#and i will let you in on a secret....i cheated to get the answer to the first one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

requiemforthepoets · 5 months ago

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the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: seven years. you and lando had been together for seven years, but it all went down the drain the moment he decided to come clean about the mistake that he did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, breakup, cheating, cheater lando, pregnancy, secret child, mentions of nausea and vomiting, fainting, angst, open ending, math is not mathing (but i tried), some inaccuracies, named side characters (except for the reader), single!mom reader, and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is inspired by niki’s song ‘apartment we won’t share,’ ik that we have diff interpretations for the songs, but i interpret it as the way how i wrote this fic. i’m not planning on doing a second part of this, and just leave it an open ending. but if someday i get inspired, i’ll try and make a part 2 for this, though for now, there will be no part 2 for this fic. i will be leaving the ending all up to you. you comments/reblogs is highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this one.

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It had been a long and exhausting week. The lingering ache from your family emergency still tugged at your heart, so to keep off your mind from things, you had spent most of the day sorting through Lando’s things, folding clothes and making sure his suitcase was ready for his flight to another race weekend. It was the kind of task you had done so many times in the last seven years, but this time, it felt heavier, like there was something wrong that you couldn’t quite place.

When Lando returned to Monaco a few days later, you expected him to be his usual vibrant self, but something was off with him. Lando’s eyes seemed heavier, his posture slouched, and smile lacked the spark that you were used to.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, voice unusually subdued.

You set down the shirt you had been folding, brows furrowing. “Sure, of course,” you replied, taking a seat on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

Lando hesitated, hands fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. He sat across from you, knees bouncing slightly as he stared at the floor. “You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “I know, Lan, and you made sure to let me know everyday for seven years.”

He looked up briefly, gaze fleeting before dropping back to the floor. “I need to tell you something, I wanted to be completely honest with you…and it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Lando’s tone, demeanor—it was all wrong, and you were getting really nervous by now. “What is it?” you asked, voice quiet, wary.

Lando took a deep breath, his hands now gripping his knees as if to ground himself. “When I was out for a night with the guys a month ago…I messed up.”

Your stomach churned. You didn’t want to interrupt him, waiting for Lando to continue, though every fiber of your being wanted to scream at him, to demand some answers.

“There was…someone at the club that night,” he said, words slow and measured, like he was forcing them out of him. “It was stupid, an honest mistake. I was so drunk, caught up in everything, and I wasn’t thinking.”

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “W-What are you saying?” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Lando finally looked at you, eyes glistening. “I accidentally slept with her. It was a one-time thing, I swear, then she called me last week—I don’t even know how she got my number, but she told me that she’s pregnant.

Pregnant.

The words hit you like a freight train. You stared at him, mind completely blank, unable to process what he had just said. Tears began to blur your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away.

“Lando…” you tried to speak up, but your voice cracked.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, voice shaking. “I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was how much I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let my kid grow up without a family. I know how much family means to you, to me. I have to be there for them.”

Your heart shattered into pieces. You could see how much Lando was struggling, the guilt etched into every line of his face. But the pain of his betrayal was unbearable.

“I don’t…I don’t have anything to say anymore, honestly,” you said finally, voice trembling. “Because you had already made your decision—you’re choosing them.”

Lando shook his head vehemently. “No! No, I’m not choosing anyone over you. You’re the love of my life. That hasn’t changed and never will.”

“Lando, you can’t have both,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t stay here knowing all of these. I can’t be a part of this.”

He reached out as if to touch you, but you recoiled. You couldn’t bear his touch right now. “Please love,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You already have,” you said softly, standing up and wiping your tears. “I won’t hold you back, Lando. You need to do what’s right for your child. They deserve a family, and I will not be the reason why they don’t have one.”

You walked to your shared bedroom, your movements mechanical as you began packing your things. Every item you placed in your suitcase felt like a dagger to your chest. This apartment had been your home, your safe haven, and now it was just a place you needed to escape from. Lando just stood in the doorway, watching you pack all of your things, his face pale and tear-streaked. He didn’t try to stop you—he knew that he couldn’t.

When you zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your bag, you turned to him one last time. “Take care of both of them,” you said, voice barely audible. “Be the father they need.

With that, you walked out of the apartment, out of the life you and Lando had built together. You had loved him for seven years, trusted him with every piece of your heart. But now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been.

The crisp night air bit at your skin as you stood by the entrance of the apartment building, clutching the handle of your suitcase. Your ride to the airport was just a few minutes away, but the wait felt eternal. You stared blankly at the sidewalk, mind is a chaotic mess, the weight of everything that had happened tonight pressing heavily on your chest.

You heard familiar voices approaching before you saw them, their cheerful tones instantly recognizable. Quickly, you wiped at your cheeks, hoping your red-rimmed eyes wouldn’t give you away. Plastering on a smile, you turned towards Max and Kelly as they walked towards the entrance, hand in hand, their expressions bright despite the late hour.

“Hey! What are you doing out here so late?” Kelly asked, brows knitting in concern as she noticed the two large suitcases beside you.

You hesitated, forcing your smile to stay in place. “I, uh, have a family emergency,” you lied smoothly, voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “I need to head back home for a bit.”

Max tilted his head slightly, sharp blue eyes scanning you with the protective gaze you had come to know so well over the years. “Two large suitcases for just a quick trip? That seems a bit much,” he remarked lightly, though his tone carried a hint of suspicion.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s just…really complicated right now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so I packed extra, just in case.”

Kelly’s hand tightened on Max’s arm as she stepped closer to you, her concern evident. “Is Lando not home right now? Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve helped you pack, we can drive you to the airport.”

You shook your head quickly. “Lan’s already sleeping and I hate to wake him up, he just recently got back from his trip. I also didn’t want to bother you, I’ve already called a car, and it should be here any minute.”

They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced but respectful enough not to press you further. “Well, we’re not leaving you out here alone,” Max said firmly. “We’ll wait with you until your ride gets here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determined set of his jaw told you it would all be just pointless. Instead, you nodded, grateful for their presence even as it made it harder to hold yourself together.

Kelly gave you a warm smile, trying to ease the tension. “It’s late, but P was asking about you earlier,” she said softly. “She’s been begging to have another day with her favorite Auntie.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of Penelope, and you forced your smile to widen. “I’ll miss her so much,” you said, voice thick despite your best efforts. “Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, but before she could say anything, your ride had pulled up to the curb. Relief and dread washed over you in equal measure. Max then stepped forward immediately, grabbing your suitcases with ease.

“I’ll load these up for you,” he said, tone gruff but kind.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching as he placed your suitcases in the trunk of the car.

When Max turned back, Kelly pulled you into a tight hug, her familiar perfume bringing a rush of bittersweet comfort. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered. “Whatever’s going on, we’re here for you.”

You nodded against her shoulder, your throat too tight to respond. When she pulled away, Max had stepped forward, wrapping you in a hug that was strong and protective, just like he always was.

“Be back soon, okay? P will be missing her favorite Aunt.” he said, chuckling. “If you need anything, you call me or Kelly. No excuses.”

“I will,” you promised, though you knew that you wouldn’t.

As you stepped back, Kelly offered you a gentle smile. “When you get back, P will be so excited to see you again. You know how much she loves spending time with you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you could only nod in response. You managed a faint smile as you climbed into the car, giving them one final wave.

“Safe travels,” Kelly called out as Max closed the door for you.

You watched them through the window, standing together on the curb, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They waved as the car pulled away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wave back again. Instead, you turned your gaze forward, the city lights blurring through the tears that silently slid down your cheeks.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

When you finally arrived back home, the weight of the long hour of flight clung to you like a heavy fog. You dragged your suitcases through the familiar front door, exhaustion etched into every inch of your body. The warm, welcoming scent of your childhood home did little to comfort you, instead, it only amplified the ache in your chest. All you wanted was to collapse into your bed and wake up to a world where none of this had ever happened—a world where your heart wasn’t shattered into pieces. But this was your reality, as cruel as it was.

You definitely hadn’t anticipated seeing your older sister, Noelle, and her husband, Mike, in the living room, seated across from your mother, their laughter filling the space. The sound abruptly stopped when they noticed you standing in the doorway, your pale face and tired eyes a huge giveaway of the turmoil you tried so desperately to hide.

“What are you doing here?” Noelle asked, rising from her seatc brows knitting together in concern. “You didn’t tell us that you were coming home.”

Noelle’s brows knit together as she took in your disheveled appearance, her sharp eyes catching every detail—dark circles under your eyes, stiffness in your movements, and the forced smile you mustered.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I, uh, needed to come home for a bit.”

Your mother rose from her seat as well, concern etched into her features. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, gaze darting between you and the suitcases you had left by the door.

You hesitated, throat tightening. You had been dreading this moment, knowing full well how much your family adored Lando so much. They had welcomed him with open arms from the start, treating him as one of their own. Now, you were about to break their hearts almost as much as he had broken yours.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I just needed a change of scenery, that’s all.”

Noelle stood, arms crossed as she gave you a pointed look. “Don’t give me that kind of excuse. You don’t just show up unannounced looking like this for no reason. What really happened?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding Noelle’s gaze. “Lando and I broke up,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The whole room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my darling sweetheart,” she breathed.

Noelle, however, was not so subdued. “What?” she exclaimed, voice rising. “What do you mean you broke up? What happened? Did he do something stupid?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” she pressed, tone sharp.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “We just…fell out of love. The both of us,” you said, hating the words even as you said then. “We’ve been together for so long, and I guess we just realized that we weren’t the same people years ago anymore. It didn’t make sense to keep on pretending, we’ll just end up hurting ourselves in the long run.”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound like Lando at all. The man adores you so much, even worships the ground you walk on.”

“He did,” you said softly, chest tightening. “And I adored him too. But people change, feelings change.”

Your mother stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “Are you sure this is what you wanted?” she asked gently.

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “It’s for the best,” you lied, voice cracking slightly.

Mike, who had been silent until now, placed a hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “If this is what she’s decided, we should respect it,” he said quietly, giving you a small, understanding nod.

Noelle just sighed, clearly torn between pressing you for further information and letting it go. Finally, she relented, though her expression was still skeptical.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” she said, voice more softer now. “You two were so good together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from breaking down. “I’ll be okay, eventually,” you said, words hollow.

Your mother pulled you into a tight embrace, her warmth briefly soothing the ache in your chest. “Whatever happens, we’re always here for you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, mommy,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

As you pulled away, your sister gave you a long look, her expression unreadable. “If he hurt you—” she started, but you cut her off.

“He didn’t,” you said firmly, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “It just didn’t work out. That’s all.”

Noelle still didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, clearly sensing that there’s more to it, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay? We’re all here.”

You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. “Thank you,” you said, words barely audible.

Excusing yourself, you retreated to your old bedroom, closing the door behind you gently and sinking onto the comfort of your bed. The familiar surroundings brought no comfort, only a stark reminder of the life you had left behind. While you lay down, staring at the ceiling, the tears finally came, silent and unrelenting.

You had still protected Lando from your family’s anger, even though he did not deserve any of it, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

The Nausea hits you like clockwork every morning. You found yourself rushing to the bathroom, stomach twisting in protest against seemingly nothing. It had started a few weeks ago, and though you had initially dismissed it as a lingering flu or perhaps the stress with work finally catching up to you, it was becoming harder to ignore. Rest didn’t seem to help you, but you assured yourself that it wasn’t that serious. Besides, you have work to focus on, and that was enough to keep your mind occupied, most of the time.

Two months had already passed since you had left Monaco for good, and life had begun to settle into a new rhythm. Yes, the ache in your chest was still there, but it had been dulled into something manageable. You were slowly rebuilding yourself, piece by piece, though the nausea was an unwelcome distraction.

It was a normal afternoon, while you were curled up on the beanbag chair in your bedroom after a long and tiring day, your phone buzzed. The caller ID that was displayed on the screen made your breath catch for a moment—Kelly. You hesitated before answering, already bracing yourself for the conversation. Her face appeared on the screen, bright and concerned.

“Finally, I caught you!” she said with a smile, though her tone was tinged with worry. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

You shook your head, chuckling and offered her a small smile. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. Things have been so busy with me lately.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly as she studied your face. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a silly flu,” you said quickly, but the faint edge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said gently. “Max and I found out about it already, about you and Lando.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, expression softening. “We would’ve been there for you. You’ve been through this all alone.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to drag anyone else into the mess, and I didn’t even know what to say.”

Kelly’s voice grew firmer. “You didn’t have to say anything, we would’ve understood. Max is furious with Lando, you know. So is Carlos. I even have to break the two of them away from Lando.”

Your heart sank at the thought. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s not worth it.”

Kelly shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line. “It is worth it. What Lando did to you was unforgivable. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “I’ll move on, eventually.”

Kelly’s expression softened again, and she leaned closer to the camera. “I just wish you’d let us help you. You know we love you, right? You’ve always been family to us.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

Her face brightened slightly. “But speaking of family, someone’s been dying to talk to you!”

Before you could respond, the screen shifted, and Penelope’s little face appeared, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “AUNTIE!” she exclaimed, voice high with excitement.

”Hi, P!” You said, heart aching at the sight of her.

“I miss you so much!” she said, pouting slightly. “When are you coming back? Mommy says you’re not in Monaco anymore.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I miss you too, darling. I just…I had to be somewhere else for a while.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” she asked, her big eyes staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “We’ll see, P. For now, you have to be good for your mommy and Maxie, okay?”

“I’m always good!” she declared, puffing out her chest.

Kelly’s voice chimed in from the background. “That’s debatable,” she teased, earning a giggle from Penelope.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as your chest tightened. “You’re the best, P. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay!” she said brightly before turning to Kelly. “Mommy, can we call Auntie again tomorrow?”

Kelly returned to the screen, giving you a knowing look. “We’ll let her rest for now, P. But yes, we’ll call Auntie again soon.”

“Promise?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

“Promise,” Kelly said, smiling before turning back to you. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, anything, just call me.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kelly. I will.”

After ending your facetime call with Kelly, you stumbled into the bathroom, your stomach churning violently. The moment you stepped inside, you collapsed in front of the toilet, heaving uncontrollably. It felt as though your insides were twisting, every muscle tensing in protest. When it finally subsided, you shakily wiped your mouth, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked pale—paler than usual, and eyes were bloodshot from the strain.

It took you a couple of minutes to compose yourself before heading to the kitchen, hoping the water would help settle your spinning head. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you poured the water, but as you lifted it to your lips, another wave of dizziness hit you. This time, it was stronger. Your grip faltered, and the glass slipped from your hand, shattering loudly as it hit the floor.

The sharp noise brought Noelle and Mike running into the kitchen. They froze when they saw you swaying on your feet, barely managing to stay upright. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything around you was growing hazier. Before you could say anything, your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision blackening as you began to lose consciousness. Noelle was by your side in an instant, her hands gentle but urgent as she checked your pulse.

“Don’t worry, she’s alive,” Noelle muttered, voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Mike, call an ambulance now!”

Mike didn’t hesitate, rushing to grab his phone and calling for help. You could hear Mike’s voice in the background, muffled and frantic as he spoke to the operator.

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Mike said, tone clipped, almost too calm for the situation. “My sister-in-law collapsed, and we need help immediately.”

Noelle’s voice cut through your haze, trying to keep you steady. “Come on, stay with me, okay? Just hold on.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even make a sound, but you could hear them both, voices blending with the rush of adrenaline in the air. Mike’s footsteps moved swiftly, his voice growing more distant as he spoke with the ambulance on the phone.

The minutes that followed felt like hours. The sound of the ambulance siren grew louder, and relief flooded Noelle’s face as the paramedics rushed into the house. They quickly assessed the situation, asking Noelle questions about your symptoms and recent health conditions.

“She’s been experiencing dizziness for weeks now,” Noelle explained. “She’s stubborn, didn’t want to see a doctor. This morning she was nauseous, and now she’s fainted.”

The paramedics nodded, lifting you onto the stretcher carefully. Noelle and Mike followed closely as they carried you out to the ambulance. “I’m coming with her to the hospital,” Noelle said firmly, climbing into the back of the ambulance without hesitation.

Mike stayed behind, watching the ambulance doors close with a worried expression. “Alright, I’ll be informing your mother when she arrives, but call me as soon as you know something,” he said to Noelle before they drove off.

Inside the ambulance, Noelle held your hand tightly, her fingers trembling against your own. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, though her voice was thick with concern. “Just breathe, okay? We’re almost there.”

You couldn’t focus on what Noelle was saying. The world had gone dark around you, only the pulse of your own heartbeat reminding you that you were still there, still fighting to stay conscious.

The steady beeping of the machines was the first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes, the sterile smell of the hospital room making everything feel surreal. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, your gaze landed on your sister, Noelle, sitting in one of the chairs beside your bed, her expression a mixture of worry and relief when she noticed you stirring.

“Noelle,” you croaked, voice hoarse from sleep and dryness.

She shot up almost instantly, coming to your side and helping you adjust into a sitting position in the hospital bed. Her hands were gentle but firm as she propped a pillow behind your back.

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” she said softly. She reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “Here, drink up. Small sips.”

You followed her instructions, taking slow, careful sips, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “What happened? Why am I in the hospital?” you asked weakly, mind still foggy.

“You fainted in the kitchen,” Noelle explained, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You scared the hell out of us. Mike called the ambulance, and I came with you here. Mom and Mike are both on their way. They’ll be here soon.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door, a doctor entered, her expression professional but kind. Noelle immediately stepped aside, letting her approach you.

“I’m glad that you’re awake now, my dear,” she began, smiling at you. “We’ve run some tests to determine the cause of your fainting and other symptoms.”

You nodded slowly, stomach churning with apprehension. Noelle moved closer to your side, her presence grounding you.

“We’ve reviewed your results,” she continued, glancing at her clipboard before meeting your eyes. “The dizziness, nausea, and vomiting you’ve been experiencing for the past weeks are all consistent with early pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant!”

Pregnant. Pregnant.

For a moment, the words did not register. The hospital room seemed to grow impossibly still, the doctor’s voice fading into the background as you processed the news. Seven weeks. The timeline clicked into place, and your heart sank as realization hit. Seven weeks pregnant. You could hear the faint ringing in your ears, a sharp contrast to the quiet gasp from Noelle beside you.

“I…I’m sorry, what?” you managed to stammer, voice shaking.

“You’re pregnant, dear,” the doctor repeated gently. “Seven weeks along. Your vitals look good, but it’s important to start prenatal care as soon as possible. We’ve referred you to an OB-GYN who will guide you through the process and answer any questions you might have.”

You nodded numbly, unable to form any coherent response. The doctor continued to explain what you should expect in the coming weeks—dietary recommendations, plenty of rest, and the importance of regular check-ups. But her words felt very distant, as if you were hearing them through a fog.

When the doctor finally left, you were left staring blankly at the sterile white wall, the weight of the revelation crushing you. Seven weeks. You did the math in your head, mind racing. By now, you know that the woman Lando had gotten pregnant would be around three months into pregnancy.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the enormity of the situation was starting to overwhelm you. You were carrying Lando’s child. That man had broken and shattered your heart into pieces, and who had chosen someone else, was now bound to you in a way that you could not escape.

“Noelle,” you whispered, voice breaking.

She knelt beside the bed, taking your trembling hands in hers. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here, okay?” she said softly, her tone steady and reassuring.

“I don’t know what to do,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. How am I supposed to handle this?”

Noelle’s grip on your hands tightened slightly, eyes full of concern. “I don’t have all the answers,” she admitted, “but you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you—Mom and Mike, too. We’ll all figure this out together, okay?”

Two years had already passed, and your life was a world away from where it had been. Astrid, your little ray of sunshine, was turning two today. She was the center of your universe, your whole life, her giggles filling every corner of the house you had worked so hard to call your own. It was a beautiful home, just three doors away from your mother’s home, ensuring that Astrid was always surrounded by the love and warmth of your family.

Noelle and Mike, ever the doting aunt and uncle, spoiled her endlessly. They brought over toys, books, and clothes—sometimes more than you thought Astrid needed, but you couldn’t deny the happiness on Astrid’s face when they arrived with surprise in hand.

It’s true that your pregnancy and the early days of motherhood had not been easy, but you were able to survive. More than that, you thrived. With a promotion to a top position at work and a comfortable life for you and Astrid, you finally felt at peace. The past—Lando, was no longer a wound, but now a distant memory you had learned to accept. Your family also had long stopped asking questions about the details of your breakup, and while they knew Lando was Astrid’s father, they never dwelled on it. Astrid had all the love she needed, and that was what mattered most.

But there was one part of your life you had not reconciled yet—Max and Kelly. Despite keeping in touch with Kelly through regular facetime calls, you had managed to keep Astrid a secret. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, it was just too complicated to explain everything. It was already enough that they found out what Lando had done that caused your breakup.

However, when Kelly had mentioned that they would be spending their vacation in your home country and would be arriving the day before Astrid’s second birthday, you had a window of opportunity. It was time to take a step forward. So you had invited them to what you described as a simple gathering at your home. You didn’t explicitly tell them that it would be Astrid’s birthday party—just that it would be a chance to catch up and spend time together.

As the day drew closer, you found yourself torn between excitement and anxiety. What would they say when they realized the gathering that you had talked about was actually a celebration for your daughter? Would they feel hurt that you had kept Astrid a secret for so long?

These thoughts lingered as you finalized the decorations, baked Astrid’s favorite cake, and prepared the house for your guests. But when you looked at Astrid, happily playing with her toys in the living room, the doubt began to fade. This was your life now—a life filled with love and laughter, even if it was different from what you had once imagined.

The backyard was a colorful dream, adorned with streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, Happy 2nd Birthday! and Astrid’s favorite colors painted every corner of the space, and the laughter of children filled the air as they played games and ran around laughing. Astrid herself was the picture of happiness, twirling in her pretty dress, a bright smile on her face as she clung to her grandmother’s hand.

You excused yourself from the backyard, your hands brushing against your dress nervously as you stepped back into the kitchen to double-check the desserts. Rows of cupcakes sat neatly on the counter, each one topped with swirls of frosting and sprinkles. You picked one up, turning it slightly to make sure everything was perfect. Then the doorbell rang.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of nerves rushing through you. It had to be Max, Kelly, and Penelope. You wiped your hands on a towel, took a deep breath, and walked to the front door, steadying yourself before opening it. The moment you opened the door, cheerful shouts of ‘surprise!’ had greeted you. Kelly was the first to throw her arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, stepping back as Max swooped in for a hug.

“You’ve been hiding!” Max teased lightly, squeezing your shoulder before stepping aside to let Penelope in.

“Hi Auntie!” Penelope chirped, small arms wrapping tightly around your waist as she hugged you with all her might.

You bent down to her level, pulling her into a proper hug. “Hi, darling. I missed you so much!”

Penelope pulled back, her face beaming. “I missed you too, Auntie! Can I see your house?”

Before you could respond, the sound of children’s laughter drifted in from the backyard, catching their attention. Kelly tilted her head curiously.

“What’s going on back there?” she asked, brows furrowed. “That sounds like a lot of kids.”

Max glanced at you, an eyebrow raised. “Is this the simple gathering you mentioned?”

A nervous smile tugged at your lips as you stepped back, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, follow me.”

You led them through the hallway and out through the glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the yard was buzzing with activity. Children were playing games, some of them are having the time of their life on the bouncy castle, parents chatted near the tables of food, and Astrid was in the middle of it all, her laughter carrying above the noise.

Penelope gasped in delight. “Can I please go play?” she asked, bouncing on her toes as she looked up at Max and Kelly.

Kelly nodded with a smile. “Of course, go ahead.”

Penelope dashed off, her excitement blending seamlessly with the other children. Kelly and Max, however, stood frozen, their eyes scanning the scene. It wasn’t long before they realized that this was not just any gathering.

“Is this…” Kelly began, voice trailing off.

“A birthday party?” Max finished for her, tone laced with confusion.

You nodded slowly, your smile nervous. “Yes. Actually,” you glanced at Astrid, who was now in your mother’s arms, laughing as your mother tickled her sides. “It’s her birthday party.”

Their confusion deepened as they followed your gaze. Max opened his mouth to speak, but Kelly beat him to it. “Her?” she asked, voice soft, almost uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to your mother and gently took Astrid from her arms. Astrid immediately snuggled into your shoulder, her tiny hands clutching at your dress as she peeked at the newcomers. Turning back to Max and Kelly, you smiled, though your heart was racing.

“Guys, this is Astrid,” you said softly. “My daughter.”

For a moment, there was only silence as Max and Kelly processed your words. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide, while Max stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper.

“You have a daughter?” Kelly finally asked, voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, holding Astrid a little tighter. “I do.”

Max’s voice was careful, almost cautious. “Where’s her father?”

The question hung heavy in the air, heavy and unspoken truths lingering just beneath the surface. You looked down at Astrid, avoiding Max’s gaze as you shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“He’s…not in the picture anymore,” you said quietly.

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening. It was clear he had pieced everything together, but decided not to press further. Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at Astrid, who was now peering curiously at him. Kelly stepped forward, her initial shock melting into warmth.

“Can I hold her?” she asked gently.

You nodded, carefully handing Astrid over. Kelly cradled her as if she had been waiting for this moment forever, her face lighting up as Astrid stared at her with wide, curious eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” Kelly murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Max crouched down slightly to Astrid’s level, his serious expression softening. “Hey there, little one,” he said, playfully covering his eyes with his hands and then revealing them. “Peekaboo!”

Astrid blinked at him, tiny lips began curling into a smile as Max covered his face with his hand again and revealed it with a loud ‘boo!’ Astrid’s laughter was immediate and infectious, filling the air and making Max grin wider.

“She likes you,” Kelly said with a laugh, glancing at Max as she bounced Astrid gently.

Max looked up, his expression a mix of amusement and something more tender. “What can I say? Kids love me.”

Penelope had run up to you with little Astrid in tow, face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, can Astrid play with me? I promise that I’ll take care of her,” she said, her little hands clasped together as she gave you the most earnest look.

You smiled, crouching down to their level. “Alright,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of Astrid’s face. “But remember, she’s still very small, so be careful with her, okay?”

“I promise!” Penelope chirped. “Come on Astrid, let’s play!” she took Astrid’s hand and led her back towards the group of children.

Once they were settled, you turned to Max and Kelly, who were waiting nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and seriousness. You gestured towards the patio table, and the three of you moved to sit down. For a brief moment, there was an awkward silence, only broken by the distant sound of children laughing.

It was Max who spoke first. “So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “are you going to tell Lando about Astrid?”

“No.” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

Kelly’s brows furrowed. “No?” she repeated, voice a mix of confusion and concern. “You don’t plan on telling him that he has a daughter?”

“Telling him that he has a daughter is not included in my plans,” you said quietly, glancing briefly at Astrid, who was now sitting on the grass with Penelope, giggling as they played.

Max exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “But why?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with disbelief. “Don’t you think he has the right to know?”

You looked at Max, expression calm but resolute. “He had already made his choice and I made mine,” you said softly. “By the time I found out that I was pregnant, he was already committed to building a life with someone else—for their child. I’m not that ignorant, I’ve seen the articles, Max. It’s clear as daylight that he’s happy with them, he’s being the father that the child needs.”

Max sighed. “This isn’t about the articles or public perception. It’s about Astrid. She has the right to know who her father is, and Lando has a right to know about her.”

Kelly nodded in agreement with what had Max just said. “And what happens when she grows up and starts asking questions?”

“I’ll tell Astrid,” you said. “I’ll tell her when the time is right, I’ll explain everything to her. But for now, I’m protecting her. I don’t want her to feel like she was a second thought or an obligation. I don’t want to make her feel unwanted.”

Max shook his head slightly. “It’s not fair to Astrid, or to Lando,” he said, voice low. “He deserves to know. He deserves the chance to be a part of her life.”

“And what if Lando doesn’t want to be a part of her life, Max?” you said, voice cracking slightly and gripping the edge of the table. “What if yes, I ended up telling him, and he rejected her? What if I ruin the good thing he has now, for nothing? I’m not going to be the person who will bring chaos to my daughter’s life by trying to force something that might not even work, and I most definitely won't be the one who will tear Lando’s life apart just to ease my conscience.”

Kelly reached out, placing a hand gently on yours. “I understand that you’re scared,” she said softly. “And I understand why you’ve made your choice. But you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. But please, just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, though you knew that your decision was firm and wouldn’t change. “Thank you,” you said quietly, looking between Max and Kelly. “I just need you both to trust me on this one. Trust that I’m doing what’s best for Astrid.”

Max hesitated, then finally nodded. “We’ll be keeping this just between the three of us,” he said, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Kelly smiled faintly, her grip on your hand tightening briefly before she let go. “Astrid is lucky to have you as her mother,” she said, voice warm. “She’s amazing and gorgeous, you know. She’s already so full of life.”

You smiled softly at Kelly’s words. “She is,” you said. “She really is.”

Glancing back towards the yard, you watched Astrid and Penelope play together, the sound of Astrid’s uncontrollable laughter filled the air, warming your heart in a way that words could never even describe. Her happiness was infectious, an important reminder of everything good in your life despite the path it had taken to get where you are now. But as your eyes lingered on her, there was a familiar ache that settled deep in your chest.

You couldn’t deny it—Astrid’s features were very unmistakable. Her eyes, so full of wonder and innocence, were a mirror image of Lando’s. Every now and then, when she turned her head a certain way or smiled just so, it was like seeing a glimpse of Lando again. The resemblance was undeniable, and it only grew stronger as Astrid got older. It was a bittersweet reality you carried with you every day.

Yet, despite the pain that came with those reminders, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy. Astrid was surrounded by love—a love so abundant that it filled every corner of her little world. She didn’t need anything else, not when you, your whole family, and everyone who cherished her. That love was enough, it had to be enough.

Letting Lando go was not easy. It had taken every ounce of strength you had to accept that the life you once imagined with him was not meant to be. But you had done it, you had learned to let him go. You had made peace with the fact that you were not the one he chose, and the woman you would never be was the one who was not his.

Someday, you knew, the time might come when you were ready to tell Lando about Astrid, ready to introduce him to the child you both brought into this world. But that day was not today. For now, you would let him continue living the life he had chosen, with the person he had chosen. You wished him nothing but happiness, even if it wasn’t with you.

You also hoped that Lando would one day find everything he was searching for, that he would feel fulfilled and content in the life he was building. Even if it hurts, you wanted that for him, and while he was busy living that life, the daughter you both would not raise together would still be here—waiting for him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

The breakup, heartache, and the choices you made were not what you had wanted, but they were what you needed. Sometimes, it’s hard to accept the fact that love is not enough to keep two people together, and that’s okay. It didn’t make the love you once shared with Lando any less real.

But for now, everything else could wait.

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maskedbyghost · 3 months ago

Text

tw/cw: stalking, cnc, possessive behavior, smut, cheating, dirty talk.. idk if i missed something. enjoy.

hi! did you know that simon installed secret cameras around your flat to watch you like the stalker he is? you did. of course you did.

you knew the second you caught the tiny black lens blinking behind the bookshelf. the second the red light blinked on above your bed.

the second you turned your face — bored, spread out under your boyfriend — and looked directly into it.

and oh, simon saw that. he saw everything.

he saw the way your boyfriend fucked you like he was checking something off a list.

he saw how your hands never gripped back, how your hips never lifted, how you stared at the wall, and how you looked at the camera.

he knew you wanted to be watched, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

it was a thursday when he let himself in. no knocking, no warning.

you were in the kitchen, barefoot, mug in hand, loose tee skimming your thighs. at first, you didn’t hear him, not until that low voice rasped from behind you.

“don’t be scared. you knew i’d come.”

you froze. not out of fear — no. it was the way your stomach dipped, the way your thighs pressed together. slowly, you turned, mug already forgotten on the counter, and faced him.

simon riley. in your flat. black hoodie stretched across broad shoulders, his well-known balaclava still on. his eyes — dark, sharp — fixed on you like he was starving.

“you’ve been watching me,” you said, voice even, challenging him.

“you’ve been letting me,” he shot back, stepping closer. “you think i didn’t see the way you looked into the camera?”

he was close now, towering over you, making you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

“you wanted me to see,” he murmured. “wanted me to watch you getting fucked like that. bored. still. waiting for something better.”

you didn’t respond, but you also didn’t step back.

and then you let him touch you — his hand on your jaw, fingers sliding under your chin, allowing him to tilt your head.

“you were waiting for me, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

you swallowed hard. “i know you’ve been stalking me,” you whispered.

“then you know i won’t stop until you’re mine.” that was everything he said before he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it was claiming. his hand held your face firmly, mouth hot and possessive on yours, his tongue sliding past your lips like he had every right to.

and god — maybe he did.

he tasted like heat, smoke and danger, and you didn’t pull away.

“you gonna let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like?” he muttered against your mouth. “what you should’ve felt all those nights?”

you didn’t answer. just leaned back against the kitchen counter, shirt riding up your thighs, your heart pounding.

he pressed close. his knee slipped between yours, spreading you a little, as his hand started sliding slowly up your leg.

“tell me to stop,” he said lowly, voice almost a growl. “say the word and i’ll walk out.”

you looked him in the eye. breathed deep, and said nothing.

simon’s hand moved higher, his fingers slipping under your shirt until he realized that you were bare underneath.

“naughty girl,” he murmured. “walking around knowing i’m watching, no panties. you like this, don’t you?”

you nodded. breath shaky.

“say it.”

“i like it,” you whispered. “i like when you watch me.”

his fingers reached your slit and he found it already slick, causing him to groan as his mouth brushed against your neck. “fuckin’ hell. already wet for me. just from my voice?”

“just from knowing you’re here.”

his breath was hot against your skin, his fingers stroking through your folds like he was learning you. memorizing you.

“i’m gonna make you cum just like this,” he murmured. “gonna make you fall apart on my fingers so you know what you’ve been missing.”

you gasped when he slid one thick finger into you. then two. his other hand gripped your hip, holding you still as he curled them just right.

“you feel that?”

“yeah—”

“no, say it. tell me how good it feels.” he said as he created perfect rhythm with his fingers.

“fuck, simon—feels so good, i—” you could barely form a full sentence, your eyes rolling back.

he chuckled, deep and smug. his fingers moved faster, tighter, finding that perfect spot, making your legs shake.

“that’s it, sweet girl. just let go for me. been needing this, haven’t you?”

you moaned, head falling back, thighs trembling around his hand. and he watched your face, watched your lips part, your eyes roll back—

and then you came. hard. clenching around his fingers with a cry, your hands gripping the counter.

a few moments later, he pulled back slowly, fingers soaked, and brought them to his mouth before he sucked them clean.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, voice husky. “tastes like mine already.”

you stood there, panting, trying to catch your breath, looking at him as he started to walk away.

but you weren’t done.

you grabbed the knife off the counter, threw it — not at him, but past him, and watch it stuck in the doorframe.

that made he turn back slowly, his brows raised.

“fucking finish what you started,” you snapped.

he grinned behind the mask. “whatever my beautiful girl wants.”

and then he was on you once again. he stripped you fast — shirt yanked over your head, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you onto the counter.

you clawed at his hoodie, tugged it off, revealing thick arms, broad chest, the scar that curved down his collarbone, before yanking down his mask.

you finally saw his face, and he was beautiful in that brutal way — jaw sharp, eyes burning, lips swollen from kissing you.

“gonna fuck you until you forget anyone else ever touched you,” he growled. “gonna make you cum until all you know is my name.”

after his promise, he dropped his pants down. thick, heavy cock springing free, already leaking, making you gasp.

“you ready, sweetheart?”

“yes—please—”

that was the only confirmation he needed before he lined up and slammed into you. no teasing. no mercy. just pure, claiming thrusts, stretching you wide, forcing moans from your throat with every snap of his hips.

“tight little cunt,” he groaned. “gripping me like you were made for it.”

“feels—feels so good—”

“yeah? you like being fucked like this? like you matter?”

you nodded frantically, eyes wet, mouth open as he fucked you hard, his hand on your throat, squeezing just enough.

“cum for me again,” he hissed. “show me how much better this is than him.”

and you did. again.

your second orgasm ripped through you — back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. but he didn’t stop.

“one more, sweet girl. give me one more.”

his fingers rubbed your clit in tight circles, cock still pounding into you. you were crying now, shaking, legs twitching.

“you can do it. you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“then cum. now.”

you shattered. third orgasm left you gasping, thighs quivering, eyes glassy. he pulled out with a groan, spun you around, and bent you over the counter.

“not done yet.”

he took you again — from behind this time. deeper, rougher. his hand in your hair, the other on your hip.

“one more, baby. just one more. you can give it to me.”

a few minutes later, you sobbed his name as you came a fourth time — legs barely holding you up, body limp. and finally, finally, simon groaned loud and came inside you, thick and deep and possessive.

you slumped forward, gasping, and he held you there, as he kissed your shoulder, neck, and everywhere else he could reach.

and then — quietly — “don’t worry about your ex.”

“what…?”

he leaned in close. “i handled it. before i came here.”

“what do you mean?” you asked in confusion.

“i mean,” he said, kissing your neck, “you don’t have to pretend anymore. you’re mine now.”

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost x reader

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eu-nicola · 7 months ago

Text

Morocco part 1

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, weapons, cheating, pregnancy, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 9000

author's note: spoilers of s4, many things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

There was a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt and adventure. You stood on the shore, watching the waves crash against the sharp, black rocks of the Outer Banks coastline. The sunset dyed the sky deep oranges and reds, painting long, brooding shadows across the sand. In the distance, the lighthouse flickered with its intermittent light, marking time. Your thoughts were filled with questions now that you were going to Morocco, and Rafe’s silhouette approaching along the wooden walkway only intensified that unease.

Rafe had that look in his eyes that you had always found difficult to read, a mix of defiance and nonchalance that gave him an almost untouchable air. He walked with a confident gait, hands in his pockets, white shirt fluttering lightly in the wind. When he was close enough, you stopped, feeling tension take hold of your muscles. He noticed your expression and, without a word, stood beside you, staring out at the ocean as if you shared a secret that only he understood.

“How are you?” you asked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded shakier than you had planned. It wasn’t a casual question; you both knew he was carrying a heavier weight. His eyes narrowed just a little, and after a moment that seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh.

“Sofia is going to stay here,” he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. His words fell like stones to the bottom of your stomach, sinking you into a feeling of emptiness. “I didn’t want to risk taking my future wife to Morocco.”

It took your mind a while to process what he had just said, as if your brain had hit an unexpected wall. Future wife? The icy surprise ran across your skin, leaving you feeling cold in the stifling summer heat. You forced yourself to keep your composure, to not let the confusion become visible, but it was too late: Rafe was already watching you with that look that knew too much.

“Are you engaged?” you finally asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, but feeling the lump in your throat tighten a little more with each word. He gave you a slight smile, which barely curved his lips, but was reflected more intensely in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, and the weight of that simple statement crushed your chest. You looked back at the horizon, looking for a respite in the immensity of the sea. The waves continued to break, indifferent to human emotions, while you struggled to maintain the balance between surprise and the pain that you did not dare to let out.

Rafe nodded, his smile wider and more sincere than yours. “Thank you,” he said in a tone that revealed a kind of relief, as if he had been waiting for your reaction with hidden caution. There was a moment of silence, awkward and dense, in which neither of you moved or looked away from the ocean. The waves continued their eternal back and forth, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to be anywhere else in the world, a place where Rafe’s words couldn’t reach you and where the echo of “future wife” didn’t resonate in your mind like a persistent hammering.

The breeze blew harder, carrying with it the echo of distant laughter and the voices of seagulls, and as Rafe looked back out to sea, you felt everything moving around you, except you.

You fell silent, allowing the sound of the sea and the wind to carry away the unspoken words. You didn't want to talk about Rafe's engagement anymore, or about Sofia, or what it meant to you. You had learned to swallow your emotions, to let them burn inside you until they became something more bearable, like ashes after a fire. So you didn't say anything. You just nodded almost imperceptibly and took a step back, as if you were walking away from a conversation that had already ended.

Rafe watched you with fleeting curiosity, but he didn't insist. He, too, knew when it was best to leave things as they were. Without another word, he turned around and walked back along the same wooden path he had come by, his footsteps echoing in the increasingly dark afternoon. You stayed a few seconds longer, trying to let the cold in your chest dissipate and your breathing return to a normal rhythm.

When you finally turned around, your thoughts were already far away from there, beyond the ocean, in the dunes of Morocco, in the legends surrounding the Blue Crown. That relic had been the center of stories and rumors among treasure-hunting circles, a lost jewel whose importance went beyond wealth: it was said to have the power to change the fate of whoever possessed it. And now, it was sought not only by you and Rafe, but also by the Pogues, and others.

You had no time to be distracted, and you couldn't let your emotions prevent you from acting with the coolness that the situation required. You returned to your home where on the worn wooden table, the map of Morocco was spread out, with handwritten notes and markings indicating the places you had investigated before. You sat down, letting the weight of determination replace the pang of jealousy and disappointment you still felt.

You looked through your things: an old compass that had belonged to your grandfather, oil lanterns, a sharp knife, and a copy of a manuscript with cryptic clues about the location of the Blue Crown, clothes, and a lot of money.

As night fell over the Outer Banks and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you promised yourself that you would find the Crown, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way. You weren’t interested in having it, but in what it took to have it, the deals you could make, and how proud your father would be if you did. It would be your victory, your vindication with your father after he nearly “killed” you when he found out you weren’t with Rafe anymore and you ruined his perfect life by not marrying a Cameron. You pushed those memories from your mind, focusing your eyes on the map and letting the adrenaline and obsession with the search take over.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The Moroccan sun was merciless, a golden blaze that seemed hell-bent on burning your skin and sapping every ounce of energy you had. The air was dry, with a hint of sand that seeped into your mouth and stuck to your skin. You walked through a bustling market, where the aromas of spices, leather, and sweat mingled in a heady, chaotic mix. Vendors shouted in Arabic and French, selling everything from hand-woven rugs to intricately detailed gold jewelry. Despite the fascination you could feel for the place, the heat made every step a struggle.

“Damn heat,” you mutter as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your clothes, light but already soaked, clung to your skin uncomfortably. You were tired, overwhelmed, and everything seemed even more complicated in the middle of that maze of narrow streets.

Behind you, you hear a low, familiar laugh. “Are you really complaining about the heat?” Rafe’s voice comes with a hint of sarcasm you know well. He’d joined the expedition at the last minute. He wore dark sunglasses and a smile that made him seem completely unfazed, even under the relentless desert sun.

“It’s not that different from home,” he adds, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that mixes defiance and complicity. His words hit you with an unexpected truth, and although you hate to admit it, you agree with a slight nod.

“You’re right,” you acknowledge, trying not to show the irritation you felt. Outer Banks might be stifling, humid, and wild, but this dry, scorching heat had its own way of imposing itself. Still, the comparison was still valid.

Rafe stops next to a stall where an old man sells copper and silver amulets. He takes one between his fingers, examining it with that calm attention he used to display before making a major move. His presence is as familiar as it is exasperating, a constant that forced you to stay alert.

“Don’t forget what we’re here for,” he murmurs without looking at you, as he returns the amulet to the old man with a polite smile. His words bring you back to the present, to the mission.

You take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs and force you to focus. “I never forget,” you reply, and although your words sound firm, you both knew that heat, distractions, and personal tensions were silent enemies.

Rafe smirks, a gesture that could be either respect or mockery. Then, without further ado, he walks into the crowd, motioning for you to follow him.

Hours later, night fell over Morocco with the speed of a closing curtain, leaving the air still warm and charged with the promise of new intrigue. The market streets, which during the day were a hive of life, were transformed into a labyrinth of shadows and flashing lights, where low-voiced conversations and distant laughter mingled with the hum of oil lamps. You found yourself in one of these streets, walking briskly alongside Rafe, whose eyes seemed to scan every corner, alert for any sign of movement.

You knew the Pogues were in town. They’d been following the treasure trail for almost as long as you had, and though your paths had crossed in the past, you’d never considered joining them. Until now.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rafe, feeling the weight of doubt like a stone in your stomach. It was an idea that had seemed absurd to you when it first came up, but the more you thought about it, the more logical it made. Two opposing forces joining forces for a common goal. But with Rafe, you could never be completely sure of anything.

Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a smile that was more of a warning than a friendly gesture. “Relax. It suits them as much as it suits us.” You stopped at the edge of a crossroads, the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminating half of his face and leaving the other half plunged into darkness. “Don’t worry so much, if there’s one thing I know about them it’s that they can’t resist an opportunity,” she added, lowering her voice and moving closer.

The meeting was scheduled in an old warehouse near the port, a place where stacked wooden boxes and hanging ropes created a scene that seemed straight out of a pirate tale. The place smelled of salt and damp wood, and the echoes of the waves crashing against the docks filled the space with a constant murmur. When you arrived, the Pogues were already there, standing in a tense semicircle, exchanging glances and whispers. John B, with his disheveled hair and alert expression, was the first to spot you. Beside him, Sarah tensed her jaw at the sight of Rafe, and you couldn’t blame her. The wounds between them ran deep, scars that would take a while to heal, if they ever did.

“What are you doing here?” JJ’s voice was the first to break the silence. His eyes, normally full of spark and humor, were now hard as steel. Kie stood beside him, arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he didn’t trust what was happening.

Rafe raised his hands, as if to show he had no ill intentions. “Relax. We’re not here to fight. We’re here to help.”

“Help?” John B repeated the word as if it were a joke, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” you intervened, taking a step forward. All eyes fell on you, and you felt the weight of uncertainty in each gaze. “But if we want to find the Crown before others do, we have no choice. Rafe and I know things, we have clues that can lead us to it. And you also have information that we need.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Eyes met, searching for answers that neither was willing to give. Pope was the first to move, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he were assessing the situation. “What kind of information?” he finally asked, his tone calculating and full of caution.

Rafe smiled, and you knew he’d been waiting for that question. “We know the last clue leads to a site in the Atlas Mountains. But it’s not a place you can get to with maps and courage alone. You need someone who knows the terrain, and we just happen to have people who do.”

Kie let out a sigh, lowering her arms and casting a quick glance at her friends. “It’s crazy,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested the idea, as dangerous as it was, intrigued her.

John B gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from you to Rafe, then to his friends. There was a decision to be made, and you both knew it. Finally, he nodded, though not willingly. “Okay, but if this is a trap…”

“It’s not,” you interrupted. And though your words were firm, you knew that everyone there had reasons to doubt. The alliance was not perfect, and past scars still hurt. But in the search, distrust would be a luxury they could not afford.

Rafe crossed his arms, pleased, and looked at John B with a flash of defiance. “Then we better get started. The mountains aren’t going to wait for us.”

The group exchanged glances, a tacit agreement that felt like a leap into the dark.

Dawn in Morocco came with unexpected warmth, as if the sun had risen early with the sole purpose of testing everyone’s patience. The souk, which had just awakened with the first light, was filled with life in a matter of minutes: merchants displayed their wares, children ran through the alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread. The relative calm of the morning didn’t last long.

It had been barely two days since you formed that precarious alliance with the Pogues and, as you feared, things quickly went awry. You weren’t sure what exactly had caused the chaos – whether it was Rafe trying to “get information” the way he usually did, or whether it was an unfortunate run-in with another group of treasure hunters who had gotten wind of the treasure. The truth was that you now found yourself running at full speed between clay buildings and narrow alleys, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls as the screams and curses of your pursuers filled the air behind you.

“Rafe! This is madness!” you shouted as you dodged a fruit stand that you nearly knocked over in your wake. Oranges rolled across the ground, and the merchant let out an enraged scream that was lost in the melee. Rafe, running beside you with a grin that bordered on reckless, barely turned to look at you.

“Calm down, I’ve got it under control!” he replied in a tone that made you want to punch him in the midst of all the confusion. The shadow of a smile remained on his face, as if this was all just a game and not a race to keep his skin intact.

“You better fix it, Rafe!” you roared, feeling the burn in your legs and the metallic taste of effort in your mouth. “I wanted at least a couple of good days in Morocco!” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a moment of true tranquility, and in that instant, the desire for everything to be different mixed with the adrenaline that drove you to keep running.

Rafe let out a laugh, one you didn’t know whether to admire or detest. “Good days? That’s not part of the deal, friend.” His words seemed laden with irony, but also with a truth that stuck in you like a thorn.

You turned a corner and felt the sunlight hit you directly in the face, blinding you for a crucial second. You staggered and almost fell when you tripped on a small step, but Rafe grabbed your arm and pushed you forward without stopping. The footsteps behind you were getting closer, and you could hear shouts in Arabic that, although you didn’t fully understand, made it clear that the intentions were anything but friendly.

“To the right!” Rafe shouted, letting go of you and pointing down a side street that seemed narrower than the one before. Without thinking, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest like a crazed drum. The alley narrowed even further, and the terracotta-colored walls seemed to close in around you. You could feel the adrenaline bubbling through your veins, sweat soaking through your shirt, and the sound of the chase ringing in your ears as a constant reminder of how close they were.

Suddenly, a thud to your left caught your attention: John B and JJ had emerged from a hidden passage, expressions mixing surprise and relief at seeing you. “What the hell did they do now?!” JJ shouted, a spark of reproach in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for details,” you replied between gasps, and without stopping, you walked past them, followed by Rafe, who still had that impassive smile.

“We have to split up,” John B said, taking the lead and pointing with a sharp gesture. “We’ll meet at the meeting point! Go that way!” And before you could answer, he and JJ disappeared into another narrow passage, like moving shadows.

You and Rafe kept running, the chase now divided and the sound of footsteps diminishing. The alley opened up into a small square, where the midday shadows were deeper. There, you leaned against a wall, trying to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

Rafe glanced at you, his breathing ragged but a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You see,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a quick gesture, “this is what makes everything more interesting.”

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and a strange camaraderie wash over you. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe you were crazy for keeping up with him.

After the chase, everything had calmed down, they continued doing their thing during the day and at night when they went to rest at a place where they were staying while you slept you were startled by a thud in the next room. You barely had time to stand up when the door was flung open and a tall man, with scars on his face and eyes as dark as night, pointed a gun at you. “Not a single move, girl,” he hissed in broken English, the threat in his voice as clear as the gun in his hand.

Rafe, who was in the other room, burst in without a second thought. The fight was quick, a clash of bodies and blows that echoed in the small room like war drums. With your heart racing, you searched for something, anything to defend yourself, and your fingers found an old metal lamp. You didn’t think about it. With all the strength you could muster, you threw it at the intruder’s head, the metallic sound echoing as it hit him and sent him reeling.

“Get out!” Rafe shouted, his voice a roar that snapped you out of your trance. You moved toward the door as he finished subduing the intruder. Outside, the streets were deserted, a blanket of silence that was almost as dangerous as the bustle of the crowd. You knew they couldn’t stay there. They had to move.

The next day, things only got worse. Despite having agreed on a meeting point with the Pogues, the pressure of being under constant surveillance and dodging suspicious glances became unbearable. Pope had managed to decipher an ancient map that seemed to lead to a cave in the Atlas Mountains, but they hadn’t counted on the other hunters who caught wind of the advance.

The chase began in the market, with the clatter of falling pots and screams from confused vendors who barely understood what was happening. You leapt up a stone staircase that led up to the rooftops, Rafe hot on your heels and JJ and Kie a few feet behind, bringing up the rear. From above, the flat roofs of the souk stretched out like a makeshift battlefield, dotted with hanging clothes and rusty antennas. The air was thick with heat and dust, making every breath a challenge.

Gunshots rang out in the distance, the echo spreading through the streets like a wave. You threw yourself to the ground just in time to avoid a second shot, feeling adrenaline turn your fear into a searing drive. Rafe held out a hand and helped you up, the urgency in his eyes clearer than ever. “We have to get down from here now!” he shouted over the din, pointing to an old staircase that led to a narrow alley.

They managed to climb down and into the tangle of streets, but the sense of impending danger never left. The group briefly took refuge in a cellar, where John B pulled out the map and spread it out on a splintered wooden table. “The cave is close, but we need to make a detour. We’re being followed closely,” he said, his gaze fixed on the markings that indicated a winding path into the mountains.

The tension in the air was palpable. No one fully trusted Rafe, and Kie kept giving you worried glances, as if trying to gauge how much more you could take. You were tired, exhausted, but at the moment the idea of stopping seemed as far away as peace itself.

That night, when the group decided to split up, you found yourself alone with Rafe in a dark passage, the echo of screams and gunshots still haunting you. The shadows on the stone walls seemed to lengthen and twist as if they were alive, too, watching you. You walked in silence, your breathing still ragged and your body on high alert. Rafe, ever alert, stopped suddenly and put a hand on your arm. The touch was cold, but it also had a hint of urgency that made you still.

“Listen,” he whispered. You barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming toward you, slow and calculated. Before you could process it, someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you into the darkness of an alley. You kicked and punched, fighting with all your might as Rafe tried to reach you.

You knew you had been missing for no more than a couple of hours, you had learned to count time without a watch and without getting lost and you knew that you had been exactly two hours with your head covered, except for your mouth.

In an unexpected twist, it was John B who appeared out of nowhere, pulling your captor and slamming him against the wall with a force that seemed impossible for his build. Once free, you breathed heavily, feeling the world around you blur. You were tired, but John B’s gaze, full of concern and determination, reminded you that you were not alone.

“We have to move. Now,” he said and you quickly followed.

The streets began to calm down as John B led you through a maze of passages further and further away from the bustle of the souk.

Finally, John B stopped in front of an old wooden door, dark with age and dust. He knocked three times in a rhythmic manner, and the door creaked open. You entered behind him, feeling tiredness creeping through your body like an unbearable weight. The small room you entered was lit by an oil lamp in one corner, casting a dim light that made the shadows lengthen and distort.

There, sitting in a chair with an expression somewhere between worry and relief, was Rafe. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flash of excitement that he quickly tried to hide under a facade of serenity. You had no time for words; you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body and the accelerated beat of his heart under your arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Rafe hugged you back, his grip firm, almost desperate. For an instant, he wasn’t the troubled, arrogant man you’d shared so many moments of uncertainty with, but someone who shared the weight of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same need to find respite amidst the chaos.

“I thought I’d have to kill someone to find you,” he murmured, his voice husky near your ear, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. You felt his hands tighten around you, as if he feared that if he loosened his grip, you might disappear into the dimness of the room.

“I almost did,” you admitted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

John B coughed softly, breaking the tension in the air and reminding you that you weren’t alone. You looked over at him, and behind him, JJ and Kie had gathered, each with expressions ranging from relief to distrust. Kie smiled briefly, but JJ kept his stance alert, always the first to suspect Rafe.

“We need to decide our next move,” John B said, crossing his arms and glancing around at everyone in the room. “Those following us aren’t going to stop, and the cave in the mountains isn’t going to sit around waiting for us.”

Rafe let out a low, almost inaudible laugh and looked away, as if he was considering John B’s words. You felt the knot in your chest slowly unravel, replaced by the determination they all shared: to find what they were looking for.

After the conversation, the small room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by tired sighs and the occasional creaking of chairs. The tired looks, the few words. The adrenaline of the day was finally beginning to fade, and exhaustion took its place with relentless force. John B and the others found corners in the room to rest, spreading threadbare blankets on the floor and chairs.

Rafe looked at you and nodded silently, both of you knowing you wouldn't stay there. Without exchanging another word, you walked out the back door, into the shadows of the streets of Marrakech. You walked in silence, unhurried but not stopping, following the paths you already knew by heart. The house you shared was a few streets away, a replica of the many modest buildings in the neighborhood, but set back enough to offer you a semblance of privacy and safety.

Upon arriving, Rafe opened the door and let you in first. The interior was dark and cool, a welcome welcome after the scorching heat of the day and the tension that seemed to have been tied to your back like a weight. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the ephemeral peace of the place, before letting out a deep sigh and moving towards the small room in the back, where a low, simple bed awaited you.

Rafe stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of tiredness and something else you couldn’t quite make out. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” he asked, his voice soft and husky.

You shook your head as you kicked off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. “No, I just… need to sleep. It’s been too much for today.” You laid down on your side, hugging one of the pillows and feeling your eyelids begin to droop. You didn’t expect Rafe to do the same, but suddenly you heard him move. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the lamplight flickered for a moment before he blew out the last spark and everything went dark.

You flinched slightly as you felt the weight of the bed dip beside you. You turned your head, and though you could barely see his features in the darkness, you could feel his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not staying in that house with them,” he murmured, like an explanation, though you didn’t need one. You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes, too exhausted to think about what it meant.

The silence stretched between you, only broken by the slow, deep breaths that began to come together. Without realizing it, as tiredness dragged you to sleep, you turned a little, looking for a more comfortable position. Your hands brushed Rafe's arm, and he moved barely, as if responding to your touch was a reflex. Before you could think about what was happening, you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you towards him. It was a protective, warm gesture, and although at another time you would have said something, in that instant you only sighed, feeling your body relax completely.

With his breath close to your ear and the safety of his arms around you, the tension that had accompanied you for days finally dissolved.

The next morning the sun began to filter through the cracks in the window, filling the room with a soft light that contrasted with the darkness you had fallen into the night before. You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy, body still marked by the tiredness of the day before. Without moving, you felt the warmth of Rafe’s body beside you, his arm still around your waist, and for a moment you couldn’t help but smile quietly.

You tried to turn around to get out of his embrace without making a sound, hoping you wouldn’t wake him, but when you tried to move, something pulled at you. Rafe, still asleep, pulled you closer to him, a gesture so automatic that it made you sigh silently. Your body tensed at first, but then you realized it couldn’t be that bad, at least for a moment longer.

“Don’t go,” he murmured quietly, his tone rough with sleep. The softness of his words made your chest tighten unintentionally.

You stayed still for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you, as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only that small corner of peace between the two of you. But reality, as always, quickly took over. You didn’t want to be that person, you didn’t want to confuse yourself or complicate things further. It was a hug, nothing more.

“Rafe...” you began quietly, almost afraid to interrupt the peace that had formed between you. “I’m not Sofia.”

The sound of his breathing changed, and then, with a calmness that surprised you, he replied, “I know,” as he held you even tighter against his chest. His words were soft, as if there was nothing to clarify, nothing to change. “I just… want to keep sleeping.”

Despite his relaxed tone, you couldn’t stay there all day. You already knew that time was pressing, and things were still moving outside of that little bubble of calm you’d shared with him. “There are things to do, Rafe,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “And we need to eat.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at that moment, but eventually he relented. His body tensed a little as, with a grimace, he began to pull away from you, his arm finally releasing you, though his gaze was still a little clouded by sleep.

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting up with a hand on his head, as if trying to clear his head a little before getting up. “But only because you have to eat.”

The smile that escaped you upon hearing his tired, yet resigned tone was almost inevitable. You got up first, stretching and looking for clean clothes. As you watched him prepare his way to get up.

After a simple but necessary breakfast, with the morning warmth streaming in through the windows, the pace of the day continued. The conversations about the map and the cave in the mountains were quickly forgotten as each of you went about your own business. The chaos and paranoia of the day before had subsided, but danger was still present in every corner of Morocco, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Rafe, as always lately, had decided to act without thinking too much about it. There was something in his nature that pushed him to throw himself into risky situations without measuring the consequences. And, as always, it ended in trouble.

That trouble came in the form of an old acquaintance who appeared in the square, with clear intentions of collecting old debts. Rafe tried to negotiate, to talk to him in terms he clearly didn’t understand, while you watched from afar, feeling a growing unease in your stomach. There was something about the man’s posture, his cold gaze, that told you that they weren’t going to get out of this well.

The exchange of words escalated quickly, the tone of the conversation going from tense to aggressive in seconds. You knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what you didn’t expect was what happened next.

The man moved quickly, his hand searching for something in his jacket. You didn’t need to be told, it all happened in the blink of an eye. Rafe had backed away, but the man already had a gun in his hands, and his intention was clear. Rafe’s gaze hardened, and in that moment you understood that he couldn’t escape.

The man raised the gun towards him, and the world seemed to slow down for an instant. You knew there was no time to think about it. Fear transformed into action without your brain being able to fully process it. Without thinking, you pulled out the gun you had taken from the cellar the night before. In one swift movement, you aimed and fired.

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, the echo repeating in your ears as the man fell to the ground, with a grunt of pain, the gun slipping from his hand. Quickly, you turned to Rafe, who was only a few feet away from you, watching what had happened with a mix of surprise and gratitude, but also with the awareness of what had just happened.

“Are you...?” you began, but the words got caught in your throat. Adrenaline was still flowing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly, but there was no time to reflect.

Rafe, after a moment of silence, finally spoke. “Well done,” he said in a tone you couldn’t quite read. But there was something in his gaze, a deep gratitude, and also a concern that he didn’t want to admit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, quickly putting the gun away, though your heart was still racing. “Be careful, I need you to be the Rafe who makes deals with the worst people possible and comes out on top.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He looked at the fallen man, then turned to you, and without another word, he nodded. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you walked quickly, away from the scene, the shadows of the streets covering you. Rafe walked a few steps ahead of you.

Your breathing was still irregular, the adrenaline already starting to wear off. The question that had formed in your head escaped your mouth, more out of impulse than out of need to know the answer.

“Isn’t there a minute where we have peace? Where I don’t have to get your ass out of some trouble?” you blurted out, the irony in your voice evident. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream, but something about the situation made you blurt out that question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rafe, without turning around, let out a dry laugh, the one you already knew was the only way he had to deal with the situation, a defense against the chaos that surrounded him. “Like with Sheriff Peterkin,” he said, and although his words seemed light, there was something in his tone that he couldn’t hide: the heaviness of that memory.

The mention of the policewoman made you pause for a second. You knew exactly what he meant. That time, long before they got to this point, you remembered the local police who had almost caught Rafe and his family, so he took it upon himself only for reasons that were never fully understood, your father intervened, paying whatever it took to cover it all up.

You knew that, in some way, your father’s hand was always present, ensuring that Rafe’s problems didn’t affect him, although it had left you with a bitter feeling in your stomach. Your father never talked about these situations, but it was clear that he had ways of cleaning up messes that others couldn’t. And in some way, he included you in his world, which you were used to and liked.

“I know,” you answered with a wry smile. You couldn’t help but think of everything you had done to protect Rafe, everything you had put aside for him, for his sake. And what did you get in return? More trouble, more chaos. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that something about that connection dragged you down, something you couldn’t control.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment, his eyes softened, as if you were reading his thoughts. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t the kind of thanks that made you feel completely at ease.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, feeling the moment become more tense than it already was. “I don’t need you to thank me, Rafe. This is what always happens. But I don’t want to be your fixer all the time.”

Silence fell between you again as you walked through the streets, the sun already warming the air uncomfortably. Your dress, though light at first, now felt sticky and dirty. Sweat ran down your back and the line of your neck, and the dust of the streets stuck to your skin only made things worse. You rubbed your forehead, desperate, and muttered more to yourself than to Rafe.

“This is unbearable. I’m sweaty, dirty, and… I need a bath urgently. This is torture.”

Rafe walked a few steps ahead, but his eyes shifted to you for a moment, as if he was trying to process what you had just said. He didn’t seem worried, but he did seem a little amused to see you in this state.

“I know, but it’s not the most important thing right now,” he said, in his usual, somewhat carefree tone. “We have to stay focused.”

You frowned as you brushed off your dress. “Yeah, sure, very focused… but I could be a lot more productive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.” You looked around, realizing how ridiculous it sounded: here you were, running away from one problem after another, and all you could think about was a bathroom.

Rafe, noticing your tone, let out a low, amused laugh, as if the idea of worrying about something so mundane in the midst of all the chaos was completely absurd. “It’s not my fault you’re not going to take a bath with me,” he said, as if to joke.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and prepared to respond, but before you could say anything, he gave you a small tap on the arm, almost playfully, while smirking. The way he did it seemed so natural, as if everything else around them disappeared for a second.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he added between laughs. “You can wait a little longer before you get in the water.”

He looked at you with that lopsided smile that, despite everything, couldn’t take away the discomfort of being drenched in sweat and dirt. But you couldn’t help but laugh, despite how upset you were.

“Easy for you to say, right?” You said, trying to make a face, but you couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “When you’re not the one stuck in a sticky dress with your hair stuck to your face.”

Rafe, hearing your tone, simply shrugged, still smiling. “I promise that once we get somewhere safe, you can shower all you want. In the meantime, just hold on a little longer. It’s not all that bad, right?”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at his relaxed face as you walked. You knew he was partly right. In the end, the sweat and heat were nothing compared to what you had already faced. But, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about how much good a nice bath would do you.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” you said in a more relaxed tone, feeling your body ease up a bit as the tension was released with those words. “Because really, Rafe, I need something more than water to cool off.”

Rafe, looking at you with that look of his, just nodded, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he replied, “I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

You pushed yourself gently against his arm, and laughed.

Although the hours had felt endless, they ended up being productive for you and Rafe. The search for clues had paid off, although not in the way you had expected. They had managed to find some things and talk to some people who would help them, and they had also made some important progress in getting an address that seemed more promising than the previous ones. Despite the discomfort of the heat, the chases they had barely dodged, and the tensions between them, you felt that the hours had been worth it.

The streets, which had previously seemed overwhelming and chaotic, now felt more familiar. They had managed to blend in a bit with the locals, and although curious eyes continued to follow them, they managed to move more confidently, at least until it got late. Finally, after a day of intense work and a couple of altercations, night fell over Morocco, and the cool breeze that was beginning to blow made you breathe a sigh of relief.

As the shadows lengthened, the city seemed to calm down a bit, the streets less hectic, the heat of the day slowly easing. You were tired, the sweat stuck to your skin was no longer just uncomfortable, but had left you feeling heavy. All you wanted at that moment was a bath, but you knew things couldn't be that simple.

Rafe had disappeared for a moment, perhaps to talk to someone or continue digging into some clue that had surfaced, but you couldn't wait any longer. You quickly walked to the house you had rented, the temporary shelter where you could only think about taking off everything you had endured that day.

Entering the small dwelling, you closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You no longer had to be on alert all the time. There was no immediate danger in sight, and at last, you had some time to yourself.

You quickly headed to the bathroom, where a large, old tub was waiting for you, filled with water that still felt somewhat warm, as if someone had prepared everything in advance. You didn't hesitate for a second and, without thinking twice, you began to undress, removing clothes soaked in sweat and dust from the day. Each piece of clothing you dropped on the floor seemed to take a little more of the weight off your shoulders.

You sank into the tub with a sigh of relief, letting the warm water envelop your tired body. You lay back with your arms outstretched on the edge, closing your eyes and letting the warmth surround you, covering you completely. Each bubble that formed on the surface seemed to soothe you more, as if you were letting go of all the stress and tension you had built up.

The sound of the water gently moving around you was the only thing you could hear, and for a moment, you felt like everything else was left behind. You only thought about yourself, and the movement of the water.

The warmth of the water was beginning to relax you completely, and every part of your body that had been tense during the day was slowly letting go. You had your eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when you finally managed to disconnect from everything else, even Rafe's presence. At last, you felt like the world could wait a little.

The soak in the tub was beyond relaxing. Without thinking, you began to completely relax, the hot, bubbling water enveloping your body as tiredness slipped away from you.

You allowed yourself to stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace that so rarely came to you.

When you finally got out of the tub, you felt like new. The water had done wonders on your tired body.

You decided to replace the water in the tub before Rafe arrived. The water you had used was warm, but it wasn't as hot anymore, so you decided to fill it up again for him. You did this more out of instinct than anything else, you wanted to offer him some peace of mind after everything you had been through that day. The sound of the water flowing in the tub was the only thing you could hear as you prepared to go get some clean clothes.

You didn't notice it at first, but when you returned to the living room, you heard the door open. Rafe walked in with his tired, somewhat heavy gait, but it wasn’t until you turned to look at him again that you noticed something odd about his posture. Something about the way he walked, slightly hunched over, made you frown.

Rafe was hurt.

The sweat on his face and the blood stains on his clothes didn’t go unnoticed. There was some wound, perhaps superficial, but enough to make you worry. You hurried to approach him, but he raised his hand, stopping you before you could say anything.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tense but firm, as if he didn’t want you to treat him like he was a child. “Just a couple of scratches. A bath will do me good, and that’s it.” His tone was so direct that it left no room for further discussion, as if the idea of being helped was something he preferred to avoid.

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to help, to do something, but you knew Rafe wasn’t going to let you do it. You knew him too well to know that he wouldn’t accept help easily, especially when it came to something as “minor” as a wound.

“I’ve already filled the tub for you,” you finally said, trying to hide how much it worried you to see him in that state. Your voice sounded calmer than you felt, but there was still a note of concern that you couldn’t hide. “It’s ready. Just… be careful, okay?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, that smile of his that used to be so trusting, but now seemed somewhat forced. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving you a slight nod in thanks.

You stood there for a few moments, watching him head towards the tub, where he paused for a moment before beginning to strip off his blood and dirt stained clothes.

The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t just leave him like that. If he wasn’t going to accept it, you would take the lead. No matter what was between you, you couldn’t leave him hurt and alone.

You approached the tub with a clear decision in your mind. Without thinking too much, you grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the hot water. The sound of the water sliding down his skin, the warmth emitted by the steam, turned it all into a kind of calm that at first seemed disconcerting. Rafe stayed silent, watching you as you moved the cloth gently across his torso, careful not to touch his wounds, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated on his body.

You didn’t think about his nakedness. You knew that, at this point, it was just a practical matter.

Rafe, despite the awkwardness of the situation, kept looking at you, and with a crooked smile, decided to break the silence. “Are you really doing this?” he said in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow, as if he were in the middle of an awkward joke. “Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”

You laughed despite yourself, almost unable to help it. The laughter came out of you spontaneously, lightening the heavy atmosphere that had formed a little. “If I get wet, I get wet. It’s not like I haven’t gotten wet before.” You replied, cleaning the part of his shoulder more carefully, always aware of the wounds.

Rafe’s sarcastic tone never faded, though at the moment it seemed more like a way to cope than anything else. He stared at you, but this time, something in his gaze changed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said casually, as if it were just a comment. But there was something in his eyes that left you speechless.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. For a second, you froze. “Please don’t say that,” you murmured, trying to look away to avoid him seeing it in your eyes.

The atmosphere between the two of you grew tense, as if the words were floating in the air, weighing more than anything you could say. There were too many things left unsaid between you, too many intertwined feelings, and the complications of everything going on in your lives. But, in that instant, the comment seemed to change something.

Rafe didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently took your hand, guiding it through the water as you ran it over his chest. The closeness of his body, the way he touched you, made your breathing quicken. Before you could react, he pulled you towards him, into the tub, unexpectedly. The warmth of the water surrounding both of you only intensified the feeling of closeness, of warmth.

You stood there, not knowing what to do. Your whole body was telling you to get away, that it wasn't the time, that this shouldn't happen. But something in his gaze, something in the way he held you, made your own thoughts fade away. The doubts and voices in your head seemed to fade away when his lips met yours, in an intense but silent way, as if there was no turning back.

Despite what your mind was telling you, what was warning you that this could be a mistake, you couldn't help it. The touch of his body, the unexpected connection, made you lose control for a moment. The pressure in your chest disappeared, and for an instant, there was only the sensation of his lips, of his closeness, of the passion you hadn't planned.

You knew that, after all this, nothing would ever be the same again. But in that moment, you surrendered to the sensation, to the connection you both shared, even though everything around you told you not to let yourself go.

You both stayed there for a long time, in silence, only the sound of the water and the ragged breaths filling the air around you. There was no rush, no urgency to move away. The warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies enveloped you, and for a moment, you let yourself go, you let the chaos of the world be replaced by the calm that only he could offer you in that instant. The tension between you seemed to slowly fade away, as if time had stopped and everything else no longer mattered.

When you finally pulled away from him, a little dazed, it was Rafe who broke the silence with a soft, but determined voice. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand gently.

You didn’t have time to say anything else before he led you out of the tub and into the bedroom, but you didn’t care. There was something comforting about the idea of spending the night with him, of sharing a space, even if it was just for a few hours. You felt calmer than you had in days, something you didn’t even know you needed until that moment.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #obx x reader

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sturnslutz · 13 days ago

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SUCH A SHAME - matt sturniolo

warnings; this is a CHEATING FIC. i do not condone cheating, this is just fiction. p in v (unprotected), nicknames - (baby, sweetheart, big girl, smart girl.), spitting in mouth, drunk sex, grinding against each other, use of y/n, i think thats all??

creds to anyone who has done cheating fics before!!!

3,162 wc.

it was a constant routine between you and chris. you guys argue, mean words being thrown back and forth, you two have makeup sex, and you move on without another word about what you guys were actually arguing about and never actually fixing the problem.

one night after an argument, you had enough and grabbed a couple of club clothes— ignoring the yells being thrown at you from chris, and walking past him, storming off to your car outside of his apartment.

it was around 9:30 already, and you started driving to a nearby bar you’ve been going to for a while. sometimes you, and chris and his brothers would go out and have a great time. but tonight, it was just you.

you pull out your phone as you stop at a red light and text chris’s brother. matt.

matt had always been eyefucking you ever since you and chris even became friends. sly words said to you in secret, small, intimate touches, but nothing ever actually being done about it, as you and chris started dating.

of course you knew matt had a thing for you, but you couldn’t really do anything as chris was your boyfriend and you loved and adored him. tonight was different. you wanted to make chris mad, or at least in your head.

“come to the bar, right now. i’m by myself.” you quickly type out to matt, stuffing your phone into the center console, beginning to drive again. you know matt wouldn’t pass over an opportunity to see you, and that’s coming in handy tonight.

you get to the bar and check your phone again, matt responding almost instantly after you texted.

“omw”

you grab your clothes and your bag and head into the bar’s bathroom, changing into the clothes— which were more revealing than chris would ever let you out in, and touched up some of your makeup. matt texted you about 3 minutes ago saying he was here and sitting at the bar.

you walk out, and see matt sipping a drink. you set your bag down next to him and grab his cup out of his hand, taking a sip. “i’ll be right back, gotta put my clothes back in my car.” he smirks and nods, and you head out. you have a shot bottle in your car, and drank it all, wincing at the taste.

you put your clothes in the backseat before closing the door and heading back into the bar.

matt was faced towards you, smirking the whole time you walked towards him. “so what’s got you all upset, pretty? ‘nother argument with chris?” you nod, rolling your eyes as you sit down in the chair, which was closer to matt than you realized. he had bought you a drink, to which you happily drank before answering his question.

“yeah, some fuckin’ dumb shit again, he’s always starting arguments recently and i’m sick of it.” he tsks, letting his hand fall to your knee, rubbing it softly.

“he’s dumb, i know. don’t let it get your pretty head though, you’ll drive yourself crazy.” you hold his hand above your knee, rubbing his knuckles.

“i love him, i do, but— i don’t know,” you sigh, taking another sip— already feeling the effects of the alcohol flowing through your system. “it’s just a constant cycle and i hate it. we used to never be like this, y’know that, and then something just switched inside of him to always have a problem with every little thing i do.”

you noticed matt’s demeanor has changed, and he seems more considerate with you. it’s not like him flirting, but he genuinely does seem to understand.

“he’s just going through shit, i don’t know. i wish i could help, but he’s barely talking to me or nick recently, and nick’s pissed off by it too. so i get where you’re coming from, even if you don’t think i do.”

you look back at matt, really look at him, and smile softly. “thank you, i feel like i am actually going crazy. my words never seem to go through chris, it’s like they go through one ear and out the other and he’s just never actually listening to me anymore— but you’re making me feel listened to.”

you tighten your hand around matt’s hand, to which he smiles back at you, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter than before.

he orders another round of drinks for the both of you, the conversation flowing between you two easily. you haven’t seen him in a little while—on behalf of chris, as he knows matt thinks you’re attractive and doesn’t necessarily trust him around you. huh, ironic. it’s been about an hour of both of you being here, and it seems like it’s been 10 minutes.

of course you know matt’s attractive, him and chris look alike. but it’s not even that, it’s also his personality. the way he carries himself, his way with words, the way he can make you feel better in an instant without even trying, and that’s why you can feel so comfortable around him.

it was like that with chris too, since about a month or two ago where you don’t know if something happened at work or what— but his whole self just completely changed and his personality that you know and love just completely vanished.

“but enough about me, how’s your life been? any new girls or anything?” you ask matt, giggling softly. the both of you are already at the brink of being drunk, the way words flow out faster and easier than before, and the way you two have drifted closer to each other, without either of you noticing.

he shrugs a bit, taking a big gulp of his drink, finishing it and asking the bartender for another. “eh, not too much. had a thing with this girl named emma, but shit kinda fell through. she made this excuse about being busy at work all the time and kept canceling our dates. she works as a lifeguard, by the way.” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, to which you let out a little laugh.

“i mean lifeguards are very busy, especially now, in october.” you continue laughing, your head falling against his chest, to which his hand moves up your back, rubbing you gently as you continue to drunkenly laugh at your own joke. “i know, crazy busy.” he adds. “so i just kinda broke things off gently, y’know? but she wanted to fuck one last time before she left and that’s what we did. that was about 3 weeks ago, and we were around each other for like 2 months i think?” he sighs, as you sit back up, finally calming down a little bit. your hair was all messy now from leaning against matt and he chuckles a little bit as he reaches up and smoothes down some of your hair. “crazy girl.” he mutters as he examines your face.

“i didn’t say it before, but i really am sorry about what’s happening between you and chris, you don’t deserve that at all, sweetheart.” he says with another sigh, drinking a couple more sips before looking back at you. you shrug, following his actions and taking another sip. “i can’t do anything about it, im jus’ gonna let it be and kinda distance myself until he figures his shit out, because it is affecting me like crazy. i can barely sleep anymore, and all i do is cry about it. i love him so much but his words hurt me so badly, y’know?” he nods, taking your hand in his and rubbing it gently. he nods for you to continue, to which you shake your head.

“i don’t really wanna talk about it anymore, i came here to have a good fucking time with you, and that’s what we’re gonna do. c’mon let’s dance a little bit.” your mood starts to improve a lot more, as you stand up, still holding your hand in his as you try to drag him to the dance floor. “you’re insane if you think i’m dancing right now, honey. i’m probably gonna knock someone over, and that someone being you.” he smiles, looking at your little pout that you give him. “fine, 10 minutes.” you whoop, holding his hand tighter as he finally stands up, following you to the floor.

he hasn’t let go of your hand since the second you grabbed it. he let you take the lead, and you pulled him into a small crowd— maybe 15 or 20 people and started dancing close to matt.

the music was blaring through your ears, and you started looking up at matt with such admiration, as he held your waist tight. you moved against his body to the beat of the music, each beat causing you to get a little closer to matt until you two were right against each other. “careful, sweetheart. you’re dangerous, and i don’t know if chris would like what i’m thinking right now.” you giggled a bit, letting your fingers run through his hair— tightening them every once in a while. “well chris isn’t here, is he? tell me your thoughts, matt. i’m open ears.”

he laughed, shaking his head, his fingers gripping into your hips. “i can’t, because it’s gonna lead us somewhere we might both regret.” you rolled your eyes, taking and moving his hand more up your waist. “i’m not gonna regret anything, matt.” you lower your voice, hoping matt could still hear you, and he smirked— confirming that he did.

“you’re drunk.” he slurs out. “you are too!” you laugh as you continue dancing against him, your hand running through your hair and across his body after. matt took your hand, grabbing it firm, but not too hard and walking the both of you back to the bar.

“are you okay?” you ask, looking up at him as he pays the bartender, and thanking him as he grabs your purse in the process.

he looks down at you and even in the dark lighting of the bar, you could tell— he was hungry for you. “i need you so fucking bad right now, y/n. will you let me drive us back to my place? i walked here and i’m not super drunk to not be able to drive your car. it’s a quick drive, i promise.”

you can see in his face and the way he’s holding onto you tight that he’s desperate. you can’t help but have a flicker of chris in your head before you agree, knowing what was gonna happen between you and matt.

“yeah, yeah. let’s go.” you say fast, nodding. he smiles, saying one last thanks to the bartender before pulling the both of you out of the restaurant. once you unlocked your car, he opened the passenger side seat door, holding it for you to which you smiled and thanked him, sitting inside. you realized you left your phone in the car while matt opened the driver’s side and sat down.

once you unlocked your phone, a crazy amount of notifications came through, all from chris. “chris texted and called me probably a hundred times.” you mutter to matt and he lets out a small curse. “listen, we don’t have to do this, i can just drive you home, it’s okay-“ you interrupt him before he gets another word out. “no, i want to do this matt. i’m drunk, you’re drunk, let’s just fucking do it. i’m sick of chris’s bullshit and i need some relief.”

he looks at you for one more confirmation and you nod, to which he smiles at you, as he starts the car. you take one last glance at the notifications still coming through from chris, before powering it off.

he starts driving carefully, as you watch the views out the window. you and matt stay silent, both overwhelmed with the sexual tension between you two, only the faint sound of the car and the radio in between it. after about 10 minutes of driving, he finally comes to a stop in front of his complex. “we’re here. i’ll open your door.” he’s already out the door before you could even move an inch, your laugh filling the car.

he opens your door, grabbing your hand and kissing it gently, pulling you up.

he grabs your hand again and directs you through the lobby and up the elevator, starting to kiss your shoulder and nibble at it.

”we’re not even all the way up yet, you needy boy.” you giggle. he hums against you, sending chills through you. “couldn’t resist, baby.” he mutters. the elevator ride feels like an entirety before it finally stops at his floor. he stands up, grabbing your waist and pulling you through the hallway before stopping at his door and opening it.

the second he shuts it, he can’t keep his mouth and hands off you.

he’s pushing the both of you to his bed, gently pushing you down on it. “tell me i can do this.” he says as he wraps his fingers around your skirt. you nod, and he tsks. “i need an actual ‘yes’.” you whine, bucking your hips up. “yes, yes you can, please.” he smirks, finally pulling your skirt down to your ankles. “so needy, hm?”

he grabs your top, pulling it over the top half of your body, leaving you only in panties. “no bra? almost like you expected me to bring you up here and fuck you, baby.” you smile a bit, grabbing his neck and pulling his face close to you before you whisper, “maybe i did,” he groans, finally leaning in and kissing you deeply. he’s waited so long to finally be able to touch you, and the fact you’re doing this in secret turns him on even more.

”you’re so beautiful,” he mutters against your lips before letting his tongue enter your mouth, exploring every part. his hands move up to your boobs, massaging them deeply, and playing with your nipple. he lets his lips move onto your left nipple, swirling it around with his tongue, earning a moan out of you. he moves his mouth to your right nipple with a satisfying pop from your left, latching onto the right. his right hand moves down your stomach and your thighs, moving his fingers soft against your already-wet panties. “so wet already?” he says against your boob, leaving marks all over, knowing exactly who will see them later. “mhm, all for you, matt,” you whimper out, causing him to push just a little bit harder against your clothed clit, making you squirm.

“poor chris doesn’t know what his sweet girlfriend’s about to do with his own brother, jus’ because of his own, dumb actions. such a shame, isn’t it baby?” he mutters, chuckling at the thought, looking up at you as you nod. your eyes are already shut, even from his little actions. “open your eyes.” you open hesitantly, looking down at him.

he started kissing your thighs, his right hand still massaging your boob. his left moves your thigh to angle it where he can kiss the inner part, biting them gently. he mouths your clothed pussy, already growing hard himself and grinding against the edge of the mattress, trying to relieve at least some of the ache away. he hums against you, sending more chills through you. “matt, please— do something,” you whine and he hums.

he moves up again, grinding himself against you, causing you to gasp. “y’like that, huh?” you nod, whining a bit still. he taps your cheek with his hand a couple times before gripping your jaw and shaking your head condescendingly. your jaw falls open, and he spits on your tongue—to which you happily swallow. “didn’t even have to tell you anything, y’just know exactly what to do, such a smart girl,” he leans in, kissing you gently before biting your lip playfully, letting it go.

he leaned down and swiftly unbuckled his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles, and stepping out of them. he pulls down his boxers, releasing his cock— which was already painfully hard.

you gasped a bit, and he looked up at you smirking. “y’scared? don’t worry, it’ll be alright, you’re a big girl.” he finally hooks his fingers to the top of your panties, pulling them teasingly slow, before finally letting them fall right above your skirt. he moves his dick through your folds, moving it up and down and pushing it against your clit numerous times.

“matt, stop teasing, please—“ you choke out before he finally gives in, pushing into you slowly. your breath hitches in your throat at the way he’s stretching you out, and by the fact he is bigger than chris. he finally bottoms out, and his hand runs across your face and chest, soothing you down. “i’m gonna start moving, jus’ let me know if you need a break.” you nod, allowing him to move.

he goes in and out slowly as he grabs your hand, putting it up next to your head, interlocking your fingers with his. he goes a bit faster as he realizes you’re moving also, and he grips your hip with one hand tightly, starting to dig deeper into you. your leg is still bent, allowing him to hit a spot you didn’t even know existed.

incoherent words and babbles immerse from your mouth and he sticks his middle and index finger in your mouth, which you immediately suck on.

“there ya go, jus’ needed something in your mouth, yeah baby?” he’s going faster now, the sound of skin slapping together filling his apartment. his groans becoming louder and deeper, and his thrusts becoming sloppier. you gag a bit against his fingers and he almost cums on the spot from the sound and the feeling.

he pulls them out, gripping your hand again. “fuck— i’m gonna cum, where d’you want me?” he says breathless, and his chain slapping against your chin repeatedly pulls your attention back.

“inside, please.” you whine out, and he nods. he feels you start clenching around him, and your squirming. he puts his face closer to yours, looking in your eyes. “cum with me, baby.” you nod fast and he finally puts in a couple more fast, sloppy thrusts into you before finally halting inside, filling you up. your thighs are shaking and moans erupt loudly as you finish with him.

after a bit of time, his dick spluttering inside you, he finally falls on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you tight. “that sobered both of us up.” he whispers, chuckling with it. you nod, giving a lazy smile. he carefully pulls out of you, both of your releases spilling out onto his sheets. “eh, it’s alright , i’ll clean it up later. let’s go pee and take a shower, and you can stay the night.”

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abbotjack · 1 month ago

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i don’t think people understand what just happened. shawn hatosy went grey—not like “silver fox” magazine spread grey. not “aging gracefully” grey. i mean slutty, exhausted, backseat-of-the-car, who-let-him-look-like-this grey. chaos grey. bad decision grey. has a past he won’t talk about and hands that know what they’re doing grey. and now i’m not functioning. this isn’t about character depth or performance range. this is about the grey hair and what it’s doing to me.

he shows up in the pitt as jack abbot and it’s over for me immediately. black scrubs. prosthetic leg. says things like “you good?” while leaning against a blood-smeared doorframe and you feel it in your spine. grey hair curling at the sides like he’s already been ruined but will absolutely still ruin you back. this is a man who fucks like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to want it. like he can’t admit he needs it but takes it anyway. it’s in the hair. it’s in the way he doesn’t ask questions unless he already knows the answer.

and then—THEN—he shows up in chicago p.d. as charlie reid. and i don’t recover. because now it’s not just trauma hot it’s corruption hot. he’s in a suit. he’s running dirty operations. he’s lying to everyone in the room and still getting what he wants. full villain energy. zero remorse. and the hair? still grey. sluttier than ever. looks like he’d finger you in the back of an unmarked cop car and tell you not to say a word. like he knows he’s evil and still thinks he deserves head. and he’s right.

and now? charlie reid is DEAD. in a body bag. they shot him in the finale like i wasn’t still actively fantasizing about the way he says “you know who i am” with that low voice and dead stare. gone. erased. the sluttiest man alive eliminated in a network drama bloodbath.

jack abbot? gone too. until january. production limbo. they put that man in black scrubs and greying temples and let him emotionally unravel on my screen for three months and then snatched him away like i’m supposed to survive off reruns. it’s may. do you know what eight months of grey hair withdrawal does to a person?? i am hallucinating.

i don’t want him kind. i don’t want him soft. i want slutty grey-haired hatosy who lies, cheats, growls “get in the car,” and fucks like he’s trying to forget something. i want him pressed up against a wall with one hand braced beside your head and the other sliding under your shirt like he doesn’t care if you’re mad at him because you’re not going anywhere.

i want motel room heat. gritty lighting. a scene where he unbuckles his belt with his teeth clenched and says “this isn’t a good idea” and keeps going anyway. i want someone he shouldn’t be touching. a conflict of interest. a fuck-you kiss in a hospital supply closet. someone crying. it’s me. i’m crying.

he has slut shoulders. slut posture. slut cadence. and the sluttiest grey hair on television. i am not okay. i am on the floor. i need more roles. more morally wrong situations with his hand on the back of someone’s neck.

bring him back. give him a steamy role with bad lighting and secrets. let him wreck someone emotionally and physically. put him in another series where he’s unshaven and emotionally unstable and asks someone “you sure?” before ruining their week.

i’m down bad. clinically. catastrophically. the grey hair did this. and I WANT MORE!!!!!!!!!!!! hollywood needs to get serious and cast this man in something immediately. i am not being dramatic. i am not doing a bit. i am sitting in the wreckage of my life because shawn hatosy grew out his hair, let it go grey, and no one has figured out how to use it properly.

#if this ever got leaked to shawn it would be like that one scene in diary of a whimpy kid where the dad is like 'is this you' to rodrick and #rodrick is like that is not me #ok goodnight abbotjack nation #syd.txt #shawn hatosy #charlie reid #jack abbot #chicago pd spoilers

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perfectyeager · 3 months ago

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work wife | r.braun.

reiner braun x fem!reader

!!: cheating (im sorry), heaaaaaavy smut, vaginal sex, sex at work (taking nsfw literally), oral male receiving, use of the word ‘sir’ a lot, slight public sex? but not rlly, creampie (oops), fingering, boss!reiner and secretary!reader, dirty talk, swearing!

“Good-morning, Mr.Braun.”

Your sickly sweet voice sent chills down Reiner’s spine as you sat, perfect posture with a disgustingly beautiful smile on your perfect face, at your secretary desk right outside his office.

He smiled down at you, swallowing thickly as his perverted eyes landed down your white button-up shirt to your cleavage, “Morning,” He managed to force out as he quickly sped into his office, practically slamming the door behind himself.

He let out a shaky breath as he swallowed yet again, attempting to coat his obviously dry throat. He placed his black briefcase on his large Oak desk, and planting himself abruptly onto his enlarged leather chair. He sighed loudly as he rubbed his tired eyes, the image of your perfect smile imprinted in his brain as he pulled his laptop out of his briefcase.

The rest of the morning was quiet as usual, Reiner occasionally taking a five minute break to peer out his massive office windows, displaying the bustling streets of New York, while he sipped his coffee. He loved this job—being a CEO at a tech company wasn’t easy, but was definitely fulfilling. It had its downs, but had many more perks.

Knock, knock, knock..

“Sir?”

Ah, the number one perk.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open loudly as your figure appeared in the doorway, a small smile on your face as you clutched a dozen files against your perfect chest.

“Some files from the weekend while you were away, sir,” You informed him, shutting the door behind you and walking towards his desk.

You placed them gently next to his laptop, your manicured nails on full display for him as you did so. This was the first time he’d seen your full outfit today—you rocked a tight, white button-up, a dangerously short pencil skirt, black tights and slutty black heels.

“Thank you,” He replied, not daring to even look away from your perfect frame as you smiled down at him.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” You chirped, walking slowly around his desk to the large windows, peering down at all the people just as Reiner does himself.

“Mhm.”

You glance over at the muscled man, just to be greeted with his eyes fixated on you. His large biceps were practically busting out of his white shirt, and his dress pants doing the same against his large thighs as he manspread.

“How was your weekend? You went away with your wife, right?”

Reiner couldn’t help but notice the way you spat the words ‘your wife’ when you spoke, your voice laced with venom at the mere thought of her.

“Oh, yeah, right, I did,” He answered, rubbing his blonde, wispy, beard, “Didn’t end exactly how we wanted though,”

“Oh?” You questioned, walking slowly towards his desk, your voice pushing him to elaborate. You slid your body onto his desk, your legs dangling off the edge as you stared down at him, “C’mon, Sir, I’ll promise to keep it secret,”

Reiner tried to ignore the way his eyes darted up your skirt as the flirtatious words sparked straight into his pants, “She accused me of cheating,” He laughed, shaking his head.

You didn’t reply this time, waiting for him to keep talking, though, your eyes never left his muscly frame.

“I was showering when she went through my phone, and started going off at me while I was in the shower. Even when I got out, she wouldn’t stop going on at me, and it carried on all weekend,” He chuckled, “Can’t get a minute’s peace,”

“Oh, Sir, that’s awful,” You pouted, trying to hide your smirk at the way Reiner tensed up as you ran your foot up his calf, “And did you?”

Reiner cleared his throat loudly as he stared up at you, his thick eyebrows furrowed, “Did I what?”

“Cheat.”

“No, God, no. No.” He insisted, trying to stop his mind from racing at the way your foot kept moving against him.

“But, would you?”

His heart nearly stopped at the words that fell past your plump lips. He could’ve fainted if it wasn’t for the pure excitement flooding through his system that kept his heart hammering in his chest.

“Sorry?”

You knew he knew what you meant by the way your smirk only grew on your face. Your expression was devilish as you stared down at him.

“I said. Would you cheat?”

Words failed Reiner as your foot changed its usual movements to trail up to his thigh. Now trying to hide his enjoyment would be 1000 times harder.

“Because it seems to me, Sir,” Your voice sounding all too sultry for his liking, “You’re stressed and unhappy, and someone isn’t taking care of your needs.”

Reiner’s jaw falls slack as the words reach his ears, your evil grin never once leaving your face as your eyes never left his own. Jesus, fuck.

“I-um, I don’t think this appropriate.” The angel on Reiner’s shoulder spoke, ignoring the way the devil was practically screaming at him to do something about your insinuation.

“Isn’t this what secretary’s are supposed to do?”

You tried to patch up the dirty situation with a faux reasoning, as you crawled from the desk to his chair, slotting your knee between his thighs and grabbing his tie. Pulling on it to bring your mouth to his ear, revelling in the way his heartbeat thumped against your fist.

“I’m just doing my job for you, Sir.”

Reiner mentally cursed himself at the pure lewdness of the situation he’d landed himself in, the mindless flirting had turned into something he’d only dreamed of while fisting his cock late at night with his useless wife sleeping next to him.

“You’re excellent at your job,” He managed to force out, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

“Then let me take care of you, Sir.” You mewled, planting tentative kisses against his cologned skin, loving the expensive smell.

Fuuuuuck.

He’d never been harder in his entire life as you nibbled at his ear lobe as you whispered about how good you’d take of him and how more relaxed he’d feel after you were done with him.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Mr. Braun? Can I come in?”

Those words once eliciting excitement in him, knowing it was you, now sparked panic in him as the voice of his male colleague rang from outside the door.

“Get under the table, now.” He demanded, his eyes wide with panic as you giggled cheekily before doing as he asked of you.

Reiner cleared his throat before speaking, “Come in.” Ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest.

His colleague sauntered in, shutting the door behind him, “So, I’ve had an email from Microsoft saying they accept the meeting you’ve requested with the CEO about our new launch, which is great. However, Apple did decline as they aren’t looking for anymore shares at the moment, which is disheartening, but the M.D from the branch I called said he knew you, so he’d arrange for you to be the first on the list next time they’re looking for shares.”

Reiner blinked as the information was reeled at him at lightning speed, his head still full of what occurred merely seconds before he walked into the room.

“Um, yeah, that should be—“

His sentence was cut short as his heart flew to his throat. The feeling of his pants zipper being pulled down shut him up as he felt your manicured hands manhandle the bulge in his boxers.

“That should be fine. Thanks, um, Henry, yeah. Thanks.” Reiner stumbled, wanting nothing more than for the idiot to leave.

“You okay, Sir?”

Reiner nodded, swallowing thickly as you pulled his thick cock from his boxers, feeling your thumb rub over his tip, collecting the pre-cum on your delicate fingers.

“Yep, never better, Henry.” Reiner coughed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as you wrapped your lips around his tip, “I think I’m just, jesus, coming down with something.”

“Awh, man, that sucks,” Yeah something sure is, “I heard there’s something nasty stuff going around the office at the minute.

Some nasty stuff was definitely happening in this room that poor Henry had no idea about.

“Yeah, not ideal, but, fuck, what can you, uh—what can you do, huh?” Reiner chuckled, trying to not sound like a lunatic as you bottomed out his throbbing cock in your wet throat.

Reiner knew he was big—long and thick, and not one girl he’d ever been with had been able to take his whole cock down their throat. You were putting them all, including his wife, to shame.

“Yeah, you’ll just have to ride it out, buddy.”

He coughed loudly, attempting to add to his act, but also to cover the giggle you made around his cock at the accidental sexual joke Henry made. The rumble of your laugh against his cock nearly made him moan out loud if it wasn’t for the fact he was now biting down on his fist, his canines practically piercing the skin.

“Thanks, Henry, I’ll get back to Apple later.”

“Microsoft, you mean, Sir?”

Oh, jesus, get out!

“Yep. Microsoft. Thanks.” Reiner nodded, secretly revelling at the you bobbed your head up and down his length, your petite hands wrapped around the base as you licked and sucked at his angry, pink tip.

Henry left with a smile and polite goodbye, shutting the door behind him. Reiner didn’t waste anymore time.

He stood up from desk abruptly, grabbing you by the hand to stand up, pressing your small frame against his desk, your hands trembling as you anticipated his next move.

“You almost got me caught there.”

You peered up at him through your lashes, your eyes running with tears and your cheeks flushed pink, as a quiet, ‘I’m sorry, Sir’ slipped past your swollen, pink lips, glistening with his spit and his pre-cum.

He could’ve cummed at the sight.

“Y’know, that could’ve got me in a lot of trouble,” He informed you, his hand creeping up your neck to rest on your cheek, “I’m feeling awfully stressed and unhappy now.”

“Sir?”

“Do your job, if you’re so insistent.” He told you, “Be good and listen to your boss.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You wasted no time getting back on your knees, waiting for him take a pleasant seat back on his leather chair. You didn’t wait another second before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock like he’d asked you to. This time, Reiner didn’t have to pretend to act normal, so let his head fall back against the head rest as the feeling of your warm mouth surrounded him.

Your delicate hand once against resided at the base of his cock, pumping him along with attempting to take as much of cock as you did previously as you hollowed your cheeks against him.

“Don’t act all shy now, I thought you were a good secretary?” Reiner teased, placing a large hand at the back of your head, intertwining his fingers into your hair, pushing your head further down his cock.

He laughed lowly at the way your throat contracted around him, your trembling hand leaving the base of his cock to rest against his thighs as your nose brushed against his curly blonde pubic hairs, tears falling from your eyes at the sheer size of him in your throat.

Reiner hummed in delight as he slowly lifted your wet throat up and down his throbbing cock, feeling satisfied with your willingness to make him feel better. And by God, was he feeling better already.

You gagged around him as he began bucking his hips slowly into you—your throat not being prepared for the force of his cock.

“What? Can’t take it all of a sudden now that your boss is in control? Well that’s not very good of you? Shall I report you to HR for being such a slut?”

You shook your head against him as best you could before he pulled you off him, a string of spit connecting your heavy tongue to his leaking tip. You spluttered as you gasped for air, your throat aching ever so slightly as you looked up at your boss.

“Up.”

You did as you were told, standing up from the floor, rubbing your thighs together in order to get any sort of friction to your aching clit.

Reiner stood up and took a few steps towards you, his rock hard cock bobbing with every step he took. His large hands grabbed the backs of your clothed thighs, pushing them upwards as you instinctively jumped up onto the desk.

“Or, you know what,” He spoke lowly, grabbing at the fabric of your tights, “I could just punish you myself.”

Riiiippp!

You gasped as his pure strength tore a large hole in the crotch of your tights, leaving your slutty pink lacy panties on full display for his predatory eyes.

“But, Sir—“

“What, baby? You starting to regret your decision?” He teased, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side, chuckling at the way you gasped as the cold air hit your sweet sex.

“No, no, Sir. Wanna make you feel good.” You mumbled as your chest heaved as his thick fingers fumbled with your buttons of your white button-up.

“Good girl.” He mumbled as he pulled the fabric off your top half, biting his lip at the matching pink lacy bra that clad your intense cleavage he once ogled at, “Jesus.”

“Please, Mr.Braun.” You whined, pulling his tie down to push him close to your body, “‘Need you.”

Reiner didn’t need you to say anything else before his fingers flew to your core. The slick that pooled from you eliciting a groan from his lips as he pushed a thick finger inside you.

“You dirty, dirty girl, so fuckin’ wet for me and I hadn’t even touched you.”

You whined against his neck as you grasped desperately on his tie, pulling it slacker and slacker the more you tugged on it.

He soon pressed a second finger inside your sloppy folds, indulging in the way you cried out lewdly against his shoulder, mumbling about how wet you’d gotten for him by just sucking his cock, making his throbbing boner twitch against your thigh.

“Please, Mr.Braun, need you,” You whined, arching your back against him as he abused your sweet spot over and over again.

“Gotta stretch you for my cock, baby, be patient.”

You pecked at his neck and nibbled the skin of his ear once more, moaning into his ear as he thrust his fingers repeatedly in and out of you, scissoring them to stretch your little pussy for his large cock that dribbled pre-cum on your black tights.

His thumb soon found your aching clit as he began to rub delicious circles against it, loving the way your moans upped an octave at the sudden added pleasure. He couldn’t ever get this out of his wife, you were something else. Someone he knew he wouldn’t just fuck once.

“Mmm, gonna cum, Sir!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for your boss? Fuckin’ slut.”

His words pushed you over the edge as you came hard around his digits, throwing your head back, whining his name loudly.

“Shut up,” He mumbled, grabbing your chin harshly to meet your gaze, “Don’t want Henry coming back, do we?”

You shook your head as your orgasm still flooded your body like electricity through your veins as you finally came down from your high.

You didn’t even get chance to catch your breath before a large hand wrapped around your neck, pushing your back against the desk and forcing your legs up into the air. Your breath hitched as you felt his tip nudge your entrance, watching as he gathered your slick over himself, jerking it over his length before lining himself up with your tight hole.

He sheathed himself inside you slowly, his grip around your thighs tightening as he pushed his length deeper and deeper inside your tight pussy. His eyes flickered shut as his head lolled against your knee, swallowing to cure his dry throat as you pulsated around him.

He hadn’t even got himself full inside you yet, let alone fucked you properly, but he knew you’d be the best pussy he’d ever had.

“Jeeeesus, you’re so fucking tight.” Reiner groaned, his hips finally meeting your ass as he bottomed out, “Fucking hell.”

You were cock drunk already—he hadn’t even moved his throbbing cock and you looked fucked out before he’d even started. You should’ve known he’d be big by the sheer surface area of his muscly body.

Reiner took his time with you to began with. Pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward to plunge into you, loving the way you’d whine each time he’d nearly pull all the way out and how’d you moan as he pushed himself all the way back inside you.

“Reiner, please,” You begged, the first time he’d heard you say his first name sent shockwaves to his cock, “Fuck me, please.”

“Yeah?” He started, his pace picking up ever so slightly at your request, “You gotta answer my questions correctly first.”

“Mmmm,” You whined, grasping at his hard bicep through his shirt, your face contorting in pleasure at the feeling of him inside you.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, no, no, Sir, never,” You answered quickly, shaking your head, your glossy eyes meeting his dark ones.

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” He retorted back, “So, what time do I like to be out of the office?”

“S-six pm, on a weekday, and four on a weekend.” You replied, breathing heavily as his pace stayed painfully slow.

“Good, why specifically early on a weekend?”

“So, y-you can go home and watch the b-baseball game.”

“Correct.” He grunted as he snapped his hips ever so slightly quicker than before, gnawing at his lip at the way your moans picked up.

“When did I join the company?”

“8th April 2017, Sir. One year before me.”

“How do I like my coffee?”

“Black, with a splash of cold water to n-not burn your tongue, Sir.”

“What’s my favourite drink?”

“A cold beer after work or a hot peppermint tea when you’re sick.”

“How do you know if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Your back is tensed up and your eyebrows are furrowed, and you’re always using your hands when you talk. Shows you’re a-angry.”

His cock twitched at the way you answered so quickly, secretly loving how much you idolised him.

“When did I get married?”

“D-don’t care,” You fired back. He knew you knew when he did, as you refused to look at him for a few weeks afterwards, showing your annoyance at the situation.

He chuckled at your words, stilling his hips against your ass, “That’s not what I asked you, princess,”

You whined, “Please, Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the way you knew nearly everything about him:

“5th December 2020.”

“Good girl.”

You huffed angrily at the mention of his wife, rolling your eyes. Reiner didn’t take your annoyance unnoticed, he quickly rewarded you for your correct answer.

His pace changed from desperately slow, to dangerously fast. You gasped and moaned loudly, your sultry voice filling the room. Reiner picked your lulled head up and smashed his lips against yours, quietening your moans with his mouth. His own groans filling your mouth as he pushed his excruciatingly large cock in and out of you, one hand around your neck and the other gripping your waist, pushing your body down onto him as he fucked you.

“Fuuuck, baby, you’re creamin’ all over me,” He whispered in your ear, as he peered down at the milky, white ring of cum that appeared around the base of his cock, as his hand trailed down to rub circles on your aching clit, and the other grasping at your breasts as they spilled out of your bra with every harsh thrust he gave.

“Mr.Braun,” You wailed, wrapping your legs around his waist as he continued to destroy you with every snap of his lips, the disgustingly pornographic sound of your soaking wet pussy squelching around him filling the room.

His fingers worked wonders against your clit as within seconds of him starting to abuse your bud, you felt the stir of your second orgasm approaching. Your eyes squeezed shut as your nails clawed down his back through the fabric of his shirt, whining and whimpering at the sheer amount of pleasure the perfect man was bringing you.

“She could never make me feel as good at this.”

That was it. He didn’t even bother trying to quieten your moans as you squirted around him. The slippery liquid drenching your thighs and his abdomen as you orgasmed hard, your toes curling in your heels and your back arching off the desk. The idea of his wife never being able to pleasure him like you did made you tingle inside.

“Oh, fuck,” He mumbled as he picked up his pace ever so slightly, his thighs trembling and hips slacking as he came shortly after you. His head nuzzled in your neck as he groaned your name into your shoulder, biting and marking the skin as he pushed his load further into you.

Your legs ached as he let them down from his grip and onto the wooden desk he’d just fucked you on, pulling his softening dick out of you with a hiss. Your chest heaved slightly with each breath as your body relaxed after the pleasureful abuse it just endured.

He tucked himself back into boxers and zipped up his dress pants, and fixed his fully loosened tie, covered in your spit and a few drizzles of your slick on the tip of it. He handed you your shirt in silence as you buttoned your self up, your eyes never leaving the floor.

Once you clothed yourself, you stood up from his slick covered desk, ignoring the way your legs shook. Reiner took a seat at his leather chair, staring up at you with a devilish expression.

“Thank you, I feel a lot better,” He smirked, “You’re excused.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Before you could get far, a firm grip on your wrist pulled you backwards abruptly with a yelp, landing you on his chest, a feverish kiss pushed against your swollen lips. Reiner’s tongue danced in your mouth after pushing past your bottom lip, as his large hand tangled in your hair.

He pulled away soon after, pressing one last loving peck to your spit covered lips before beckoning you out the door—hair a mess, skirt creased and your tights ripped underneath them but giggling nonetheless as you shut the door behind you.

“Excuse me, do you know if Reiner is on a call?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of the female voice in front of you. Anger and jealously instantly filled your senses as you stared up at the woman at your desk.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Braun.” You faked a smile as your eyes glided over the poorly dressed woman, admiring her awful fashion sense and lack of confidence as she quite obviously showed her intimidation against you.

“Hello,” She replied back, “So, is he busy?”

“He most definitely was earlier, but let me double check for you, ma’am.” You alluded to your secret relations, a spike of excitement filling your heart at the thought of her naiveness, as you stood up from your chair, adjusting your skirt to hide the large hole in your tights.

You knocked on his door loudly, “Sir?”

Your sickly familiar voice filled his ears as he smirked widely at the previous memories of your day filled his head, “Come in.”

The door swung open to show your beautiful frame, an evil smirk your face as you moved to the side to reveal his wife stood behind you. Reiner’s heart dropped to his stomach at the sight.

“H-honey, what are you doing here?” He stuttered, panic filling his body at the thought of her possibly finding out about his affair.

“I thought I’d bring you some coffee, and to discuss some things.” She smiled, referring to the argumentative weekend they had experienced.

“Oh, how lovely. Black with cold water?” You spoke up.

His wife’s face dropped, “Oh, um, no. A latte. Do you not like those?”

Reiner couldn’t help but watch as your smirk grew wider and wider at his wife’s disappointed expression.

“No, no, honey, I love them.” Reiner lied, already disliking the thought of the milky coffee.

His wife smiled happily as she entered the room to press a sweet kiss against his cheek. You couldn’t help but watch as he cringed slightly at the feeling of her lips against his face as yours had been earlier on.

“What’s that on your tie, honey?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, bringing his wife’s attention back to you, as his eyes widened in a panicked state, “So messy, aren’t you, Sir? Clearly I need to fix you a new one, hm?”

Reiner nodded, gulping thickly at the thought of his wife seeing your cum all over his tie, “Yes, um, thank you. That would be perfect.”

His wife smiled at you as she turned around, her back facing you, to stare at the view out of his window, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Reiner’s eyes stayed fixated on your frame as you lifted your skirt up ever so lightly to reveal your soaking wet panties and cum covered thighs from when he’d filled you up so deep, feeling a tent rise in his tight dress pants once more, knowing the second his wife left he’d have you again.

“It sure is.”

GODDDAMNNNN

im hot and bothered even writing this jeeeeez

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blushweddinggowns · 11 months ago

Text

Eddie woke up with a pounding headache and an intense sense of dread. He groaned as he sat up, shutting his eyes to block out the searing light from the window.

He took a deep breath before opening them again, letting out a sigh of relief when he realized he was in his own room, safe in their apartment. But that wasn't stopping his pounding headache.

God, what the fuck happened last night? He remembered going to Gareth’s party, getting cross-faded. Then, just pure white-boy wasted as the night went on and someone brought out tequila shots. He remembered whining about missing Steve to some guy-

Oh god. The guy. It came screaming back to him, blurry and unfocused but there.

I can be your boyfriend for the night.

How the fuck had the line worked on him? Eddie didn't know, but he knew that it had. He remembered kissing him, whimpering into his mouth while moaning Steve’s name. How good it felt.

What the fuck had he done?

Pure panic was starting to set in. He cheated on Steve. He actually cheated on Steve. And for what? Because he hadn't seen him for a few weeks? It only took one vacation with Robin for him to destroy the trust they built? Was he that pathetic? That selfish? That idiotic?

He didn't even remember how far they'd gone. He didn't even know how he got home. Or if the guy came with him. The idea of him fucking someone else in their bed made him feel physically ill. Ill enough to have Eddie jumping out of bed, frantic as he looked around for any clues. But there was nothing. Just the evidence of the life he'd built with his boyfriend. The one that he had single handedly ruined.

Maybe he could just not tell him. Keep it secret for the rest of his fucking life. Track down anyone who did know and blackmail them to be quiet. That seemed more sane then coming clean. Sane enough to have Eddie stumbling out of his room in a hurry.

But before he could call Gareth to insanely demand the names of anyone who could have seen him, he smelled it. The scent of coffee brewing, plus the sound of a happy hum.

Steve was home. A whole day early.

Holy shit, Eddie was going to be sick. He was actually going to puke. The feeling bad enough to make his legs weak, so bad he crashed right into the wall.

Loud enough to have Steve calling after him, "Babe, is that you?"

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Not when Steve was rounding the corner, smiling at him like that. All soft and loving, "There you are. Rough night?"

Was that the last time he would look at him like that?

"Eddie?" Steve asked, frowning at his lack of answer, "Are you okay?"

Eddie wanted to die. He actually wanted to die. Why had he done this? But he couldn't lie to him. Not with the sweet, trusting way Steve was looking at him. He just couldn't.

"I need to tell you something," Eddie finally managed to choke out, his heart beating so fast he was scared Steve could hear it. Maybe he'd have a heart attack it he was lucky. Avoid this whole shit show through almost dying.

But he wasn't that lucky.

Steve cocked his head at him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Eddie said, letting his first thought come out, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I kissed someone," Eddie blurted out, his hands shaking as he started to word vomit, "Last night. A-At the party I told you about."

Steve just stared at him.

"I-I was drunk!" Eddie went on, his voice coming out wet, "It didnt mean anything, I don't even know why I did it."

Steve still wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at him, his expression unreadable. It just made Eddie feel more desperate.

"Please say something," Eddie begged, "I know this is bad. I do. But I dont even know who he is. I-I won't do it again!"

Steve still had his head cocked as he looked at him, something in his eyes that Eddie didn't understand, "Is that all?"

Fuck no that wasn't all. Not when Steve was looking at him like that. Eddie didn't even think about it as he sunk to his knees, fully fucking ready to beg at Steve’s feet.

"I love you," Eddie tried, the tears he was holding back finally starting to fall, "I fucked up. I know I fucked up but please don't leave me. Please. I can make up for this. I can. Please."

It was hard to see him through the tears in his eyes, hard to comprehend anything through how fucking bad Eddie felt, the sheer amount of self-loathing nearly drowning him completely. His vision was cloudy enough to almost make it look like Steve was... smiling at him?

Steve reached down, grabbing Eddie underneath the armpits to help lift him back onto his feet. Strong in a way that still made Eddie's heart skip a beat whenever he saw it in action. He led a still sniffling Eddie to the couch, grabbing for his hand when they sat down.

"Baby, how do you think you got home last night?" Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, "I-I don't know. I don't remember."

"Do you remember what the guy looked like?"

Eddie swallowed, so nervous he was still kind of afraid he was going to puke. And he highly doubted that puking on Steve would help his case for him to stay, "I don't remember fully."

"What do you remember?"

Eddie sighed, looking down into his lap, "I remember missing you. And then a point where I got drunk enough to say it to anyone who would listen. Then this guy showed up and he said-"

"I can be your boyfriend for the night?"

Eddie snapped his head up, staring at Steve with his mouth open. How the fuck did he know that?

"And then did he do this?" Steve asked as he brought his hand up, cupping Eddie's cheek. Looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world before placing his thumb on Eddie's bottom lip, teasing it with a smile, "Before saying you were beautiful?"

"I-yes? But how-"

"Honey," Steve sighed, a touch exasperated but mostly fond, "I got back last night. Then went to go find you when I remembered about the party."

Oh god, did that mean Steve saw the whole thing? Was this the calm before he kicked Eddie out? Was he about to be dumped-

"I can see your brain working babe, but it's working in the wrong direction."

"Huh?" Eddie asked, completely lost on why Steve was smiling at him instead of cursing his name.

"Eddie, it was me," Steve said calmly, though his face said he was holding back a laugh, "You made out with me. Before I took us home and you failed at trying to give me road head on the way home. Twice."

"I-what?" Eddie asked, shellshocked.

"You cheated on me with me, babe," Steve laughed, his calm face finally breaking, "Then when we got home, you cried about missing me to me. You're adorable when you're wasted. Stupid, but adorable."

"Oh my fucking God," Eddie breathed out, the reality of the situation hitting him. He groaned, hiding his face in his hands while Steve cackled next to him. He had never felt like a bigger fucking moron, Jesus Christ, "I am never drinking tequila again."

"Good idea," Steve chuckled as he pried Eddie's hands away from his face. He brought one to his mouth, kissing his fingers as he grinned, "But I love the honesty, sweetheart. 10/10. And the begging? Kind of hot."

"I was terrified!" Eddie moaned, staring up at the ceiling as a blush climbed up his neck, "You scared the shit out of me."

"You scared yourself!" Steve laughed, grabbing for Eddie's chin to force his head back down to look at him. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "My favorite little drama queen."

"You're a bastard," Eddie grumbled, like he wasn't smiling when Steve leaned in to kiss him on the lips, "Evil."

"But wasn't I a good boyfriend for the night?" Steve asked, laughing even harder when Eddie pinched his side. Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, effectively shutting him up as the last of his anxiety drained away.

But one thing was for sure. Tequila would be his worst enemy until the day he died.

Purely inspired by this post by @hawkinsbnbg

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #such a fun lil idea lol #he so stupid #cheating that is not real #at all lol

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jarofstyles · 5 months ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Hello love bugs… This is something different I’m trying! He is not exactly a good person. Neither is she, exactly, but especially him. There’s a power imbalance and some cheating (with Y/N, not on)

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WC- 4.4k

Warnings- unfair power imbalance, mean dom h, humiliation, degrading, d/s dynamics, infidelity, he’s a dick, really not a great person

If anyone asked someone to describe Harry Styles, they’d say he was up and coming- the one to look out for. A man with family values, a pretty wife, a tendency to donate to anyone who needs it. He went to charity galas, he gave people time off who needed it, he had the best possible healthcare plans, he had two rescue cats at home and sponsored planting 1000 trees every summer.

But they didn’t know what he really got up to. Who he really was. That he was the furthest thing from a doting husband that his wife liked him to appear to be.

He used to be. Until Y/N walked into his life.

Harry sat at his desk, going through some important paperwork with a frown- completely ignoring the fact that his secretary was currently on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing up and down as she sucked his dick. He occasionally would let out a soft grunt or groan, but would quickly go back to his work, not even sparing her a glance.

A low grumble rumbled in his throat as he continued to ignore her, though he could feel his cock swelling with each sloppy suck. He knew exactly what Y/N was doing - testing his control, seeking attention. But he'd learned her games well. No praise, no touch, nothing to make her think she was getting away with her bratty fucking behavior. His fingers drummed absently on the papers, keeping his eyes fixed on the documents rather than the head bobbing in his lap.

She could feel her frustration growing as he continued to ignore her, his attention fully devoted to his work instead of her. She sucked harder, trying to elicit some kind of reaction, but he remained stoic, his face contorted in thought as he read through the papers. She even tried to add a little teeth, hoping he would finally look at her, scold her, anything. But he just grunted softly, jaw clenching just a tad and shifted a bit in his chair, still not sparing her a glance.

It was torture.

Her muffled whimper of frustration only made the corners of his mouth twitch slightly as he continued to concentrate on his paperwork, pretending not to notice her growing desperation for his attention. He knew how much she craved his focus, his praise, his command. And that was precisely why he denied her, maintaining his stoic facade in the face of her increasingly vigorous efforts to get him to crack. The occasional shiver that ran through him at the feel of her lips and tongue was his only concession to the pleasure she was trying so hard to provoke.

Just as she was about to give up and crawl away in defeat to go pout at her own desk, his phone suddenly rang, piercing the tense silence of the office. Harry's gaze flickered to the device on his desk before he picked up, his voice crisp and businesslike as he answered. "Styles." Y/N's head paused mid-suck, her ears perking up as she strained to listen in on the conversation, hoping against hope that it would be something that would distract him from ignoring her.

"Yes, I'm aware of the delay with the project. I don't care what excuses you have, I want it sorted out by end of the day." His voice was cold, commanding, brooking no argument. She hated how her cunt clenched at the dominant tone, her frustration momentarily forgotten as a different kind of heat pooled between her legs. She remained still, lips wrapped around his thick shaft, listening intently to his one-sided conversation. "Yeah, well- I really don’t give a fuck about what’s going on right now. Get it done like I’m paying you to fucking do. And if I hear that you've off fucking around on my dime again, you're fired. Got it?"

As he finished his stern lecture, his hand grasped the back of her head with little warning, pushing her down firmly until her nose was buried in the thatch of pubic hair above his dick and he was fully lodged in her throat. He held her there for a long moment, his cock throbbing in the wet, hot confines of her tight little throat as he continued to flip through his papers with the other hand, acting as if her presence wasn't rattling his concentration in the slightest. He really should gamble, with the poker face he had. Finally, he released her with a slight grunt, leaving her gasping and sputtering.

He gazed down at her face in his lap, her teary eyes, the spit webbed from her lips to his cock. "Was that so difficult, sweetheart?" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "I thought you wanted my full attention. S’why you acted like a little fucking brat before, isn’t it?." He tapped a finger lightly against her pursed, slicked lips. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice before trying to manipulate me with your... methods." His eyebrows arched as he glanced towards where her mouth had just been before returning his gaze to the documents before him ."Now, be a good girl and let me work in peace. If you're going to be on your knees, make yourself useful.”

His finger moved from her face to move across the papers, though the slight tightness in his jaw betrayed the effect her wet mouth had on him as she kissed over the shaft. Trying to make it up to him, obviously. "Though I must say, the lack of eye rolls and attitude when your mouth is full is quite an improvement. You should try it more often."

Of course she was. Y/N knew what he liked by now but had wanted a bit more attention- and she had known how to get it. Eagerly, she continued to suck his cock, determined to prove herself and earn his praise the right way. Her head bobbed up and down, saliva dripping from her lips as she worked his thick cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. She could feel his fingers tapping against her cheek occasionally, a silent reminder to keep going, to be good and quiet while he worked. She relaxed her throat, letting him sink deeper, her nose buried in his pubic hair on her own attempt as she struggled to take him all the way down.

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on the papers in front of him as she gagged herself on his dick. Her throat constricting around him felt incredible, but he refused to let her see the effect she was having on him. His hand tightened around the pen, knuckles white as he fought to maintain his composure. A low, barely audible groan escaped him as she swallowed around him, the vibrations shooting straight to his balls. Fuck, she was good at this. Too good.

His breathing grew heavier as she expertly worked his prick with her mouth, the tight suction threatening his carefully maintained control. She knew exactly what she was doing. His free hand unconsciously gripped the edge of his desk, fingers twitching slightly. The little brat might make him actually lose focus if she kept this up. He tried to focus on the numbers in front of him, but his vision kept blurring at the sensation of her tongue. Such a fucking talented mouth for such a brat…

She started to get sloppier, drool dripping down her chin as she sucked him with less control. More desperation to please a man she should realistically be far away from, but too addicted to stop. The wet, messy sounds filled the room, punctuated only by her occasional gagging and the soft, muffled moans around his dick. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking to her face and neck with the mess she had made, but she didn't care. All she cared about was making him proud, making him see that even if she was a brat, she knew how to suck his cock like a good girl.

The man let out a shuddering breath, finally tossing the papers aside as her relentless sucking threatened to unravel him completely- so he broke. "Fuck, just like that." He muttered, his hand gripping her hair roughly in his fingers to urge her on. "Such a talented little cockslut, aren't you?" The irony wasn't lost on him - they were both playing their roles in this twisted game of power and pleasure, each using the other for their own needs. He knew he was just as guilty as she was, cheating on his wife with his secretary. Playing these games when he knew better. But it felt too good to stop. He’d never felt more alive.

His wife barely paid him mind. Their marriage had fizzled, leaving him lonely and frustrated- and when an overly eager Y/N had come in, spending hours a day in close contact with him, it felt inevitable. She was beautiful, she was sweet. Listened to commands without a hitch (most of the time.) As wrong as it may be, as soon as he got the hint that his cute little secretary with her soft doe eyes and cunning smile had wanted his cock- he readily gave it to her. Y/N let him do what he needed, happily taking whatever he handed to her. Dealing with her bratting out was something he liked more than he’d verbally admit. Getting her to this point, desperate for his approval, he thrived off of it.

He thrived off the power dynamic, the way she would look at him with those pretty, pleading eyes, seeking his approval after she'd been a brat and she wanted him to forgive her- have mercy. He loved reducing her to a whimpering, drooling mess, desperate for his touch, his praise, his attention.

His wife was a shell, a ghost in their marriage. A facade of perfection upheld by false pleasantries at the shops, or at the galas she only went to for the sake of keeping up her own appearance.

Y/N was alive, vibrant, always present. Eager to learn and work, even when it wasn’t a sexual thing. She was full of life and possibilities he hadn’t been exposed to before and he felt an itch to give them to her.

She might be a brat, but she was his brat.

“Little whore. So precious.” He whispered in a condescending coo. “Sucking off your boss. Desperate for my cock, mm?” Gathering her hair in his hand, he gave in to her need for attention to help her take his cock in her throat again. His second favorite place to be. “What is it you want now? Mm? What’s got you acting like a brat?” He looked down at her, his expression a mixture of heat and amusement. "What is it that y’want, you precious little slut? You've been throwing yourself at me all day, acting like a spoiled brat. And now you're on your knees, choking on my dick like it's the only thing that can satisfy you." He tightened his grip on her hair, using it to guide her head up as he spoke. "So tell me, what's got you so desperate for my attention?"

“You said I couldn’t come on the trip. I want to go.” She pouted, breathing deep through her nose as she tried to catch her breath. He listened to her request, his expression unreadable for a moment before a slow, smug smile spread across his face. "The business trip, huh? Y’want to come with me so bad that you turned into a brat in the middle of the work day?" He chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "And why should I bring you along, hm? What could a little thing like you possibly offer me on a trip like that?" He leaned back in his chair, still holding her hair tightly. "M’not running a fucking daycare, sweetheart."

"Please, Harry... I'll be good, I promise. I just... I wanna be with you." She whined, her voice taking on a pathetic, pleading tone. It was clear she was desperate, willing to do anything to get her way. He considered her for a moment, his grip on her hair loosening slightly as he thought. "And what about when I have meetings? When I'm busy with clients? You're just gonna sit in the hotel room all alone n’pout?"

“No! I can come and- and take notes. Get coffee. You know I can do that sorta stuff. I want to be there.” She protested, eyes pleading up at him.

"Oh, you want to be there... as what? My secretary? Or my little office whore?" He smirked at her, knowing his crude words would have her cheeks flushing. "Just what exactly are you volunteering for here, hm? Taking notes... or taking care of all my other needs?" His free hand slid down to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Be honest with yourself - which d’you think you would you be better at?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper. Her honeyed eyes looked so pretty with residual tears, desperation in them. It was his favorite look on her face.

“Let’s be honest, sweetheart. If you come with me, you're not just my secretary. You'll be my personal assistant, my travel companion, and... whatever else I might need you for." His thumb pressed against her lower lip, holding it still as he spoke. "So, are you up for the challenge? Willing to be at my beck and call, day and night, for the entire trip?" He leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. "Because if you are, I might just consider letting you tag along."

Y/N felt fuzzy, nodding her head. It was actually exactly what she would want to do. Something in her most base and primal self wanted to please him. Make him happy. She liked when he was mean, when he used her, when he praised her. It was something she’d felt since she started but every time he would show her attention, even if she knew deep down it was wrong for so many reasons, she loved every bit of his attention.

"Good girl." He praised, releasing her chin and giving her hair a gentle tug. "You'll be my little shadow for the entire trip, doing whatever I say, whenever I say it." He stood up, pulling her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist. "And if you're good, I might even take you to a nice dinner. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" He murmured, already looking forward to having her by his side. Craving some intimacy, even in this way, he wanted to at least do something nice for the girl he was about to bend over his desk. She was a real good girl, despite her misbehaving.

He spun her around and bent her over the desk, pressing her face down against the cool wood as he hiked her skirt up. "Now, since you took my cock down your throat and kept quiet while I was on the phone, I think you deserve a little... reward." He unbuckled his belt, the metal jingling loudly in the quiet office. "M’going to fuck you right here, right now. And you're going to take it like the good girl that you try to be, understand?" He pressed his wet against her ass, grinding slowly. "Say yes, sir."

“Yes, Sir.” She swallowed thickly, feeling him lift up her skirt to bunch it around her waist. This was the desired outcome. Getting to go with him, taking up all his attention. Arching her back, she pressed her ass into him. The surge to test limits came back, her tiny smirk concealed by the position. “Will your wife be angry, sir? that another woman is coming on a trip with you?” She taunted, trying to keep her voice sugary sweet though she knew it would trigger him.

He chuckled darkly, running a hand possessively over her exposed ass cheeks before giving it a harsh slap. Ignoring her gasp, he did it again and smeared the precum dripping from his tip over the hot flesh.. "You want me to tell you how unhappy she'll be? Maybe about how she hasn't touched me in months? Or how I stopped caring about her being distant when a cute little secretary came in and started to bend over backward to keep me happy?" He yanked down her panties roughly, leaving them around her thighs. "She doesn't care about me anymore than I care about her." he growled, lining himself up at her entrance. There was something so illicit about it, the fucked up nature of fucking her raw that made him even more worked up than he’d expected. He knew he was digging himself a deeper grave, simply trusting she was telling the truth about birth control… but if she was, and he got her knocked up, maybe he’d have the balls to actually file.

"S’that what you want to hear, sweetheart?" He teased, pushing just the tip of his cock in before pulling back out, loving how she squirmed. "That I don't give a fuck about her anymore? That all I think about is this tight little pussy?" Each time he plunged just the head inside, he'd drag it out slowly, watching her split open and back together again. "Answer me." He ordered sternly, his hand coming down with another sharp smack on her ass.

“Y-Yes.” She managed to gasp out, feeling the tip pop back inside to make her legs weak. “I like it. I like knowing.” It was an understatement. Completely. She loved knowing he was picking her. It was completely the opposite of how she’d ever imagined herself to be but she couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t love being chosen.

“Thatta girl. Wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?" he grunted, pushing his entire length inside her in one hard thrust. She let out a loud yelp as he buried himself deep, his balls slapping against her soaked pussy as he wasted very little time taking what he wanted. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back as he started to fuck her hard and fast, his thick cock pounding into her over and over. "You like knowing I don't care about my wife, huh? That all I think about is your tight little cunt?" He grunted, his thrusts becoming even more brutal.

She let out a high-pitched moan, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Y-yes, sir! I love it!" She panted, arching her back to take him deeper. "I love knowing I'm the one who gets to have you like this. The only one who gets to feel your big, thick cock inside me." She was so loud, so wanton, not caring if anyone outside the office heard her getting fucked by her boss. She really needed to shut the fuck up, but something about his dick made her mind melt. The same way it melted all her morals away.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her up to stand arched against him, lips brushing against her ear. "Yeah… y’like being my little secretary.? Being the woman who gets to go on trips with me, sit in on my meetings, sleep in my hotel bed?" He growled, his hot breath fanning over her face as he looked down at her. "You love it, don't you? Being my girl in everything but name?"

"God, yes!" Y/N cried out, practically vibrating with pleasure as he hit all the right spots inside her. "I love every second of it. Being yours, belonging to you completely..." Her words dissolved into a breathless moan as he shifted the angle of his hips, sending jolts of ecstasy through her body. "I'll do anything for you, sir. Anything you want. Just please, don't stop fucking me like this..."

He loved how easily she fell into the role, how eagerly she begged and whimpered for his attention.

He could feel her pussy clenching tightly around his cock, the wet heat enveloping him as he pistoned in and out of her. Her juices were coating his shaft, dripping down onto the floor, marking the expensive carpet with the evidence of their sin yet again. He knew he should feel guilty, fucking his secretary on his desk in the middle of the workday, but all he could focus on was the way she moved beneath him, the little gasps and moans that slipped past her lips as he used her for his pleasure.

He gripped her throat with one hand, his fingers wrapping tightly around her neck as he bent her forward, folding them both in half over the desk again. With his other hand, he reached under her to grab her hip, using it to pull her back onto his thrusting cock in long, hard strokes. She struggled to breathe with his hand around her throat, her eyes bulging as he fucked her mercilessly, the desk creaking and shaking with the force of his movements.

"You're my whore. Don’t think I don’t know how much you need my cock. Drooling over it while you’re supposed t’be organizing… s’just too good, mm?." He growled against her ear, his thrusts becoming more harsh. His hand around her throat began to squeeze rhythmically with each thrust, cutting off her air just long enough to make her panic and clench tighter around him. "No one fucks you like I do, does they?" His voice was practically a snarl as he drove into her. "Takes you like this, claims you completely? You love being my convenient little office whore, don't you?"

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body trembling as he choked her and fucked her thoroughly. Letting out every little bit of frustration on her poor, swollen pussy. She was completely at his mercy, unable to breathe, unable to move, only able to take his cock as he gave it to her- and she loved it. Harry had introduced her to this, a type of fuck she didn’t know possible- and now she was utterly obsessed. The room was filled with the sound of their brutal fucking, the desk scraping against the floor, her muffled moans, and his grunts of pleasure.

“Sending me home with my cock covered in you, your lipstick on my collar. Don’t give a fuck if she sees. I’ve got better pussy here.” He laughed cruelly, slipping his hand up to place two fingers into her mouth. Her cunt clenched at his words, making him click his tongue. “You love it.”

She didn’t want to love it. She knew she had never invisioned this, but it felt too good to stop. Harry was too good to her, felt too incredible, gave her all the perks she wanted… It was the worse thing to be in her eyes, the mistress, but she wanted it more than she cared about anything else. It was hard to think logically when his dick hit the spot that made her gush all over him.

"Ah, sweetheart. Yes you do." He taunted, his fingers shoved in her mouth to muffle her moans. "You never thought you'd be on your knees for your boss, choking on his dick, spread open on his desk while he pounds into you like a toy." He leaned down, his hot breath fanning over her ear. "But you do love it, don't you? You love being my dirty secret."

The pathetic little nod sent satisfaction through his veins. He knew she loved it, but even single time she confirmed it only amplified his own need for more. "That's my good girl," he praised, his pace never faltering. "Whining because you know I'm right. You're my dirty little secret, my pretty whore, and you fucking love it." He bit down gently on her earlobe, making her squirm. "And the best part? You know I'm going to keep fucking you like this, no matter what happens.”

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, almost drooling around his fingers. She’d need to do her makeup all over again after this. Harry made a mess out of her every time, but especially today. The confirmation made her cunt try to suck him in deeper. The proclamation that he wasn’t going to stop, that she was going to keep getting it? It felt like she had won.

"No matter if I get caught, no matter if my wife suspects, no matter if everyone in the office knows we're fucking like rabbits behind closed doors," he snarled, his hands roaming possessively over her body as he continued to pound into her. "Because you're the best I’ve ever fucked, and I can't get enough of you." He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And you know what the really fucked up part is, sweetheart?" He whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "I think you'd stay even if it meant keeping this a secret forever, even if it meant never being able to be with you in public, you'd still be my little office whore, wouldn't you?" He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, looking for any sign of denial or hesitation- he knew he wouldn't find any. She was his, completely and utterly.

Nodding frantically, her lips parted to try and speak, but all that came out was a strangled whimper. He was right, she would stay, she would be his dirty little secret forever if that's what it took to be with him. She needed him too much to ever leave, no matter how wrong it was.

Y/N would take everything he gave him.

And Harry would take whatever he could, because he liked her more than he cared to admit.

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfictions #Harry smut #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year ago

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If It All Fell (9)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Thank you so much for sticking around. I had to reread this entire series to write this part and it made me remember how much I love sharing it with you all ♡ Italics indicate memories (oooooo👀).

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

One of the many downsides to losing your memory was your lack of card game knowledge. An inconsequential tidbit when you took a step back and evaluated the hardships that plagued you, but a fact that was currently causing you a massive headache and a massive loss, all the same.

“This is just completely unfair,” you huffed, tossing your cards on the table and leaning back in your chair. “I can barely even remember what you said the rules were.”

“Hardly my fault, sweetheart. I gave you a run down before we started,” Cassian slyly grinned.

You scoffed. “There were over fifteen steps to this game! And I feel like you made up half of them!”

“While that would definitely be something he’d pull,” Mor piped in, an accusatory glance in Cassian’s direction. “He’s innocent, this time. This is just a really complicated game.”

“Oh yeah, great. Make the amnesiac play the complicated game so she’ll lose. That's really classy, Cassian. Great sportsmanship.”

Cassian had the gall to look offended, a hand placed at his heart. “You used to be great at this game, I’ll have you know. You won every time. We banned you, actually.”

“You banned me from playing a card game?”

Azriel, who had been fighting off a laugh with his tongue against his cheek, spoke up from beside you. “Very strictly banned, as well. For the last hundred years. You’re lucky we’re letting you play now.”

Your mouth dropped open in the most wounded expression you could manage, mirth dancing in your eyes as you turned your head to catch the shadowsinger’s blush-tinted cheeks.

Things were… good between the two of you. The same, but good, mostly because you had refrained from even alluding to his mate. When you didn’t talk about her, or look at anything that might have belonged to her, or question Azriel on the sadness in his eyes, he stayed glued to your side. It was a wonderful friendship the two of you were cultivating—one built on one-sided secrets where the answers were locked in your brain.

“What could I have possibly done to get banned from a card game for a hundred years?” you gaped.

Azriel’s wings rustled behind him, unfurling to cloak your back in warmth. He laughed. “You cheat.”

“I cheat?”

“I wouldn’t call it cheating, exactly,” Mor defended, sliding her cards face-down on the table in favor of the snack plate in the center. “Not when it’s not your fault.”

“Bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed, fist coming down in a loud bang. “She knows how to control her magic. She chooses to use it during the game and that makes it cheating.”

Mor pointed an accusing finger in Azriel’s direction. “And what about his shadows, then? You’ve never had a problem with him playing, oh great game warden.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes as if looking at Azriel for the first time. “Brother, you cheat as well?”

In the most jovial tone you’d heard Azriel take, he refuted, “I absolutely do not.”

That had spiraled into another argument you were not part of, and you took the opportunity to pick your cards back up and attempt to run through the rules again. It was a game of chance, really, but it was also a game of wit and that wasn’t your strongest suit at the moment.

Maybe if you tried a little bit harder—

“Okay, your turn, y/n,” Azirel called you out of your fruitless thoughts. “Just try to pick one.”

Your lips twisted to the side as you examined your cards and looked up at your opponent. Cassian appeared quite average, no shifting eyes or telling sighs. He was very good at this game, allegedly.

You flicked your eyes back down to your cards, but, no—something didn’t feel right about that.

You looked back up at Cassian, and something shifted.

Something… seemed off. Like he was—

“You’re lying,” you stated as if it were a well-known fact. “You’re lying so hard right now. So that means I should take this and…”

Your last words trailed off as you slapped a pair of cards on the table. You looked up to Cassian with a smug expression, the general narrowing his eyes and swiping his own cards aside. He scoffed, and then scoffed again, the second time paired with his arms across his chest.

“Yeah? And how would you know?” he challenged.

Your head jutted back in disbelief. You gazed around the table but none of your opponents offered the same look. “Are you kidding? It’s practically pouring off of you.”

“What is?” Azriel softly asked.

“His lie!” you exclaimed, hands raised in shock.

“How so?” Mor posed.

“All around him.” You shook your hand in the direction of the General, making some form of a circle. “He’s just a terrible liar and you can see it. I thought you all said he was undefeated?”

“I was,” Cassian huffed out with a laugh. “Against everyone other than you.”

His words sobered up your competitive mood, the rest of the table having come to a conclusion you only just realized. Azriel sat beside you with bated breath, tenseness apparent in the coil of his wings and shadows. Mor tried and failed to hide her smile behind her lips. Cassian didn’t even attempt to hide; his smile was vibrant without a hint of defeat.

“Does this mean—”

“Yes!” Mor gave a small cheer. “Something is happening in that beautiful brain of yours and you’re coming back to us!”

Coming back to them.

As if you weren’t sitting right there.

“We should ask her questions,” Cassian boomed with another laugh. “See what else is in there.”

“Oh! We should. Think of something, Cass.”

“What about…”

The air around you felt suffocating as those at the table began talking as if you weren’t there. Any joy you felt at the revelation was washed, evaporated—creating a somber resolve that made your skin feel dull.

“Maybe ask her things associated with her magic. Maybe that’s coming through first,” Mor offered. Walnut shells and wine glasses lay empty and scattered beside discarded cards.

“I don’t think—” Azriel’s response was muted by a buzzing in your ears.

It would never be enough. You were a full person sitting before them, but you weren’t. You weren’t the person they expected—not the person they wanted. You had been stuck in this limbo for weeks now, living under pitying eyes and hopeful half-smiles that never met their eyes. Secrets were kept because they hoped you—the real you—would eventually return and save them from sharing the hard things.

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes.

“We should get Rhys. He might find an opening now that her magic is—”

“I’m right here,” you interrupted, the gravel of your tone barely audible below Cassian’s excited tone. The table fell silent, anyway. “I don’t know why you all insist on speaking about me and not to me.”

Mor’s voice was still light as she replied, “Y/n, we don’t mean—”

“You don’t mean what?” you laughed, the sound bordering hysterical. You caught Azriel turning his head down towards you in your peripheral. You ignored it. “You don’t mean to make me feel like half a person? Like a ghost? Because I’m right here and I have been for weeks but you all are so concerned with what I’m going to be in some undetermined amount of time that you seem to forget I’m alive now.”

Cassian’s lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from your mouth. “I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to know about most of my life until recently. You all expect me to get better instantly, making decisions and keeping secrets as if this isn’t part of my life—as if when I get my memories back… if I get them back… all these weeks will just disappear.

“But I’ve been here,” you stressed. Your fingers were tingling and your neck felt hot. “I’ve been here and all of you—you all talk over my head. I finally get some semblance of myself back and all you can think about is what more I can do. You don’t care about me. You care about some version of me that I’ve never met.”

You rose from the table, hands coming down harshly as you stood. Mor quickly mimicked your action, but you held a hand up, dismissing the person who had been your safe space at the start of this mess—at the start of your memory, really.

“I need—I need,” you choked. Dim colors and minute vibrations emanated from each person in the room, making your head hurt as you looked at them. You didn’t have the capacity to analyze that development. “I need to be alone.”

You heard yourself mutter an apology as you went, unsure what exactly it was for. Your feet stumbled out of the room, getting stuck in cracks and shuffling on marble flooring. A small prickle of embarrassment made you flinch as you went, but it was nothing compared to the harrowing emptiness that guided you out to the balcony.

Maybe it would be better if you spent your time alone—at least until you got your memories back. You loved being around everyone, but even that was a half-truth. You hadn’t even met everyone that was supposed to be in your life.

Gripping the railing of the balcony, you sucked in a deep breath, greedy for any kind of reprieve. A soft wind met the heat of your cheeks, but it did little to soothe you. If you could just become who they wanted you to be… if you could just know everything they wanted you to know.

Everything felt like too much.

You had so little to go off of, but somehow that was to your detriment.

You thought the first sign of your old self would have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it was only a call for more. More, more, more—you weren’t enough now.

You heard your name in the wind, a soft sound that carried delicately past your ears. For reasons you could not place, the single word sent anger pulsing in your veins.

You whipped around, unsurprised to see Azriel standing beneath the archway to the house, his expression unguarded and his shadows reaching and reaching and reaching towards you.

He seemed to recoil at your furious gaze.

“What?” you asked, still breathless from the way panic had taken control of your chest. “What, Azriel?”

But words seemed to fail him as he stood there. He blinked more than necessary, shaking his head and then righting it, unsure of the direction he wanted to take.

It infuriated you.

“What could you have to say?” you instigated, and the harsh words made you sick. “You of all people treat me as a stranger. You say we’re close—that we are the closest of anyone—but you keep secrets, Azriel. You keep secrets and you make it impossible to get to know you. What happens if I never get my memory back, huh?”

The notion of that reality set the Shadowsinger into motion. “Don’t say that,” he almost begged, desperation lost behind gritted teeth. “We are still looking—”

“Would it be that terrible for you? Truly, Azriel. You slink around me, afraid to share things I don’t even know are there! How am I—What am I supposed to do if this is just me now?” You tugged at your hair as frustration captured your voice. You hadn’t meant to say any of this, hadn’t planned on even hinting at your displeasure, but something snapped today.

Something snapped and there was nothing you could do to cope with the breakage. Because you were a stranger to everyone—most of all yourself.

“That won’t happen,” Azriel attempted to reassure, taking small steps towards your pacing figure. “We are going to figure this out and everything will be—”

“It won’t!”

You screamed.

You hadn’t meant to.

Azriel stopped in his tracks.

“It won’t be fine, Azriel.” Back to a normal volume, your voice sounded hoarse. “I can’t keep living like this—like a ghost. It’s been weeks and there are no leads. All I have now is this hint of my powers that I’m not even sure how to parse out. They don’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

Your eyes were glued to your feet as Azriel’s words broke at the syllables. “I know.”

“None of you will want me if I can’t be her.”

“I will always want you,” he was quick to respond.

When you raised your head, the stray tears held captive by your waterline fell. Azriel stared back at you in earnest but it felt incomplete.

“You keep things from me still,” you said, words thick in your throat. “It’s like you’re waiting for her—for someone else. With Mor and them, it’s different. It feels different with you.”

Azriel whispered a broken rendition of your name. The color you saw reflecting from his shoulders was sharp against the backdrop of the dark house, and you had no idea its significance, but something within you told you it wasn’t going to get you what you so desperately wanted.

“Stop,” you begged, chin wobbling. “Stop… formulating what you’re going to say to me. This is worse, now that I have my magic. I see your every indecision around me.”

Azriel’s expression pinched and the color fizzled out as he stepped forward and held your face in his textured hands. Your anger dissipated as he titled your head up to meet his gaze, replaced by the uncertainty that often mingled with regret when he was near.

What you were regretting, you didn’t know.

“You are the one sure thing in my life,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way—that we all have. I—I have been keeping something from you. I’ve been afraid it would be too much, that I would lose you if you knew. But I’m only losing you now.”

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you.

Azriel licked his lips and slid his hands down until his thumbs rested along your jaw.

“You have asked about my mate.” Discomfort panged within your chest as he spoke, but you needed to hear this. Azriel closed his eyes for a pause, brows furrowed, before he met your eye once more. “It’s you.”

Your shock came second to the blinding pain creeping up your neck. It fought with you, edging closer and closer to your brain before it fell behind your eyes and shattered all comprehensible thought. Another beat and hazel eyes were lost to darkness.

You heard your name, felt your body go slack and arms brace your fall, but then there was laughing. You were laughing, but the sound wasn’t coming from your body.

“We have to go back,” you heard yourself admonish in a breathless tone. “They’re all waiting for us.”

“Let me be alone with my wife for a while longer.”

Figures materialized in the dark space of your mind.

A purple dress.

A ring around your finger.

Flowers woven into the lapel of a jacket.

“I have only been your wife for about….” you saw yourself gaze up to the ceiling of a room you did not recognize in feigned contemplation. “An hour?”

Azriel bit back a grin and nuzzled his face into your neck. “But you have been my mate for my entire life.”

“That’s not even true. It snapped a few months ago.”

You stood in the corner of the room as the scene unfolded, feeling like a stranger in some iteration of your life. You looked so at ease, wrapped up in the man who had caused you so much inner turmoil over the last few weeks.

He had said you were mates.

Was this…

“That’s not how mates work, my love,” Azriel hummed closing the distance between the skin of your cheek and his lips. “When we were created, we were created for each other. There has never been a time in my life that I did not belong to you.”

You watched yourself smile—watched yourself curl your fingers in your mate’s hair and press your forehead to his. “Gods, you’re the biggest sap.”

Azriel laughed. The sound was light and free and everything you had sought after these past few weeks. But you heard it here as he laid with you in his arms.

“I can’t believe you married me,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours.

“Of course I married you.”

A pause.

“Do you think you would have married me if things hadn’t worked out—after Day I mean.”

From the corner of the room, you analyzed how your body seemed to recoil at the question.

“Azriel, nothing could have kept me from you. Not even that monster from Day. If I hadn’t gotten my memory back—if I had to live with forgetting you—” Azriel shuddered, taking a long breath through his nose. You only brushed your fingers softly against his temple. “—I would have found you again. It probably would have been a pain in the ass to get me to listen but…”

Azriel scoffed and pulled you closer. “You’re already a pain in my ass.”

“That was the goal.”

Another soft round of laughter.

You felt like an intruder, flinching at the gleam of the ring on Azriel’s finger, hesitant to gaze around the room you had no recollection of. By the door, you could hear others in the hall. You made out Cassian and Mor’s voices, but others sparked no recognition within you. Curiosity pulled you in that direction, but before you could touch the doorknob, Azriel spoke again.

“You wouldn’t have had to find me.” He paused. “I never would have left your side.”

And then the scream of your name woke you.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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brattyspence · 6 months ago

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nothing matters | s.reid

summary: when reader catches her boyfriend cheating, she’s quick to run right back to spencer, even if she once swore she’d never do it again. he just has a way of making her forget about her troubles.( loosely based on lyrics of ‘Nothing Matters’ by The Last Dinner Party)

tags/warnings: pure fucking filth (at least for me), fem!reader, afab!reader, soft dom!spencer, lowkey asshole spencer, reader makes bad decisions and is aware of it, situationship, reader gets cheated on, minimal foreplay bc reader is horny af.

a/n: um. so. about that.

word count: 1.7k

playlist i made just for this!

masterlist

"And you can hold me like he held her,

And I will fuck you like nothing matters."

Getting involved with Spencer was more complicated than you’d hoped.

It had started as mindless sex. It was no secret that your job was stressful, and you both lacked the time and emotional availability to truly maintain a relationship. Still, after spending days running around and chipping away at a case, it seemed that the only real way you could unwind was by getting in his bed.

There were logical explanations for why the sex was so, so good. You both understood what the other had gone through each day, and the way that each case would sit heavy on your minds. Spencer was keenly aware that you were not in the mood to talk when you got home. What you really wanted was to turn off any part of your brain that could think, and let him rearrange your guts until you were too tired to remember any of the details of the day.

The arrangement worked until it didn’t.

You’d met someone else; someone you believed could give you everything you wanted in a relationship, and quickly called things off with Spencer. The friendship you’d once shared had crashed and burned in an instant. Spencer couldn’t understand why you thought you would suddenly be capable of a relationship with someone else, and this only fueled the growing frustration you’d had with him.

Recently, you were seated across from one another on the jet, your feet tucked up under you on the seat, boots kicked off and strewn somewhere under you. You were engrossed in something, reading texts on your phone with narrowed eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. He flipped a page of his book, looking up for a moment.

“Yeah.” You nodded, eyes lingering on the device for a moment longer than he’d have liked. “Boyfriend. It’s nothing.”

“Is everything…alright?”

You nodded, chewing the inside of your lip. “Yeah.”

Spencer couldn’t figure out why you stayed with him. Even if he didn’t know the extent of the situation, it was clear you were unhappy. It wasn’t something you’d ever been too careful to disguise. He couldn’t seem to figure out why you’d never pull the trigger and admit you were wrong. Part of him was convinced you were holding on out of spite.

“You always avoid that question,” he noted.

“I said ‘yeah’. I answered.”

“Hm.” He seemed to hold your gaze for a moment before picking up his own book again.

“Spencer,” you replied, your tone biting. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He didn’t look up when he spoke this time.

“Judging.”

“Not judging,” he replies. “Just waiting for you to admit you were wrong.”

Now, here you were, standing in the doorway to your own apartment, keys in hand, watching the reality of your impulsive decision unfold right in front of you. Another woman in your apartment, in your bed, with the same man who had promised to treat you better.

All rational thought seemed to escape you in an instant. Before you had time to process, you were flying through the stairwell and out into the night, your feet carrying you quickly to the one place you swore you’d never be again.

The cold night air didn’t bother you as you hastily made your way through the streets. You weren’t aware of the tingling cold that bit your nose and cheeks, but instead you were so caught up in the rising heat and mix of emotions that were threatening to spill through your tear ducts and onto your face.

Within the next ten minutes, you were standing outside his door, rocking on the balls of your feet. You only had to knock once before the door opened. Suddenly, the intense quiet of the street behind you seemed to be all too loud.

Spencer looked you over once, that same smug look on his face.

“So?” he asked. “Tell me I was right.”

“Oh, would you please-”

“I know. I know. Sorry. Come in.”

You crossed the barrier of his doorway with less hesitation than you'd expected.

You watched as he shut the door behind you, the solid clunk of the lock a reminder of the decision you were about to make.

“So… what happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don't want to talk about it.”

He took a step closer, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

“You don’t want to talk at all, do you?”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“So tell me what you do want.”

He took another step closer, the gap between your bodies becoming increasingly smaller. He knew exactly what you wanted, and he was determined to make you spit it out. You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed that he had to make everything so difficult for you.

“Drop the attitude,” he said, his voice low. “And use your words.”

You swallowed, bracing yourself for what was to come. You took another breath before finding the right words.

“Spencer,” you breathed. “Will you please just fuck me?”

“Mm,” he hummed. He was already tugging your coat off by the sleeves. “So polite. That's not like you.”

You thought better than to quip another remark back his way this time, instead letting him pull you further into the apartment. You offered no resistance as he guided you through the doorway of his bedroom, spinning you around to catch the foot of the bed against the back of your knees. You let yourself fall against the mattress with an exhale.

You quickly kicked your shoes away, letting them fall to the floor with a thump. Spencer had already climbed over you by the time you settled against the bed. He carefully slipped one hand just below the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely skimming your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You ready for these to come off?” He asked, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans.

“Mhm,” you nodded, quickly tugging the button undone.

“Eager,” he chuckled, pushing your hand away. “I got it. Relax.”

You watched as he undid the button with practiced ease, then quickly tugging away your jeans entirely to discard somewhere on the floor. With one hand holding his weight over you, the other continued its path up your side, pushing your shirt further up your stomach.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You knew the implications. Nothing had changed, of course. You'd do this, and things would still be the same. Spencer was adamant about refusing to settle down.

It would hurt tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Really sure.”

“You're not gonna regret this?”

You huffed. “Yeah, I’ll regret this. It doesn't matter. I just need you to fuck me..”

“I know,” he replied, settling his hand against your side. “Like nothing matters.”

You nodded again, impatience creeping back into your body. “Now.”

You heard him chuckle softly, and he quickly disappeared from your line of sight. You stared at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above you, and listened to the soft sound of rustling fabric, anticipation gnawing at your bones. You were quick to lift your hips when he queued you, letting him remove your underwear in one swift movement.

You let him pull you closer to the edge of the bed, his hands sitting firmly over your hipbones.

“Look at you, honey,” he breathed, running a thumb slowly over your core. “Missed me that bad?”

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned. “Just-”

“Is that how we ask for things that we want?” He asked, leaning in.

You sighed. “Please?”

You watched with half lidded eyes as he carefully lined himself up, pushing himself slowly inside of you. He continued rubbing circles against your clit with one thumb, easing the growing ache of need between your legs.

“That's okay?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please move.”

You weren't quite prepared for how good he would feel after so long apart. The sensation caught you off guard, leaving you unable to control the desperate pleas for “more more more” that spilled from your lips.

“There’s my girl,” he cooed. “So good. I knew you were still in there.”

Spencer moved one hand from its spot gripping your hips, instead tucking it against the back of your neck, anging your head up just enough to force your gaze on him.

“Can you- more, please?”

“More? You sure?”

You nodded, bringing one hand to hold onto his arm. “Mhm. More. Please.”

If the goal was to fuck you until you forgot why you came, he certainly succeeded in that. You squeezed your hand against his arm, holding on for dear life as each thrust pressed you against the mattress a little further.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he breathed. “So, so good, baby.”

Spencer knew exactly where he had you. Your nails were just beginning to dig into his skin with the familiar sting you always left him with. He watched the flush of color in your cheeks slowly darken as the seconds ticked by.

“That’s… please don't stop, Spencer. Please, please, please,” you whined.

“I know,” he replied. “I've got you, baby. You can let go.”

Sure, he'd made you come dozens of times before, but there was something about the circumstance that made today more intense than before. You were only half aware of your body, seemingly lost somewhere between your brain and outer space. By the time you were just beginning to drift back into your body, he was still pressed into you, breath heavy with the aftermath of his own orgasm.

As you lay against the mattress in the minutes following, nothing seemed to be going through your head. This was exactly what you came crawling back to him for.

You felt the soft touch of his hands again as he quickly cleaned you up.

“You feel okay?” He asked, carefully climbing back over you. He pressed one final kiss against your stomach before settling down on the comforter next to you.

“Mhm,” you mumbled. “So good.”

Spencer chuckled, turning his head towards you. “I can't believe you waited for that guy to cheat on you before coming back to me.”

You could have given him a hard time about it, or gotten upset all over again about his lack of willingness to commit. The point was though, you wanted him to fuck you like nothing mattered. That was exactly what you got.

#my things!#smut #spencer x reader #Spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #Spotify

448 notes · View notes

checkeredflagggs · 6 months ago

Text

The Story of Us: Chapter 2

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 2 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia

a/n5: happy birthday Logan! The charles post is next but I wanted to get this out for Logan’s birthday!

a/n6: justice for debut and speak now

Part 1

y/n_gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 12,383,483 others

y/n_gossip: breaking! Coming from unknown sources are apparently leaked photos from y/n’s private phone.

My questions are how was she hacked and who is the guy!

view all comments

user1: what a gross invasion of privacy!

↳user2: seriously! Celebrities are just people too and they don’t need people nosing into their business

↳user1: well said!

user3: mother? has? a? boyfriend?????

↳user4: what! who! when! how! WHAT???

↳user5: this is not what i expected to see when i woke up…

↳user3: right??? Its like looking both ways crossing the streets and getting shit on by a bird…

↳user4: …what???

user6: please do NOT tell me that crazy person is right?? I don’t think I could take it if they were right and it’s Logan Sargeant

↳user53: I think you might have to get used to idea that they were right

↳user19: ok that’s like really rude but I’m gonna ignore it because you’re agreeing with me

↳user7: ok but NO WHERE does it imply that this guy is Logan

↳user8: also where is it said that these photos are of y/n?? She’s been spending a lot of time with yoursister and yourbff

↳user7: more of a long shot but still possible!

↳user19: I’m gonna hold it over your heads for the rest of forever

↳user53: alright let’s roll it back now. Maybe wait to gloat until you’ve actually been proven correct?

↳user19:…fine

Private Messages, Logan and Y/N

f1gossip

liked by not_logan, not_oscar, user, user and 583,902 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, alex_albon, landonorris, georgerussell63

f1gossip: within minutes of the leak of y/n’s photos, several drivers had posted a collection of photos to their stories. Looking closely at them, the range of photos could be taken to mean that they were the guy in the photos with y/n (who people are speculating is her unrevealed boyfriend)

view all comments

user9: ummmm…this is not it guys 😂

user10: I didn’t think silly season was going to include drivers strongly implying they’re cheating on their girlfriends

↳user11: oh my god I didn’t even think of that

↳user12: just wait — give it a few days and the wags will be posting similar photos 😂😂

user13: the desperation radiating from these pics is incredible

↳user14: so is the second hand embarrassment

↳user15: so true. I’m cringing for them jesus

not_oscar: what??

↳not_logan: no

↳not_oscar: what the fuck is this

↳not_oscar: ew

↳not_lilyz: 🤣🤣

↳not_lilyz: ok but i need answers

↳not_oscar: oh ill get some answers alright

user16: ok but tagging them???

↳user17: so bold. I don’t think I could live after it

↳user18: it’s not even about me and I want to crawl under a rock and die

↳user17: big mood

Private Messages, The Grid (Unserious)

Private Messages, Logan and Y/N

williamsracing

liked by user, not_y/n, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 2,234,123 others

tagged: alex_albon, logansargeant

williamsracing: watch as our drivers take on the Duracell RC Challenge and answer fan questions! Full episode out now

view all comments

user20: this is so cute!

↳user21: I know! It’s always so fun to see Logan and Alex clearly enjoy themselves

↳user22: it’s so good to see them smiling!

user23: ok but those questions???

↳user24: forget all the questions — I want to tattoo Logan’s look of mischief when he said cardio was his favorite form of workout

↳user23: oh my god I thought was just me who saw that!

↳user19: well if my girlfriend was y/n, cardio would also be my favorite workout

↳user53: I’m judging you

↳user19: but are you disagreeing with me?

↳user53:…no

↳user19: ha!

↳user23: …are you…flirting…on my comment thread????

↳user19: WHAT? NO. ABSOLUTELY NKT

↳user53: hahaha I don’t now what yours talking about

logansargeant: best media day so far!

↳alex_albon: I don’t know how you did it but I’m sure you were cheating

↳logansargeant: haha 😆 you can’t prove anything!

not_oscar: so we’re being freaks on main now?

↳not_logan: and what of it?

↳not_y/n: yeah don’t kink shame us oscie

↳not_oscar: oh i'm definitely doing more than that

↳not_lilyz: oh like you haven’t done anything freaky too

↳not_logan: ha!

↳not_y/n: thank you lily

↳not_oscar: really love?

↳not_lilyz: 🤭🤭

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 15,273,273 others

tagged: y/n, y/n_nation

f1: …Ready For It? Y/N has arrived ahead of the Miami GP where she will be singing the national anthem to kickstart the day!

view all comments

user25: classy!

↳user26: she always is!

y/n: it’s an honor to have been asked! And the warm welcome from everyone and their teams have really made the day something special! 🩵

↳logansargeant: oh everyone has been very excited to have you in the paddock!

↳oscarpiastri: very excited indeed

↳charles_leclerc: Bienvenue au Grand Prix ! Vous êtes en effet un spectacle très apprécié à voir! “Welcome to the Grand Prix! You are indeed a very very welcome sight to see!”

↳pierregasly: C'est toujours un honneur d'avoir une jolie jolie fille qui vous attend! “It’s always an honor to have a pretty pretty girl waiting for you!”

↳user27:…I thought the desperation was over…

user28: god what a whore…useless too. Made it too hard to get tickets. Too many silly stupid little girls who don’t know anything about the sport got all the tickets just to see her

↳alex_albon: wow I didn’t know mouths could spew such shit

↳maxverstappen1: I wouldn’t worry about not being able to get a ticket 👍🏻 you’ve been banned!

↳landonorris: not only by the individual teams but by the sport as a whole

↳f1: well said drivers! user28 that is not the attitude that we support here in f1! We welcome (nearly) everyone to the Grand Prix’s whether they’re here to watch the race or to watch y/n!

↳user29:…shut down!

user30: my favorite part of today so far has been how stupid the drivers turned when y/n got close to them!

↳user31: there was absolutely no thoughts in the heads of the Ferrari men

↳user32: (or their girlfriends let’s be real)

user33: I wish someone had gotten close enough to the alpine garage…

↳user34: god I know! The Kelsey brothers were there and based on their faces whatever Pierre was saying was probably outrageous af

↳user35: well he’s publicly called himself a tripod so we know he has no shame

user36: Oscar’s look of disgust whenever Lando and Alex opened their mouths tho…

↳user37: oh he was going through it today

↳user19: Love how logan was just laughing in the background though

↳user53: well if you’re right, they’ve been together for years so he’s probably pretty secure in their relationship…

↳user19: if?!??

↳user53: THERES STILL NO PROOF

williamsracing

liked by not_y/n, georgerussell63, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and 1,334,274 others

tagged: logansargeant

williamsracing: Logan podium! I repeat!!! LOGAN PODIUM

view all comments

user38: I never thought I’d see the day

↳user39: well damn that’s kinda really rude

↳user38: be so for real right now did you ever think Williams would podium? Let alone Logan??

not_y/n: yeah you’re gonna get the best head of your life tonight babe

↳not_logan: 🥵🥵🥵🤩🤩🤩

↳not_oscar: please for the love of everything keep that shit to yourselves

↳not_y/n: just say you’re jealous and move on Aussie boy

↳not_oscar: why am I friends with you again

↳not_logan: we really didn’t give you a choice

↳not_y/n: we grew on you eventually!

↳not_oscar: like mold

↳not_logan: boo!!

↳not_y/n: boo!!!

oscarpiastri: congrats Logan!

↳logansargeant: thanks man!

alex_albon: congratulations! Show them how it’s done!

↳logansargeant: you know it! But it’s your turn next!

↳alex_albon: 🙌🏼🙌🏼

jv.f1: congratulations

↳user40: what in the world is with this dry ass congrats???

↳logansargeant: thank you!

georgerussell63: Many congratulations Logan! It was great to finally share a podium with you

↳logansargeant: thank you George! Hopefully the first of many!

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 778,445 others

tagged: williamsracing

logansargeant: P3 BABY! WE DID IT! THANK YOU EVERYONEEEEEEEE 🩵🩵🩵

view all comments

user41: CONGRATS LOGAN

↳user42: THATS OUR AMERICAN BOY

y/n: Congratulations Logan! You do Florida and Miami proud

↳logansargeant: thanks y/n! You must be my lucky charm though

↳y/n: Oh no that was all you!

↳user19: 🫵☝🏻🫵🫵🫵🫵☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻

↳user19: THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!

nicolepiastri: congrats Logan!

↳logansargeant: thanks Mom Piastri

↳oscarpiastri: and what of your actual son?

↳nicolepiastri: you’d like a congratulations for 6th?

↳oscarpiastri: well yes?!

↳nicolepiastri: hmmmm whatever you want sweetie. Congratulations on 6th

↳user43: I live for Nicole dragging Oscar

user44: such a great drive today Logan! Show ‘em what Americans can do!

not_y/n: possibility of you sneaking away before media to meet me?

↳not_logan: not likely

↳not_y/n: damn. Well just now I’ve made it back to our place and I’ve found a way to keep myself busy 😉🥵

↳not_logan: you can’t do this to me. Not right before I have to talk to Jensen and Nico

↳not_y/n: 🤭🤭🤭

↳not_oscar: or never. You can do this never

jensonbutton: congrats kid!

↳logansargeant: thanks jenson!

Private Messages

y/n_nation

liked by user, sabrinacarpenter, georgerussell63, zendaya, oscarpiastri, and 19,245,927 others

y/n_nation: Our bags are packed and the flights are here! Welcome to the Eras Tour!

view all comments

zendaya: what a wonderful night 🖤

↳tomholland2013: thanks for dragging me!

↳zendaya: you begged me to go?

alexandrasaintmleux: what a stunning show! Best night of my life!

↳charles_leclerc: what an amazing show y/n! Love your piano work!

↳user48: flirting with another woman right underneath your girlfriends comment??

oscarpiastri: fantastic time!

↳hattiepiastri: THANK YOH OSCSR!

↳not_y/n: glad you enjoyed yourself!

↳hattiepiastri: thank you for the tickets and the sweaters and the records!!

↳not_y/n: anything for my favorite Piastri!

↳oscarpiastri: you’re welcome 😑

alex_albon: by far the best concert I’ve been to!

↳lilymhe: thanks for taking me baby!

↳alex_albon: of course!

↳lilymhe: and thanks y/n for such a magical night 😘

↳user49: what’s with the weird flirting? What’s happening right now???

carmenmmundt: ¡Qué noche tan magnífica! ¡Gracias y/n! What a magnificent night! Thank you y/n!

↳georgerussell63: I loved every moment of it y/n!

↳user50: I see the desperation has found this post as well 😂😂

↳user51: so has the second hand embarrassment 🫣🫣

user52: I can’t feel my face or my feet but oh my god what a magical night

↳user54: absolutely worth it!

↳user52: definitely gonna be the concert of the year!!

Bluesky

Part 3

498 notes · View notes

ego13 · 2 months ago

Text

AFTER MIDNIGHT part. 1 – y.jm

PAIR ࿐ fem! reader x yu jimin. GENRE ࿐ pure angst/smut, detective, criminalistic. WARNINGS ࿐ murders, violence, semi-detailed description of corpses, references to child abuse/harassment, drug references, cheating, redflag!jimin, deception, complicated relationships, eventual smut, cunnilingus, kissing, impact play, misleading, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart , baby). SYNOPSIS ࿐ a series of suspicious murders have swept through a small town, raising it to its ears, which forces you to take up the case, not even suspecting that one of your "old" friends will return from the shadows. WORD COUNT 11,2k ࿐ PLAYLIST After Midnight ࿐

Jimin was holding her half of the headphones delicately, as if it were a secret she didn’t want the nobody to steal. The other half nestled in your ear, you leaned her head just slightly closer, lying it on her shoulder. The soft chords of "Sleepwalking" by Bring Me The Horizon drifted between you both, carried by the tiny MP3 player tucked in her hoodie pocket.

“We’ll always be together, right?” she asked, her voice quieter than the song, almost swallowed by the wind.

You turned to look at her. Her eyes were interested and serious, her dark hair tangled slightly from the breeze. There was something in her expression — an earnestness that made the moment feel like it was being carved into the wood beneath you.

“Always,” you said without hesitation, reaching out to pinky swear.

Jimin smiled then — bright, unguarded, and free. Your pinkies linked like the final note of a perfect song, sealed by laughter and that last chorus echoing in their ears.

"Why are you even asking me this? Is there something I don't know?" You asked with a ringing interest in your voice, clearly surprised by such a sudden interest in this kind of question.

"No... you know more about me than I do, even if I wanted to hide something from you, you would understand in the first moments," Jimin chuckled, clearly changing the subject, trying to avoid a direct answer to the question.

"You're right, so don't even think about hiding anything from me! I'll find out anyway," you giggled, turning your gaze into the distance, connecting the bright stars into small constellations in the clear sky with your gaze.

Noticing this, Yu smiled, she didn’t look at the stars, she didn’t need to, the brightest and most beautiful star in her life was now sitting in front of her, that's why her hand slowly crept up to yours, carefully intertwining your fingers together.

"Just... just suddenly, just suddenly, if something happens to me, will you promise to always remember me?"

The question made you look back at her, looking at her with eyes full of uncertainty. Why was she asking such strange things? The question was stuck in your head and you couldn't find the right words to answer, just nodding silently, taking a deep breath.

Seeing this, her hand tightened its grip on yours, smiling weakly as she brought it to her lips, leaving a few kisses on each of your knuckles as the last chords of the song slowly faded away.

The sound of wind faded. The song cut out.

Your eyes opened.

The room was dark except for the blinking light on her phone vibrating against the nightstand. Your head throbbed slightly — a dull reminder of falling asleep without eating. You blinked once before reaching the phone.

"Yunbin, Investigative Committee."

You answered, voice rough. “Yeah?”

“You’re awake! Thank god.” Yunbin’s tone was clipped. “Check your email. Right fucking now. It’s urgent.”

You sat up, rubbing the heel of her hand into her eye. “Can’t it wait until morning I have a fucking meeting with of Mr. Park tomorrow, if I don't get enough sleep I'll definitely spit in his face.

“No, this can't wait,” he said. “It’s him. We got new evidence. Check your inbox. The email with the archive is there. Password is the usual. Please don't delay. Let me know the second you open it.”

He hung up before you could say anything else.

You sighed, shoved the blanket aside, and dragged her laptop from under the bed. Fingers trembled slightly as you typed in her password — more from the chill than fear, or so you told yourself.

The email was already waiting. No subject. No text. Just an attachment named "SEASIDE_CASE_ARCHIVE.zip"

You clicked it. Entered the password. The archive opened.

There were four folders. Each named after a date. Each containing photos.

You clicked the first one.

The screen filled with images of a body — a young girl, no older than twenty, laid out in the sand. Her stomach was sliced open in a clean, straight line, the flesh parted but blood minimal, as if the cut had been made with professional precision. Her face was eerily calm. In her hands, arranged gently, was a small bouquet of white lilac.

You clicked through the other folders. The pattern repeated.

Four girls. All killed in the same way. All on the same spit of land by the sea — but each found in a slightly different spot. Their torsos opened. Their hands clutching lilac. There was no chaos in the scenes. No mess. Just death, arranged with cold care.

Your stomach turned.

The medical team had nicknamed the killer “The Reaper.” Well... you could see why.

There was nothing passionate or messy about the murders. Just clinical brutality. It didn’t look like rage. It looked like a statement. What was planned, damn, this bastard definitely has professional hands, you were willing to bet that the guys from the forensics team who have done more autopsies in their careers than you can imagine could do such a precise abdominal dissection.

You closed the last photo and sat still in the silence, the sound of the laptop’s fan the only thing filling the room.

Your phone buzzed again. A new message from Yunbin.

Yunbin:

Do any of the girls look familiar to you?

You:

No... I’ve never seen any of them before.

Yunbin:

Are you sure?

You:

One hundred percent. Why?

Yunbin:

All four girls were around your age. 15 to 18. No known family connections. Different backgrounds, no ties to each other on paper. But here’s where it gets strange.

You:

Go on.

Yunbin:

Three of them had registered visits to the same mental health clinic in Seoul. Same month. Same doctor. No details on the sessions — records sealed.

You:

What about the fourth?

Yunbin:

No clinic record... but get this — she was caught shoplifting from a pharmacy six months ago! Security footage shows her muttering to herself and holding a bouquet of lilac.

You:

White lilac? Same lilac?

Yunbin:

Exactly.

You:

So... he targets vulnerable girls?

Yunbin:

Looks that way. Victims showed signs of recent emotional stress — anxiety, insomnia, some hinted at suicidal ideation in personal journals or police interviews.

You:

How the hell does he pick them?

Yunbin:

That’s the question. There’s no digital link. No chatrooms, no shared devices, no obvious connection between them.

You:

And no one saw him?

Yunbin:

No witnesses. He moves fast. The bodies were all found within 24 hours of death. No defensive wounds either. It’s like they didn’t fight.

You:

Or couldn’t?

Yunbin:

Exactly! Autopsies show they were sedated before the incision. Carefully. Nothing messy.

You:

Listen... I need everything you have on that clinic.

Yunbin:

Already on it. I’ll send you the internal list of patients from the month they visited. Might be something there. Including staff rosters. Maybe someone slipped.

You:

Thanks. I’ll dig in.

Yunbin:

One more thing.

You:

Yeah?

Yunbin:

I was told that she, a woman, called the local clinic. She made a call to emergency services a week before the first victim.

You:

What did she say?

Yunbin:

The transcript’s short. She said: “He’s coming. He already took her. I saw it in her eyes.” Then hung up. The number is unavailable, geolocation cannot be calculated, apparently the phone is for one-time use.

You:

The owner of the phone could not be identified either?

Yunbin:

That’s what I'm trying to find out.

You:

Fine, going to sleep now, because I'm about to switch off. I'll meet you at the the office.

You set the phone face down on the desk and leaned back in the headboard. The screen still glowed faintly, casting a cold light across the room. Eyes burned from staring too long. The images from the archive were still there in the back of your mind.

The victims have no connection? This will need to be checked, because if this is really the case, how then do we even look for the maniac? How do we predict the next victim?

You closed the laptop. Stood up, your knees ached slightly from sitting too long. You pulled the curtains tighter and crawled back into bed without changing. The sheets were still warm. She lay flat on her back, eyes open in the dark.

Sleep came slowly, despite the mess that's going on in your head.

The alarm buzzed at 7:15. You slapped it off without even opening your eyes.

Body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You lay there for another minute, then rolled out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You stared at herself in the mirror. Pale. Hair is a fucking mess. You looked like someone who hadn’t slept properly in days, and that... wasn’t far from the truth.

In the kitchen, you made yourself some black coffee and didn’t bother with breakfast. Just stood at the counter, sipping it in silence. Thoughts about what happened didn't leave your head. And that dream with Jimin, what was that all about?

You moved on autopilot — pulled on dark slacks, a white blouse, blazer, boots. Tied your hair back loosely. Slid the badge into the pocket, then her ID, then her USB drive.

Laptop in the bag. Phone charged. Everything is strictly according to the template by which you lived every fucking day.

You checked the lock on the door twice before leaving.

The hallway outside your apartment was quiet. Old floorboards creaked under your steps. You took the stairs instead of the elevator.

The city was waking up when she hit the street. Traffic already building. People on their phones, rushing to work, completely unaware that somewhere by the sea, four girls had died without a sound.

By the time you reached the corner, the noise and crowds were already too much. The city felt louder than usual. Head was still foggy. You made your way to the small underground garage behind the building and unlocked your jeep.

It was old, beat-up, but reliable. No tech distractions, just a manual engine and the low hum of the radio you never tuned.

You pulled out onto the main road, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping her coffee cup. And for a moment you thought about the dream again. The bridge. The music. Jimin’s face.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere.

She had been your best friend for years. From first grade to senior year, they were always together — school projects, sleepovers, summer breaks. You shared everything.

Then came the end of high school. Graduation. College applications. And suddenly, Jimin was just… gone.

No goodbye. No call. Not even a text.

Her number stopped working. Socials were wiped. Mutual friends knew nothing. A couple rumors floated around — that her family moved out of Seoul, maybe Busan or Incheon — but nothing solid.

Eventually, people stopped asking.

But the you hadn’t. You still remembered messaging Yu's old email once, months later, just to try. No response.

That bridge from the dream — it was real. It was the place they went when things were hard. When school got rough. When Jimin’s mom was drinking again. When they you both didn't wanted to go home.

And now, for some reason, her face was blurred. Vivid. Sharp. Like she’d never existed.

You shook your head and blinked at the red light. The GPS buzzed even though you wasn’t using it. Just out of habit.

You turned down the quieter side street that led toward the committee offices — a large gray building tucked between an old bank and a private security firm. You parked in the lot, engine off, and sat for a second with the keys in your hand.

Jimin had vanished.

No note. No warning.

Just like that.

You rubbed her eyes once more, then grabbed your bag and stepped out into the morning air.

The curtains did nothing to block out the morning light.

Jimin squinted, groaned, and rolled over — but instead of a pillow, her face pressed into a scratchy throw blanket that smelled like gin and the couch she’d passed out on again. Her head pounded. Her mouth was dry.

Footsteps padded softly across the marble floor.

"Jimin," a voice said gently, like someone trying not to start a fight before breakfast. "You need to get up."

She didn’t move at first. Just let out a grunt and buried her face deeper into the cushion.

"Jimin." The voice came again, firmer now. "Come on. I asked you not to drink last night."

She opened one eye and turned her head.

There she was — her wife, Chanyeol. Dressed like always in something understated but expensive, with a fresh blowout and no visible sign of age despite being ten years older. Perfect. Fucking rich.

Jimin sat up slowly, her spine aching from the awkward position she’d slept in. She tugged her shirt down, even though it was wrinkled and smelled like cigarettes.

"I didn’t plan on drinking," she muttered, voice hoarse.

Chanyeol walked over and handed her a glass of water. "No one ever does."

Yu drank it in one go. Her throat burned.

"You need to pull yourself together," her wife said, crouching in front of her, her tone still measured. "She’s on the way."

Jimin blinked. "Who?"

"My daughter," the woman said. "I told you yesterday. She’s coming for dinner."

Yu exhaled. "Right."

"She hasn’t seen you in weeks. Please, at least try to be presentable. Don’t make this awkward, for me especially."

Jimin pushed herself up and staggered slightly. Chanyeol caught her elbow, steadying her for a second before letting go.

"I’ll go to shower," Yu said. "Give me fifteen minutes."

She nodded, then turned to leave, heels clicking softly on the floor. At the doorway she paused.

"And Jimin," she added without looking back, "if you’re serious about that novel, maybe open the damn laptop today."

Then she was gone.

Yu stood in silence for a moment, staring at the empty glass in her hand. The penthouse around her looked like something out of a magazine — all glass, leather, and minimalism. Nothing in it felt like hers.

She made her way to the bathroom, turning on the water.

Jimin stood under the shower, arms against the tile, water beating down on the back of her neck. She didn’t move. Just let it run down her body in unsuccessful attempts to sober up.

The heat should’ve helped — burned away the hangover, the taste of stale alcohol, the fog in her head — but it didn’t. It never did. Her thoughts kept circling the same drain they always did.

The book.

She had the idea three years ago. A crime novel about a detective chasing a killer who left flowers in the hands of his victims. She wrote the first chapter in a single night, drunk off cheap wine and inspiration. It wasn’t perfect, but it had something.

Then came the offers. A stipend. A sponsor. A publisher who’d "keep an eye" on her progress.

And then came her.

Her wife.

They met at a fundraiser she wasn’t supposed to be at, dressed in someone else’s suit, pretending to belong. But the woman had noticed her — really noticed her — and something about being seen by someone with power and money had hooked Jimin.

It didn’t take long. The penthouse came next. The promises. Then the wedding.

And then the slow drift.

Now the book sat untouched on her desktop — a document opened more times than she could count, each time filled with more a fucking guilt than words.

And every time she thought about writing again, she heard his voice.

Chanyeol’s father. The chairman. The old bastard who’d never said her name once but never stopped talking about her.

"She’s a loser with a shitty book and a dream with a hole in her pocket."

"She’s using you to play artist."

"She wants the money, not the marriage."

Every time he visited, he’d shake his head like she was a stray dog the family hadn’t managed to kick out yet. And the worst part?

He wasn’t completely wrong.

Jimin had needed the money. She’d needed a place to stay. She’d needed someone to say "just write and don’t worry about rent."

She never lied about that. But somewhere along the way, she forgot how to write at all.

The water started to run cold. She didn’t flinch.

Her palms were wrinkled. Her eyes burned. The hum of the ventilation fan filled the silence.

If she didn’t pull herself together, the old man would be right — again.

And worse, the girl showing up for dinner would see it too.

Yu shut off the water and stood in the silence for a few seconds longer.

Then she reached for the towel.

She rubbed the towel over her head, slow and distracted. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but she didn’t bother wiping it down. She was still standing there, bare feet on cold tile, when her phone started buzzing from the counter.

"HANA - TV EDITORIAL OFFICE"

She stared at the name for a second, then picked it up and answered with a low, dry, "Yeah?"

"You sound like shit," Hana said without missing a beat.

"I feel worse."

"Still drinking yourself sideways?"

"Got a better hobby in mind?"

There was a pause on the line. Yu leaned on the sink and waited, eyes on the fogged-up glass.

"I’ve got something," Hana finally said. Her tone dropped into that serious register she used when she actually had news. "Real shit. Not clickbait."

"Go on."

"You know Mokpo?"

Jimin blinked. "Yeah. Port city. South coast."

"Right. So... a guy I know down there — small-time fixer, drinks with cops — he just told me there’s movement on a hush-hush case. Local police are losing their minds trying to keep it under wraps. No official statements, but he swears there’s a serial involved. Four dead girls, all in different parts of the city."

Yu straightened a little. "Confirmed?"

"Unofficially, yeah. But the details…" Hana hesitated, then said, "They’re all staged. Same exact pattern. Surgical stuff. Like out of a damn screenplay."

Jimin didn’t speak for a moment.

"You’re not calling just to tell me bedtime stories."

"Nope." Hana sounded like she was grinning now. "I’m saying this is your shot. Material. Real, dark stuff. You wanna finish your silly book? Go look death in the face again. You used to be good at that. Before all this…"

She trailed off, but Jimin caught the tone.

"Before I sold out," she finished flatly.

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to."

Another pause. Then Hana softened. "Look. We both need a piece of cake. I need a segment for the docuseries we’re pitching. You need to write something that’s not an apology email to your agent. Let’s both stop drowning in this shit."

Jimin closed her eyes.

She could already feel the pull of it — the adrenaline, the story, the clarity she hadn’t had in years. She wasn’t dumb, she knew why murder called to her more than love ever did. There was no room for lies in a post-mortem.

"Where do I start?" she asked quietly.

"I’ll text you the fixer’s number. Name’s Minseok. He owes me. If you head down there, he’ll grease the doors."

Yu nodded slowly, towel hanging in one hand.

"And Jimin," Hana added, voice low now, "don’t fuck this up."

Call ended.

Jimin stood for a second, still dripping slightly, staring at her reflection through the steam. The fog was starting to clear.

She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair still damp and clinging to her neck. She moved quietly down the hall, the scent of coffee already drifting toward her.

Her wife was in the kitchen, setting the table with calm precision — warm bread rolls in a basket, little glass dishes with fruit and yogurt.

Yu cleared her throat.

"You clean up fast," she said without looking up.

"Didn’t have time to fall apart today."

The woman gave a soft snort — not quite amusement, not quite approval.

Jimin padded across the marble floor, pulling the towel tighter as she sat down. She’d usually throw on sweatpants or something loose, but there was no time, not with the idea burning in the back of her head.

"I need a favor," she said, cutting right into it.

Her wife finally looked at her. "What kind?"

"Money."

A pause.

"How much?"

"Enough to get to Mokpo. Couple nights in a motel. Bus ticket. Some gear. Call it two million won, give or take."

Her wife blinked. "Mokpo?"

"Yeah. I wanna clear my head. Change the scenery. That’s all."

Yu avoided her eyes and reached for the coffee, pouring herself a cup like it would distract from the lie.

"Thought you didn’t have any friends there."

"I don’t," Jimin said quickly. "That’s the point. No people, no distractions."

Before she could reply, heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs.

And then came him.

Mr. Nam.

Old money in a linen shirt, still somehow sharp at nearly seventy, with perfect posture and a permanent sneer. He didn’t even glance at Jimin as he walked in, just went straight for the fridge and poured himself a glass of water.

"Morning, Dad," her wife said politely.

"Hm," he grunted. He turned, saw Jimin, and finally acknowledged her with a dry look.

"Still drunk?" he asked.

"Morning to you too," she muttered.

He sat at the head of the table and took a sip of water, eyes flicking between the two women. "What are we talking about now? More ‘creative escapes’?"

Jimin exhaled, annoyed. "I said I wanted to go to Mokpo. That’s it."

"For what?" He asked, leaning forward. “A yoga retreat? One of those ocean-view writing camps?"

"She wants to clear her head," Chanyeol said carefully.

The old man chuckled. "Of course she does."

He turned his full attention to Jimin now, his smile thin.

"You know, I spent forty years building a company that pays people with actual skills. You’ve spent what — three years trying to write a book you won’t finish and draining my daughter’s account in the meantime?"

"Dad—" she started.

"No, it’s fine," Jimin said coldly, setting her cup down. "He’s not wrong."

She looked him in the eye, dead calm. "But I’m still going."

The man snorted again. "You’re gonna run to the coast, drink in some moldy motel room, and call it ‘research’? You’re not an artist. You’re a freeloader in designer socks."

Jimin didn’t flinch. She’d heard worse.

But her jaw tightened. "I’ll finish it. One way or another."

"Oh?" The man smirked. "Then stop begging for handouts. Go work."

Her wife stood suddenly, hands on the table. "That’s enough."

The old man shrugged, grabbed his coffee, and walked off like he hadn’t just spit on her entire life.

Jimin sat in silence. Her throat was tight, but she didn’t let it show.

After a few moments, her wife sat back down, quieter now.

"You really going to write this time?" she asked softly.

She looked up, her voice low.

"I’m not asking again."

She was quiet the whole time she packed. A cheap duffel bag, some old notebooks, charger, camera she barely used anymore, hoodie, jeans.

Chanyeol leaned on the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed.

"You're really going alone?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yeah."

"You’re not meeting anyone down there?"

She zipped the bag slowly. "No."

There was a pause. Then she asked, more gently, "Do you want me to book the hotel for you?"

Jimin shook her head. "I'll figure it out."

"I just— You don't really do well on your own, baby."

That stung more than she let on. She slung the bag over her shoulder and turned to face her.

"I need to try."

Chanyeol looked like she wanted to say something else — maybe ask her to stay, maybe tell her she was full of shit. But instead, she nodded once and stepped aside.

"Call me when you get there."

"Okay."

Downstairs, the old man was sitting on the patio with his paper and tea, pretending not to notice her walking out the door. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a goodbye. Didn't deserve it.

The cab ride to Seoul Station was short, quiet. She stared out the window the whole time, sunglasses on even though the sky was gray. Her phone buzzed in her pocket — a message from Hana.

Hana:

Minseok’s expecting you. Meet him by the docks after 7pm. You still going?

Jimin:

Yeah.

She tucked the phone away and leaned back. Her head still ached from last night’s wine.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, steady and cold. You stood near your desk, arms crossed, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. Office was silent that was broken only by the soft sounds of Yunbin peeling off bits of tape and slapping photographs against the glass wall.

One by one, the victims appeared — grainy photos, close-ups of lifeless eyes, slashed skin, and lilacs.

"You sure you want these out in the open?" Yunbin asked without turning, "it's not the most pleasant sight, you know."

"Leave them," you said. "I want to see them when I walk in every morning, besides, i've seen worse."

He paused, glanced at her over his shoulder. "You're not sleeping, are you?"

You didn’t answer. Just stared at the newest photo he’d placed — a girl no older than seventeen, her body half-buried in wet sand, arms crossed neatly over her chest, fingers curled around the wilted lilac.

"Medical report says the cuts were done post-mortem," Yunbin said. "Stomach opened with something precise. Scalpel, most likely, but it's not certain, Yunho from the medical sector is still conducting an examination, the results will be out within a day."

You set your coffee down. "No defensive wounds?"

"None."

"So they were drugged?"

"Or just caught off guard. No signs of sexual assault. No robbery. No struggle."

You nodded, slowly processing.

"Victims don’t know each other. No online connections, no overlapping phone activity, no shared friends."

"Then how the hell is he choosing them?" you asked.

Yunbin shrugged. "Only common point is location. All dumped on that same stretch of coast, but spaced out by kilometers. Spit’s nearly eight kilometers long."

You walked over to the wall, looked at the photos again. "He wants them found."

"Obviously. Poses them like a fucking piece of art."

You tapped her nail against the glass. "And the lilacs?"

"White lilac means youthful innocence. In the old books, anyway."

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. "Fucking poet."

They stood in silence for a beat. Then he said, "You really don’t recognize any of them?"

You shook her head. "No. They’re all strangers."

He peeled the last photo from the file and smoothed it against the glass. The youngest. Maybe fifteen.

"Then maybe that’s the point," he said quietly. "They’re strangers to everyone. Nobody who’ll raise a fuss too soon. Easy to lose."

You stared at the girl’s face. Pale, half-lit by the camera flash.

"I want every missing persons report filed in that region for the past six months," you said. "Even ones that weren’t taken seriously."

"On it."

"And Yunbin," you turned toward him.

He paused at the door.

"Keep this in-house. No leaks. No press, I don't want some bastards from TV getting under our feet."

He gave you a small nod.

"Got it."

The door closed behind him, and you remained standing there, leaning against the edge of the table, examining each victim with a long-honed master's gaze.

The victims were not related.

But is it true?

Something made you reach for the file on one of the victims, opening the first page as if trying to find a catch in what was written.

"The victim's marital status... The father is an alcoholic, received a two-year sentence for robbery and fighting..."

It seemed that you had found absolutely nothing important in these lines, so you took the file of the last victim, but this time, opening it, your gaze instantly found the right line.

"The victim's marital status... Mother is an alcoholic, bad relationship with father after which he left the family, strained relationship with stepfather."

Fathers.

Perhaps there is a clue here.

And it was at that moment that you felt something click in your head. Reviewing the entire dossier for what seemed like the hundredth time, you began to understand something you had missed earlier.

All the victims had terrible relationships with their fathers.

How could you possibly miss this?

But that didn't matter now.

Taking a pen from the table, opening the cap with your teeth, you quickly wrote down the address of the last victim on a small piece of paper.

Yeosu, a city three hours' drive from Mokpo.

The hand grabbed the car keys lying nearby, as if a bullet flew out of the office. It seemed that you finally began to catch this invisible thread, and you had no right to lose it.

The rented Hyundai coughed as it climbed the hill toward the Investigative Committee building — a dull gray block of concrete with tinted glass and a security booth out front.

Jimin had one arm resting on the window frame, the wind tugging at her hair. She spotted Yunbin the second he stepped out — button-down shirt half untucked, lanyard around his neck, phone in hand.

She smirked and quickly pulled over near the curb.

"Yunbin!" she called out, snapping her fingers like she’d just remembered something. "Hey!"

He stopped, squinted toward the car, then took a step closer. His expression shifted from confusion to vague recognition.

"Jimin?" he asked.

"In the flesh. Hana’s friend. Fucking writer, remember?"

Yunbin looked at his watch, then at the sidewalk. "Right. She mentioned you might be in town with Minseok."

She leaned on the steering wheel. "Funny thing, I was just headed to the same coffee shop you’re probably walking to. Want a ride? I swear the air conditioning works better in here than it looks."

He gave the car a long, skeptical look, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess, I’ve walked enough today."

Yu grinned and unlocked the passenger door. "Hop in. First coffee’s on me."

As he climbed in, buckling up with one hand and glancing around the dashboard like he was checking for bugs, Jimin mentally took stock, easygoing, maybe a little overworked, but not the suspicious type. Getting him on her side would be no problem.

"Appreciate it," he said, settling in. "Didn’t expect to run into anyone I knew around here."

"I didn’t expect to end up here, either," she replied. "Small world, right?"

He chuckled lightly. "Or maybe Hana set us up."

"Wouldn’t put it past her."

They drove in silence for a few blocks. Jimin kept it casual, one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but her mind was already ten moves ahead — rehearsing how she’d ask about the case without sounding too obvious, wondering how close she could get to the real story without scaring him off.

"So," she said casually, "how bad is it in there? Everyone's walking around like there’s a bomb under their desks."

Yunbin didn’t look at her, just stared out the window. "Worse than that."

Bingo. Fucking bingo.

It seems that everything will be much easier than she thought.

The coffee shop was only a few blocks away, a corner place with dusty windows and a faded sign that read "24/7 Coffee." Jimin parked a little crooked, tossed the keys onto the dashboard, and followed Yunbin inside.

They grabbed a small table near the window. he ordered black coffee. Jimin asked for an iced americano, even though she hated the aftertaste.

"So," she said, stirring the straw like she cared, "what’s really going on out here? Hana made it sound like some true crime goldmine."

Yunbin leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. You could say that."

Yu kept her expression neutral, sipping through the straw. She didn’t want to push too hard. Let him talk.

"There’s been four bodies so far," he said. "All dumped on the same stretch of coast. Different spots, but the same pattern."

She nodded slowly. "The girls, right? I read something vague on some forum. Thought it was a hoax."

"It’s real," Yunbin said, his voice a little lower now. "Stomach cut open, organs left intact. No signs of struggle. Holding white lilac in their hands. No fingerprints. No suspects."

"And you?"

"I'm just the assistant, you know," he shrugged. "The real one doing the legwork is the lead investigator. She’s been glued to the case since the first body was found, I've been her assistant for two years now, I assure you, she's a pro at what she does."

Jimin raised an eyebrow. "She?"

"Yeah. Young investigator, moved down here six months ago from Seoul. Total hard-ass. Doesn’t sleep, doesn’t smile. Her name is—"

He didn’t finish. Yu's hand slipped on the condensation of her plastic cup and knocked it sideways, spilling coffee across the table.

"Shit," she muttered, fumbling for napkins.

He sat back, startled. "Hey, you good?"

She waved it off. "Yeah. Just... the cup slipped. What were you saying?"

"Her name. You probably don’t know her. She’s not exactly the social type."

"Try me."

He gave her a look. "Y/N."

Jimin froze mid-wipe. Her stomach twisted in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She forced a short laugh.

"No shit."

Yunbin nodded, sipping his drink. "You know her?"

She leaned back, staring past him, eyes unfocused. "We went to school together. Long time ago. Haven’t seen her in..." She trailed off.

"Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said, swallowing hard. "Fucking small."

She tried to act normal, pretending to clean the mess she’d made, but her mind was running circles. She looked up at Yunbin, forcing a smile.

"So... this girl, right," she said, her voice carefully casual, "what’s her deal? You said she moved here from Seoul?"

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. She got transferred a while ago. Some people say it was a demotion, others say she asked for it. She doesn’t talk about it."

She squinted. "How old is she?"

"Twenty five, but you know, she's the kind that looks like she hasn’t aged in ten years, but her eyes look like she’s lived three lives, after two years with her I can definitely say that she has seen a lot of shit, you know."

Jimin smirked. That sounded exactly like the you she used to know. But still... part of her didn’t want to believe it. It was too coincidental, too suspicious.

"She's like... well, she has a little scar under her eye, kind of quiet but sharp as hell, yeah?"

"That’s her," Yunbin said without hesitation. "She’s the real deal. Cold, maybe, but when she’s working a case. I swear she doesn’t even blink when looking at crime scene photos. Although, during all this time, I still haven’t gotten used to looking at fucking bodies that was teared apart, this shit still comes to me in terrible nightmares every day."

Yu didn’t respond right away. Her eyes drifted toward the window. The sound of cars passing by blurred into the background.

All at once, she was somewhere else.

Spring, maybe third grade. You sat cross-legged on the grass, a small smile tugging at her lips as she twisted little white flowers into a braid, slowly threading them through her hair. Jimin sat still, letting her do it, not because she cared how it looked but because it was your hands. Gentle, focused. Careful not to pull too hard.

"You look like one of those fairies in books," you had whispered, not even looking at her, too busy with the next flower.

Jimin had laughed. "Fairies don’t wear school uniforms!"

That memory hit harder than expected. She blinked and came back to the present.

She cleared her throat. "We were friends. A long time ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think she had any."

"She used to."

Yu took a long sip of her watered-down coffee and sat in silence for a moment.

"Yunbin," she said finally, "think you could introduce me to her?"

He looked at her for a second, then gave a slow, suspicious smile.

"Depends. You here for research… or something else?"

"Does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It might."

Yunbin was still smirking, but there was a note of caution behind it now.

"Look," he said, "I’ll be straightforward with you. She isn’t exactly the welcoming type. Especially not lately. She doesn’t like outsiders sniffing around, and if she gets even a hint that you’re here for your own reasons..."

Jimin crossed her arms. "I’m not trying to mess up her case! I just want to—"

"Finish your book. Get some dirt for your show. Yeah, I get it ever since you first appeared here," Yunbin cut in. "But let’s not pretend this is a clean visit. You’re not a cop. You’re not a journalist with credentials. You’re someone with a fucking unfinished book, and she’s not the same girl you remember."

Yu looked away, her jaw tense. "Then don’t introduce me to her. Just... give me a way to observe. From the edges, you know? I won't be tossing and turning right in the middle of things."

Yunbin paused, thinking. He scratched the back of his neck.

"I can introduce you to the guys from our team. It’ll give you some access—secondhand, but still better than nothing."

"It's better than nothing," she said quietly.

"But we should go now," he added. "She's out of town for the day. Went to talk to the family of the last victim."

Jimin blinked. "That last victim?"

"Yeah. A girl was found three days ago. Same setup. Same flowers. Her mother finally agreed to talk this morning. And she left at dawn."

She nodded slowly. "Then let’s go."

Yunbin stood up and tossed his cup in the trash bin, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Don't ask dumb questions, you will arouse suspicion ahead of time."

Yu raised her eyebrows. "I wasn’t planning to."

"Right."

The living room smelled faintly of old wood. A beige lace curtain swayed in the open window. You stood silently beside the upright piano, your elbow resting lightly on the yellowed wood, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

The woman sat hunched on the worn couch, hands wringing a damp tissue until it tore in her fingers. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

"I still... I still can't believe it," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

You gave a brief nod. You didn’t write anything down yet. You just watched.

The silence lingered long enough to feel heavy before you finally spoke, your tone calm and.

"Mrs. Kang, I understand this is hard. But I need to ask some questions. About Minji."

The woman flinched at the name but nodded. "Okay."

"When did you start noticing a change in her behavior?"

"About six months ago. Maybe a little more. At first, it was small things — coming home late, locking herself in her room. But then..." She swallowed hard, voice cracking. "Then she stopped caring. She used to be such a good student. I never had to ask twice! And then her grades just... dropped. She started skipping school."

"Did she ever say why?"

"No," she whispered. "She never told me anything anymore. I asked, I begged. She’d just say I wouldn’t understand. She started wearing makeup I’d never seen before. Different clothes. And she’d come home smelling like soju."

You nodded, still not writing anything down.

"How was her relationship with her stepfather?"

The mother hesitated.

"Not good," she admitted finally. "They argued all the time. He’d try to talk to her like a father, but she’d shut him down immediately. Yell at him for stupid things. Like asking about her day."

"Did he ever hit her?"

The woman looked up, sharply. "No! Never! He’s not like that. He just… gave up after a while. Said she needed time. But I think she hated him. Just for being here."

You finally took out her notebook, flipping it open to a clean page.

"Did she mention any new friends? People you didn’t recognize?"

The woman shook her head slowly. "She stopped talking about her friends, too. I’d hear her whispering on the phone late at night, but when I asked, she’d say it was no one. I thought maybe it was just some boy. A phase."

"Did you ever hear any names? Maybe she was planning meetings with someone and mentioned it in passing?"

"No," she said, voice barely audible. "She changed her phone password. I couldn’t see anything. And now…"

She broke off again, her shoulders shaking. You looked at her, but didn’t move to offer comfort. You gave her space to cry without pity.

After a long pause, you asked quietly, "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Two nights before police found her," the woman said, eyes far away. "She was drunk again. Slammed the door on the way in. Yelled at me for cooking the wrong food. Then she locked herself in her room. I didn't even hear her leave that night."

There was a long silence again. You closed your notebook and stepped away from the piano.

"If you allow me, may I go into the girl's room?"

The woman didn't even raise her gaze, only silently nodding towards the elderly granny sitting next to her on the chair. Seeing this gesture, she stood up, took her cane and slowly walked towards you.

You followed the grandmother up the creaky staircase, the old wood groaning beneath her steps. The house was... dead quiet.

You reached the second floor, where a narrow hallway stretched in front of you. The grandmother turned toward the first door on the left and opened it slowly, letting you to enter the room.

"This is Minji's room," she said, her voice hoarse and filled with grief. "You can look, but... it's not much."

You stepped inside. The room was small but neat. A bed covered in faded pink sheets, a desk cluttered with half-finished homework, and a few stuffed animals scattered on the floor.

"She was always a good girl," the grandmother continued, standing in the doorway with her hands folded in front of her. "She never gave me any trouble, not like her father. But..." She paused, as if the words were too hard to say. "She was lonely. She used to cry, you know. Especially when she tried to reach her father."

You turned to face the grandmother, your expression neutral but her eyes sharp. "She tried to contact him?"

She nodded, her eyes watering. "Many times. She'd call him, leave messages. But he was always too busy, too angry to help. Always told her to stop bothering him."

"Did she say anything specific about that? About him?"

The old woman sniffed and wiped her eyes. "She... she just wanted him to come and pick her up once. She told me she was going to ask him to take her to Seoul. Said she couldn’t stand it here anymore." She swallowed hard. "That was the day before... the day she... well, you know."

You frowned, trying to piece it together. "So she asked him for help?"

"Yes," the grandmother said softly. "She sounded so desperate, like she was running out of time. But he just yelled at her. Told her she was being dramatic and to stop calling him." Her voice cracked. "She cried after that, poor thing. But she still called him. She called him the night before she..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Her face crumpled as the grief overwhelmed her, and You felt a familiar weight in your chest. You couldn’t afford to feel sorry. You needed answers, not sympathy.

"I’m... I'm so sorry," you said quietly, though the words felt hollow. "Thank you for telling me."

The old woman gave a weak nod and stepped back. "I just wish he’d listened. Maybe if he had, maybe..."

"Maybe," you muttered, stepping back from the door. She gave the grandmother a final glance before leaving the room. She had all the pieces she needed. Now she just had to put them together.

Before leaving the room, you moved quietly toward the bed, your eyes scanning the surroundings one last time. Your gaze fell on the small diary that had been tucked under the pillow.

You reached down, careful not to make a sound, and slipped the diary under your jacket. It was a gut feeling, the kind that only years of experience could teach you. Of course you didn’t know what was inside yet, but it would be important.

You turned to the shelves filled with toys and felt your stomach tighten. One of the little bears, a soft, dusty pink, had its stomach torn open. The sight was... surprisingly terrifying, the plush fabric exposed, the soft cotton stuffing spilling out from the rough slit.

You stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as you crouched down to get a better look.

Your fingers brushed the torn edge of the bear’s stomach, your intuition didn't let you down, and your fingers felt something – something hard and unnatural. You carefully poked around inside, fingertips grazing a small ziplock bag that was tucked into the bear’s interior.

You didn’t know what was inside, but it was unmistakably suspicious. Drugs? Maybe. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet, but the texture of the bag felt all too familiar. Poor girl, something was clearly wrong here, an ordinary child can't just go crazy one day. There's something there. Violence? Harassment? Possibly, given the strained relationship with her stepfather.

You pulled her fingers away slowly and stood up, you carefully placed that ziplock into your pocked. You wasn’t sure what this meant, but you knew it wasn’t a coincidence. This needed to get this tested — needed confirmation before you made any moves. It could tie into the case. Or it could be something else entirely. Either way, you was going to find out.

Finally you looked at the grandmother, who was sitting in the chair by the window, your hands still wringing the same tissue. You took a deep breath and walked over to her.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around the old woman, holding her tightly. The moment was silent, but the weight of it was heavy. You could feel the pain radiating off her like a thick fog.

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but in this moment, you allowed herself to just hold the woman who had lost so much.

"I swear, I’ll find the bastard who did this," you said quietly, voice low but firm. "I won’t let him get away with it."

The grandmother nodded against your chest, her body shaking with quiet sobs. "Please," she whispered. "Make him answer for his actions..."

You didn’t speak again. Simply pulled away, your eyes catched the fragile hope in the old woman’s face. You had to get to work.

As you walked back to her jeep, you lit a cigarette, the familiar burn settling in your lungs. You leaned against the vehicle, took a long drag and let out a slow breath, staring at the road.

You pulled into the parking lot of the Investigative Committee’s office, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders.

You couldn’t let yourself dwell on it though—not yet. There was work to be done.

As you entered the office, you was greeted by the sounds of laughter. Your team, including Yunbin, was gathered around the small conference table. They were clearly enjoying something — Jimin’s jokes, no doubt.

You paused for a moment, standing at the door and taking in the sight. Yu was seated comfortably, laughing along with them, her presence like a familiar part of the group, even though you had never given her that permission.

You hand gripped the doorframe for a second as the irritation boiled under you skin, but you quickly masked it. There was no point in showing your frustration. You wasn’t about to let anyone see how much Jimin’s presence bothered you.

You stepped into the room, eyes cool as they swept over the group. Yunbin’s face lit up as he turned to you. "Ah, Chief! You’re back. We were just—"

"Keep the jokes for later," you interrupted, your voice flat, dismissing the tension in the room with the sharpness of her words. "There should be no strangers here."

Yu straightened in her seat, a flicker of something crossing her face. Maybe surprise, maybe just the usual deflection. Either way, it didn’t matter. You wasn’t going to acknowledge you in front of the team. Not yet. Not like this.

"Got it," Yunbin said, still grinning but sensing the shift in the room. He quickly moved to gather some papers, trying to ease the awkwardness.

You took her usual seat at the head of the table, pulling out the diary she’d taken from Minji's room. She laid it on the table, staring at it for a moment before opening it carefully. The words seemed innocent at first, but soon turned into pain, which the girl poured out onto paper, in the hope that it would not hurt so much inside.

You could feel Jimin’s eyes on you. But you didn’t look up. You wouldn’t let herself be distracted. Not yet.

She stayed seated for a moment after you sat down, unsure if she should say something. The mood in the room had shifted completely. The others went quiet, shuffling papers, pretending to look busy. She hated the tension, but even more, she hated that you hadn’t looked her in the eye once.

She finally stood up, slowly walking over toward the desk.

"Hey," Jimin started, her voice low, careful, like she was approaching a wild animal. "Can we talk for a second?"

You didn’t lift her eyes from the diary.

"It’s been a long time, I know," she continued, hesitating. "But I think I can help. With the case. I have media connections, people who’ll talk to me, not the cops. I know how to handle this stuff."

The room fell completely silent. Yunbin looked up from his seat, lips pressed into a line.

You flipped a page in the diary with deliberate calm. Then, you closed the textbook, sat back in her chair, and looked at Yu like she was something you'd scraped off her shoe.

"You show up out of nowhere, ten fucking years later, like nothing happened," you said flatly. "You want to play detective now?"

"Listen, dear—" Jimin’s voice cracked slightly.

"Don’t fucking call me that," you snapped, standing up. "You don’t belong here. This isn’t a goddamn joke. These girls are dead. You’re not going to use this case to write your little novel or impress your TV buddies."

"I’m not trying to—"

"Get the fuck out of my office, Jimin."

The words hit like a hammer, and she blinked, caught off guard by the raw anger in her tone. It wasn’t just professional — there was pain behind it. Real, personal pain.

Yunbin stood up too, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Chief," he said softly. "I know how this looks, but Jimin’s not a bad person. She might actually be able to help. We can control what she sees. Just give her a chance."

You didn’t look at him. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes stayed locked on her, who now stood frozen in front of the desk, her hands curled into fists.

"One chance," you said, voice cold. "You step out of line, even once, I’ll have security drag you out the fuck out of here."

Jimin nodded, swallowing whatever pride she had left.

"I won’t get in your way."

"You already did," you muttered, sitting back down.

The Jeep moved steadily, tires humming quietly beneath them. You drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting rigidly in your lap. Jimin sat in the passenger seat, her hands clasped together, thumbs fidgeting.

You hadn’t spoken in almost ten minutes.

"Thanks for letting me come," she said, finally breaking the silence.

No reply.

She glanced sideways. Your eyes were fixed on the road, jaw tight.

"I mean it. You didn’t have to. I know that."

"You’re right. I didn’t," you said flatly.

She exhaled a short breath, more like a sigh. "You’ve changed... a lot."

You scoffed. "You haven’t."

"No, I have," Jimin said. "Maybe not in all the right ways. But I’m not the same girl who ran off after graduation."

"You didn’t run off, Jimin. You disappeared."

The word hit hard. she bit the inside of her cheek, watching the waves crash far beyond the roadside barrier.

"My parents dragged me to Seoul without warning. It wasn’t planned, it just... happened. And I should have called. Wrote. Anything. I know."

Your hands tightened on the wheel. "And ten years passed."

You thought about what was said, it was all a complete mess, does she seriously think that she can show up after so much time as if nothing happened?

You fell silent, talking to Jimin about personal things is the last thing you need, because what if you get carried away again, fall head over heels in love again, no. There is a patrol of the spit by the sea ahead, and getting close to her is the last thing you need.

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