behind it. “Guess I’ll just have to earn the real words, huh?”

The playful energy between you two shifted, but in a way that felt more comfortable, more real. Atsumu wasn’t perfect—but it seemed like he was trying. And maybe that was all that mattered.

__________________________________________________________________________

The next day, the press events and interviews were already in full swing. It had been a busy morning, and you were grateful to have a brief moment of peace to collect your thoughts in a quieter corner of the hotel lobby. The day before had felt weird—and not just because of Atsumu’s botched attempt to speak the local language. Something about him helping you with that annoying guy felt... different.

You still couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence, his voice defending you in a way that was... well, not what you expected. Normally, you’d brush off any form of attention like that, especially from someone like him. But there was a quiet satisfaction in the way he’d just swooped in and handled the situation. It felt good. Too good.

You sat down, trying to focus on the papers in front of you, but your mind kept wandering back to that moment—how his words had softened ever so slightly when he asked if you were okay, how he hadn’t hesitated to step in and handle things with that guy.

Stop it, you told yourself firmly. You can’t let yourself get all worked up over something so... stupid.

But the truth was, you were secretly pleased that he’d done it. That’s what you get for letting your guard down, you thought. You wanted to blame it on the fact that you’d been working nonstop, and maybe you were just exhausted, but it was hard to ignore how your heart had skipped just a little when he had defended you.

Before you could dwell on it further, you saw him.

Atsumu walked into the lobby from the elevator, his usual loud footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet space. He was wearing his hoodie, headphones around his neck, a half-smile already on his face as he caught your eye. His usual cocky air was back, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your chest tighten just a bit.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, sitting down across from you, his eyes scanning the paperwork in front of you.

You gave him a small, neutral smile. “Hey.”

“Busy?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. He had that relaxed, easy-going vibe, as if he’d just come from a relaxing morning, when in reality, you both knew he’d probably just woken up.

“A little,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. You didn’t want him to think you were distracted, even though part of you felt strangely aware of how close he was.

Atsumu leaned forward, the playful grin on his face as he shifted the conversation. “You’re staring at that paper like it’s the most complicated thing in the world. You’ve been doing this long enough to know what’s going on.”

You shot him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just organizing things for the next press event. Not everything is as easy as you think.”

His smirk never left. “Easy? Nah, I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about anything you do. You’re pretty damn good at what you do.”

You didn’t know why, but hearing him say that made your heart skip a beat, and you immediately looked away, trying to focus on your work again. Stop it, stop it, stop it.

Atsumu, ever the persistent one, leaned closer and nudged your foot with his. “I don’t get it,” he said lightly. “Why are you always so... cold toward me? What did I do, huh?”

You met his gaze again, biting back the words that almost slipped out. Because you're a pain in the ass, Atsumu.

But instead, you kept it professional, brushing him off. “I’m not cold. I’m just busy.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Uh-huh. So, if I were to tell you I helped you out yesterday because I’m just really good at helping people, you wouldn’t be... thankful?”

You froze. He did notice, huh?

You avoided his gaze again, trying to act nonchalant. “You didn’t have to step in, you know. I could’ve handled it.”

Atsumu smirked, clearly not buying it. “Oh, really? Because you didn’t seem like you were handling it too well, babe.” His voice softened just a little, teasing but with a hint of something... different. “You looked like you could’ve used a little help. Glad I was around to give it.”

Your stomach did a little flip, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. “Well, I guess I owe you one. But don’t get used to it.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not asking for anything. Just saying, you can relax a little. Not everyone’s out to get you.”

For a split second, you thought you saw something else in his eyes—something a little deeper than his usual teasing. But before you could analyze it, Atsumu leaned back in his chair again, arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things between you two had shifted ever so slightly. His attention, the way he had stepped in to help, even the way he was acting now—it was different. You weren’t sure what it meant, but it was clear that the boundaries between you and Atsumu were getting a little blurry.

The conversation carried on, but you couldn’t fully focus. Every now and then, you’d catch yourself thinking about how he had helped you, how he’d actually cared about how you were feeling. And when you caught him glancing at you from across the room or making a little joke to try to make you smile, you couldn’t help but feel that flutter again.

Maybe you don’t hate him as much as you think...

As you walked off to get ready for the next event, you felt that familiar heat rise in your cheeks. The thing was, Atsumu might be a pain in the ass, but somehow, he was also making you feel... something that was hard to ignore.

___________________________________________________________________________

The press conference was almost over, and you were ready to escape the suffocating spotlight. You’d been translating for Atsumu all morning, fielding questions, managing his sometimes ridiculous answers, and making sure the journalists understood him. Honestly, you were a little worn out, but the day was almost done.

But just when you thought you’d get to breathe easy, a reporter raised their hand and threw a question that made the whole room quiet.

“So, Atsumu,” the reporter began, looking over her notes, “We’ve heard a lot about your career and your international success. But fans are curious... Do you have a girlfriend? Or is there someone you’re interested in right now?”

You froze. You’d been expecting questions about his game, his training, his strategies—but this? Even though you did not wanted to translate you quietly translated it to him.

This was personal. How dare he to ask such a stupid question. And why where you so worked up about it? Atsumu, on the other hand, didn’t seem to flinch. He leaned back in his chair, flashing his signature cocky smile. But just as he was about to answer, he glanced over at you.

It was quick—barely a second—but it was enough to make your heart race.

You were still processing the fleeting moment when Atsumu responded, his voice smooth and confident. “Nah, no girlfriend. I’m focused on my career right now.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair casually. “I’ll let the ladies come to me when I’m ready.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little sting at the way he’d answered so dismissively. Was it because of the quick glance he’d thrown at you? Did it mean something? Or was he just being his usual cocky self?

You quickly turned your attention back to the room, your mind racing. Was it jealousy? Or just the sudden reminder that Atsumu wasn’t going to be tied down to anyone anytime soon?

After a few more questions, the press conference wrapped up, and you all stood up to leave. Atsumu’s usual carefree swagger returned, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Maybe it was the look he’d given you. Maybe it was the thought of him not seeing you as someone special enough to mention, even if it was just a passing glance.

___________________________________________________________________________

The press conference was finally over, and you were just trying to make it through the rest of the day. You’d spent hours translating, dealing with the press, managing Atsumu’s antics, and now all you wanted was a few minutes of peace.

But the ride up in the elevator was anything but peaceful.

The moment the doors closed, the air between you and Atsumu was thick with tension. He was quiet, unusually so, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes staring at the floor. You could tell something had shifted after the press conference—the way he'd glanced at you before answering that question about his relationship status, the way he kept his distance now. It made you feel… unsettled.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you broke the silence. “You know, you didn’t have to answer that question like that.”

Atsumu’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something behind his usual cocky gaze. He didn’t respond immediately, but you could tell he was thinking about it.

“Why, you think I should’ve said I’ve got a girlfriend?” he shot back, his voice cool but with an edge you didn’t like.

You could feel yourself getting frustrated, the walls of your professionalism starting to crack. “No, I think you were being a jerk. And you looked at me right before you answered. What was that about?”

Atsumu’s lips curled into that all-too-familiar smirk, but there was something different about it this time. “What? You think I should’ve said I like someone? You want me to talk about my feelings?”

You could feel your heart racing, the anger and confusion bubbling to the surface. “I’m not asking for your feelings, Atsumu. I’m just saying, I don’t get why you had to make it so... dismissive.”

His smirk faltered for a second, and you could see the defensiveness in his posture. “I’m not being dismissive. I just don’t need to explain my personal life to everyone.”

The elevator slowed as it approached your floor, but neither of you moved. The tension was thick, crackling in the air between you two. Every word you spoke seemed to make the space between you smaller, and you could feel the pull in the pit of your stomach.

You took a step closer, your eyes narrowing in frustration. “Well, maybe you should learn how to answer like a grown-up then.”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. He was getting frustrated too. His next words were sharp. “You think you know me that well? Maybe you don’t understand how I answer to anyone.”

You both stood there, caught in a staring contest, the space between you shrinking. Your chest was tight, heart hammering as the seconds dragged on. Everything about this moment felt wrong—but you couldn’t stop it.

And then, without warning, everything exploded.

Atsumu moved fast, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you toward him. There was no slow approach, no hesitation—his lips crashed into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. The suddenness of it knocked the breath from your lungs, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

His mouth was demanding, as if he’d been holding this back for way too long. His lips pressed against yours with a force that spoke volumes—words that he hadn’t said out loud, feelings that were tangled up in that heated kiss.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your hands finding their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as if it grounded you in the chaos of the moment. His tongue gently brushed against yours, and you responded without thinking, the kiss growing deeper, more urgent, as if everything you’d been holding back was suddenly pouring out in this one instant.

The elevator pinged, but neither of you moved, lost in the rush of emotions you hadn’t expected to feel. The kiss went on longer than either of you had intended, and when you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your foreheads rested against each other.

You were both breathless, eyes wide, as if trying to process what had just happened—what it meant.

Atsumu was the first to speak, his voice low and ragged, barely a whisper. “Tell me to stop.”

The words hung heavy in the air, trembling between a plea and a challenge. His hands were still warm against your skin, fingertips barely grazing your jaw now, but the tension in him was unmistakable—like he was holding himself back with every ounce of self-control he had.

You didn’t answer right away. Your thoughts were a mess. Your heart was a mess. But the look in his eyes wasn’t teasing for once. There was no cocky smirk. No smug arrogance. Just raw, vulnerable sincerity.

You swallowed. “Why?”

He blinked, surprised at your question. “Because if you don’t, I’ll kiss you again. And this time, I won’t be able to pretend it doesn’t mean something.”

You opened your mouth—maybe to tell him this was too fast, too reckless, too something. But nothing came out. Because somewhere in the back of your mind, despite all your earlier resistance, despite telling yourself he was a pain in the ass, that you wanted this job to be over quickly—you hadn’t moved.

You were still here. Still close. Still wanting.

So instead of answering, you leaned in again—just slightly. Barely an inch.

Atsumu didn’t wait for a clearer sign. His lips were on yours again, firmer this time, less chaotic, but still laced with that fire you hadn’t realized had been building for days. Weeks, maybe. His hand slipped behind your neck again, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and your hands clenched the fabric of his jacket like you couldn’t stand the idea of him pulling away.

There were no thoughts now. No logical explanations. Just the feel of his mouth on yours, the way his breath caught when you nipped his bottom lip, the way he groaned low in his throat when you pressed your body closer to his.

He kissed you like he was memorizing it. Like he’d wanted to do this from the moment you first rolled your eyes at him.

When you finally broke apart again, this time it was slower. Less breathless, but just as charged. You didn’t rest your forehead against his—this time you stepped back, just slightly, enough to make space to think.

Atsumu looked down at you, his lips still parted, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a sprint. “Well…” he muttered, voice hoarse and uneven, “that didn’t exactly help keep things professional, did it?”

You gave a quiet laugh under your breath—more like a sharp exhale than real amusement. “No. Definitely didn’t.”

A beat of silence stretched between you. The elevator doors were still open, but the hallway was thankfully empty.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes avoiding his. “This doesn’t change anything about the job,” you said, forcing the words out carefully. “We still have two more weeks of interviews. Events. Media stuff. We have to stay focused.”

Atsumu nodded slowly, licking his lips like he was still trying to taste the moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Then he glanced at you with a softer version of that familiar grin. “But it’s gonna be really hard not to kiss you again.”

You shot him a look—half warning, half flustered—and stepped out of the elevator, trying to collect what was left of your composure. He followed behind a second later, hands in his pockets, lips still twitching at the corners.

Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hall. But the air between you was buzzing. Changed.

__________________________________________________________________________

The door clicked shut behind you, the soft snick of the lock echoing in the dim quiet of Atsumu’s hotel room.

You weren’t even sure how it happened. One second you were both standing in the hallway, silent, charged with unspoken things… and the next, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your jacket, your back pressing into the wall beside the door as his mouth found yours again.

This kiss was different. Still hungry—but not rushed. It was like he was finally letting himself feel what he’d been holding back, and it poured out of him like it couldn’t wait a second longer.

His hands framed your face as he kissed you, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. You melted into him, letting your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer.

He pulled away just far enough to breathe against your lips. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmured, voice low and breathless. His eyes searched yours, and even though he looked wrecked from the kiss, there was honesty swimming in his gaze. “Way too much.”

You barely had time to react before he kissed you again—deeper this time. His tongue slid against yours, and you let out a quiet sound, your hand curling into his chest as he pressed you more firmly into the wall.

“I thought it was just ‘cause you were around all the time,” he whispered against your mouth, catching his breath between kisses. “But it’s not. It’s not that at all.”

You shivered at the rawness in his voice. At the way he kissed you like he needed to, like it was the only way he could get the words out.

His hands dropped to your waist, strong fingers gripping you just tight enough to make your breath catch. And then, without warning, he lifted you—effortlessly—making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you deeper into the room, lips never leaving yours.

He laid you down onto the edge of the bed with a soft thump, hovering over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other still holding your waist.

You looked up at him, a little breathless, flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses. “You’re not usually this... serious,” you murmured.

He let out a short laugh, kissing you again, slower this time, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your mouth. “Yeah, well,” he said, barely pulling away, “I wasn’t planning on liking my translator.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t stop kissing him.

Atsumu growled low in his throat, deep and hoarse, as his mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck, lips trailing heat against your skin. “And that guy yesterday?” he muttered, voice darker now, breath hot against your collarbone. “The one who couldn’t take a hint?”

You tensed slightly, remembering the uncomfortable encounter in the lobby. But Atsumu only kissed you harder. “He looked at you way to wanting,” he murmured. “His eyes on you like he had the right. Like you were his to bother.”

He pulled back, just barely—his eyes now sharp with that cocky edge you’d come to know, but there was a possessive gleam there that made your stomach twist.

“That made me so fuckin’ mad,” he admitted. “How dare he be close to what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched, heat flooding your chest. “Yours?”

Atsumu smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was something darker. Deeper. “You think I’d learn how to say ‘I like you’ in your language if I didn’t mean it?”

You blinked, stunned—but before you could say anything, he was kissing you again, stealing your words, swallowing your breath. His hands slid beneath your shirt now, fingers grazing your bare skin, but not rushing—just touching like he couldn’t stop himself.

You moaned softly against his mouth, your arms tightening around his shoulders, anchoring yourself to the moment as he leaned in closer, settling his weight over you, hips pressing flush against yours.

“I meant it,” he whispered into your skin, trailing kisses down your throat. “I like you. You drive me crazy. But I like you.”

You were dizzy from the heat of it all—from his kisses, from his voice in your ear, from the way his hands held you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

And in that moment, you didn’t want him to.

You pulled him down again, lips colliding in another deep, lingering kiss that said everything you couldn’t. The walls you’d tried to keep up were already crumbling—and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind anymore.

___________________________________________________________________________

Years later:

The room was buzzing—cameras clicking, reporters murmuring, flashes of light blinking in intervals as Atsumu adjusted the mic in front of him. His hair was slightly longer now, styled with less care than he used to bother with. His face had the sharpened edge of a man who’d grown out of the boyish charm—but not lost it entirely.

He smiled easily as the press fired off questions, toggling between serious and lighthearted topics. It was a domestic press event for Japan’s national team, and he was still very much a fan favorite.

Then someone raised their hand and spoke with a bit more curiosity than formality.

“Miya-san, this one’s a little off-topic—but the fans would kill us if we didn’t ask.”

He tilted his head. “Hmm? Hit me with it.”

“How did you meet your wife?”

The room chuckled softly. Everyone knew Atsumu had married a foreigner—pictures of the two of you had circled the internet after the wedding. Elegant and lowkey. A mix of cultures. Him in a sharp, dark suit, and you glowing beside him.

He leaned back in his chair, grinning in that way that said ah, this one’s gonna get me soft.

“Damn. You’re gonna make me say it out loud, huh?”

Laughter again. He scratched the back of his neck.

“Well,” he began, eyes glinting with nostalgia. “It started on a tour overseas—back when I was still cocky as hell. I mean, I still am, but it was worse then.”

More chuckles. He glanced down at the table for a second, smile softening.

“She was my translator. I was doing an international media tour, lots of press, lots of interviews... and there she was. Completely unimpressed with me. Like, zero interest.” He laughed quietly, remembering. “Everyone else wanted autographs and selfies, and she just wanted me to shut up and behave.”

A reporter leaned in. “So it wasn’t love at first sight?”

Atsumu scoffed. “For her? Absolutely not.” He grinned wider now. “For me? Maybe. She had this way of looking at me like I was the biggest pain in the ass she’d ever met—and I kinda loved it.”

The reporters laughed again, and Atsumu shook his head, thoughtful now.

“I tried flirting with her. It didn’t work. I tried annoying her. That definitely worked. But somewhere between the interviews and the chaos, I realized I was... thinking about her a lot. Too much.” He paused, then added more quietly, “She made me want to speak her language better—so I could tell her I liked her without subtitles.”

A quiet murmur ran through the room, a few audible awws slipping out.

“And one day,” he said, eyes distant, “I just kissed her in an elevator. No warning. We were fighting—because of course we were—and I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

“Did she slap you?” someone joked.

Atsumu laughed, head thrown back. “Nah. She kissed me back. Hard. I think that was the moment I knew I was in real trouble.”

The room was quiet for a beat too long, everyone just soaking in the way he spoke about you.

“Was it hard, being long distance at first?” another asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. But she didn’t make it feel far. She flew out to Japan when she could. I stayed behind in her country after my matches ended just to see her for one more day. And when it got too hard, we made a decision.”

“You proposed?”

“No,” he said, grinning. “She proposed.”

That got a collective gasp from the room.

“Swear to God. At a stupid coffee shop. Told me if I wanted to keep kissing her, I better marry her. I said yes before she could change her mind.”

He laughed again, fond and full. Then he glanced at the camera like he knew you were watching from somewhere.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. And she still tells me I’m a pain in the ass.”

He smirked.

“And she’s still right.”

[dailyoverview]

Construction of Hong Kong International Airport began in 1991 on 12.5-square kilometers (4.85 sq. mi) of reclaimed land and took seven years to complete. An additional 6.5 square kilometers (2.5 sq. mi) was added in 2020 to construct a third runway, to be completed by the end of 2024. Hong Kong is one of the world’s busiest passenger airports, with a capacity for at least 70 million passengers a year.

22.304737°, 113.913780°

Source imagery: Planet / NASA / Google Timelapse

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

The Fatus: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 1: Intro

May 9th, 2025 6:13 PM

The black SUV rolled to a slow stop outside a quiet, unmarked warehouse on the outskirts of town. The place was inconspicuous, tucked between shipping docks and forgotten freight containers. But inside, it was anything but empty.

Jey Uso sat in the passenger seat, his right knee bouncing. Adrenaline still burned in his veins. His twin brother, Jon, gripped the steering wheel with a grin that hadn’t left his face since they sped out of that airport lot.

“Can’t believe we pulled that shit off,” Jon muttered, shaking his head.

Jey smirked. “Believe it, Uce.”

In the back, three matte-black suitcases sat, their zippers stretched tight around the weight of their contents—one hundred million dollars in unmarked bills, stolen clean from an international cash transfer shipment. The job had been flawless. No loose ends, no unnecessary bloodshed. They left behind confusion, not bodies. Just how Joe liked it.

The warehouse doors creaked open before they even knocked. A man in a tailored black suit waved them in, expression unreadable. No words were exchanged as they were led past crates and metal tables toward the back room, where Joe Anoa’i waited.

Joe sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by trusted men. His presence was undeniable, the room bending to his will. He leaned back in his chair, cigar in hand, watching as the twins entered.

Jon set the first suitcase on the table. Then the second. Then the third.

Joe exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Open ‘em.”

Jey flicked the latches. The moment the lids cracked, the room filled with the scent of ink and fresh money. Stacks upon stacks, neatly arranged, untouched. The sight alone had some of Joe’s men shifting, murmuring among themselves.

Joe let out a low whistle. He leaned forward, dragging a finger across the stacks before letting out a chuckle. Then, just as quickly, his expression turned serious. He looked up at the twins.

“This,” he said, voice steady, “is history.”

Jon grinned. “Damn right.”

Joe stood, rounding the table. He clapped a heavy hand on Jon’s shoulder, then Jey’s. “You two just pulled the biggest job this family’s ever seen. No hiccups. No heat. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Jey exhaled, the tension in his chest easing. Joe’s approval meant everything in this life.

Joe turned to the men in the room. “We celebrate tonight.”

The energy in the warehouse shifted immediately. Excitement buzzed in the air as Joe barked out orders for a party—high-end liquor, music, women. This wasn’t just a win. It was a statement.

Jey felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, his lips twitching into a real smile when he saw the name: Demi.

Rhea.

His wife. His partner. His ride-or-die for the last ten years.

He stepped away from the noise, answering on the first ring. “Hey, baby.”

Her voice came through the line, smooth but sharp. “Tell me you’re still breathing Joshua.”

He smirked. “More than that, ma. We just made history.”

There was a pause. Then, a soft laugh. “You always do.”

Jey’s fingers brushed over the scar on his wrist—one of many reminders of the life they lived. The risks they took. But tonight, they’d won.

“Get home soon,” she murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”

Jey’s grip tightened on the phone. “Count on it.”

As he turned back to the celebration, the weight of the night settled in. They weren’t just two brothers pulling jobs anymore. They were kings in the making. And with Rhea by his side, Jey knew—this was only the beginning.

—

Joe Anoa’i’s San Diego estate was alive with celebration—champagne flowing, music thumping, laughter echoing off marble floors. Members and associates of the Anoa’i-Fatu crime family indulged in every vice available. Conversations shifted between business and pleasure, deals being made over glasses of whiskey, women draping themselves over powerful men.

The scent of money, liquor, and marijuana filled the air. Cigars burned slow in crystal ashtrays. Lines of coke were cut on glass tables, disappearing as quickly as they were laid out. Notorious B.I.G.’s Party and Bullshit blasted from the speakers, the bass vibrating through the walls.

Rhea stood off to the side, leaning against the polished bar as the bartender slid her a tequila pineapple. She reached for it, but before she could grab the glass, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her clean off the ground.

“Baby, put me down,” she huffed, half-annoyed, half-amused.

Jey laughed against her shoulder, the deep, rich sound sending a familiar warmth through her. “Nah, not yet.”

She turned in his grasp, facing him now, her arms looping around his neck. His dark eyes were hooded, a mix of liquor and adrenaline still running through his system, but he was sharp—always sharp.

Rhea smirked. “You’re feelin’ good, huh?”

Jey’s grip tightened on her waist. “We just made history, ma.”

He leaned in, claiming her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. The world around them faded—just for a moment. Here, in his arms, was the only place that ever felt right.

When they pulled apart, Jey brushed his thumb over her cheek, voice low. “You proud of me?”

Rhea took in his face, the sharp jawline, the inked-up skin peeking from his unbuttoned dress shirt. This was the man she married at eighteen. The man she built an empire with.

She tilted her chin up. “Always.”

Jey grinned, then grabbed the tequila pineapple from the bar, pressing it into her hand. “Then drink up, Mrs. Fatu. We celebrating.”

Rhea took a slow sip, letting the burn coat her throat. “Just don’t get too drunk, ‘cause you know I hate driving your ass home.”

Jey chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead before pulling her into the chaos of the party towards the couches.

Tonight, they were untouchable.

Rhea sat beside Jey on the plush leather couch, her arm draped lazily over his shoulder. His hand rested on her thigh, his fingers idly tracing patterns against her skin as he leaned back, relaxed. The party roared on around them—cocaine being cut on the glass table in front of them, glasses clinking, deals being made between men who ran the streets.

Jey was basking in the moment, in the glory of the job, in the feeling of being at the top. But Rhea? She was always watching.

That’s when she saw her.

A blonde—tall, slim, clearly trying too hard—sauntering her way toward them.

Rhea exhaled slowly, setting her drink down on the table.

She hated this part. The way some of these women were too stupid, too reckless to understand that Joshua Fatu wasn’t an option. He wasn’t a bachelor, wasn’t available for small talk or flirtation. He was hers. Always.

Jey felt the shift in her energy before he even saw the girl. His fingers stilled against her leg, and when he followed her gaze, he smirked. “Oh, here we go.”

The blonde stopped just in front of them, twirling a lock of hair around her manicured finger. “Hey, Jey,” she purred, tilting her head in a way she must have thought was cute.

Rhea’s jaw tensed.

Jey was calm, unfazed. “What you want?”

The blonde pretended not to notice Rhea’s presence, as if she weren’t sitting right there—as if she weren’t the only thing standing between her and an early grave.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” she said sweetly. “Biggest job in history, right? A man like you deserves to celebrate properly.”

She reached out as if she was going to touch Jey’s shoulder.

Rhea snapped.

Her hand shot out, grabbing the woman’s wrist hard. The room around them didn’t stop, the party didn’t pause, but the moment between them became deadly silent.

Rhea stood up slowly, towering over the woman, her grip tightening until the girl winced.

“You got two seconds,” Rhea said, voice low, dangerous. “To take your cheap ass, your cheap dress, and your cheap perfume and walk the fuck away.”

The blonde blinked, flustered, trying to tug her arm back. “I—I wasn’t trying to—”

Rhea yanked her closer, her lips just inches from the woman’s ear.

“I see you,” Rhea whispered. “I know your type. You think ‘cause I’m sitting here quiet that you can play cute and get away with it. But you don’t wanna see what happens if you disrespect me again.”

The girl’s breath hitched.

“Now be smart,” Rhea continued, letting go of her wrist only to shove her back. “And run along before I make sure you never step foot in another one of Joe’s parties again.”

The woman stumbled, her face pale as she took a shaky step back—then another—before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Jey leaned back against the couch, grinning as he watched the scene unfold. “Damn, baby. You tryna kill ‘em with words now?”

Rhea sat back down, picking up her drink like nothing happened. “Why waste bullets on a bitch who ain’t worth it?”

Jey laughed, pulling her closer. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

She smirked, leaning in, her lips brushing against his jaw. “You wouldn’t dare.��

Joe moved through the party like a king surveying his kingdom. Every eye in the room followed him, whether out of respect, fear, or a mixture of both. When he stopped in front of the couch where Jey and Rhea sat, conversations quieted just a little.

“Rhea,” Joe said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “I need to see you in my office.”

Rhea didn’t hesitate. She gave Jey a small nod, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek before letting her go. No words were needed—he trusted her, and she trusted him.

She followed Joe through the house, weaving through drunk associates and half-dressed women until they reached the grand staircase. The further up they climbed, the more muffled the chaos of the party became. By the time they reached Joe’s private office, all that remained was the low hum of bass vibrating through the walls.

Joe pushed open the heavy mahogany door and stepped inside, walking straight to his chair behind the massive desk. The room was dimly lit, the scent of whiskey and cigars lingering in the air.

“Sit,” Joe instructed, gesturing to the leather chair across from him.

Rhea sat, crossing one leg over the other, her sharp gaze locked onto his.

Joe leaned back, studying her. Then, with a small nod, he said, “I’m very proud of what my cousin did tonight. You should be too.”

Rhea’s expression didn’t waver. “I am.”

Joe smirked, reaching into his desk drawer. He pulled out a thick folder and placed it in front of her. “I’m going to reward Joshua with something nice. But I decided to reward you first.”

Rhea arched a brow. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

Joe tapped the folder. “I bought some commercial property in a strip mall by the border. Near Tijuana.”

Rhea’s lips curled slightly. “And?”

“And I need you to run it.”

She let out a short laugh. “Run what, exactly?”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Corporate lifestyle. Nine-to-five. Benefits. The whole deal.”

That made Rhea laugh harder. She sat back in her chair, amused. “You’re not fucking serious, are you?”

Joe’s laughter died first. His face turned cold, expression unreadable.

“I am,” he said flatly.

Rhea’s amusement vanished. She stared at him, her jaw tightening. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Joe said, his voice calm but firm, “I’m pulling you out of the weed trade.”

Silence.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of his words settled between them like a loaded gun on the table.

Then Rhea stood up, her movements sharp, controlled, but pissed.

“That’s bullshit!”

Joe sighed, unfazed by Rhea’s outburst. He took a sip of the whiskey sitting on his desk, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

“Rhea,” he said smoothly, setting the glass down. “It’s time you settle down into a real mob wife lifestyle. Trinity’s been doing it.”

Rhea scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Trinity isn’t cut out for this business.”

Joe’s lips twitched, but he remained silent.

“You want me to play house?” Rhea continued, stepping forward, her palms flat against the desk as she leaned in. “You expect me to sit back, play the good little wife, while the men handle the business?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the heaviness that had settled in the room.

Joe met her glare head-on. “I expect you to trust my decision.”

Rhea shook her head, laughing bitterly. “I bring you a million a fucking week in the weed trade, Joe.” She jabbed a finger against the desk. “A million. And you expect me to take a step back?!”

Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His expression darkened.

“You think I don’t know what you bring to the table?” he asked, voice low. “You think I don’t value you?” He let the words settle before continuing. “That’s exactly why I’m pulling you out. You’ve done your part. You’ve built an empire. Now I need you somewhere else.”

Rhea clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into fists. “Where I’m needed is right where I am.”

Joe smirked, watching Rhea's fury burn in her eyes.

He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a cigar, and clipped the end with slow, deliberate precision.

He let the silence stretch before finally speaking.

"Exactly," he said, rolling the cigar between his fingers. "You're needed in a strip mall by the border."

Rhea's fists clenched. Her breathing was steady, but her rage simmered beneath the surface.

Joe lit his cigar, inhaled deeply, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. His eyes flicked back to her, unwavering.

"You're dismissed," he said, his voice cool, controlled.

Rhea's nostrils flared, but she knew what those words meant. Dismissed. In Joe's world, that was the end of the conversation. No more arguments. No more negotiations.

"I expect you ready by Monday."

Without a reply, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

As she descended the stairs, the pounding bass of the party hit her full force again. The stench of liquor, weed, and sweat filled the room, but her vision tunneled in on one person-Jey.

And the bitch standing too close to him.

For the second time tonight, some desperate woman had forgotten where the fuck she was.

Rhea didn't slow down. She didn't hesitate.

She closed the distance in two strides and viciously headbutted the woman, the sickening crack of bone meeting bone cutting through the music. The woman crumpled instantly, blood gushing from her nose as she hit the floor like a sack of bricks.

The party stopped.

Everyone turned to watch. No one dared to interfere.

Rhea looked down at the woman, expression ice-cold.

"Didn't I already warn you once?!" she yelled..

The woman whimpered, clutching her shattered nose.

Rhea didn't wait for a response. She flicked her wrist, motioning to two nearby guards.

"Get rid of her!" she ordered.

The men immediately moved in, dragging the barely-conscious woman across the floor as if she were nothing more than garbage.

Rhea finally turned her gaze to Jey. He was sitting back on the couch, watching her with a mixture of amusement and pride.

She exhaled sharply and sat down next to him, grabbing his drink and taking a long sip.

Jey leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

"You're so damn sexy when you do shit like that."

“I’m not happy with your cousin.”

Rhea’s voice was sharp, cutting through the fading party noise around them. She leaned back into the couch, her jaw tight, eyes flashing with lingering frustration.

“What happened?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

Rhea scoffed, shaking her head. “He wants me to be a mob wife and run some bullshit strip mall store by the border,” she spat, swirling the amber liquid inside before taking a slow sip. “Like I’m supposed to just step back from everything I built—everything I run—and play house.”

Jey exhaled, rubbing his chin. “Baby… I know—”

“Don’t start with me, Jey.” Rhea cut him off, her tone sharp as a blade. She set her glass down with more force than necessary. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

Jey didn’t argue. He knew better than that. Instead, he reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers, firm but steady. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles over her knuckles, grounding her.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “I got you.”

She was still tense. He could feel the tightness in her grip, in the way her shoulders hadn’t eased.

Jey leaned in, brushing his lips against the side of her neck. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss there, feeling the slight hitch in her breath.

“Baby…” he whispered, lips grazing against her pulse. “Relax.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat, but she let her shoulders fall just a little.

Jey chuckled against her skin before pulling back just enough to look at her. “Act like you wanna relax.”

Rhea let out an exasperated huff but gave in, closing her eyes for a moment.

Jey smirked, then captured her lips with his. The kiss was slow, deep, and longing, his fingers tightening slightly around hers. He felt her exhale against him, her body finally giving in to the moment.

There it is.

Jey pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. His voice was low, a quiet promise.

“Let’s go home, baby.”

Rhea nodded, still gripping his hand as they stood. They didn’t look back. The party, the noise, the flashing lights—it all faded behind them as they stepped outside into the San Diego night.

The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of salt from the Pacific. A low hum of city life surrounded them, distant sirens wailing somewhere in the distance.

Jey’s black Mercedes convertible sat at the front of the estate, its sleek frame gleaming under the streetlights. The custom J + D license plate caught the glow, a subtle but permanent mark of them.

Jey opened the passenger door for Rhea, watching as she slid inside effortlessly, legs crossed as she settled in. He moved around to the driver’s seat, starting the car with a deep purr of the engine.

As they pulled onto the road, the soft, hypnotic intro of “Selfish” by PnB Rock filled the car, the bass humming through the seats.

The city lights blurred past them, golden and endless. The open highway stretched ahead, leading them toward the ocean, toward the life they built together.

Rhea reached over, her fingers intertwining with Jey’s as the wind moved through her dark hair.

She let her head rest back against the seat, finally allowing herself to breathe.

The black Mercedes convertible pulled smoothly into the garage of their seaside condo, the soft hum of the engine cutting off as Jey shifted into park. The sound of the rolling waves outside blended with the quiet whir of the cooling car, a stillness compared to the chaos of the night they had just left behind.

As the garage door lowered, Jey stepped out, closing his door with a casual flick of his wrist. But before Rhea could even think about moving, he was already rounding the car, reaching for her side.

Always.

No matter how heated their fights got, no matter how many times they butted heads, no matter how stubborn she could be—Jey never let her open her own damn door.

He pulled it open with ease, extending his hand.

Rhea smirked slightly, placing her palm against his. “I could’ve done that myself, you know.”

Jey tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Not while I’m breathing.”

Rhea let him help her out of the car, his grip firm yet soft as he led her inside.

Jey punched in the security code, the condo unlocking with a faint click as the door leading into their home swung open. The scent of saltwater and the faint trace of her coconut-sandalwood candles filled the air.

The space was sleek, modern, but still intimate—their home. The open windows framed the ocean, moonlight casting silver streaks across the waves.

Jey locked the door behind them, his movements fluid, practiced. He moved through the condo with ease, muscle memory guiding him.

Rhea followed, already kicking off her heels as they made their way upstairs.

She hated sleeping in makeup. Without hesitation, she reached for the hem of her dress, stripping out of the tight fabric and tossing it carelessly onto the chair in the corner. Jey followed suit, shrugging off his designer shirt and letting it drop to the floor.

Rhea grabbed a makeup wipe from her vanity, dragging it across her face in smooth, practiced strokes. The remnants of the night—the smudged eyeliner, the faint red of her lipstick—disappeared with each swipe.

Once satisfied, she grabbed one of her favorite black lace babydoll slip dresses, slipping it over her head. The silk glided against her skin, the hem skimming just below her upper thighs.

Jey watched her the whole time, his eyes dark, hungry, but steady. Admiring.

She climbed into bed first, stretching out against the cool sheets. The distant sound of the ocean filtered through the open balcony doors, mixing with the soft rustle of Jey’s movements as he slid in beside her.

Without hesitation, he pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist, one leg tangling with hers.

Rhea let him hold her, let herself melt against the warmth of his skin, his steady heartbeat against her back.

Jey’s lips brushed against the nape of her neck, his breath warm.

“I’d do anything for you,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise in the dark.

Rhea turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his in the dim lighting. “Anything?”

Jey didn’t hesitate.

“I’d die for you, my queen.”

Rhea studied him, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along his forearm.

“I don’t need you to die for me,” she whispered. “I need you to live for me.”

Jey exhaled, pressing a lingering kiss against her temple.

“Then I’ll live for you.”

—

The sharp, shrill ring of Jey’s burner phone cut through the silence, yanking him from the heavy grip of sleep. His brows furrowed as he blindly reached for it on the nightstand, the cool metal slipping into his grasp.

7:24 AM.

Too damn early.

He exhaled sharply, swiping to answer. “What?”

Joe’s voice came through, low and firm. “My house. Now.”

And then, nothing.

The call ended before Jey could respond, leaving only the faint, rhythmic sound of the waves outside.

Jey sighed, running a hand down his face before turning onto his side. Rhea was still deep in sleep, her breathing steady, her body curled slightly into the sheets.

His queen.

Jey leaned in, pressing a slow, warm kiss against her exposed shoulder, before carefully tucking the blanket around her. He knew better than to wake her unless it was life or death.

With practiced ease, he slid out of bed, moving on autopilot as he grabbed a hoodie, sweatpants, and a pair of socks. His slides were waiting near the door, just where he had kicked them off the night before.

But before heading out, he made a quick stop.

Jey pushed open the bathroom door, the dim light reflecting off the marble sink. He crouched down, opening the cabinet drawer, fingers immediately finding the familiar small baggie tucked inside.

The fine white powder inside practically glowed under the bathroom lights.

Jey pulled out a straw and a black metal card, both already waiting for him on the counter. He didn’t hesitate.

With precise movements, he dumped some of the coke onto the cool surface of the counter, the blade of the card swiftly cutting it into four clean lines.

One. Two. Three. Four.

He leaned down, pressed the straw to his nostril, and snorted two lines back-to-back, the burn immediate, the rush hitting him like a switch being flipped.

By the time he took the last two, his mind was sharp, awake, buzzing.

He exhaled, tilting his head back, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. A familiar heat spread through his veins—his pulse quickening, his body light yet wired at the same time.

He rinsed his mouth, brushed his teeth, checked his nose in the mirror—all clear.

Then, he left.

The stairs leading down to the garage creaked under his weight as he grabbed his keys off the wall hook. The familiar shape of his car sat waiting, the morning sun casting long shadows through the half-opened garage door.

Jey slid into the driver’s seat, flexing his jaw, eyes sharp and focused.

He tapped the gas pedal once, feeling the power rumble beneath him before pulling out onto the street.

Joe wanted him now?

Fine.

But whatever this was, it better be worth waking him the fuck up for.

Jey’s mind buzzed as he pulled up to Joe’s estate. The adrenaline still coursed through him from the coke earlier, but now it was mixed with a growing sense of curiosity. He didn’t like being called in without warning, especially when the family was involved.

He parked the car in front of the massive mansion, stepping out and taking in a deep breath of the cool morning air. His hoodie and sweats felt loose against his body, but he wasn’t here for comfort.

Jey walked toward the front door with purpose, punching in his code into the security pad by the entrance. The heavy doors opened with a low groan.

Inside, the air smelled of fresh coffee and warmth, a stark contrast to the weight that rested on his shoulders.

“Good morning, Jey,” Galina said, her soft voice barely carrying over the sounds of the TV in the living room. She looked up from her spot on the couch, sipping her coffee, her eyes catching his for just a moment. There was an easy smile on her face, but Jey could tell something was off.

“Morning, Gal,” Jey muttered, barely acknowledging her, his mind already on the meeting. He offered a nod before making his way upstairs.

The stairs creaked beneath his weight as he made his way toward the office. When he reached the door, he paused, his hand on the handle, sensing the tension before he even opened it.

Jey pushed the doors open without a second thought, his voice cutting through the room. “What’s so important?”

His words hung in the air, but the moment he stepped inside, they lost their edge.

Jey froze. The room wasn’t just filled with Joe. No, it was the elders of the Anoa’i/Fatu crime family. Men he respected, feared, and admired. All of them were sitting in a semi-circle, their eyes on him.

His father Solofa was standing with his brothers Jon and Joseph. The look on his father’s face was unreadable—Solofa rarely showed emotion. Jey’s brothers both nodded at him, but there was something in their eyes that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This wasn’t a normal conversation.

Joe, seated behind his massive desk, leaned forward slightly. The elders remained silent, their attention on Jey as if they were waiting for something.

Jey’s stomach tightened. Whatever this was about, it felt like the weight of his entire family’s legacy was sitting on his shoulders.

Joe broke the silence, his voice calm but powerful. “The High Chiefs have all agreed…” He paused for effect. “You’re getting made.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and Jey’s mind immediately raced. Getting made? Made man? The ceremony—the responsibilities—it was everything he had ever worked for in this life, but now that it was being offered…

He blinked a few times, trying to process what Joe had said. His father’s eyes were on him, but his face gave nothing away.

“You… you sure about this, Joe?” Jey’s voice was low, but firm.

Joe smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Absolutely. You’ve earned it.” He motioned to the elders, who all nodded in agreement. “The family has spoken.”

Jey felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him—pride, fear, excitement, but mostly… a sense of finality.

This wasn’t just a business decision; it was a turning point. He was no longer just Joe’s cousin or a son of Solofa. He was becoming part of something far bigger, something that would bind him to the family forever.

“You’re officially in, Jey,” Joe continued, his gaze locked on him. “This is your bloodline, your legacy. And now… we’re giving you the responsibility.”

Jey swallowed hard, his chest tight. He glanced at his father and brothers, who were silent but seemingly in approval. His father’s eyes softened, but there was still an edge to them, the same wariness that Jey had seen his whole life.

Jon gave him a firm nod, and Joseph’s expression was unreadable.

Jey didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he let the weight of the decision settle. Being made wasn’t just an honor—it came with its share of burdens. The expectations. The responsibilities. The constant need to prove yourself.

After a long pause, Jey finally spoke, his voice steady. “I’m ready.”

The room seemed to release a collective breath. Joe smiled, satisfaction evident on his face. “Good. We’ll get everything in order for the ceremony soon. But first…” He stood up and walked toward Jey, his voice lowering. “I need you to know that this isn’t just about you. This is about your family. And it’ll always be about family.”

Jey nodded, understanding the weight of those words more than anyone could know.

Family. It was everything. But now, it would be more than just blood—it would be power, loyalty, and sacrifice. And it would be something that would define him, his choices, and everything he did from here on out.

Joe turned to the elders and nodded to them. They stood, one by one, coming forward to shake Jey’s hand.

This was real now.

This was the beginning of something bigger.

And as Jey stood there, his heart racing, he could feel the familiar weight of the family settling on his shoulders.

The smoke curled between them, the scent mixing with the faint aroma of leather and whiskey that always clung to Joe’s office. The elders of the Anoa’i/Fatu crime family sat in a semi-circle behind Joe, their faces unreadable, their silent presence heavier than any words spoken in the room.

Joe finally exhaled, watching Jey through the haze. “You’re not made just yet,” he said, voice even, but weighted.

Jey clenched his jaw. He wasn’t impatient—he knew how this worked. Nothing came easy.

Joe continued, “You do this right, then we start the process.”

Jey nodded once, his gaze unwavering. “I understand.”

Joe tapped the ash from his cigar into a heavy crystal tray, then leaned back in his chair. “Good.” He let the moment settle before giving the order.

“I need you to take Rhea and drive down to Tijuana.”

Jey’s brow furrowed slightly. “Tijuana?”

Joe nodded. “There’s a shop with a donkey on it. You’re gonna take a car down there that it’s in a parking garage and get a broken taillight fixed.”

Jey exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hand over his beard. “That it?”

Joe smirked slightly, but his eyes held no humor. “That’s it. You take the car down. They’ll handle the rest. Once the job is done, you and Rhea drive it back—clean.”

Jey knew what this was. A test. An easy job on the surface, but nothing in this life was ever what it seemed.

Joe studied him for a moment before adding, “I’d hurry up and get to the border. It’s the weekend, and the shop closes early.”

Jey could feel the eyes of the elders still on him, their silent judgment pressing into his back. He didn’t need them to say anything—he knew what was at stake.

Turning on his heel, he exited the office, descending the grand staircase two steps at a time. The party from the night before had long died down, but the smell of cigar smoke, liquor, and perfume still lingered in the air.

This wasn’t just a drive to Mexico.

This was his initiation.

—

Steam curled around Rhea as she let the hot water soothe the tension in her muscles. Her head still throbbed slightly from the headbutt she’d delivered the night before, but she had no regrets. That woman had learned her lesson.

She tilted her head back under the spray, sighing deeply, letting herself enjoy the rare moment of peace—until the sound of the bedroom door opening broke her from it.

“That you, baby?” she called, pushing wet strands of hair from her face.

Jey didn’t answer right away, but she could hear his footsteps, moving fast, the shuffle of clothes being pulled from drawers. Something was up.

Then his voice came through, sharp, urgent. “Baby! We need to go! Now!”

Rhea frowned, quickly shutting off the water. “What do we have to do?”

“Tijuana, baby! Hurry up!”

She didn’t hesitate. Jey wouldn’t rush her unless it was serious. She grabbed the soap, scrubbing herself down quickly before stepping out onto the cool tiles. A second later, the bathroom door swung open, and Jey entered, setting a neatly folded stack of clothes on the counter.

Rhea grabbed a towel, squeezing out her hair. “What’s going on?”

Jey’s eyes were bright, wired with adrenaline. He stepped closer, hands resting on the counter as he leaned toward her, excitement buzzing off him.

“My initiation, baby.” His lips curled into a grin. “It’s happening.”

Rhea froze for just a second before her face broke into a wide smile.

This was huge.

Jey had been grinding for years—proving his loyalty, showing his worth. The elders never rushed this process, and the fact that it was finally happening meant that they saw him as someone worthy of becoming made.

Pride swelled in her chest. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, grabbing his face and kissing him hard.

When she pulled back, her hands still cupping his jaw, she whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

Jey’s grin only widened. He kissed her once more, quick but deep, before pulling away.

“Then get dressed, baby,” he smirked. “We got a drive ahead.”

—

The soft sounds of the engine and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the vibe as Jey and Rhea sped down the coastal highway toward the border. The early morning light cast a gloriou hue over the ocean, making the water shimmer like liquid gold.

Rhea stared out at the endless blue, her mind racing. Was this the right time to bring this up?

She glanced at Jey, his grip firm on the wheel, his jaw tense in focus. They had been together since they were ten, married at eighteen, and now here they were at twenty-eight, with power, money, and loyalty at their fingertips. Everything they had built together was finally falling into place.

So why did she still feel like something was missing?

Jey noticed the way she was staring at the ocean, her expression deeper than usual.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, glancing at her before shifting his focus back on the road.

Rhea hesitated for a moment before exhaling. “When are we going to have a kid?”

Jey’s hands flexed against the leather of the steering wheel. “Baby…” he sighed, keeping his voice steady, “right now, we’re just building our empire.”

Rhea nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I know.”

Jey cast another glance her way. “You just got pissed because Joe took you away from your weed trade and put you in a strip mall. Now you’re talking about a kid?”

“I know,” she repeated, her voice softer.

Jey sighed, shaking his head. “I mean… our little habits, Rhea. We have a kid, we can’t be doing coke in the morning before we tend to them.”

She swallowed, knowing he was right. They had built their world on discipline, respect, and control, but they were still reckless in their own ways. A child would change everything.

But the thought of waiting forever gnawed at her.

“I know but…” she trailed off.

Jey looked over at her, his expression unreadable. “But what?”

Rhea finally turned away from the ocean and looked straight at him.

“I don’t want to be the oldest mom in preschool.”

Jey huffed a small laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “Baby, you ain’t old.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean now, but I don’t wanna wait ‘til I’m pushing forty either.”

Jey kept his eyes on the road, but his jaw tightened. He knew Rhea wasn’t the type to just throw out thoughts like this unless she had been sitting on them for a while.

He reached over, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. But right now… let’s just get through today.”

Rhea nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go.

The border was getting closer, the weight of responsibility pressing down on them both.

Rhea stayed quiet for a moment before she shifted the mood, her lips curling into a smirk. "Plus... no more midday activities if we have a kid."

Jey smirked back. "Yeah... we really can't do any of those extracurricular activities in the afternoon like we normally do."

Rhea arched a brow, tilting her head. "Oh really now?" She reached up, fingers grazing the side of his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Jey chuckled, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"Yeah... no more balcony... no more kitchen..."

Rhea purred, leaning in closer. "The shower?"

Jey licked his lips. "Gone."

"The washer?" she teased, voice low.

Jey shook his head with a smirk. "Baby, the spin cycle would be over."

Rhea let out a soft, husky laugh, her fingers tracing down his arm. "Mami loves the spin cycle."

Jey let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head. "You drive me crazy, baby."

She grinned. "Good."

For a moment, the playful energy settled between them, but then Jey's voice dropped, carrying a different weight.

"My queen... soon, I will give you everything you ever wanted." His tone was serious, steady. A promise, not just words. "I promised you that."

Rhea held his gaze for a moment, then looked back at the ocean, her expression unreadable.

Jey never made promises lightly.

And he never broke them.

37 Minutes Later. 9:42 AM

The border station loomed ahead, a mix of concrete barriers, steel fencing, and uniformed officers moving with sharp efficiency. The sun cast a harsh glare over the checkpoint as Jey slowed the car to a stop in front of the booth.

A border patrol officer approached, his expression unreadable behind his aviator sunglasses.

“Passports,” he said, his tone flat.

Jey reached into the glove compartment, retrieving both his and Rhea’s passports. He handed them over with a practiced ease, flashing a laid-back smile. “Morning, boss.”

The officer barely acknowledged the greeting, flipping through the pages. His gaze flicked up, lingering on Jey for a second longer than necessary, then shifted to Rhea. She offered a polite, almost bored smile, leaning back into her seat.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer asked.

Jey didn’t hesitate. “Ah, just a quick day trip, man. Little shopping, maybe grab some tacos. My girl loves the markets.”

The officer’s eyes flickered between them, clearly unimpressed. “You live in San Diego. Plenty of tacos there.”

Jey chuckled. “Yeah, but they ain’t the same, y’know? Gotta have the real thing.”

The officer stared at him for a moment, then let his gaze move over the car. “You ever been to Tijuana before?”

“Couple times, yeah. Nothing crazy, though.” Jey kept his tone light, his grip on the wheel steady. “We’ll be in and out, just a little afternoon getaway.”

The officer hummed, then glanced back at Rhea. “You excited for some tacos?”

Rhea smiled lazily, playing her part. “Oh yeah. Can’t come to TJ and not get tacos, right?”

The officer didn’t respond. He gave one final glance at their passports before handing them back. “Enjoy your trip.”

Jey nodded, keeping his cool as he rolled up the window and eased the car forward, passing through the checkpoint. Only when they were safely across the border did he exhale, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Too easy,” he muttered.

Rhea stretched her arms over her head. “Yeah, let’s hope the rest of today goes just as smooth.”

Jey smirked, his eyes locking onto hers for a brief moment before returning to the road. “It will, baby. We just gotta fix a damn taillight.”

But deep down, they both knew—nothing in their world was ever that simple.

Jey and Rhea arrived at the parking garage, the soft hum of the engine still ringing in the air as Jey pulled into a quiet spot. He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, taking a quick glance at Rhea.

“We’re here,” Jey said as he opened his door and got out.

He walked around the car, his shoes echoing softly against the concrete, and opened the passenger door for Rhea. She slid out gracefully, giving him a small smile as they walked side by side toward the next level up of the garage.

The fluorescent lights flickered above them as they moved, their footsteps slow but steady. At the next turn, Jey’s eyes fell on a white Dodge Durango parked near the wall. Its broken taillight stood out against the dark, empty space.

Jey pulled out his burner phone, unlocking the screen and quickly opening Joe’s last message. His eyes scanned the license plate number that was provided, matching it exactly to the Durango before him.

“This is it,” Jey muttered under his breath, moving toward the gas tank. He opened it, his fingers brushing against the edge before his eyes landed on the small keyring tucked neatly inside. Jey grabbed the keys and walked back around to the passenger side, opening the door for Rhea.

“After you, baby,” he said, his voice calm but purposeful.

Rhea slid into the passenger seat, glancing up at him with a mix of excitement and curiosity. “You sure this is all we need to do?”

“I’m sure love.” Jey closed her door, getting into the driver’s side. He slid the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life as he exhaled sharply. “Let’s do this.”

With the Durango now in motion, Jey navigated through the dark streets, his hands tight on the wheel. The city’s lights blurred past them as the car drifted through the winding roads.

“There it is,” Rhea said, suddenly sitting up straighter in her seat, her eyes focused ahead.

Jey followed her gaze, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Good eye, love,” he replied, nodding in approval.

As they reached the spot, Jey pulled the car to a stop just outside the group of three men sitting near the entrance. He glanced over at Rhea, then back to the men before opening his door and stepping out.

He adjusted his hoodie as he walked toward them, his footsteps purposeful but measured. The men didn’t look up at first, too absorbed in their conversation, but Jey cleared his throat, a sharp sound cutting through the chatter.

“Necesito que me arreglen el faro trasero,” Jey said smoothly in perfect Spanish, his voice firm but respectful. He made sure to catch the eye of the man closest to him, letting the weight of his presence linger.

The three men looked up, slightly surprised but not intimidated. One of them, an older man with graying hair, raised an eyebrow and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

”¿Arreglarlo ahora?” he asked, sounding both confused and intrigued.

Jey gave a subtle nod, his eyes locked on the man. “Sí. Ahora.”

Rhea watched from the car, her eyes scanning the scene. She couldn’t help but feel the familiar fear rising, but she trusted Jey to handle this—he always did.

After all… he was in charge.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[YNet is Israeli Private Media]

[Machine Translation]

The IDF imposes a military blockade on Lebanon: "We will also eliminate the replacements; About a million fled their homes"

After the assassination of Nasrallah in Dahiya, and following the IDF's announcement to Lebanon that landings of Iranian planes would not be allowed, in the last day bulldozers were attacked trying to restore the border crossings with Syria - in order to prevent Iranian armament. may be impaired.

in the last day, since the assassination of Hassan Nasrallah in the Da'ha district in Beirut , the IDF has attacked from the air Lebanese bulldozers that were trying to restore the six land border crossings between Lebanon and Syria, which had already been bombed on by the Air Force in the middle of the week. In addition, the IDF has officially informed Lebanon that it will not allow planes from Syria or Iran to land in Beirut, as happened this morning.[...]

So far in the past week, the Air Force has dropped about 3,500 weapons in Lebanon, under the logic of a plan according to which the IDF will first damage Hezbollah's communication and aerial observation capabilities, and then the organization's senior leaders until Nasrallah is defeated.

According to the IDF, the attacks will intensify in the coming days: "There are more capabilities to undermine Hezbollah and more surprises that we are preparing. Good thing the fighting didn't stop. The goal is to weaken Hizbullah as much as possible, and there is now a great uproar and appeal in it. Now we are focused on suffocating Hezbollah with full readiness against Iran and its proxies, including the militias in Syria."

So far, the army has recognized the departure of about 600,000 Lebanese from the south of the country to the north, and about 400,000 more from the neighborhoods of the Dahaiah district who fled their homes. Therefore, there are now about a million displaced Lebanese outside their homes. The army says that "Hezbollah had a wrong assessment of the situation. We chose a method that brings us to the existing result, Hezbollah has more capabilities, but so far it has implemented a tenth of what it planned because we blindsided it.["][...]

There are those in the IDF who estimate that Nasrallah's successor will not be a single figure, but rather a number of parties who will divide his military, civil and organizational roles between them - internally and externally - and this in light of the extensive experience he has gained: "Those who have been eliminated at the top of Hezbollah already have a third and a fourth replacement, and we are studying them as well to eliminate them too."[...]

This morning, as mentioned, a Boeing 747 of the Iranian airline "Kashm Air" made its way back to Tehran after reportedly flying to Beirut - but did not receive permission to land. According to flightradar24 flight number QFZ9964 did retrace its steps. According to the Lebanese MTV network, the IDF hacked into the communication system and broadcast a warning through the control tower of the airport in Beirut, about the landing of the Iranian plane - while threatening that if the plane lands, Israel will be forced to "use force". The aviation to ask the plane not to land, and not to enter the airspace of Lebanon

28 Sep 24

[monzabee]

third time's the charm (social media au) - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you are there to celebrate Max winning his third title, and the whole world is there to witness it.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader (model used: mun ka young)

Warnings: none other than some cursing, internet being the internet

Request: "First of, in love with your social media au works. Could you do one with Max where reader is a K-pop idol (solo) and one of the biggest artist both in Korea and internationally, ever since she debuted (early-middle 2010s) she's been associated/sponsored by Red Bull. So she and Max have secretly been together for a year or two until someone caught Max in Korea and everything starts unfolding. (Ps. fully understand if you aren't able too❤️)"

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

ynofficial

Liked by yg_ent_official, iconnews, jennyrubyjane and 982,927 others

ynofficial: excited for this weekend's schenanigans, can you guess where i'm heading?

jennyrubyjane: not la??😿

ynofficial: 아니, 곧 만나러 갈게 약속할게😭

user: is it paris? new york? london? THE OPPORTUNITIES ARE ENDLESS

redbullracing: can't wait to have you with us again!

ynofficial: 감사합니다 🥹🫶

user: SHE'S GOING TO A F1 RACE, AGAIN??

user: she's just like me i swear

comments on this post have been limited

ynylnfans

Liked by kpopworld, ynnews, and 325,746 others

ynylnfans: Y/N at the airport this morning, going to the qatar gp!

user: the queen of airport looks😭

user: love the way she makes that ludicrously capacious bag work🫡

user: oh to be y/n and travel the world while looking this good

view all 6,625 comments

user: see everyone is sad because we have to share her with the f1 girlies but i'm just glad we're getting looks

user: her fashion game on race weekends have been on point

ynofficial posted a story!

ynofficial posted a story!

ynofficial tagged location: losail international circuit

Liked by maxverstappen1, ynylnfans, f1wagss and 827,637 others

ynofficial: how does the saying go again? third time's the charm✌️☝️

user: no way, no actual way

user: have you not seen her story...

user: i knew she was a red bull girl, but i didn't know she was THE red bull girl😭

user: okay but when is the new album dropping?? the kids need music

the comments on this post has been limited

maxverstappen1

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, ynofficial and 836,547 others

maxverstappen1: the past couple of days with ms yln

user: i'm so confused right now🤨

user: where is the race content and who is this man??

user: i can't believe this post just called me single in all the languages ever

ynofficial: always a pleasure🫶

maxverstappen1: ❤️

view all 21,536 comments

danielricciardo: is this why you said no to hanging out?

maxverstappen1: what do you think?

ynofficial

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, yg_ent_official and 998,625 others

ynofficial: date night with one mr verstappen

user: I NEED HER WARDROBE, RIGHT NOW😭

user: girl, i get that you're happy and in love, but please drop a song or something😭

ynofficial: after date night?👀

user: i never thought i'd be jealous of max verstappen but here we are

view all 32,746 comments

maxverstappen1: ❤️

ynofficial: 🥹

ynofficial

Liked by yg_ent_official, iconnews, jennyrubyjane and 982,927 others

ynofficial: third time's the charm. out this friday. enjoy🤭

user: OH I KNEW IT

user: i can't believe we're getting a song about sid from ice age

user: sid and the dragon babies

redbullracing: are we invited to the listening party?

ynofficial: of course!🥹

user: finally, it's been so long😭

maxverstappen1: oh i definitely will

ynofficial: i know you will🙃

view all 542,243 comments

user: damn, this right after the hard launch of the century??