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bangchansdirty-slut · 2 months ago

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Psycho Killer

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Paring: Top!GP!SerialKiller!Winter x Bttm!Therapist!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Winter, a notorious serial killer, becomes obsessed with her therapist, Y/n, while attending sessions for childhood trauma. After killing Y/n’s untrustworthy girlfriend in a jealous rage, Winter, wearing her killer’s mask, breaks into Y/n’s home, ready to reveal her twisted devotion.

More: Masterlist

A/n: My mom grounded me, so I can only use my computer at school, so I wrote this at school.

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"Is it always going to be like this?" Winter's voice was a cool breeze, devoid of emotion as she sat in the chair opposite Y/n, her therapist. She toyed with the ends of her ginger hair, her eyes a frosty blue that seemed to peer into the depths of Y/n's soul.

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes full of empathy. "Every session is a step forward, Winter. Sometimes it feels like two steps back, but trust the process." Her voice was a gentle coax, the room a cocoon of safety.

Winter's gaze sharpened. "You don't understand. The world outside is a minefield, and everyone's just waiting to blow me up." Her words were a stark contrast to the serene office, the walls lined with diplomas and the scent of lavender candles trying to soothe the air.

Y/n nodded, maintaining eye contact. "Your trust issues are valid, but let's explore them together. What happened in your past that makes you feel so… unsafe?"

Winter's eyes narrowed, a hint of anger flashing through them. "You're not special," she said, her voice a low growl. "You're just like everyone else."

Y/n remained unfazed, her expression calm and understanding. "I know you've been hurt, but I'm here to help you heal."

Winter's grip tightened on the armrests, her jaw clenching. "You can't fix me," she spat, a flicker of pain crossing her face.

Y/n's voice remained steady. "I'm not here to fix you, Winter. I'm here to listen and guide you through the healing process."

Winter's icy demeanor cracked slightly, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath. "Why do you even care?" she murmured, the question hanging in the air like a shard of broken ice.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because everyone deserves to live without fear, to find happiness. That's what therapy is about."

Winter studied her for a moment, then sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," she said, her voice softer. "Let's talk."

Their sessions grew more intense as the weeks passed, a dance of words and emotions that saw Winter slowly peeling back the layers of her armor. Y/n was patient, a beacon of light in the cold, dark labyrinth of Winter's psyche. The therapist's office became a sanctuary where the frosty facade of the killer melted away, revealing a girl desperately yearning for connection.

Winter spoke of her childhood, her words a frostbitten whisper of pain and betrayal. Each session chipped away at the wall she had built, the ice queen slowly thawing before Y/n's warmth. Y/n's empathy was a balm to her tortured soul, and she found herself craving the gentle touch of understanding that only her therapist seemed to provide.

One evening, as the sun bled into the sky, painting the horizon with crimson hues, Winter lay in wait outside Y/n's apartment. She had followed her from the office, curiosity and something darker coiling in her stomach. Through the crack in the blinds, she watched as Y/n's girlfriend arrived, her laughter too bright, too false.

Winter's heart turned to ice. She knew the type—charming, manipulative, the kind that would leave scars. Her fists clenched around the handle of her signature knife, the cold steel a comforting weight. This couldn't stand. Y/n was hers to protect, to cherish. That night, as the shadows grew long, she made her decision.

The following session, Winter was unusually quiet, her eyes distant and haunted. Y/n sensed a shift, a storm brewing beneath the calm surface. She waited, letting the silence stretch taut between them, giving Winter the space to speak when she was ready.

"I had a… a disturbing dream," Winter finally said, her voice shaky. "It was about someone dying."

Y/n leaned in, her eyes searching Winter's face for clues. "Tell me about it," she urged, her voice a soothing lilt.

Winter took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was you," she said, her gaze dropping to her interlaced fingers. "Someone was hurting you, and I couldn't stop them."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a warm caress. "It's just a dream."

Winter looked up, her eyes a tempest of emotions. "But what if it's not?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't control the monster inside me?"

Y/n reached out, her hand hovering over Winter's. "You're not a monster, you're just lost," she said firmly. "We'll find your way together."

Winter's eyes searched Y/n's, and she saw something she hadn't before—hope. It was a dangerous emotion, one she had long ago buried under layers of anger and fear. But here it was, pulsing through her veins like a trapped animal desperate to break free.

"I want to believe you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Y/n nodded, her hand now resting gently on Winter's. "You can, Winter. We'll do this together."

But Winter's thoughts were spiraling. Her obsession grew with every beat of her heart, and she knew she couldn't let anyone else hurt Y/n. She needed to be the one in control. She needed Y/n to be hers and only hers.

That night, she watched as Y/n's girlfriend left her house, her eyes following the taunting sway of her hips. Winter knew what she had to do. With the precision of a seasoned predator, she stalked the girlfriend through the quiet streets, her rage a silent symphony in her ears.

The girlfriend's screams pierced the night as Winter attacked, her movements swift and methodical. The knife sliced through the air, and with each cut, she felt a piece of her own pain dissipate. The girlfriend's eyes widened in horror, realizing too late the gravity of her actions. Winter's face was a mask of cold determination, her heart a block of ice as she watched the life drain from the woman's body.

When it was over, she returned to her own apartment, the echoes of the girlfriend's screams still ringing in her ears. She showered, scrubbing away the blood and the guilt, but the feeling of satisfaction lingered, a dark blossom in her chest. Winter knew she had crossed a line, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Y/n was safe now, free from the clutches of a woman who didn't deserve her.

The next session with Y/n was fraught with tension. Winter sat in the chair, the weight of her secret pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. She watched her therapist with a mix of longing and fear, her eyes hungry for the warmth she knew she didn't deserve.

Y/n noticed the change in her patient, the subtle shifts in body language and tone. "Winter," she said, her voice a gentle prod. "What's on your mind today?"

Winter's eyes flicked to the floor, then back up to meet Y/n's. "It's nothing," she said, her voice a brittle lie. "Just… stress."

Y/n nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Winter swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in her throat. She had killed for Y/n, had become the monster she feared she was to protect the one person who had ever offered her kindness. Yet she found herself unable to speak the truth. "No," she said, her voice a hollow echo. "It's just… personal."

Y/n's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to cover Winter's. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Winter nodded, her throat tight. "I know," she croaked. But she couldn't. Not this. Not yet. The lie sat heavy on her tongue, a cold, dead weight.

The following week, Y/n noticed a newfound tension in Winter's demeanor. Her eyes darted around the room, and she was jumpy, her responses clipped and curt. Y/n's concern grew with every passing minute, her gut telling her that something was very wrong.

"Winter," she said softly, her eyes searching the other woman's face. "What happened?"

Winter's jaw tightened, her eyes flickering to the side. "It's nothing," she murmured, her voice a whisper of a storm. "I just… had a rough week."

Y/n leaned in, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "You can share anything with me," she said, her voice a warm embrace. "I'm here to help."

Winter took a deep breath, the walls of her heart threatening to crumble under the weight of her obsession. "It's just… I can't shake these thoughts," she admitted, her voice strained. "These… dark thoughts."

Y/n's eyes searched hers, a silent plea for her to continue. "Thoughts about what, Winter?"

Winter took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Thoughts about… protecting you," she said, her voice a whisper. "Thoughts about what I would do to anyone who tries to hurt you."

Y/n's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine. "Winter, you don't have to do anything like that. I can handle my own problems."

Winter's gaze grew intense, her eyes burning with a fiery determination. "You don't understand," she said, her voice a low growl. "They don't get to hurt you. No one does."

Y/n felt a strange mix of fear and comfort at the possessive tone in Winter's voice. "Who are 'they'?" she asked, her voice a gentle coax.

Winter leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "The ones who don't deserve you," she said, her voice a deadly whisper. "The ones who hurt you, betray you."

Y/n's heart raced as she realized the depth of Winter's obsession. "What have you done?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Winter's eyes searched Y/n's, desperation clinging to every word. "I've taken care of it," she said, her tone final. "You don't have to worry about 'they' anymore."

Y/n's heart hammered in her chest. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"The session is over Y/n," Winter said abruptly, her eyes hardening. "Remember, It was all for you."

Y/n nodded, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. As Winter left, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled into her bones. The girlfriend's sudden disappearance had made the local news, but the thought of her being involved never once crossed her mind.

Y/n went home that night with a sense of dread coiling in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Winter had done something terrible, all in the twisted name of protecting her. The house was eerily quiet, the usual comfort of her sanctuary now feeling suffocating. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to dull the edge of her anxiety.

As she sat at her desk in her bedroom, Y/n's thoughts raced. Her mind was a tornado of doubt and fear, swirling around the words Winter had left unsaid. The quiet hum of the city outside her window did little to soothe her racing heart. Her eyes fell upon the framed photo of her and her girlfriend, now a haunting reminder of a happiness that felt like a distant memory.

With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and dialed her girlfriend's number, the ringtone echoing through the empty apartment. It went straight to voicemail. Her heart plummeted. Something was wrong. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that her world was about to shatter.

That very same night, the masked Winter found herself standing outside Y/n's apartment, the cold steel of her knife pressing against her palm. The darkness whispered to her, egging her on. She couldn't ignore the siren call of her obsession. It was time to reveal her true self, to show Y/n that she was the one worthy of her love and trust.

With a silent prayer to the moon, she slipped inside, the shadows welcoming her like a long-lost friend. The apartment was a maze of shadows and memories, each step bringing her closer to the woman who had unwittingly captured her heart.

Winter moved with the grace of a ghost, the mask she wore a silent declaration of her intentions. Her eyes searched the darkness, seeking out the room where Y/n lay, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows. Her heart thundered in her chest, a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The need to be close to Y/n had grown into an obsession, a hunger that gnawed at her soul. She had to show her that she was the only one who truly cared.

As she approached the bedroom door, she heard the faint sound of Y/n’s voice, a whisper in the dark. She paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob, her breaths shallow and quick. The sound grew louder, and she realized it was Y/n's voice on the phone, desperate and fearful.

"Hello? Hello? Where are you?" Y/n's voice was a raw, trembling plea. Winter's heart clenched at the sound, a mix of satisfaction and guilt. She knew she had to act. She couldn't let Y/n suffer any longer. With the grace of a panther, she entered the room, the moon casting a silver glow across the bed.

Y/n jumped at the sudden intrusion, Winter's hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. She looked up to see the masked figure standing over her, the cold moonlight glinting off the blade in her hand. Her eyes grew wide with terror, the phone slipping from her grip and clattering to the floor.

Winter took a step closer, her eyes peering into Y/n's terrified gaze. Slowly, she reached up and removed the mask, her own eyes brimming with a fervent mix of love and fear. "It's me," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "It's just me."

Y/n stared at her, recognition dawning in her eyes. She pushed herself back against the headboard, the fear slowly morphing into anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, her voice shaking.

Winter's grip on the knife tightened, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "I came for you," she said, her voice low and intense. "To show you that I'm the only one who truly cares for you, who will keep you safe." She caressed Y/n's cheek with the back of her hand, the cold steel of the knife a stark contrast to her warm touch.

Y/n's breath hitched, a mix of anger and confusion clouding her vision. "What are you talking about?" she spat out, pushing Winter's hand away. "You're just my patient. You don't know me like that."

Winter's expression grew pained. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice filled with a desperation that chilled Y/n to the core. "I know everything about you. Your favorite shows, your favorite book, the way you take your coffee. I've studied you, Y/n. I know you better than anyone."

Y/n's heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the madness in Winter's eyes. "What have you done?" she choked out, her voice trembling with fear.

Winter raised the knife, the blood stained blade glinting in the moonlight. "I've removed the one who didn't deserve you," she said, her voice a soft growl. "Your girlfriend, the one who hurt you. She can't hurt you anymore."

Y/n's eyes went wide with horror as the pieces fell into place. "No," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Winter, no."

Winter's eyes searched hers, a storm of emotions raging behind the icy facade. "You don't understand," she said, her voice a desperate plea. "I did it for us."

Y/n's eyes grew colder than the steel blade. "Get out," she snarled, her voice laced with venom.

Winter's hand wavered, the knife still poised dangerously close to Y/n's face. "But I did it for you," she repeated, the desperation in her tone growing stronger. "I couldn't let her hurt you."

Y/n's voice was like a whip cracking through the air. "Get out of my house, and get help," she ordered, her voice shaking with rage and fear. "You're not the person I thought you were."

Winter's hand lowered, the knife clattering to the floor. Her eyes searched Y/n's face, a silent plea for understanding. "But I love you," she murmured, the words a hoarse whisper.

Y/n's expression was a twisted mask of anger and fear. "Love doesn't mean controlling me or hurting others," she spat. "Get out." Y/n stood up.

Winter grabbed Y/n's waist and pushed her down onto the bed, her eyes wild with a fierce determination that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. "You don't understand," she hissed, her grip tightening. "You're mine now."

Y/n's heart raced as she stared up at the crazed woman she had once considered a patient. "Winter, you need help," she said, her voice trembling.

Winter leaned down, her ginger hair brushing against Y/n's cheek. "You're all the help I need," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. She claimed Y/n's lips in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, her hands moving to untie the therapist's wrists.

Y/n's mind raced as she felt the knots loosen, her thoughts a tumult of fear and disbelief. Yet, as Winter kissed her, a strange warmth began to unfurl within her. The line between terror and arousal blurred, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

Breaking the kiss, Winter whispered, "Let me show you how much you mean to me." Her eyes searched Y/n's, desperate for a glimmer of acceptance.

Y/n's breath was ragged, her body a battleground of emotions. But as she stared into the depths of Winter's eyes, she saw something she hadn't before—pain. A desperate, all-consuming pain that mirrored her own. She didn't know if it was fear or pity, but she found herself nodding, her body going limp beneath the other woman's touch.

Winter's eyes lit up with a feral hunger as she began to undress Y/n, her movements deft and sure. Each piece of clothing that fell away revealed more of Y/n's soft, warm flesh, a stark contrast to the cold metal of the knife still lying on the floor.

Y/n's thoughts were a chaotic maelstrom, her body responding against her will to the surprising gentleness of Winter's touch. Her mind screamed for her to fight, to push the madness away, but something in those piercing eyes held her captive, a silent promise that she couldn't quite understand.

Winter's lips trailed down Y/n's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. Y/n's body was betraying her, arching into the kisses, her breathing growing ragged. The warmth of Winter's mouth moved lower, her tongue tracing the curve of her collarbone, making her squirm with a mix of fear and desire.

Winter paused, her eyes meeting Y/n's, searching for any sign of rejection. But all she found was a strange mix of anger and need. Her own need was a living, breathing creature within her, demanding to be sated. She leaned back, her eyes never leaving Y/n's as she unbuckled her own pants, revealing the girl cock she had kept hidden beneath her clothes.

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of shock and curiosity. Despite her fear, she felt a heat pooling in her stomach. She had never been with someone like Winter before, never felt such a primal, overwhelming desire from a woman.

Winter leaned over her, the tip of her cock brushing against Y/n's thigh. "Do you want this?" she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

Y/n's eyes narrowed, anger and lust warring within her. "I don't know what you think you're doing," she hissed, her voice thick with emotion. "But if you think this will fix anything, you're wrong."

Winter ignored the words, her gaze locked on Y/n's exposed neck. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red beads in her wake. "You're mine," she whispered, the words a dark benediction.

Y/n felt a strange thrill at the possessive bite, the sting of pain mingling with the warmth spreading through her body. "You can't just take what you want," she growled, trying to push Winter away. But her protests were weak, her body betraying her with every shiver of pleasure.

Winter's eyes flashed with something primal, a dark need that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. "But I'm not taking," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "I'm giving." And with that, she slid into Y/n with a gentle, yet insistent pressure that made Y/n's eyes roll back in her head.

The pain was brief, replaced almost immediately by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Y/n couldn't help but moan, her body responding to the intrusion with a wanton eagerness that shocked her to her core.

Winter took the sound as a sign of encouragement, her hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had Y/n's legs wrapping around her waist of their own accord. The room was a symphony of gasps and sighs, the only light coming from the moon outside, casting an eerie glow across their tangled forms.

Y/n's nails dug into Winter's back, her teeth clenched as the pleasure grew, a crescendo building with each stroke. The anger and fear were still there, but now they were mingled with a need so intense it was almost painful. Her body was a live wire, every touch from Winter sending electric jolts of sensation through her.

Winter's eyes were closed, lost in the feel of Y/n's warmth enveloping her. The tightness, the wetness, it was everything she had dreamt of and more. She whispered sweet nothings in Y/n's ear, her voice a soft caress that seemed to reach into the very core of her soul.

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the reality of the situation. But the sensations were too intense, too overwhelming to ignore. Her body responded to Winter's touch in a way she had never experienced before, her mind a haze of anger, fear, and a disturbing thrill.

Winter's thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, her own moans mingling with Y/n's. She whispered sweet, dark promises of protection and belonging, her breath hot and heavy against Y/n's neck. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice a hoarse chant.

Y/n felt the climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. She wanted to hate it, to push Winter away, but her body craved the release that was so close, the feeling of being claimed by this woman who had invaded her life so thoroughly.

Winter's hand moved to Y/n's throat, her grip firm but not painful, the pressure a silent declaration of her dominance. Y/n's eyes flew open, a mix of anger and arousal in her gaze as she stared up at the woman who had become her tormentor and, now, her lover.

Winter felt the tension in Y/n's body, the way she arched into her touch, and knew she was close. She leaned down, her teeth grazing Y/n's earlobe as she whispered, "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

Y/n's eyes narrowed, the anger and lust warring within her. But as Winter's thumb traced circles around her clit, she couldn't hold back any longer. "I'm yours," she gasped, the words torn from her in a mix of anger and pleasure.

Winter's eyes lit up with triumph, her strokes becoming more intense. "That's right," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're mine to protect, to cherish."

The words sent a shiver down Y/n's spine, her body responding in ways she never thought possible. She felt the orgasm building, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her. Winter's eyes bore into hers, the intensity of her stare almost as overwhelming as the sensations that rocked her body.

"Winter~," she choked out, her voice a desperate plea.

Winter's eyes widened, the sound of her own name on Y/n's lips like a sweet symphony. She leaned closer, her cock driving deeper into the therapist's wet heat. "Say it again," she demanded, her voice a mix of lust and possessiveness.

"Winter," Y/n gasped, her body trembling. "I'm yours."

The admission seemed to push Winter over the edge, her hips moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, the pleasure consuming her. She felt Winter's climax building, the other woman's body tightening around her, and she knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust, Winter came, her body shuddering with the force of it. Y/n's own orgasm followed, a wave that crashed over her, leaving her trembling and breathless. They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies tangled together in a mess of sweat and passion.

Winter leaned down, her forehead resting against Y/n's, their breath mingling in the heavy silence. "You feel so good," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "I knew you would."

Y/n stared up at her, the anger and fear now tempered by the raw intimacy of the moment. "What now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Winter pulled out of her, a look of satisfaction and possessiveness etched on her face. "Now," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "you're mine."

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mediocre-shark-tales · 2 months ago

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Azerbajian GP Weekend Part 2

Masterlist

The engine hummed beneath me, a steady rhythm that barely masked the tension coiling in my chest. Halfway through the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, I was still holding P10. A solid position, but I couldn’t help the restless fire burning in my veins. The car felt good—responsive, nimble—but it wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not when I had to prove so much more than the others ever expected.

Santino’s words echoed in my mind like an unbearable buzz. I’d barely had a chance to catch my breath from the barrage of rumors swirling around me when his latest attempt to undermine me dropped like a bomb. Santino Ferrucci, a man who had never seen the value in anyone else unless it served him, was now playing his cards to feed the gossip machine. The same ex-teammate who’d made it clear from the moment I stepped into the F2 paddock that he wanted nothing to do with me. The same guy who didn’t even give me the chance to prove myself before deciding I was nothing more than a distraction. Now, somehow, he had the media eating out of his hand, painting me as some kind of problem child, someone who didn’t belong.

I gripped the steering wheel, teeth clenched, my eyes narrowing as I weaved through the unforgiving turns of the Baku City Circuit. The whispers—those rumors—were becoming louder and louder in the background of my mind. The media. The drivers. My ex-teammate. They all thought they could write my story for me, that they could decide my worth before I ever had a chance to prove myself.

But they were wrong.

I could feel the heat rising in me. The pressure to be perfect. To show them all that I was more than just a headline. That I was more than Santino’s petty attempts to tear me down. He didn’t know half of it. Didn’t understand how hard I’d worked, how much I’d sacrificed, or what I had to overcome just to be here. Every inch of my success had been earned, fought for—not given. And I wasn’t about to let a jealous ex-teammate or a handful of shallow opinions take that away from me.

As I entered the DRS zone, I could see the cars ahead of me, their tail lights glowing like targets. I knew I had to stay focused. Keep my head clear. If I was going to finish this race the way I wanted—no, the way I needed to—I couldn’t let their words break me.

With a snap of my fingers on the steering wheel, I activated the DRS. The rush of speed surged through me, and I pulled in on the cars ahead, inching closer to the top six. I didn’t have to look back to know that the battle for the points was heating up behind me, but I could feel the fire inside me intensifying with each lap, fueled by the hatred Santino had tried to spread.

They thought I’d fall. They thought the rumors would hold me back. They thought I couldn’t handle it.

But I was going to prove them wrong.

I floored the throttle, my mind locked in on the finish line. With every corner, every straight, I could feel the anger, the frustration, and the hunger building inside me. I wasn’t just racing against these drivers—I was racing against the world that had already counted me out. By the time I crossed the finish line, they wouldn’t just remember my name. They’d remember how hard I fought to earn my place.

P6.

It wasn’t just a position on the board. It was my victory. My revenge against the whispers, the lies, and the people who underestimated me.

And as the checkered flag waved in the distance, I knew one thing for sure: I would never, ever let anyone define me again.

The celebrations following the end of the race were a blur of cheers, high-fives, and the kind of joy that made all the hard work worth it. A smile finally returned to my face as it sunk in—I had done it. P6. I had crossed that finish line ahead of so many doubters, my heart racing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph.

It felt surreal. After all the rumors, all the noise, all the moments of doubt—I had pushed through. And not only had I made it to the top ten, but I had also outperformed my own teammate, who had finished just behind me in P7. The pride I felt wasn’t just for the result, but for what it represented. I wasn’t just a placeholder. I wasn’t just surviving in this paddock. I was racing. I was competing. I was proving that I belonged here, every bit as much as anyone else.

Franco caught my eye across the paddock, grinning from ear to ear as he raised his fist in my direction. We’d both pushed so hard, and now, we had something to celebrate. It felt good to finally have something that belonged to me—something I had earned, without anyone’s help or approval.

I glanced over at the screen showing the final race standings, and there it was: P6. The numbers didn’t lie, and neither did my efforts. This race wasn’t just a win on the board—it was a win for everything I had fought against, everything I had pushed through. I had done more than prove myself to my team; I had proven something to myself. And that was worth celebrating.

Yet, when I finally reached the end of media pen, my smile quickly faded. I had barely stepped into the area when I saw who was waiting for me. Of course, it was him—the same interviewer who had tried to tear me down from the very beginning. The one who had asked all the probing, personal questions, pushing me to crack in front of the cameras. It wasn’t just that he had a way of twisting words; it was that he seemed to take pleasure in it.

I could see his smug expression as he adjusted his microphone, ready to ask the same pointed questions he always did. He had even been the one to interview my ex-teammate, Santino Ferrucci—the guy who had never once given me a chance to prove myself in F2, and whose lies about me had been used to fuel the worst rumors that followed me.

The thought of it was enough to make my blood simmer. I had worked my ass off to make it here, to get to this moment, and yet here I was again—staring down someone who was more interested in sensationalism than the hard work behind it all. It felt like a constant uphill battle, one I was tired of fighting, but I knew I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when I had just shown the world what I was capable of.

I squared my shoulders, trying to push down the frustration rising in my chest. This wasn’t the time to show weakness, not with all that I had fought for hanging in the balance.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure as the interviewer’s voice broke through the hum of the paddock.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone already carrying the sharp edge I knew all too well, “there's still a lot of talk about your time away from racing. Many people are wondering why you left F2 so abruptly. Some say it was just a matter of timing, that you were simply ‘training’ for F1... but others think there’s more to the story.”

I could feel my jaw tighten as he carefully crafted his words. He wasn’t just asking for information—he was fishing, poking at a wound I wasn’t ready to reopen. I could hear the whispers in his voice, the way he implied I was hiding something.

I clenched my fists, but kept my face neutral. “I've already said this before,” I replied, my voice steady despite the rising anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I left to train. I needed to focus on becoming the best version of myself, and I made the choice to step away so I could be ready for the challenges ahead. And honestly, that’s all there is to it.”

His eyes narrowed, not buying it for a second. He pressed on, undeterred. “Right, right. But... you didn’t mention much about what happened during that time. Rumors have been circulating—specifically about your sudden departure and your reasons for being away. You see, many believe you had personal matters going on, things that weren’t exactly... racing-related. Some have even suggested your absence was tied to... other things.” He let the last part hang in the air like a threat.

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my fists tightening into balls of anger. I could already tell where this was going, and I wasn’t going to let him drag it out. He wasn’t going to paint me as some secretive, unprofessional driver just because of his own assumptions and the garbage people like Santino had been spreading.

I stared him down, my voice cutting through the tense air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone unwavering. “You can ask all the questions you want, but the truth is, you’re just speculating. And frankly, I’m tired of answering questions based on rumors. So if you’re looking for some juicy story about me, you’re not going to find it here. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

The interviewer wasn’t backing down. He smirked, pushing further, almost daring me to break. “You know, some of these rumors have real consequences. People in the paddock have talked about you being too emotional, not cut out for this level of competition. And others... well, they wonder why you’ve clung so tightly to that turtle necklace. Surely that’s a little... odd, don’t you think?”

The words hit me like a slap in the face. He was baiting me, trying to get me to say something that would let him twist it into another story. But this time, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The anger that had been simmering in my gut finally boiled over.

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I locked onto his smug expression. “You want to know why I wear this necklace?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You want to know what it means?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s because of my mother. She passed away while I was away. I had to leave everything behind because she was dying. And now she’s gone. So if you want to keep throwing insults and rumors at me, go ahead. But you don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. You don’t know what I went through.”

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. The interviewer fell silent, his expression faltering as my words sank in. The entire paddock seemed to freeze, the tension hanging thick. I didn’t care about the cameras, the microphones, or the rumors anymore. This was the truth. My truth.

I took a steadying breath, still seething with anger, and stood up. “And as for the turtles,” I continued, my voice still shaking with emotion, “they’re a reminder of her. Not because I think I’m slow, but because she loved them. Because they remind me of her strength. She was a fighter. And I’m going to keep fighting for her. So you can keep spinning your stories, but I’m done talking to you.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the stunned silence in my wake. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, but I didn’t care. The interview had turned into something else entirely—a moment of truth I wasn’t about to take back.

I didn’t know if I had silenced the interviewer or just made everything worse, but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had taken control. And if that meant walking away from this media circus, so be it. I had nothing to prove to them anymore.

I marched into my driver’s room, desperate for some space to breathe and escape from the chaos swirling around me. The weight of everything—rumors, lies, the pain of the day—settled deep in my chest, threatening to choke me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not here.

I paced the room, my fists clenched, trying to keep the floodgates closed. But then, just a minute or two later, I heard a knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to take a deep breath before walking over to answer it.

When I cracked the door open, I was met with the sight of Franco, flanked by Lewis and, for some reason, Charles. I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to deal with anyone right now.

Franco noticed my reluctance and offered me a softer, sad smile. It was enough to break through the anger clouding my mind.

“Please, Hermosa,” he said gently, his tone filled with concern. “Let us chat in private. Just a few minutes. Please.”

I glanced over at Lewis and Charles, who were standing behind Franco, their expressions unreadable but soft enough that I could tell they weren’t here to make things harder for me. With a sigh, I pushed the door open a little wider, stepping aside to let them in.

The moment they entered, the tension in the room seemed to lighten slightly, but it didn’t take away the knot that had formed in my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and be left alone, but I knew they were here to help—whether I liked it or not.

Charles’s voice cut through the silence in the room, surprising me. He wasn’t usually the first to speak up, but the sincerity in his words caught me off guard.

“First, I want to apologize,” he began, his expression softening. “For allowing myself to believe the rumors, even for a second. I should have known better, especially after all these years. And I’m sorry. I know I can’t fully understand what you’ve been going through, but I can relate to losing a parent before they truly got to see you succeed. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I may not know what it’s like to hide behind rumors to protect your pain, but I know the grief of losing someone close to you.”

His words hit harder than I expected, and I could feel the weight of his empathy in his tone. Charles smiled at me, a smile that held more vulnerability than I’d ever seen from him before.

“I want to offer you my help. I want to be someone you can turn to, someone who will listen without judgment,” he continued. “It’s definitely owed to you, after everything... after ignoring you just because of some baseless rumors.”

I didn’t know how to respond at first. My heart felt heavy with the realization that someone who had once been indifferent—if not cold—toward me, was now standing here, offering support when I needed it most. I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts before I spoke, but the sincerity of his apology left me momentarily speechless.

Franco stepped forward then, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Hermosa, you don't have to say anything right now. Just know that we're here for you, whenever you're ready."

For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to relax—if only for a moment. I was still angry. I was still hurt. But, perhaps, things were starting to change.

Lewis’s voice broke the moment of silence, his tone lighter than before. “You don’t have to worry about that interviewer anymore, by the way,” he said, his words catching me off guard.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"

Lewis smirked, leaning back slightly with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, as much as I would have loved to be the one to hand his ass back to him on a silver platter, Max beat me to it.” He chuckled, clearly amused by the turn of events. “At least we found something else to agree on.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised laugh at his casual tone. It was good to hear that Max had stood up for me again. Franco’s smile widened, clearly relieved by the lighter shift in the conversation. “Good. That man deserved it,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

I nodded slowly, taking in what they had said. Despite the chaos of the day, it was comforting to know that not everyone believed the rumors or enjoyed feeding into the drama. I appreciated their support, even if it was difficult for me to fully let go of the anger still simmering inside.

"Thanks, Lewis," I said, finally finding my voice again. Lewis shrugged nonchalantly, his grin still there. "We’ve all been there at some point. It’s about time some of the nonsense gets put to bed, don’t you think?"

I nodded, feeling a small weight lift from my chest. Suddenly, Franco let out a soft laugh and, without warning, shoved his phone into my hands. "You’ve got to see this," he said, his voice full of amusement.

I looked at him, confused for a moment, before I glanced down at the phone. Franco had already queued up a video, and my eyes went wide as I saw Max’s familiar figure step into the frame right after I had stormed off.

Max stood at the media pen, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as he stared directly at the interviewer who had just tried to tear me down. His voice cut through the air, sharper than I had ever heard it.

“If you want to keep making up lies about someone who’s just here to race, you can keep doing that,” Max started, his tone filled with frustration. “But don’t you ever come at her like that again. It’s one thing to talk trash, but you’ve crossed a line.”

The interviewer shifted uncomfortably, but Max wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his voice growing louder with each word, making sure everyone in the vicinity could hear him.

“You’ve been digging so deep, trying to unearth some dirty little secret, but all you’ve managed to do is expose yourself for what you really are—a pathetic excuse for a journalist," Max continued, his eyes burning with anger. "You think you know the full story, but you don’t know anything about what’s going on behind the scenes. You want to judge her? Let’s talk about your pathetic need to pry into people’s lives for a cheap headline."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, giving the interviewer no room to respond.

"She's been protecting her family, dealing with a loss that most people would never understand. Her mother’s been gone for weeks now, and she’s been putting all of her energy into racing. All you’ve managed to do is twist that into something ugly. So next time you want to attack someone, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror and figure out who the real asshole is here.”

Max’s words hung in the air, silencing the crowd around him. The interviewer had no comeback, his face going pale. Max’s fierce defense had not only shut him down but had made it clear: he wasn’t going to let anyone continue to harass me without facing the consequences.

I stood there, a little in awe, feeling an unexpected warmth in my chest. Max had always been a competitor, but seeing him stand up for me like this... it was something else.

Franco let out a chuckle as I stared at the screen. "Max doesn't usually get involved in stuff like that, but... you’ve got to admit, it's nice to see him standing up for you."

I was almost speechless. Seeing Max, of all people, not just defend me but make such a statement to the media made me feel something I hadn’t expected—gratitude. I looked up at Franco, who was still grinning like a proud big brother.

“I... wow,” I muttered, still processing the video. “That’s... that’s really something.”

Franco smiled, his eyes softening as he watched me. “Told you. People are starting to see the truth.”

It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. It was a reminder that, even in the midst of all the chaos, not everyone believed the rumors or was content to let them fly.

I exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me. "I guess maybe there's still hope for some of them, huh?"

"Absolutely," Franco said, his grin widening. "And you’ve got us. Always."

#x reader #f1 angst #driver!reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #franco colapinto #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #george russell #grill the grid #f1 grid x reader

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bitchiswild · 1 year ago

Text

No Harm's List

GP Karina × F! Reader

Warnings: Smut, kidnapping, guns, idk🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 7.9k

A/n: It was getting good but then I started spewing out words for the plot sorry if it's bad/ doesn't make sense.😬

〰・♡・〰

The door burst open with a deafening crash, the suddenness of it jolting everyone in the room. "EVERYBODY GET FUCKING DOWN NOW!" A voice boomed, the urgency unmistakable, as four figures rushed in brandishing weapons and firing shots into the ceiling. Panic rippled through the room like wildfire, screams piercing the air as people scrambled in terror, desperate to evade the chaos unfolding around them.

The thunderous sound of gunfire echoed, the rapid shots sending plaster and dust raining down. The room became a whirlwind of confusion and fear, with individuals dropping to the ground, seeking cover and safety, hearts pounding in their chests. The sheer terror of the moment immobilized many, their instincts urging them to shield themselves, hoping to avoid any harm in the frantic turmoil.

The assailants, their faces obscured behind masks, moved with a calculated menace, their commands sharp and threatening. The din of panic intertwined with the harsh orders, creating a disorienting symphony of terror. Every second felt like an eternity, the fear tangible in the air, thick and suffocating.

Amidst the chaos, cries for help and pleas for mercy mixed with the din, a desperate chorus of individuals caught in an unforeseen nightmare. The scene was a frenzy of uncertainty and dread, each person praying for a swift end to the terrifying ordeal that had befallen them.

"Tie them up and knock them out," commanded the leader's voice. The other three members swiftly organized the captives, binding them and using the rifles to render them unconscious. My heart pounded as I cowered in a corner, watching the chaos unfold. As the leader approached with a coil of rope, a glint of recognition flashed in their eyes.

"Y/n?" Their voice held a mix of shock and familiarity.

My breath caught at the sound of my name, and fear clenched my chest. "Still as beautiful as ever, darling," They continued in a softer tone, their eyes reflecting an unexpected tenderness. At that moment, I recognized Jimin, my first love, amidst the turmoil.

"Jimin," I uttered in disbelief, the rush of memories flooding back, colliding with the present chaos. His wink acknowledged the connection that bridged the years between us. Turning to the others securing the captives, Jimin raised his voice, announcing, "This girl's on the NHL!" Recognition flickered in their eyes as they looked upon my face. "Got it, boss!" they responded in unison.

The shock of encountering my first love amidst such a terrifying situation left me reeling. Questions churned in my mind, mingling with the fear and the bittersweet rush of memories long buried. Jimin's unexpected presence had added an unexpected twist to the intense and confusing scenario.

The chaos in the room intensified as I tried to make sense of the unfolding events. "NHL? What could that possibly mean?" I pondered silently, my mind racing as I observed the other members carrying out Jimin's orders, tying people up and rendering them unconscious.

Abruptly, the sound of a walkie-talkie pierced through the chaos. "Boss, you have 10 minutes till the cops and feds get here. Hurry up!" The urgency in the voice snapped me back to the tense reality of the situation. Karina, evidently in charge, sprang into action, urgently summoning one of her associates, Giselle. They swiftly moved towards the manager, coercing him to unlock the safe.

"Please, let me go," the manager pleaded desperately. But Karina's eyes remained void of emotion as she fired a shot, grazing his leg. "HURRY UP, OPEN THE SAFE!" Her demand cut through the air, her voice chillingly cold. The manager whimpered in pain and fear, complying as he opened the safe. As the safe door swung open, Giselle wasted no time, swiftly filling her duffle bag with cash.

Karina's gaze lingered on the injured manager, his eyes pleading for mercy. She looked down at him, before knocking him out with the butt of her gun. With a determined resolve, she joined Giselle in the safe, assisting in collecting the cash.

The scene unfolded with a terrifying efficiency, each action calculated and executed with precision.My mind reeled at the sudden brutality contrasted with the urgency of their actions. It was a stark reminder of the dangerous world I found myself caught up in, leaving me torn between fear and a disconcerting sense of witnessing a reality I never knew existed.

As they swiftly gathered the cash, stuffing it into a bulky duffle bag, the urgency of their actions was palpable. With the loot secured, the three members dashed towards the waiting getaway car, their hurried steps echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Meanwhile, Karina diverged from the hurried pace of her associates, taking a moment to approach me. With a tender touch, she caressed my face, her words carrying a mixture of reassurance and urgency. "I'll see you soon, darling," she murmured before hastening after the others, disappearing into the fray, her figure blending seamlessly into the night's chaos. Overwhelmed, I succumbed to unconsciousness.

As the chaos subsided and the adrenaline wore off, I found myself lying in a hospital bed, disoriented and groggy. The events of the robbery played on a loop in my mind, a surreal and terrifying experience that left me shaken to the core. My body ached from the stress, and as I tried to gather my bearings, the nurses rushed in upon my awakening.

"What happened?" I managed to croak out, my voice strained.

"You were at a bank during a robbery. The ordeal was extremely stressful, and your body reacted by causing you to pass out," explained the nurse, diligently checking my vitals.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted our conversation. Two uniformed officers entered the room. "Good day, Miss Y/Ln. I'm Officer Johnson, and this is my partner, Officer Park. We have some questions to ask you, if that's alright," they introduced themselves, their tone professional yet concerned.

"Um, I suppose so," I replied hesitantly. "But I must warn you, my memory is a bit fuzzy right now. I might have a hard time remembering everything that happened."

The officers nodded understandingly, pulling up chairs to sit nearby. They began asking me about the details of the robbery, trying to piece together the events based on my recollection. Despite my best efforts, the traumatic experience had left my memory fragmented, making it difficult to provide a clear account of the events that had transpired. The frustration of not being able to fully remember only added to the overwhelming sense of confusion and vulnerability.

I intentionally omitted that I knew Karina. Amidst the chaos, I wrestled with the decision to conceal our connection, unsure of the implications it might have. As the officers asked their questions, I struggled to navigate the fine line between protecting myself and revealing the truth.

"I'm sorry, officers," I began hesitantly, "I... I might have forgotten some details. It was all so overwhelming." Despite the inner turmoil, I held back the knowledge of recognizing Karina, uncertain of the consequences of revealing our prior acquaintance.

The officers nodded sympathetically, understanding the distress I was under. They continued to ask probing questions, trying to fill in the gaps in my memory. However, the deliberate omission weighed heavily on me, adding to the complex tangle of emotions swirling within.

With each passing moment, the guilt of withholding crucial information gnawed at me. But the fear of potential repercussions and the uncertainty of Karina's motives kept me silent. It was a conflicted state, grappling with the desire to protect myself while grappling with the moral dilemma of withholding information about someone involved in the crime.

As the interrogation continued, I struggled to balance my own safety with the ethical dilemma of concealing what I knew. The events of that fateful day lingered like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over my thoughts and leaving me torn between fear, guilt, and the moral responsibility to reveal the truth.

The officers concluded their questioning, leaving me alone in the room to grapple with the conflicting thoughts swirling within. Just as I contemplated speaking up about my knowledge of Karina, the door swung open once more.

"I'm sorry, officers, but I'm feeling unwell, and I can't handle any more questions," I started to explain, intending to divert their attention. However, my words trailed off as I caught sight of Karina entering the room, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

A wave of shock and apprehension washed over me at her unexpected appearance. I was torn between relief at seeing a familiar face amidst the chaos and the rising concern about the implications of her presence in this situation. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions.

Karina's calm demeanor contradicted the turmoil in my mind. She approached with a warm smile, the flowers held out in a gesture that seemed almost incongruous with the circumstances. My throat tightened, unsure of what to say or how to react to her sudden appearance in the hospital room. Her presence added another layer of complexity to the already perplexing situation, leaving me with more questions than answers.

The room felt charged with tension as Karina placed the bouquet of lilies on the nearby table, her soft voice breaking the silence. "Darling, how are you feeling?" she inquired, her concern genuine as she leaned closer.

My surprise at her presence mingled with a sense of caution. "Jimin, what are you doing here?" I murmured urgently, trying to keep our conversation discreet, aware of the potential consequences.

Karina's laughter held a touch of warmth. "Just checking up on you," she replied softly, her fingers delicately brushing my hair behind my ear, a gesture so familiar it stirred memories from our past.

Anxiety crept in as I spoke, the words tumbling out in a rush, "If you think I told the cops, I promise you, I didn't."

"I know you won't tell anyone, darling," she said, her gaze holding a depth of emotion, her hand gently clasping mine.

"How would you know that?" I raised an eyebrow, searching for answers in her eyes.

"Because of our past, because of the love we had," she said with a wistful smile, a subtle reference to our shared history that flooded my mind with a rush of conflicting emotions. The memories of our connection resurfaced, stirring a mix of longing and uncertainty, leaving me torn between the pull of the past and the weight of the present situation.

The weight of unanswered questions hung heavy in the air as I confronted Karina. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, desperate for an explanation, for any glimpse into the motives behind her involvement in these robberies.

"This isn't the place for me to explain, darling," she replied cryptically, her demeanor guarded yet strangely affectionate. With a swift motion, she handed me a card, a gesture laden with implications. I accepted it, staring at the card in my hand, a tangible link to a world I hadn't anticipated being a part of.

As Karina rose from her seat, a sense of helplessness washed over me. "I'll see you soon," she said, leaving me with a parting wink before vanishing through the door. The quiet room enveloped me once again, my mind swirling with more questions than answers, clutching onto the card as if it held the key to unraveling the mysteries surrounding Karina and her inexplicable actions.

Alone with my thoughts, I grappled with the complexity of emotions stirred by her unexpected visit. The weight of the past intertwined with the uncertainty of the present, leaving me torn between the desire to understand and the fear of delving deeper into a world that seemed both dangerous and familiar.

The anticipation built with each ringing tone, my heart racing as I held the card and dialed the number printed on it. The moment felt surreal, the phone pressed to my ear, amplifying the thrumming of my heartbeat. Finally, a voice on the other end broke the silence.

"Hello?" The familiar husky tone filtered through the line, sending a rush of emotions through me.

"Jimin, it's me, Y/n," I managed, my voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and urgency. "Where can we meet up?"

There was a brief pause, the weight of the situation palpable even through the phone line. Jimin's voice came through again, calm and measured, "I'll text you an address. Meet me there in an hour."

The call ended, leaving me with a whirlwind of emotions and a sense of apprehension. I awaited the text, my hands still shaking slightly from the conversation, bracing myself for what awaited me at the meeting point. The next steps were uncertain, but the need for answers and closure compelled me to follow through, despite the lingering sense of unease.

The grandeur of the mansion took my breath away as I stood before it, feeling a mix of awe and trepidation. With a deep breath, I approached the front door and rang the bell, unsure of what awaited me inside.

The door swung open, revealing a familiar face that filled me with both surprise and nostalgia. "Oh my god! Y/n! How are you doing, girl?" exclaimed the person, moving in for a hug. It was Ningning, an old friend from the past, and the shock of encountering her in this context jolted me.

"Oh my god, Ningning! You work with Karina??" I blurted out, my astonishment evident in my voice as I hugged her back, seeking answers.

"Yeah! You know how it is, BFFL," she laughed, a mix of familiarity and ease in her demeanor that momentarily calmed my nerves. We shared a chuckle, reminiscing about old times.

"Even Winter and Aeri are working with her, let me call them for you!" Ningning announced, her voice carrying through the halls. Within moments, Winter and Aeri appeared, their excitement palpable as they rushed toward me, enveloping me in a group hug.

"Y/n, how are you? You look amazing!" Winter exclaimed with a warm smile.

"Winter's right, you do look fantastic!" chimed in Aeri, her eyes reflecting genuine happiness at our unexpected reunion.

Surrounded by my old friends in this unexpected setting, a mixture of emotions swirled within me. The reunion brought back a flood of memories, yet the circumstances under which we had reunited left me with a tangled web of emotions, torn between the joy of seeing them and the unease of the situation they were involved in.

"She's here for me," a familiar voice boomed from the stairs, interrupting the reunion. The three girls, Winter, Aeri, and Ningning, promptly released me, understanding Karina's authority. My heart raced at her arrival, stirring unresolved feelings I harbored for her after all these years.

As Karina descended the stairs, her confident steps commanded attention and the girls continued to gush over me. "Girls, alright, that's enough," she directed firmly. The girls bid me farewell, respecting Karina's presence, and went back to their duties, leaving Karina and me facing each other in the mansion's opulent foyer.

"Come in, darling, make yourself at home," Karina beckoned, her gesture a blend of tenderness against the backdrop of her commanding presence. Following her inside, I couldn't help but voice my curiosity. "So, what's an NHL?" I inquired, intrigued by her terminology.

"It stands for No Harms List. I've established it to ensure that none of my gang members cause harm in any way, shape, or form," she explained, her tone carrying both authority and a sense of responsibility.

As I explored the interior, I marveled at the décor, a captivating reflection of my own aspirations for a future home. The ambiance exuded a sense of comfort and sophistication, hinting at a life I had long envisioned.

"You like it? I had you in mind while I was decorating," Karina confessed, her gaze holding mine with an intensity that took me by surprise. "What do you mean?" I questioned, a mix of astonishment and curiosity in my voice.

Karina hummed softly, her eyes filled with emotion. "I knew I was going to see you again one day, so I planned for our future. This is your home as much as it is mine," she revealed, her words tinged with a sincerity that stirred something deep within me.

The weight of her admission sank in, and I dared to ask, "You still love me?" My heart raced, the unspoken hope echoing in my mind.

"Oh, darling, I never stopped loving you," Karina confessed, turning to face me with eyes filled with unwavering affection. Her words left me reeling, a flood of emotions overwhelming my senses.

The weight of Karina's confession hung in the air, leaving me momentarily breathless. "Jimin, I don't know what to say," I sighed, the weight of emotions heavy in my chest, wrestling with the complexity of my feelings.

"Just say you still love me too. I can see it in your eyes; you still do. Our love was special, Y/n, and you know that too," Karina urged gently, her voice laced with a poignant mix of longing and hope.

Her words tugged at the strings of our shared history, memories of a love that had once felt unshakable. My mind raced as I grappled with the past, the emotions that her presence evoked, and the uncertainty of the present.

Caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, I stood there, speechless, torn between the familiarity of what was and the uncertainty of what could be. The intensity of our past love lingered in the air, leaving me adrift in a sea of emotions, unable to find the words to articulate the complexity of my feelings.

"Jimin, I mean, I've always loved you, there's no doubt in my mind," I began, my words carrying a weight of uncertainty. "But this is all happening so fast, too soon. I feel like I barely know you anymore. Are you still the Jimin I fell in love with?" The exasperation in my voice echoed my inner turmoil.

"I am. I've always been the Jimin that you know and love," Karina responded earnestly, but her next words struck me with a mix of shock and confusion. "I started this crime ring even before we met. I kept it a secret to protect you, to shield you from this world," she confessed, her admission feeling like both a revelation and a betrayal.

Her words left me reeling. A sense of betrayal seeped in alongside a conflicting feeling of being safeguarded. The revelation that she couldn't trust me enough to share this part of her life stung, yet paradoxically, I felt oddly protected by her secrecy. It was a confusing tangle of emotions that left me grappling with conflicting thoughts.

"Can I have some time to think about this?" I asked, the uncertainty evident in my voice.

"Of course, Darling," Karina chuckled, masking the gravity of the situation with a calm demeanor. "Come, let me give you a tour, and then I'll delve into the details about my crime ring," she offered, guiding me through the opulent halls of the mansion.

As we wandered through the grandeur, the clash of emotions continued to churn within me. The sense of betrayal intertwined with a strange feeling of safety, leaving me torn between love, trust, and the unexpected revelations. The tour was a temporary distraction, but the disconcerting mix of emotions lingered, casting a shadow over the uncertain path ahead.

The tour of Karina's mansion was a mesmerizing journey through exquisite spaces that felt like they were plucked from my dreams. Every corner exuded a touch of familiarity, resonating deeply with my tastes and preferences. It was as though Karina had an intimate understanding of my desires, crafting a home that felt so inherently me.

Eventually, we found ourselves in her office, a space that echoed sophistication and authority. Amongst the opulent decor, my eyes landed on a painting prominently displayed right in front of her desk—it was a portrait of me. A gasp involuntarily escaped my lips as I laid eyes on it, stunned by the unexpected sight.

"You were my light, my motivation, everything that was pushing me forward in life," Karina's voice broke the silence, filled with a depth of emotion that left me speechless. "So, I had someone paint a picture of you for me and hung it in my office, to help me power through all the stress and hardships," she confessed, her gaze fixed on the painting as we both stood there, captivated by the moment.

The revelation took me by surprise, stirring a mixture of emotions within me. The painting stood as a testament to the depth of Karina's feelings, a tangible symbol of her unwavering affection and the significance I held in her life. It was an intimate gesture that both moved and perplexed me, leaving me grappling with the intricate web of emotions that this unexpected revelation had woven.

"Here, come sit. Let me tell you about the Jimin that you've never known, aka Karina," Karina invited, her voice a blend of warmth and vulnerability. She gestured for me to join her on the couch, creating a moment of intimacy amidst the grandeur of her office.

Taking a seat beside her, I felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Karina's demeanor hinted at a side of her that remained hidden, a part of her life she was now willing to share. The air brimmed with a sense of revelation, and I waited, curious to uncover the layers of her past that had been veiled from me.

As we sat together, the weight of the moment hung in the air, the space between us charged with the possibility of understanding a different facet of Karina—of Jimin. The vulnerability in her gesture hinted at the depths she was about to reveal, leaving me both intrigued and apprehensive about what was to come.

As I turned to face her, a sense of readiness washed over me, my gaze fixed on Karina, poised to listen and understand the side of her that had been concealed from me. The air between us crackled with anticipation, a silent invitation for her to unravel the layers of her hidden life, to share the untold stories that shaped the enigmatic persona of Karina.

My eyes met hers, filled with a mix of curiosity and eagerness, signaling my willingness to hear her narrative, to comprehend the complexities that defined her existence as Jimin. I sat there with open ears, ready to absorb the revelations she was about to unfold, prepared to delve into the depths of her past and the clandestine world she inhabited, a realm that had remained shrouded in secrecy until now.

"Y/N, I need to share something I've kept hidden," Karina began, her tone tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "My parents... they didn't die in a car accident as I previously told you. They were murdered."

Her confession startled me, unraveling a truth I never knew existed. "My father was a crime boss," she continued, her voice weighed down by the weight of her revelation. "He taught me the ways of this world, instilling in me the knowledge and skills required to lead a life entrenched in crime. But my mother, she was the nurturing force, ensuring I retained a kinder side—the person you fell in love with."

Karina's words painted a picture of a life far removed from the one I knew, one consumed by the shadows of crime and deceit. "Throughout our time together, I was involved in criminal activities on the side," she confessed, her gaze heavy with remorse. "That's why I'd disappear for stretches when we were together, ensuring your safety by keeping you away from that world."

"The girls, Winter, Aeri, and Ningning, were involved because of our shared past. Their parents worked alongside mine," Karina explained, attempting to shed light on the complexities of her world. "After my father's death, I had to assume his role as the boss. I kept it all hidden from you, shielding you from the dangers that lurked within my life. But now, we're older, and you have the right to make your own choices. To be involved or not, to love me or not. The choice is yours, and I'll respect whatever decision you make," she concluded, her eyes reflecting a genuine plea for understanding and acceptance.

"Karina, this is a lot," I said softly, trying to process the sudden flood of revelations. "I appreciate you being honest now, but why keep so much from me before?"

"I get that you wanted to protect me, but it's hard to understand why you'd keep such a huge part of your life hidden," I admitted, feeling a mix of hurt and confusion.

"I need time to think," I said, feeling the weight of the situation. "To process all of this and figure out where we stand. It's a lot to take in."

Karina nodded understandingly. "Take your time, darling. I'll respect whatever you decide. Just know that I've always cared for you, and I always will."

With a heavy heart, I left her office, needing space to sort through the whirlwind of emotions and make sense of the unexpected turn our relationship had taken.

Two weeks had passed since Karina's revelation, and in that time, a flurry of conflicting emotions had swirled within me. Despite the revelations and the complexity of Karina's hidden life, her constant presence lingered in my thoughts. Amidst the confusion and uncertainty, one truth became glaringly clear—I still harbored deep feelings for her.

Karina's persistence in reaching out to me was evident through the frequent flowers she sent, each bouquet accompanied by heartfelt notes. Her messages were simple yet filled with an undeniable sincerity, asking about my day and expressing her unwavering patience, claiming she'd wait forever. These gestures stirred a cascade of emotions within me, evoking a sense of warmth and longing that I struggled to push aside.

As I reflected on my feelings, I realized that what I felt wasn't just residual affection for Jimin or Karina. It was a genuine and profound love for the person she was, with all her complexities, strengths, and vulnerabilities. It wasn't just a remnant of a past romance; it was an all-encompassing love for Karina—Jimin, embracing her for who she was, regardless of her past or her concealed life.

Despite the uncertainty looming over us, one thing remained steadfast—I loved her for her, for the person she had always been, and for the person she was now revealing herself to be. The conflict within me was reconciling the history we shared with the uncertainties of the future, yet the undeniable truth remained—I loved her, wholly and unequivocally.

As I stood before the door, grappling with my emotions and thoughts about Karina, there came a sudden, unexpected knock. With a racing heart and a sense of anticipation, I opened the door, and there she stood—Karina, a vision that evoked memories and emotions from the past seven years.

"Jimin, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice betraying a mix of surprise and curiosity. Her sudden appearance caught me off guard, leaving me slightly bewildered yet undeniably captivated by her presence.

Karina's unexpected visit was filled with an intensity that seemed to amplify the emotions already swirling within me. As she stood before me, her words carried a weight that reverberated through the room.

"I just needed to see you before you make a decision," Karina revealed, her voice laced with vulnerability. "Just in case this might be the last time I see you." Her admission pierced through my thoughts, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that mirrored her own.

Caught in her gaze, I found myself unable to look away. The depth of her emotions was palpable, and her sincerity resonated with something deep within me. Adoration mingled with uncertainty as I contemplated the impact of my own feelings.

"I have made a decision… I do want to be with you," I finally confessed, my voice steady but filled with affection. "I love you for who you are, Karina, Jimin, just you, I love you."

Karina, visibly taken aback by my words, seemed momentarily surprised before a rush of emotion overtook her. With a tenderness that echoed our shared history, she gently cradled my face in her hands, drawing me closer. The proximity of her breath on my lips sent a shiver down my spine, anticipation coursing through me.

"I love you so much, darling, and I've missed you so, so much," Karina murmured lovingly, her voice carrying the weight of years gone by. Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing, before she closed the distance between us in a surge of affection, sealing our reunion with a passionate kiss. In that moment, love surged between us, an undeniable force that had withstood the test of time.

Karina, after the passionate kiss, pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine with a mix of hope and longing. "Does that mean I can call you mine again?" she asked tentatively, a glimmer of hope evident in her voice.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I looked into her eyes, feeling a surge of warmth and affection. "Yes, it does," I affirmed, unable to contain the smile that crept onto my face.

Without hesitation, I closed the gap between us once more, pulling her into another tender kiss. In that embrace, there was a sense of reassurance, a silent promise of rediscovered love and the rekindling of a connection that had weathered the test of time. Their hearts beat as one, enveloped in a moment that held the promise of a new beginning—a shared journey where their love would reignite, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

Months had passed since Karina and I rekindled our relationship, and it was flourishing. While Karina shielded me from her criminal activities, she welcomed my presence within her team. Everyone in the circle embraced me with open arms, offering acceptance and warmth, which made the transition smoother.

Despite Karina's protective stance, I found ways to contribute within our shared space. While I wasn’t directly involved in her dealings, I took charge of maintaining our home. Ensuring everything ran smoothly around the house became my silent contribution to our partnership.

The team's camaraderie and unity were palpable. There was an unspoken understanding between us, a sense of mutual respect that blossomed into a shared bond. Although I didn’t partake in Karina's professional affairs, being part of her life in any capacity brought a sense of fulfillment, a feeling of belonging that I hadn’t experienced before.

Our relationship thrived in this delicate balance, built on trust, understanding, and a shared commitment to support each other. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the comfort in our routine grew, paving the way for a future where love and acceptance flourished in the midst of our distinct worlds. During times when Karina was stressed, I also took care of her, adding an extra layer of support to our bond.

“Fuck,” I let out a strangled moan, your hand grabbed a fistfull of Karina’s hair while she continued her assault on my pussy. She sucked on my clit causing me to buck my hips into her face. “J-Jimin shit yes right there.” I groaned out, legs shaking in pleasure. Karina continued to latch her lips on my folds, her tongue thrusting in and out of me messily, as my arousal continued to drip down my cunt on to her desk.

She pulled her tongue out “So messy darling,” Karina said. Her finger continued rubbing your clit. You stared at Karina’s face wet with your juices dripping down her face. “Shit.” I groaned at the sight, grabbing her face and crashing your lips together, tasting yourself on her lips. She hurriedly unbuttons her pants palming her crotch, a low moan escaped her lips, before she tugged down her underpants, making her cock slap against her lower abdomen. She pumped her shaft, before thrusting her entire length inside. As she entered you, a wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your body to arch in response. The intense sensation made it hard to focus on anything else, as the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic movement of your bodies.

She slams her hips into you, the slaps of your skins meeting, Karina couldn't stop groaning. She drilled her hips harder, gripping the sheets crumbling them in a death grip as your velvety walls grip her cock. “Fuck!” She cursed and moaned, as I scratched her back. “You feel so fucking good darling” She moaned out, still pounding your wet slik. My eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Jimin- fuck!” I moaned out loud as she rotates her hips fucking me into the table. The intensity of the moment heightened as Karina's movements became more relentless, driving both of you towards the edge of ecstasy. The table beneath me shook with each forceful thrust, both our juices dripping down my sopping wet pussy, falling on the table. I cried out in pleasure, as I felt her dick grinding in spots I never knew existed.

She turns you around so you are bent over her desk and pounds me with vigor, her hips stuttering as she rests her head on your back, her hot breath fanning your back. As she drags her cock against your tight walls.

“F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Karina became more vocal as your pussy clenched around her cock in a vice grip.

Karina's thrust became sloppy “You’re such a good girl darling. Are you going to let me fill you up?” She whispered, her thrust not slowing down.

Your walls clenched around her again, making karina moan as her thrust became sloppy. “Y-Yess! Fuck! cum in me Jimin cum in m-me!” I moaned, eyes rolling back.

Karinas hips pounded into you, invoking tears of pleasure down your face, the veins on her cock pulsing inside of you, barely keeping her pace, she grunted into your ear. “ You want my cum?”

The speed of her thrust made you incoherent. “Say you want my cum darling. Say it” Karina repeated, slowing down her thrust.

“Yes! Give me your cum please!” I cried out. Her hand rubs your clit in vigor as she watches you come undone, Your body shook in pleasure. Karina buries her member deep inside of you before releasing her cum, filling you up. Your cunt convulsed around her member as she painted your walls white until she saw it drip out of your folds.

Both of you panting, Karina pulls out of you and turns you around, guiding you to sit on her lap while she sits on the chair. Smirking as she sees your mixed cum slowly drip out of you. Your body still shaking in pleasure, she caressed your hair, helping you calm down from your high."You did so well, darling," she praised, carrying you to the couch in her office, helping you lie down. "My good girl," she murmured, gently caressing your face before pulling you into a tender kiss."Thank you for the stress relief," she expressed, her eyes filled with affection. You reached out to her. "Of course," you replied, still catching your breath.

The abrupt bang at the door startled both of you. "Karina, we need you!" Aeri's voice, filled with urgency, pierced the room. Karina's gaze sharpened, a mix of concern and duty flashing in her eyes as she swiftly rose from where she was and began to dress.

Sensing the sudden shift, she gathered your clothes and handed them to you with a sense of urgency, yet tenderness in her touch. She leaned in, brushing a quick, affectionate kiss across your lips. "I'll be back, darling," she reassured you, her voice warm and filled with both determination and a hint of playful confidence, before darting off to address the urgent call for her expertise.

After Karina left, you took a moment to collect yourself and dressed before heading out of the office, making your way toward your shared room to take a refreshing shower. The warm water eased the tension of the day, and you emerged feeling rejuvenated, dressing in fresh clothes before heading to the kitchen for a snack.

As you moved toward the kitchen, lost in your thoughts, a sudden hand covered your mouth, yanking you forcefully toward the door. Panic surged through you, and instinctively, you struggled and attempted to scream, but another hand swiftly clamped a cloth soaked in chloroform over your nose and mouth. Desperation flooded in as you thrashed in the grip, but the fumes overwhelmed you, causing your struggles to weaken until consciousness slipped away, plunging you into darkness.

As consciousness returned, a gruff voice pierced the haze. "Wakey wakey," it grumbled. Your head groggily lifted, blinking away the blur of disorientation. Attempting to move, you discovered your arms were firmly bound. Panic surged as you struggled against the restraints, a futile effort met with a calm dismissal.

"That won't work, princess. You're tied up real good," the voice remarked, its tone laced with an unsettling assurance.

"Where am I?" you managed to ask, eyes darting around the dimly lit room in anxious confusion. As fear escalated and you began thrashing in the chair, the individual drew closer, forcefully gripping your chin, coercing you to face him with an intimidating hold.

"You're in my basement. Your girlfriend crossed me, took something valuable. So I took something valuable from her," the voice explained, a sinister smile creeping across their face. Tears welled up involuntarily in your eyes as the weight of the situation dawned upon you.

"We're going to have some fun, princess. Don't worry," the voice continued, its tone growing darker, shrouded in a foreboding threat.

"Please find me, Karina," echoed the silent plea in your mind amidst the unsettling situation, a desperate wish for her presence, safety, and aid.

After Karina left the room

"What's going on, Aeri? What's with the panic?" Karina questioned, concern etched in her expression.

"It's Vito, he's coming for the gem," Aeri replied, her voice quivering with urgency and alarm, a sense of impending danger evident in her tone.

Karina's eyes widened at the mention of Vito's name. She swiftly moved, her expression hardening with determination. "We need to act fast. Is the gem secure?" she asked, her voice steady despite the urgency in the air.

Aeri nodded, her breaths shallow with anxiety. "It's hidden, but he knows. He's been tracking its energy signature," she explained, her voice trembling.

Karina's mind raced. "We have to protect it. Gather everyone and fortify the defenses. I'll buy us time," she declared, her gaze fixed on Aeri.

With a determined nod, Karina dashed out, her thoughts racing as she planned how to stall Vito's approach. Aeri hurried to assemble the team, each member aware of the impending threat.

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit room where you were held captive, a muffled groan signaled your return to consciousness. Your mind foggy, you struggled against the restraints, your thoughts consumed with the urgency of Karina's safety and the looming danger of Vito's pursuit.

Unbeknownst to Karina, Vito's pursuit wasn't solely fixated on the gem. Instead, his sinister plan had diverted towards a more personal and vindictive motive. As Karina mobilized the team to safeguard the gem, Vito had orchestrated a calculated abduction, targeting you as a means to exact revenge.

Deep in his basement, Vito oversaw his malevolent scheme unfold, relishing the impending chaos. He had orchestrated the distraction, using the pursuit of the gem as a smokescreen to facilitate your capture, intent on leveraging your connection to Karina for his own malicious intentions.

Meanwhile, Karina strategized fervently, unaware that Vito's true target was not the gem's power but rather a twisted scheme revolving around you. Her focus on fortifying defenses and buying time only added to Vito's advantage, amplifying the looming threat of his vengeful plot.

The disconcerting revelation remained veiled from Karina's grasp as she rallied her allies, unknowingly racing against time not only to protect the gem but also to rescue you from Vito's clutches.

As Karina and her team diligently fortified their defenses, an urgent clamor disrupted the focused atmosphere. One of her trusted men rushed into the room, breathless and visibly distressed.

"Boss! Boss!" he gasped out, trying to catch his breath. "He took her!"

Karina's expression shifted from confusion to sheer alarm. "Took who?" she demanded, her voice edged with concern and rising dread.

"He took Y/n!" the man exclaimed, his words hanging heavy in the tense air.

A chilling silence enveloped the room as the weight of those words settled upon Karina. Her hand trembled with a mix of worry and smoldering anger, her gaze piercing through the space, the raw emotion palpable.

In that moment, the atmosphere transformed; an eerie tension permeated the air. The realization that Vito had not only targeted the gem but also seized the person most precious to her, her beloved Y/n, ignited a fierce fire within Karina.

Her team exchanged nervous glances, understanding the gravity of the situation. Karina's beloved had been snatched away, a move that not only threatened her heart but also stoked the flames of her determination for retribution.

"He took her,—the love of my life," Karina uttered, her voice quivering with a mix of emotions. "He will pay for what he's done."

With determination etched into every line of her face, Karina's resolve solidified. Vito had ignited a wrath that would soon come crashing down upon him, for he had not only targeted a mere possession but the beating heart of Karina's world.

Karina's anticipation of such a situation had prepared her for the worst, yet the immediacy of it caught her off guard. With swift determination, she hurried to her office, her steps purposeful and resolute.

Her fingers traced the spines of the books on the shelf until she found the one housing a discreet tracker, a safeguard you had once provided—a hidden beacon within a familiar object. Retrieving the book, she swiftly located the tracker, a small but invaluable tool that could lead her to you.

Summoning backup, Karina wasted no time. With steely resolve, she orchestrated a rapid mobilization, her team swiftly gathering and organizing themselves. They piled into their waiting vehicles, a convoy of determination set on the path to rescue you from the clutches of Vito's malevolent grasp.

The tension in the air was palpable as engines roared to life, the urgency of the mission propelling them forward. Karina led the charge, her mind focused, her heart fueled by a fierce determination to retrieve you from harm's way.

As the convoy sped towards the destination, Karina's thoughts were consumed by the urgency of the situation and the unyielding vow to bring you back unharmed.

Back to you

I finally pieced together the guy's name: Vito. The name felt bitter on my tongue. He had inflicted pain, leaving me battered and abandoned in an empty basement, surrounded by my own blood and tears. Desperately, I prayed that Karina knew my whereabouts, longing for her swift rescue.

The door creaked open again, and fear clenched my heart as Vito entered. Trembling with terror, I braced myself for what torment he'd inflict next. His chuckle cut through the silence, a cruel sound that echoed in the dim space.

"Look at you, trembling in fear. How pathetic," he jeered, contemptuously spitting at me.

"Please, let me go," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

"Oh, Princess, that was just a taste. I have more planned," he sneered, his tone laden with sinister intent.

In the stifling silence that followed Vito's ominous words, a glimmer of determination sparked within me. Despite the fear and pain, thoughts of Karina's unwavering strength and the unwavering love between us flooded my mind, fueling a resilience I hadn't realized I possessed.

Gathering every ounce of courage, I met Vito's chilling gaze with a steely resolve. "You won't break me," I whispered, defiance lacing my words.

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise at my sudden defiance. The room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of his next move.

Before he could react, a commotion echoed from above, the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Hope surged within me as the distant voices grew louder.

Karina's voice sliced through the tense air, a beacon of reassurance and determination. "We're here, darling! Hold on!" she called out, her words a lifeline in the darkness.

Vito's expression twisted into a snarl, realizing he was about to lose his leverage. With a final chilling glare in my direction, he bolted from the room, leaving me alone but filled with a newfound hope.

Before Vito could make his escape, he swiftly seized me, pulling me close with a knife pressed against my throat. My breath caught in my throat, a shiver racing down my spine as his cold eyes bore into mine with malicious intent.

The room fell into an eerie silence, the only sound the rapid thumping of my heart. Karina's voice echoed from above, a fervent plea layered with determination, slicing through the tense atmosphere.

"We're here, darling! Hold on!" Karina's words echoed down the hallway, her reassuring tone cutting through the darkness like a lifeline.

Vito's grip tightened, a chilling smirk curling on his lips. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice laced with menace, a grim determination in his actions.

Despite the fear coursing through me, a glimmer of hope blossomed. I met Karina's words with silent resolve, drawing strength from her unwavering support and the promise of imminent rescue.

"Karina!" I called out to her, my voice pleading. Vito pressed the knife against my neck, his threat evident in the sharp edge grazing my skin. "Shut up!" he growled, his grip tightening as Karina stormed into the room.

Karina's eyes turned cold at the distressing scene before her. "Let her go," she commanded, her voice filled with a chilling intensity.

Vito, reveling in his control, made a small cut on my neck. A cry of shock and pain escaped my lips, his sinister laughter piercing the air. "One step closer, and she pays," he threatened, his voice dripping with malice.

Karina, unwavering, aimed a gun at him. Her reputation was clear—Karina never missed her mark. "I said let. her. go," she declared, her tone final, leaving no room for negotiation.

Before Vito could argue, Karina's swift action spoke louder. A gunshot echoed through the room, Vito’s knife dropped to the ground as did his body. You cried out to Karina, and she hurried towards you, swiftly untying your restraints and enveloping you in her protective embrace as tears streamed down your cheeks. Before you could turn to see the aftermath of the confrontation, Karina gently guided your face to meet hers.

"Don't look, darling. He's gone," she reassured, cradling you close, shielding you from the grim reality. With tender care, she carried you out of the basement, away from the haunting scene.

"Clean up the mess," she instructed her team, her voice firm as she focused on ensuring your safety. Karina settled you into the car, driving you back to the sanctuary of your shared home, a place of refuge and security.

"You're safe now, darling. I won't let anything harm you anymore," she vowed, her voice a soothing balm in the aftermath of the ordeal.

"How did you find me?" I asked, tears still trailing down my face.

"That necklace I gave you—it has a tracker. I knew this might happen one day, so I had to be prepared," Karina explained softly, her gaze filled with unwavering determination and a deep love for you.

Upon arriving home, Karina carried you inside and tended to your needs, starting a comforting bath to wash away the physical and emotional residue of the harrowing experience.

After the soothing bath, Karina gently carried you to bed, cradling you in her arms. Nestled in her embrace, a profound sense of security enveloped you, the assurance that you were sheltered from any future harm after enduring the harrowing ordeal.

"I love you, Y/n. I will protect you forever," Karina declared, her voice a tender vow, her arms a haven of safety.

"I love you too," you whispered, surrendering to a deep and peaceful slumber within the comforting warmth of Karina's embrace, feeling an unwavering sense of security and love surrounding you.

〰・♡・〰

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #aespa x reader #aespa #gp #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut #aespa fluff #aespa imagines #aespa karina #gp karina #karina x reader #karina #yoo jimin x reader #jimin x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #karina smut

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pipwritesoccasionally · 5 months ago

Text

"stay away from my husband!"

nanami x reader (of course)

in which nanami goes on a mission but doesn't come back for hours, leaving the reader to come to his aid.

gender neutral reader

wc: 1391

sorry if the special grade spirit/any of the cursed energy mechanics are wrong! i barely know how it works honestly.

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

you knew that he couldn’t handle the special grade curse with only one other grade one sorcerer around. hell, you’d told him as such this morning, and even offered to ask yaga to go on the mission with him, but of course kento’d refused.

“i can’t let you get hurt, (y/n),” he’d said, only causing you to cross your arms in anger.

“and you think i could let you? absolutely not,” but he’d continued getting ready anyways. kento left like always, kissing you sweetly before closing the door behind him. you knew he was cautious, but after hearing that three second grade sorcerers had gone to shoko in critical condition, you felt justified in feeling worried.

the afternoon crept past at an agonizing pace, leaving you unfocused and stressed. you’d tried to relax, but the silence only seemed to amplify the sound of your pounding heart.

he’d said that the mission should only last two hours, three if the curse put up a really good fight, but it had been six hours now, and there was no sign of your husband. you know that he can handle himself, but if he’s with another grade one sorcerer, especially someone younger than him, you know that he would do anything to protect them.

“fuck,” you mutter, jumping up and rushing to your weapons’ shelf to grab your cursed weapon of choice. the sword handle chills your hand, but you sheath it quickly and run out the door.

as you run, you scramble through your memories to find the address kento had told you earlier– “for safety”-- and throw it into your gps. the route hasn’t even loaded before you throw your car in reverse and make your way down the narrow street.

“if you’re dead when i get there kento…” you know that you’re talking to yourself, but due to the high stress situation, you can’t seem to care.

thankfully, the address where kento was sent to intercept the curse is only fifteen minutes from your house, though that does little to calm your worries. after all, if it’s so close to home, what’s taking him so long?

the car slides in to a spot along the street, and you throw the door open, barely locking it before running into the building. grunts echo from above, and you start taking the stairs two at a time. when you make it up the first two flights, the air gets heavy with cursed energy, and you feel both relief and worry compound. at least somone is still alive.

creaking floors and eroded stone decorate the inside of the stairwell, so you infer that the building has been abandoned for a while. that means you don’t have to hold back against whatever curse is there.

the sounds of fighting get louder as you go up, until you find yourself in an open floor plan, face to face with the special grade cursed spirit.

who was seconds away from killing your husband.

kento was against the wall, ragged breathing perturbing your already worried thoughts. seeing him in this state threw any hesitations you had out the already-broken-in window.

“stay away from my husband,” you threaten, tension grating your deepened voice. your trusty sword had already met your hand, and your cursed energy radiated into it in droves. the cursed spirit turned its head toward you, and it was then that you were able to really gauge the threat it posed.

the beast’s long body coiled around like a scorpion, extending into a craning horse’s head. what’s more, two sets of long, feathered wings lay dormant against its body, creating a monstrous medley of an organism. the different characteristics of the curse most likely were the reason that your husband had such a problem with it, but you had the advantage of seeing it in its entirety before even beginning the fight.

however, you felt the energy shift in the room, and your movements became slow, sluggish even.

‘this must be part of its technique,’ you think, but unfortunately for the curse, you’d been a sorcerer for too long.

it also helped that you had been adopted as a grade one sorcerer immediately after killing a grade one cursed spirit on your very first mission. as a freshman in high school.

you ran to the other side of the room, hoping to distract the curse from kento, and swung your sword towards its body. it made contact, but the wound closed almost immediately.

‘it has reversed cursed technique too? no wonder its special grade,’ this made the task of eliminating it much harder.

“darling, i told you not to come,” kento said, stabilizing himself against the wall.

“that stubborness could have gotten you killed,” you reply, striking the curse again to no avail. kento joins the fight, the two of you working together seamlessly.

“i’ve been trying to find its weakspot, and i don’t think it’s anywhere in the body,” he says, and you nod.

“then it has to be in the wings, i’d assume. cut them off and it should disintigrate on its own. hopefully,” you say, running towards the curse, sliding under it and slicing all the way down. kento follows, immediately making his way towards the wings, slicing at one. your sword lodges into the beast’s body, getting stuck part of the way through, and you push it up further up into the curse’s body. it screeches, and kento takes that time to slice the other wing. the two of you had always been such great partners, not even having to relay your plan before the two of you begin to work in sync. your movements begin to speed up, letting you know that your endeavor had worked. however, the beast was disintigrating too slowly, allowing it to still attack.

your sword had been dislodged from the curse and you found yourself behind it, watching everything happen in slow motion. it thrusted its head towards your husband, clearly meaning to get one last attack in, and while he would normally be able to evade quite easily, he’d been here for hours and his exhaustion was clear.

‘Fuck no,’ you thought, pulling yourself together and running straight towards the curse. all of the cursed energy you possessed was in your sword, and you made an arc, slashing it right through the curse’s neck. its head came clean off, and you positioned your body towards your husband, pushing him out of the way to take the weight of the head onto your own body.

a crack echoed in the room, probably from one of your ribs, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. the curse disintegrated, leaving you on the ground, eyes peering over at your husband.

he groaned weakly, slowly pushing to a stand, and he walks over to you.

“are you alright?” his eyebrows furrow in worry, and you shake your head, sitting up.

“i should be asking you that. you fought that curse for hours and are still standing upright. we need to go visit shoko,” you say, wincing at the pain in your abdomen. kento comes over, kneeling next to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. you grab his hand, and he helps you stand up, the two of you leaning into each other.

“what happened to the other sorcerer?” he’d been sent on this mission with another grade one sorcerer, who was no where to be found.

“he got injured really badly, and i had him leave so i didn’t have to worry about protecting him too,” your heart warms at his care for your fellow sorcerers, but you can’t help but sigh.

“this is why i came to get you. i love how protective you are, but you need another person here for fights like this,” a low hum fills the room as he agrees, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“can we go home? i think we can hold off on seeing shoko for a bit, i just need some rest,” your husband’s voice is scratchy as a symptom of his shallow breathing, and you want nothing more than to help him. the exhaustion washing over your body tells you that rest will do the both of you some good, so you nod, and start walking towards the door.

“okay, let’s go home.”

#kento nanami x reader #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jjk nanami kento #tense but no angst #kind of edited?

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gayghostgrimoire · 23 days ago

Text

Scouser

Ethan wandered aimlessly through the misty streets of Liverpool, the thick fog clinging to his clothes like a cold, damp shroud. It was a far cry from the sunny California beaches he'd left behind, but the allure of the town had drawn him across the pond. The GPS on his phone had failed him, leaving him to navigate the maze of unfamiliar streets with only the faded glow of the occasional streetlight to guide his way.

As he turned into a narrow alley, the fog grew denser, wrapping around him like a living thing with malicious intent. The distant sounds of the city grew muffled, replaced by a foreboding silence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. That's when he heard it—a faint, yet distinctly mocking scouse accent echoing through the murk. "Lost, are ya?" it taunted. "Fancy a bit of company, then?"

Ethan's heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the alley, but the fog was too thick to make out any figures lurking in the shadows. His mind raced with the possibilities of who, or what, could be speaking to him. The accent was unmistakably local, yet the tone was eerily playful, almost flirtatious. He took a tentative step back, trying to blend with the brick wall behind him, hoping it would offer some protection.

"Oi, don't be shy," the voice called out again, closer this time. "We don't bite... unless you're into that sort of thing." The taunts grew louder, and he could now discern the laughter of two young men, their footsteps echoing off the wet cobblestones as they approached. Ethan's palms grew slick with sweat despite the cold, and his grip tightened around the strap of his backpack, ready to flee at any moment.

As if on cue, the fog behind him parted slightly to reveal the silhouettes of two figures. Suddenly, he felt a firm grip on his butt, and he spun around with a start. Two Scouse lads, no older than twenty-two, were grinning at him, their teeth flashing in the dim light. They were dressed in matching shiny tracksuits and Nike TN's that looked like they'd been stolen straight from a sports shop. One had spiky blond hair and piercing blue eyes, the other, a mop of curly chestnut hair and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light.

"Caught ya off guard, didn't we?" the blond one quipped, his voice thick with a Liverpool accent that was as smooth as it was menacing. "I'm Jamie, and this 'ere's me mate, Ollie. What's your name, handsome?"

Ethan, trying to play it cool, managed a shaky laugh. "I'm Ethan, just a tourist trying to find my way."

Jamie and Ollie exchanged glances, their mischievous eyes gleaming with something that was more than just playfulness. The grip on his butt grew firmer, and Ethan felt a knot of fear coil in his stomach. Despite their seemingly harmless banter, there was an underlying current of danger that he couldn't ignore. They were smaller in build than he'd anticipated, but there was something feral and unpredictable about them that made his instincts scream caution.

"Ah, a Yank!" Ollie exclaimed, his grin widening. "You're just what we need tonight, love." He stepped closer, his breath a mix of ciggies and cheap cider, and placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "How about we show you the sights, eh? Give you a proper tour of our lovely city."

Ethan's instincts told him to decline, but he found himself nodding, the fear momentarily overridden by his curiosity. The two lads began to walk alongside him, their arms brushing against his as they weaved through the foggy alley. The flirtatiousness grew more pronounced with each step, their touches lingering a little longer than necessary. The smell of their cheap aftershave made Ethan's nose wrinkle, but he kept his cool, playing along as if he was enjoying their company.

"So, you into footie, then?" Ethan nodded, his voice a tad shakier than he would have liked. "Good taste. Who's your team?"

"I'm more of a Man U fan," Ethan admitted, expecting a hostile reaction. Instead, the two lads just chuckled. "Ah, a bit of rivalry," Ollie said, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't worry, we won't hold it against you."

They strolled onward, the fog thinning as they ventured deeper into the city's underbelly. The buildings grew shabbier, graffiti more prevalent, and the smell of greasy food and stale beer filled the air. The conversation remained light, with Jamie and Ollie peppering him with questions about his favorite players and football matches he'd been to. They spoke with a passion that was contagious, and Ethan found himself relaxing slightly, his initial fear giving way to a morbid fascination with the pair.

Ollie fished a pack of ciggies from his pocket and offered one to Ethan. "Want a fag?"

Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking between the cigarette and the smirk on Ollie's face. "No, thanks. I don't smoke."

Ollie's grin grew more playful, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, such a good boy," he said, his voice a seductive purr. "But don't you think a bit of naughtiness could make you look even more appealing?" He held the cigarette up to Ethan's lips, the tip glowing a fiery red.

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dry taste that coated his mouth, and took a tentative drag. The smoke burned his throat and lungs, and he couldn't help but cough, doubling over in a fit of hacking. The two lads erupted into laughter, slapping him on the back with rough, calloused hands.

"Bloody hell, you're a right lightweight," Jamie said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Here, let me help you with that." He took a step closer, placing a hand on Ethan's back to steady him, while Ollie held the cigarette back to his mouth.

Ethan took another drag, this one less tentative than the first, trying to keep up with their bravado. The smoke curled around his tongue, leaving a bitter taste, but he forced himself to hold it in longer before letting it out in a puff that was more impressive than he'd expected. "Better?" Ollie asked, his voice still coated with that flirty lilt.

"Much," Ethan said, his voice a bit raspy.

Jamie chuckled, a hint of something more than mirth in his tone. "Looks like you're getting the hang of it," he said, leaning in so close that Ethan could feel the warmth of his breath. "But you know, you're basically kissing Ollie every time you do that."

Ollie's smile grew wider, revealing a chipped tooth. "Yeah, that's right," he said, his hand lingering on Ethan's shoulder. "Swapping spit and all that."

Ethan felt his cheeks warm despite the cold, but the fear was slowly dissipating. He took another drag of the cigarette, feeling a strange kinship with the two young men. They weren't like anyone he'd met before—flirtatious and forward in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating. As they strolled through the alleyways, the fog began to lift, and the neon glow of a pub sign flickered into view. The sound of shattered glass and raucous laughter spilled into the street, accompanied by the distant cheer of a football match.

"Looks like the party's already started," Jamie said, nodding toward the pub. The sign above the door read "The Red Lion" in faded letters. The smell of stale beer and greasy food grew stronger as they approached, mingling with the sweet scent of tobacco smoke. The door was propped open, and a warm glow spilled onto the cobblestones.

"Come on, let's get you a pint," Ollie suggested, giving Ethan a playful shove. "You'll need it to keep up with us."

Ethan allowed himself to be guided through the open door, the warmth of the pub enveloping him like a bearhug. The place was crowded, with locals shouting over the din of a live band playing a rowdy cover of "You'll Never Walk Alone." The scent of spilled ale and fried fish washed over him as they found a table in the corner.

Jamie and Ollie propped their feet up on the table, wagging them back and forth with teasing eyes. Ethan couldn't help but stare at the intricate ankle tattoos peeking out from their rolled-up tracksuit pants. One had a dagger with the word "Love" etched on the blade, the other a pair of cherries that looked suspiciously like a pair of testicles. Their flirtatiousness was palpable, and he felt his heart flutter in his chest.

"You know, Ollie," Jamie said, nudging his friend with an elbow, "you really need to sort out your pongy feet."

Ollie shot him a glare, but Ethan noticed the glint of a smile. "Why don't you keep your nose out of it, Jamie? Besides, Ethan here might like it." He winked at Ethan, who felt his cheeks flush.

Jamie chuckled, "Yeah, right. Like anyone would want a whiff of those stinkers." He nudged Ollie's leg with his own, the leather of his shoe squeaking against the plastic chair. "But you know what, let's not bother our guest with our stench. Get us a round of pints, will ya?"

Ollie rolled his eyes, but the mischief remained on his face. He hopped off the chair with a grace that belied his rough exterior. "Alright, alright, keep your knickers on," he said, swaggering toward the bar. As he moved away, the smell of his feet did seem to linger, a pungent aroma that was indeed quite potent.

Jamie leaned in closer to Ethan, his eyes dancing with a playful glint. "Ollie's right, though," he whispered conspiratorially. "My feet are the real horror show." He wiggled his toes, and Ethan caught a faint whiff of something that could only be described as a mix of sweat and stale cheese.

Ollie returned with three pints of lager, sloshing slightly as he set them down on the sticky table. "Here you go, lads," he said, his eyes never leaving Ethan's. He took a seat and leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. "So, you're a dead ringer for our mate Tommy," Jamie said, taking a long pull from his pint. "It's uncanny, really."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. "Who's Tommy?"

Jamie leaned back, his eyes misting with nostalgia. "Ah, Tommy. He was one of us. The life of the party, that one. Could charm the birds out of the trees," he said, taking a swig of his pint. "And he had this knack for making the lads swoon. Just a wink, and they'd be putty in his hands."

Ollie nodded, his smile wistful. "Remember when he convinced that posh bloke from the university that he was a secret prince?" He snickered, the memory bringing a sparkle to his eyes. "We had him running around town, doing all sorts for us. Thought he'd hit the jackpot with a real-life fairy tale."

Jamie's laughter was deep and infectious, and even Ethan couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the story. "Yeah, poor sod was half in love by the time we told him it was all a joke," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "But that was Tommy. He had this way about him."

Ollie took a sip of his beer, his gaze lingering on Ethan. "He was a bit of a looker too, our Tommy. Could turn heads with just a smile." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And when he put his mind to it, could get a guy to do anything he wanted."

Ethan swallowed hard, his curiosity piqued. "What happened to him?"

Jamie took another swig of his lager, his eyes never leaving Ethan's. "Tommy? Oh, he kicked the bucket a few weeks ago," he said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather. "Went out on his uncle's fishing boat and never came back. They found him floating in the Mersey, stiff as a board." He chuckled, a dark note in his laugh.

Ethan's smile faltered, the laughter in his throat dying. "That's terrible," he murmured, unsure of how to respond to their casualness.

Jamie shrugged. "It's life, isn't it?" He took another swig of his pint, the foam clinging to his upper lip. "But don't you worry about it, love. Tommy's spirit's still with us, in a way." He winked, and Ollie nodded in agreement.

Ollie leaned closer, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You see, we've got a little ritual we do for our mates when they pass on," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "It's like we keep 'em close, ya know?"

Ethan nodded, his curiosity now tinged with unease. He took a sip of the lager, the cool liquid washing over his tongue. It was a strange flavor, almost metallic, but with an undertone of something sweet, like candy. The more he drank, the heavier his eyelids grew, his thoughts swirling like the fog outside. The room grew hazy, the sounds of the pub melding into a cacophony of laughter and shouts that echoed in his head.

Ollie slid into the booth next to him, his arm snaking around Ethan's shoulders with the ease of an old friend. The warmth of his body was surprisingly comforting, and Ethan found himself leaning into the embrace despite the stranger's musky scent. "You're just like him," Ollie murmured into his ear, his breath hot and wet. "You've got that same spark, that same... vibe."

Jamie took the opposite side, his leg brushing against Ethan's under the table. His sneaker was grimy, the white leather stained with a pattern of dirt and who-knows-what, but there was something undeniably alluring about the way he nudged Ethan's foot with his own, a silent invitation to play along with their game. Ethan's inhibitions began to unravel like a cheap sweater, the tension in his body giving way to a strange, thrilling sense of abandon.

The three of them knocked back their pints, the alcohol hitting Ethan's system like a freight train. He felt lightheaded, his thoughts swirling with the laughter and music of the pub. "C'mon," Jamie slurred, slapping the table with the palm of his hand. "Let's go back to our place. Show ya a proper scouser time."

Ollie nodded, his eyes half-lidded with drink. "Yeah, you'll love it," he said, his voice dropping into that seductive purr again. "You're one of us now, aren't ya?"

Ethan found himself grinning, the idea of fitting in with these two rough-around-the-edges lads surprisingly appealing. He'd always been the clean-cut tourist, following the beaten path and playing it safe. But there was something about the wildness of Jamie and Ollie that called to him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He nodded, the room spinning slightly as he stood up, Ollie's arm still draped over his shoulders.

They stumbled out of the pub, the night air hitting him like a cold slap in the face. The fog had lifted, leaving the cobblestone streets slick with rain and the scent of the river hanging heavy in the air. They wove their way through the city, the neon lights of the clubs and pubs reflecting off the wet pavement. The laughter and music grew fainter as they left the center of town, heading into a more residential area where the buildings leaned together as if whispering secrets to one another.

Jamie and Ollie had an easy camaraderie, finishing each other's sentences and slapping each other's backs with a familiarity that spoke of a long history together. Ethan felt like the third wheel, but also like the most important person in the world as they both vied for his attention. They pointed out landmarks and told stories of their childhood, each one more outrageous than the last. The lager had loosened their tongues and their inhibitions, and Ethan found himself caught in their infectious energy.

"Here we are," Jamie announced, nudging Ethan as they reached a row of terraced houses, their red brick façades stained with time and pollution. "Home sweet home." The door to number 23 stood ajar, and the smell of stale incense and weed wafted out into the night.

Ethan followed them up a narrow staircase, the walls plastered with faded football posters and stickers from long-forgotten bands. The apartment was a chaotic mess—clothes and empty beer cans scattered across the floor, dirty dishes piled high in the kitchen sink, and a faint scent of something musky in the air. It was the kind of place that looked like a tornado had swept through it, but somehow, it felt oddly cozy.

The living room was dominated by an ancient sofa that looked like it had seen better days. The fabric was stained, the cushions lumpy, and the smell of male musk was as potent as the stale cigarette smoke that hung in the air. But it was the perfect perch for the trio, and they sank into it with a collective sigh, Ethan sandwiched between them.

Jamie tossed a pack of ciggies on the coffee table, the plastic sticking to the film of beer that had been spilled and forgotten. "Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the pack with a grin. Ethan picked one out, the paper feeling gritty between his fingers, and Ollie lit it with a zippo that had seen more action than a porn star. The first drag was harsh, but he managed to keep his cough to a minimum, earning an approving nod from his new companions.

Ollie leaned in closer, his arm draped over the back of the sofa, his fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of Ethan's neck. "You're a right catch, you are," he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and something else—desire. Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine, his body responding to the unspoken promise in the Scally's gaze.

"Yeah, you fit right in, like you were born for this," Jamie said, his hand resting casually on Ethan's knee. The touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing patterns through the fabric of Ethan's jeans that made him squirm with excitement. "You've got the looks, the swagger," he said, his eyes raking over Ethan's body. "We could use someone like you."

Ethan took another drag of his cigarette, feeling the warmth spread through him as he exhaled. The haze in his mind was thickening, the edges of his reality blurring. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't want it to stop. "You guys are something else," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

Ollie leaned in even closer, his hand sliding down to rest on Ethan's thigh. "You like that, do ya?" he asked, his voice a silky whisper that seemed to resonate deep within Ethan's core.

Jamie grinned, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the living room. "Yeah, you do, don't ya?" He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in a ring that floated lazily up to the ceiling. "You know, love, you'd fit in so much better if you wore something a bit more... us."

Ethan's eyes widened slightly, the haze in his mind clearing just enough to process the suggestion. He'd never been one to dress like a local, but the idea of blending in with Jamie and Ollie was suddenly incredibly appealing. "What do you mean?"

Ollie's grin grew, his eyes glinting with excitement. "We've got Tommy's old gear," he said, nodding towards a pile of clothes in the corner. "You'd look right proper in them, like a real scouser." He leaned closer, his hand sliding up to Ethan's chest. "Right Jamie? All the lads in the pub, fighting over him like a pack of dogs."

Jamie chuckled, his hand sliding from Ethan's knee to his hip. "Oh, you'd have 'em eating out of the palm of your hand," he agreed. "And they'd be begging for more."

Ethan felt his cheeks redden, his heart racing at the thought. "Okay," he said, his voice a little unsteady. "Sure!"

Ollie clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. "Perfect!" He hopped off the sofa and scurried over to the pile of clothes. "Here you go, love," he said, tossing a red Liverpool FC jersey at Ethan. It smelled faintly of sweat and something else, something that made Ethan's nose wrinkle.

Jamie took the lead, his eyes never leaving Ethan's as he began to unbutton the American's shirt. His hands were surprisingly gentle, his touch sending a thrill through Ethan's body. With each button undone, the jersey slid away, revealing the tourist's taut abs and the faint outline of a six-pack. "Nice," Jamie murmured, his voice low and full of appreciation. "You've been taking care of yourself."

Ollie whooped, his hand slapping Ethan's bare chest in a gesture that was half-celebratory, half-playful. "Look at the goods on him!"

Jamie's eyes never left Ethan's as he pulled the jersey over his head, his hands lingering on the American's skin longer than necessary. The fabric was rough against Ethan's skin, the scent of old sweat and cheap cologne mingling with the musk of the lads around him. It was a smell that would normally make him gag, but now, it just made him feel more alive. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with it, and felt his cock stir in his jeans.

Ollie was next, unbuttoning Ethan's pants with a flourish. "Let's see what you're hiding under these fancy trousers," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. Ethan's hands trembled slightly as he slid his pants down, revealing his boxers. They were designer, clean and pristine, a stark contrast to the stained white track pants Ollie held out to him.

The track pants were snug, hugging Ethan's thighs like a second skin. As he pulled them up, he couldn't help but notice the way the fabric clung to his growing erection, highlighting it like a beacon of desire. The smell of sweat and something else—something that was uniquely Ollie and Jamie—enveloped him, making him feel part of their world.

"Lookin' good, love," Jamie said, his eyes raking over Ethan's now scally-fied attire. The jersey was a size too small, the fabric stretching taut over his chest, and the track pants hung low on his hips, showcasing the waistband of his designer boxers.

Ollie whistled low, his eyes dark with lust. "You're a natural," he murmured, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of Ethan's cock, making him gasp. "Just like Tommy used to."

The words snapped something in Ethan, and suddenly, it was as if he could hear the echoes of his dead doppelgänger's laughter in his own voice. "Cheeky bugger," he said, the Scouse accent slipping into his words unbidden. It was a sound that was at once foreign and eerily familiar, as if he'd been speaking it all his life.

Jamie and Ollie erupted into laughter, slapping their knees and exchanging a look that spoke volumes. "Bloody hell," Jamie said, his eyes wide. "You've got the mouth on ya."

Ethan felt a thrill at their reaction, a newfound boldness surging through him. He leaned back on the sofa, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, and took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow, seductive stream. "Maybe I've got more in common with Tommy than you think," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The accent came more naturally now, rolling off his tongue like honey.

Jamie's eyes grew dark, his gaze lingering on Ethan's mouth. "Oh, you're a right cheeky one," he murmured, leaning in closer. "Just like him." His hand slid from Ethan's hip up to his waist, his thumb stroking the bare skin just above the waistband of the borrowed track pants. "Could be his twin, you know?"

Ollie nodded, his own hand joining the fray. "Yeah," he breathed, his eyes locked on Ethan's. "You're a musky fucker just like him. The way you're filling out those pants, you could pass for his ghost." His hand dipped lower, cupping the growing bulge in Ethan's crotch, making him moan.

Ethan's eyes sparkled with mischief as he took another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. "Maybe I've got his moves too," he said, his voice a smoky purr that was pure Tommy. He leaned back into the embrace of the sofa, the fabric of the jersey sticking to his sweaty skin. "You two ever wondered what it'd be like to have him back?"

Ollie's eyes grew dark, his pupils dilating. "You know what, love?" He said, his hand sliding down to cup Ethan's package. "I think we already do." And with that, he dropped to his knees, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He peered up at Ethan through a fringe of hair, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

Ethan felt a jolt of excitement at the look on Ollie's face, his cock swelling even more. Ollie reached out and gripped the waistband of the track pants, pulling them down just enough to expose Ethan's cock. It was already thick and hard, the scent of sweat and arousal mixing with the stale smoke from the pub. Ollie leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste Ethan's skin. "Mm," he murmured, his eyes closing in pleasure. "You're just like him."

The first touch of Ollie's mouth was electric, the heat and wetness of it sending shivers down Ethan's spine. His hips bucked slightly, pushing himself deeper into the warm cavern of the Scally's mouth. He watched, entranced, as Ollie took him in, his cheeks hollowing out with each suck. It was as if he'd done this a hundred times before, as if he knew exactly what Ethan needed, what Tommy had liked.

Jamie's eyes never left the show, his hand moving to his own crotch, stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. "Looks like you're enjoying that," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He leaned over the back of the sofa, his mouth grazing Ethan's ear. "You're just like him, aren't ya?"

Ethan threw his head back, the pleasure of Ollie's mouth on him overwhelming. He felt something change within him, a wildness that he hadn't felt before, a sense of abandon that was as intoxicating as the whiskey and lager swirling in his belly. He reached down, his hand tangling in Ollie's hair as he pushed him further down, his hips bucking in time with the Scally's eager sucks. He could feel himself losing control, the boundaries between him and Tommy blurring like the fog outside.

The room grew hazier, the smoke thickening around them as Jamie stood up, his eyes never leaving the erotic dance between Ethan and Ollie. He sauntered over to the pile of clothes, his eyes alighting on a pair of grimy, worn-out TNs. They were a stark contrast to the clean, polished loafers Ethan had been wearing, the kind of shoes that screamed 'tourist'. He picked them up, holding them to his nose with a grin, inhaling deep the musky scent of sweat and the Mersey mud that clung to them. "These were Tommy's pride and joy," Jamie said, strutting over to Ethan's feet propped up on the coffee table. "They're yours now."

With surprising dexterity, Jamie snatched Ethan's loafers and slipped them off, the sound of fabric sliding against skin sending a thrill through the American. He took a moment to appreciate the clean, fresh scent of Ethan's socks before peeling them away, revealing the pale, unblemished soles of his feet. "Perfect," he murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Just like Tommy's used to be."

The worn-out TNs looked almost black in the dim light of the room, the laces frayed and the toes caked with the grime of a hundred adventures. Ethan watched as Jamie took the left one and held it to his nose, inhaling deep. The scent was overpowering, a mix of sweat, the river, and something else—a scent that was as much a part of the fabric of the city as the bricks that made up the buildings around them. It was a smell that was at once repulsive and incredibly arousing, and Ethan felt his cock throb at the sight.

Jamie slid the sneaker onto Ethan's right foot, the fabric sticking slightly to the bare skin. It was tight, the grimy insole had molded to the shape of Tommy's foot, but it fit like a glove. The left one followed, and as Jamie laced them up, Ethan felt a strange sensation—like a jolt of electricity that shot through his entire body, making his toes curl and his cock pulse. He gasped, his eyes snapping open to meet Jamie's intense gaze.

The room grew dimmer, the edges of his vision blurring as if he were looking through a foggy window. The air grew thick with the scent of stale sweat and something else, something that seemed to fill his lungs and make him feel more alive than he had in years. Ethan's chest felt tight, his heart racing as if it were trying to break free of the confines of his body. He looked down at Ollie, whose eyes had glazed over, his mouth moving on Ethan's cock with a mind of its own. It was as if he could feel Tommy's spirit, squeezing into him, taking over.

A voice, rough and mischievous, echoed through his mind, and he realized it was Tommy's. "Cheers, mate," the spirit said, a chuckle that was part memory, part possession. "It's been a while since I've had a bit of fun like this." The words were accompanied by a feeling of pure, unbridled lust that flooded through Ethan's veins, making him feel like he could conquer the world.

Ollie looked up, his eyes wide with shock and excitement. "Bloody hell, you're him, aren't ya?" he whispered, his cheeks flushed as Ethan's hand grabbed his hair, pushing him down onto the thick shaft that was now fully under Tommy's control.

Tommy's voice, gruff and cheeky, filled the room as he spoke through Ethan's lips. "Miss me, lads?" he asked, his tone playful as he watched the two Scallys exchange glances that were a mix of shock and lust.

Jamie's hand paused on the laces of the second TN, his eyes wide with awe. "Bloody hell, Tommy," he murmured, a hint of fear and excitement in his voice. "Is that really you?"

The room grew even denser with anticipation as Ethan's hand—now Tommy's—reached out and knuckle-bumped Jamie's, the gesture playful and full of life. "Course it's me," the spirit said, a cheeky grin playing on Ethan's lips. "Couldn't stay away from you two, could I?"

Ollie, still kneeling, looked up with a mix of awe and hunger. "Welcome back, ya cheeky bastard," he murmured before taking Ethan's cock back into his mouth, eager to serve.

Tommy, now in full control, leaned back against the sofa, his body tensing as Ollie's mouth worked him over. The pleasure was intense, a mix of the physical and the metaphysical. He could feel the energy of the room shift, the very air seeming to thicken with the potent scent of desire and nostalgia. His hand found its way to Ollie's neck, his grip firm but gentle, guiding the rhythm as he neared climax.

"That's it, Ollie," he groaned, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that was unmistakably Tommy's. "Take it all, lad." And with that, he exploded, filling Ollie's mouth with a hot, thick load of his cum. Ollie's eyes watered, but he took it eagerly, swallowing it down with a gulp that sent a shiver through Tommy's entire being.

As the last of his climax subsided, Ethan's body went slack, his eyes fluttering closed. But the spirit of Tommy was far from finished. He sat up with a grin that was both cocky and predatory, his hand still tangled in Ollie's hair. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "But that's just the warm-up."

Ollie looked up, his lips glistening with cum, and nodded eagerly. "Whatever you want, Tommy," he said, his voice full of deviant longing.

Jamie, his eyes hooded with desire, took the cue. He stepped closer, his hand working his own cock through the fabric of his jeans. "You've got the taste for it now, don't ya?" he murmured, his voice a dark whisper. Ethan—no, Tommy—grinned, his hand sliding up Jamie's leg, gripping his cock firmly through the denim. "Oh, I've got the taste for it, alright," he said, his voice a perfect mimicry of the dead lad's.

Jamie groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as Tommy's hand worked him. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. "So fucking good."

Tommy's grin grew wider, a hint of the mischief that had made him infamous in life. "Aye, but I've got a bit of a thirst on," he said, his hand never leaving Jamie's cock. "How about we grab a pint before we really get down to it?"

Ollie and Jamie shared a look, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Whatever you say, Tommy," Ollie murmured, his own erection tenting his track pants. "But don't keep us waiting too long."

With a wink, Tommy stood, the worn sneakers feeling surprisingly right on his feet. The three of them strutted out of the apartment, their laughter echoing through the hallway and down the stairs. The cool night air hit them like a slap in the face, sobering them up just enough to realize that the world outside had gone on without them. The streets of Liverpool were alive with the sounds of the night—cars honking, drunken laughter, and distant sirens. But to them, it was as if they were the only ones who mattered. They walked in a tight pack, Ethan's body moving with a newfound swagger, his eyes glinting with the mischief that had been Tommy's trademark.

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