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chilling-seavey · 5 months ago

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The Patriarchy (gr63)

↳ A/N So @sadiethekoala encouraged my curiosity of dabbling in writing/posting my 'darker' kink content so...here you go 🫣

↳ Summary: Of course George is a feminist; but who is he to deny you when sometimes you just want him to treat you like his property.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.5k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, light drinking, patriarchy kink (major fetishization of traditional gender roles), arguably free use kink, breeding kink, heavy degradation and dumbification and objectification (name calling like 'slut', 'whore', and 'bitch'), spanking, spitting, hair pulling, restraining, dirty talk, choking, rough unprotected sex, aftercare is NOT written in this fic but take it that it will be IMPLIED (aftercare is a MUST after intense and degrading scenes like this!!!).

George had been proud of you for as long as he had known you. You were a hardworking and determined woman and he loved seeing you pursue your career so strongly and passionately. It was honestly one of the things George admired you most for. You weren’t someone to take anyone’s shit and certainly not when it came at the expense of your beliefs, passions, or those you cared for the most.

In a man’s world, you pushed the boundaries of what a woman was capable of and George, of course, backed you every step of the way. Especially while so invested in a vastly male-dominate sport such as Formula 1, George only grew more and more aware of the prejudices and disparities that were hidden between the lines. And, in such, he always made himself publicly viable as someone who believed in equality without bounds.

Behind closed doors, that very same belief lingered. In your Monaco apartment, you equally divided up household chores and tasks, shared the responsibility of cooking, and came to mutually agreeable terms that made your life together that much more enjoyable and refreshing. A relationship built on trust and equality, it was the balance of give and take that left you both as strong as ever.

What came with the ease of your relationship was open communication and, with that, a bit of a pre-disclosed agreement from months before that George had figured you had forgotten about. It was something said haphazardly one night when the two of you were wine drunk and cuddled up on the living room floor; a little secret you had been harbouring, whispering to him plainly about your deepest desires. Your smiling confession was something so unlike your natural persona that for a moment he had thought you were entirely joking. But you were serious, pleading with him that if he ever saw you donning that vintage blue gingham dress, that he had your unspoken consent to push the hazy boundaries into a roleplay vastly different from what you were familiar with sharing together. George agreed to your terms and thought it wouldn’t ever really come to fruition.

It was a joke, he was sure of it. No fiercely independent woman such as yourself ever wanted to be treated under such taboo, out-dated, and almost cruel mid-century gender roles. Right?

Until on Thursday night when George came home from media duties just about the time you had finished making dinner, finding you donning that sweet 1950s gingham dress and matching white kitten heels. It was the last thing he had expected to come home to, falling to a surprised stop as he entered the apartment to the smell of a delicious meal waiting for him.

You smiled over at him in the foyer and hurried over to take his jacket off of him, “Welcome home, love.”

“Hello.” George said slowly, letting his arms slip out of his collared jacket as you carefully pulled it from his shoulders. His suspicions were simmering as you leaned in to kiss him once before hanging up his jacket in the front closet. He asked a tentative, “What’s all this for?”

You tucked your hand in the crook of his arm and led him over to the table that was neatly made up with two place settings, “I figured you had a long day at work and wanted dinner as soon as you got home.”

“Yeah...that’s nice.” George said, testing the waters a little.

He sat down and watched you walk over to the bar cart to pour him a drink, topping it with a few ice cubes before bringing it back over to him. You set the short glass in his hand and left a kiss to his cheek and headed into the kitchen again, your heels clicking over the hardwood floors. George watched you silently, sipping his drink and leaning back in his chair with his left hand drumming a slow quiet pattern on the mahogany table top as you bustled around the kitchen to finish up.

“You look pretty today, love.” he tried.

You smiled to yourself as you plated the food, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t far out of George’s mind that he wanted to marry you one day - although he always told himself that was for years in the future - but there was something about the stereotypical domesticity of it all that seemed to...enlist a change in him. At first hesitant about carrying through with your agreement, he suddenly felt a flutter of something curious deep within him, wanting to try this out for himself. And if you wanted it? Who was he to deny you that?

“Was work alright?” you asked sweetly as you brought over two filled plates and set them on the table.

“Yeah, it was hectic.” George set his half finished drink down on the table and pushed his chair back a little to lead you onto his lap. You obeyed, perching yourself on his thighs, staring at him quietly as he eyed you up. His blue eyed gaze traced the side of your dress up to the clothed curves of your breasts and then across your collarbones, your neck, and jaw, finishing at your rouge painted lips. He swiped the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and pulled it down gently to watch it fall back into place, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” you replied, your voice a sweet drawling purr as your arm draped around his shoulders, manicured fingers toying with the seam of his Mercedes team shirt.

Your soft words made a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth and he set his hand down on your thighs right at the hem of your dress, patting your lap gently before he gave a gentle squeeze to your flesh.

He pressed you on with a cheeky, “How much?”

“Way too much,” you answered, an angelic smile on your lips, knowing exactly what you were doing when you punctuated your reply with a, “sir.”

That word always snapped something in him, digging right down to his raw desire to just have you at that exact moment the three letters fell from your sweet lips.

The sudden speed at which he moved made you gasp, forced off his lap as he stood. He pushed you right up against the edge of the table until the edge was pressing right against your pelvis and your hands fell flat against the wood surface. The filled plate rested, steaming, between the frame of your hands.

“Is that so?”

He was right behind you, his body pressed up close and his breath right against your ear. His hands slid down your straight arms before resting right on top of yours, holding them down on the table.

“Is that why you wore this pretty little dress for me?”

“Yessir.” you breathed shakily, your heart already racing with anticipation. Your home cooked meal sat warm on the plates in front of you but any appetite for real food was gone; you were too busy craving him instead.

“Yeah?” George growled against your ear as he pulled up the bottom of your dress, having to take a few handfuls to successfully bunch up the dress and the voluminous petticoat underneath. When he had enough of the fabric in one large hand, he used his other to slap down hard against your ass.

The sharp spank echoed through the apartment and you gasped forward at the impact. It wasn’t often that George got rough with you - he was more the sweet and gentle type within his passion - so the rare times the more dominant side of him came to the surface, you capitalized on it. Especially now, when something much more intense seemed to have come over him, like he was really ready to go all out to give you exactly what you had confessed to him that you wanted.

You withered as he pushed his hand around your waist and under the bunched up fabric of your dress to slide over the front of your panties, pressing his whole hand down on your pussy, the heel of his palm right over your clothed clit. His lips met your neck in sloppy kisses, moaning lowly as he felt how warm you were under his touch while he sucked hickeys into your skin and breathed you in completely.

“Baby…” you whispered, “What about dinner?”

“I don’t want it.” he reached around you and shoved both plates to the side and out of the way, clattering the cutlery and a fork fell to the floor in his bit of an aggressive rush. He then bent you forward over the table and spanked you hard again, “I want my pretty little housewife to take my whole fucking dick while I fuck her like my own personal little whore.”

You could have sworn you could have dripped down your thighs at his demand, biting back your eager grin as he held your head down against the table by a tight grip at the back of your neck. He spanked you again with his other hand, once, twice, a third time. A pink handprint was undoubtedly appearing on the curve of your bum where he hit you. Unperturbed, George just linked his finger in the thin fabric of your panties to pull the waistband higher, giving him a full canvas of your perfect ass for him to slap his palm down harder.

“Please.” you squeaked out.

“Please what, my love?” George pressed, groping your ass before spanking you hard again. “I hope you’re not trying to tell me what to do right now. You know who’s in charge here.”

You let out a little whimper in silent submission, your cheek still pressed to the table top from where he held you down. George then linked his finger around the lace of your underwear and followed the fabric right down between your legs where you were already soaking through the material.

“Really missed me, huh, sweetheart?” George taunted, gently pinching your clit to pull a sharp gasp from your throat. Then, without warning, he grabbed the thin material of your panties in his fist and tore it right off you.

The slight sting of the ripping fabric over your hips and the rough grunt that left his chest with his strength had your teeth sinking tightly into your bottom lip through a small whimper, hands still pressed flatly to the table top on either side of your head.

“Fucking hell,” George chuckled darkly, lifting up the puffed skirt of your knee length dress again to keep it bunched up around your middle, “you look so fucking pretty like this.”

“Please, sir.” you breathed, pushing your hips back on him until the front of his slacks were pressed up snugly between your legs.

You could feel the bulge in his pants and how it was pulling the fabric taut. It made your mouth water, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip again with a small hum, desperately grinding back on him to somehow get him right where you needed him most.

“God, you’re such a pathetic little slut, my love.” George tisked, slapping his hand down on your ass one more time before shoving you forward again, trapping you entirely between his body and the edge of the table. He kept you there firmly while he worked to unpin his belt, the faint clinks of the metal buckle and what it implied had your pussy fluttering in anticipation. With his belt undone and slacks unzipped, his large hands groped your hips and followed your desperate motions back against him, grinding against you a little more with your feet planted securely on the floor in your kitten heels.

George didn’t even strip completely, he just pushed his pants and boxers down to the tops of his thighs just enough to pull his dick out and then he was shuffling up close behind you.

“Please, fuck me. I need you so bad, sir.” you whined.

“Listen to you, sweetheart; calling me ‘sir’ like a submissive little bitch.” his voice was low and gravely, full of lust.

He took his hand from the back of your neck to, instead, wrap around your throat to pull your chest off the table. This way, he could lean forward and brush his lips over the shell of your ear while his dick pressed teasingly up against your entrance, feeling the way your body shivered at his words.

“Yeah, you like me calling you my little bitch?” George purred right into your ear, his hot breath falling against your neck and raising the hairs on your arms while his fingers squeezed the sides of your throat, “Wearing this pretty little dress...making a shitty little meal to get my attention...just asking for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Yeah.” was all you could whine out, lashes fluttering.

“Yeah?” he mocked you tauntingly, barely giving you a moment's warning as he pushed inside you strongly.

Your mouth fell open in silence as he stretched you out, letting out a soft little squeak at the pressure he spread across your hips. Your hand squeaked across the wood table as you tried to find something to hold onto, ending up reaching up to grasp his wrist.

“Fuck.” George huffed stiffly, his hips flexing against yours, tightening his hand around your throat. “Love this tight fucking cunt.”

He started rocking into you slowly at first, savouring each stroke as if to feel you all, to give you every inch, and his slow breaths fell against the side of your face warmly.

“So good.” you whimpered, pushing back on him in steady time, “You’re so big, sir.”

“Yeah, you love my cock, don’t you, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly, “Been waiting for this all day, huh? Wanting me to come home from work and fuck you full?”

“Yeah. Please.” you cried, pressing your palms down harder on the table top as he sped up.

He shoved into you a bit harder, grunting hard against your ear until all you could focus on was him; the stretch he pushed through your body, the smell of the light alcohol on his breath and his familiar cologne that still dotted his shirt from that mornings application, and his hand around your throat.

“Oohh, God.” you squeaked out, mouth falling open as he took you over the side of the dining room table.

“Good girl.” George said lowly against your ear, his salacious words a lustful chant, “My good little housewife...good little fucking whore. So pretty and submissive for me. Gonna let me fuck you how I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir, please, please, please-” you begged shakily.

“Yeah?” George pulled your head back by your throat, finger and thumb pressed right up under your jaw to hold you tightly.

Your head was almost bent entirely back to look at him upside down, your mouth agape as a flurry of pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips uncontrollably. He fucked the sounds from your throat with practiced ease, the dishes on the table rattling with every firm ram into your body as he took you how he pleased.

You squealed loudly, hands rolling into fists on the table top as tears pricked your eyes through the painful pleasure he expertly pushed through your whole body. He held you in place with one hand fisting your dress and petticoat over the small of your back and the other squeezing your throat until your mouth was falling open through little gasps.

“That’s it.” George groaned, pulling your head back towards his shoulder before he was pinching your cheeks between thumb and forefinger to spit loudly in your mouth. “Want me to put a fucking baby in you, sweetheart?”

The words were unexpected but the way your body clenched so hard around him that he almost lost it right then and there was his answer enough. He shoved two fingers in your mouth and picked up speed a little more, groaning hungrily against your cheek

“Yeah, you do. Gonna get you nice and full and pregnant. My pretty little wife’s gonna look so good knocked up.”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir, please-” you mumbled through his fingers, words barely sensible as you drooled down his palm involuntarily as he kept you gagged.

“Oh my God, baby.” George gripped you tighter, fucking you harder and faster until the table was nearly scraping across the hardwood floor with every thrust. “Gonna make a fucking mess of you...cum so fucking deep inside you. Gonna knock you up like my good little bitch.”

“I need it! Fill me up, baby, please!” you cried messily, clawing at the table as your pussy pulsed strongly around him.

“You need it?” he cooed, “You need me to cum inside you? To make you a mommy? Hm?”

All you could do was stumble out a chant of, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

In one swift movement, George pulled his fingers from your mouth and tangled his hand in your hair to shove you down against the table again. You caught yourself on your forearms with a squealing gasp, sliding forward under his controlling hand until your chest was flat to the table and your fingers could wrap around the opposite edge of the table. The slick lewd sound of your skin colliding filled your modest apartment as he ravished you from behind, harmonized so prettily with your shared breaths and moans.

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart.” George spoke through his teeth as he held you face down on the table, “Show me how good I can make my pretty little wife feel while I pump her full of cum.”

His other hand slipped around your waist under the plethora of fabric from your dress without faltering the firm thrusts he gave you. His fingers were easily coated in your slick wetness as they blindly found their way between your legs, making it almost effortless for him to rub easy circles over your clit. You fell perfectly silent at his added touch, gripping onto the edge of the table even tighter as you felt that indescribable warmth coiling strongly within you. In seconds, your eyes were nearly rolling back and your toes were curling in your heels as you came around him, gasping and panting and moaning as your body clutched right down on him like a vice.

“That’s it!” George groaned loudly, shoving into you faster and more desperately to help you draw out your orgasm, “That’s fucking it, baby. I’m gonna put so many babies in you…show off that you’re mine. My perfect little cockslut housewife. Begging to be fucking knocked up. Shit-”

Oversensitive from your orgasm, his aggression had you whining loudly, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. He wasn’t letting up, taking exactly what he wanted from you, just how you had begged him to all those weeks ago in your tipsy confession. Your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure that bordered on the precipice of pain, unable to control the way you cried out until your voice echoed through the apartment. George slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Take it.” he ordered through his teeth against your ear, “You’re gonna take my whole fucking load until you’re dripping like a pathetic little bitch.”

You whined into his warm palm and felt him twitch inside you as your muscles pulsed around his thick length.

“Fucking...take it.”

George came hard, bucking into you sloppily through loud moans and grunts. His eyes scrunched closed through it, fingers pressing you harder into the tabletop as he shot thick warm spurts deep inside you. You could only grab onto his arm as he filled you up, withering behind the erotic feeling of him claiming you completely. His moans were heavenly and you nearly came a second time at the overwhelm of it all and his hand that was wrapped around the back of your neck only tightened as he finished.

He let you go after a second and you pushed yourself up from the table, your arms straight and hands flat as you glanced back at him over your shoulder. George’s lips grazed your jaw and he left a few lazy kisses over your skin as you both took a moment to catch your breaths, lingering in the post-orgam bliss together for a moment longer. His hands ran down your sides warmly and you let out a shaky sigh.

George then reached a hand up to gently tilt your chin towards him with a soft, “Come here.”

You kissed him sweetly, sharing lingering kisses with his dick still pressed up nice and deep inside you. After a few moments, he leaned back to look at your face and he gave your hand a squeeze before shifting back from you and pulled out slowly. Your body ached as he left you empty but his fingers pressed themselves between your legs instead.

He could feel your heartbeat right there, not to mention how soaked you were, dripping his cum out and onto his fingers, hidden under the skirt of your dress as it fell back down around your thighs. George left a little kiss to your shoulder when he finally pulled back and he gave your bum a little pat before he was zipping up his pants again,

“Order us a pizza, sweetheart. Dinner got cold.”

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mourndust · 19 days ago

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‧₊˚♡ DAYWALKER // vampire!cait x hunter!vi x reader

hiiiiii, the pool results are loud and clear, so here it is my little promised piece. this here contains smut so please, 18+ minors dni, dead dove do not eat, mentions of murder, voyeurism, vaginal sex, strap-on cait is my vibe (give me more top!cait now), descriptions of blood, spit, fingering, oral sex — it's clear this is a threesome so well. reader is caitlyn's pretty pupil and we love our creator. also, yes this is smut but it is lesbian drama, that being said, there's a lot of jealousy, attempts of murder, treason, toxic relationships (pls they are vampires and i'm no emily dickinson), english is not my first language, so any mistakes i’m sorry. reblog, likes and comments are loved, enjoy the read!

you know there's something off with caitlyn from almost two weeks before the incident.

you don't really know what it is exactly, but since she made you take the bite almost six years ago you know it deep in your chest as your emotions are connected to her, a constant thought that lingered in her mind whether she likes it or not — the countess is hiding something, and it makes you sick in the stomach cause fuck: when did you two began to keep secrets from each other? more than a partner you’re a part of her; caitlyn’s blood runs in your veins, keeping your twisted nature alive each passing second, making her irrevocably, more than just a creator.

"you look worried baby, what is it?" you're so invested in knowing what she's doing in the shadows that you openly ask her, placing a soft kiss over her shoulder as if to calm her nerves down: it has to be something far more sordid than what you two did every time when it comes to feeding cause she has the nerve to stay silent even when the vampire knows every corner of her own mind it's actually infected by you.

she hides it anyway, and mad does not cover the whole emotion you're feeling in your chest when you're still trying to discover what the fuck is going on by the end of the week. you're nothing to her in the matter of the word — yes. she's your creator, and it's an unbreakable bond you'll always share. you'll always have to be close to her since she aches, physically for your company, but she's not yours in the sense of the word, and you're not her's either.

did she found another vampire to rely her pleasure on? the thought eats your brain like a parasite on a saturday night. the moon is hiding in the sky as the clock hits in the middle of the silence marking the hour: six in the morning and you find yourself pushing the thick door of your room to slide in the cold spaces of the castle instead of sleeping. a light breeze hits your uncovered shoulder, and you're quick to become one with the dark nature of the place you call home.

it's a lack of respect to appear in the chambers of your count uninvited, but your feet do not listen, compelled to pay a visit to her without a proper plan: maybe demand an answer? bend caitlyn against that expensive desk she spends so much time in? make her admit there’s something off with her lately while she's weak and pliable? somehow you'll make clear you are bounded to her, that in the end of all, she's yours.

and as the dark engulfs you, the path to caitlyn's room seem an eternity in the long hallways connecting the whole property. silent as you can only hear the sound of your footsteps against the marble of the ground, the whistle of the wind almost whispering to you until you can see her door at the end of the hallway. your feet come to a complete stop as your fingers tighten against the fabric of your night gown when you can notice the smell it in the air like a disease — a human.

the countess is hiding a human.

if you'd had a heart, it would probably race against the sudden news. a few more doors and you'll be right in front of her room like multiple times before, yet this time completely different than any other day: was she feeding without you? was she playing with her food like you two always did?

deep down, you know what it is. you can hear it too. playing dumb like that wasn't the moans of your countess, like that isn't the subtle smell of sex leaking through the barely opened door of her room. you stand close to the gap not daring to touch the door, keeping your whole body at a safe distance before giving in an just lean.

there it is. the fever in your own body as a response to how caitlyn's spread open in the mattress of her room with a fucking human feasting on her cunt, taking your spot as she's knees deep into the irregular floor, pink hair, and tattooed back full in display, acting like she owned the place.

the countess is fucking a human.

and it's not any human when you pay attention to the girl's details, the mark of a vampire hunter resting in the skin of her lower back, hiding in between the mechanic design you look for a while.

your countess is fucking a damn hunter.

she can be killed by the high council if they knew the treason she's committing in her own castle — on vampire ground, but instead of leaving, of making your creator aware you're there, you stay right where you are, peeking through the door unable to look away.

something is not right with you, all sorts of freak when you keep looking, drinking in the sight of the human making delightful sounds deep between the countess legs, hands wrapped up in her tights as she pulls her closer to her face — caitlyn’s a fucking mess.

of course she is. dark blue hair spread on the pillows, back arched and opened legs like a fucking offer to her, like the count did multiple times with you.

caitlyn’s moans fill the room, and you feel filthy by looking, but you cannot dare to move away, even when you try to avoid that feel of ache between your legs as you’re painfully aware of how good the hunter’s making her feel.

you’re connected, isn’t that right? it’s both a curse and a blessing when you swear you can feel it, the long and wide licks of the haunter’s tongue, her calloused hands trailing up her body like a map she’s just taunting, land she’s just discovering. man, you want to hate it all — but hate it’s a strong word when you feel so fucking good there at only inches, damping your panties cause the scene itself could turn on even a damn nun.

and you’re annoyed. hella annoyed as you’re puzzled in between shouting or still enjoying the view stupidly horny, but even annoyed, you don’t dare to move a muscle, blending with the dark as a red hue appears in your irises: maybe you could kill the human. end up the threat and remind the count what a hunter should be to her: food.

“tell me what you want-” you hear the pink haired talk — “please. wanna do good f’you cupcake.”

has caitlyn been fucking the hunter for a while? your mind turns fuzzy as they go, not really aware of your presence as you lick your lips, craving some blood to warm up the insides of your cold soul, the fire slowly spreading in the pit of your stomach. you should be making a scene, demanding your creator to give you explanations when she, herself, has said multiple times hunter's are not to be trusted, but instead, your feet seem glued to the marble floor, just thinking for a while how much you'd love to kneel too. be good.

you try to understand what it is with this human. maybe that's the only rational explanation you can come up with — you're looking because you need to know: what does the hunter has, that you don't?

"your tongue, vi" the count answer in a ragged voice. "your fingers- please."

she's close. the human knows it, you know it. it's like a shared secret. you've seen her like that before, pleading, erratic, asking for more when she can even handle what she's already receiving, yet vi, looks pleased by it, curling her fingers inside her leaky cunt until the sounds you can hear are nothing but a nasty symphony of her arousal dripping down the hunter's hand.

"listen to you, cait" the sound of her voice is muffled against her, leaving kisses over her tights, biting the count's skin pleased with the whole situation — "you're sucking me in baby, 'can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me already, gonna cum, cupcake?"

your hands shake, and you wonder, deep in the confines of your mind, if it would be so wrong to finger yourself too. eyes narrowing in pure envy when caitlyn's mumbling some stupid bullshit about feeling so full, of her fingers curving just right to rub on that spot she fucking loves. her body spasms while the hunter's taking care of the mess she just made, slowly, gently, almost to herself more than in search of her desire. like she need to have just a little more.

it's not the worst. the worst comes when caitlyn's pulling her, tossing her to bed to straddle her lap, vi's hands on the countess ass — almost controlling her movements when she's trying to make her move, ride her tight to come undone once again.

and caitlyn's a greedy bitch. your creator has always been a greedy bitch, so it's not a surprise when she's making full usage of her force to keep the hunter prisoner under her tights like it's nothing, towering against her broad figure to let her fingers roam against her naked form, the silver jewelry of vi's pierced nipples that has your creator licking her lips in need.

fuck caitlyn. fuck that nice feeling in your chest being so connected to her, the one that mingles with the pleasure in your guts, coils of desire forming even when you try to push them aside, tempted to join in like looking at them is not really perverted already as the countess uses her bare hand to keep her steady against the sheets, ethereal in contrast to the poor illumination of the night coming to an end.

"feed from me," something stirs in you when hearing the hunter asking for something that she should be terrified about "somewhere they won't see- bite me." the smell of the blood makes you dizzy as caitlyn leans against her skin, kissing her with nothing but longing before her teeth sink in without a previous warning, and the sound the human makes — god. you crave to hear it again as the countess pushes her fingers against the wound she made beneath her left breast, allowing her blood to run freely as she licks on every drip.

it's hard to resist. and you know now why cait's keeping her. sweet scent, warm blood, devastating pussy-eater. it makes sense when vi's whimpering against the cold touch of your countess, how the vampire is so invested in something that could get her killed. the hunter's blood fill the air of the room, placing itself beneath your nostrils as you breathed, not because you need it, but because of the delicious smell of her blood.

she's risking her life because she's damn worth it. every. single. drop.

and as vi whimpers, lightheaded, you seem to also make a sound, cause suddenly the count's tense before looking over her shoulder, cold gaze now glued to the spot you used to be, scanning the place as she could smell your scent disappearing on the wind.

you can hear the footsteps even after you're long gone, going back to your room so fast to slide in the fresh sheets of your bed, turning off the candles in hope that would deceive your creator into believing you're deep in your sleep.

count kiramman is ruthless. you know that very well as you close your eyes mere seconds before your creator is resting against your door frame, hands crossed against her chest as she simply studies you, like you two aren't connected and she won't know in the end you've seen her, that you were there.

it feels like a test when she stays there for five-eternal-fucking-minutes, watching if you move closely before going back to her chambers in silence.

you know she knows. you know it, cause you can feel the hunter's hands all over your body too.

being connected is both a blessing and a curse, wasn't it? as a young vampire, you didn't really care about it until now.

there's no way caitlyn don't know.

even in the next days when she acts all happy and nice with you — it's all because she knows it. she knows you were there, that you knew about her biggest treason to her own kind.

was it an act? you've heard about creators killing their protégées, making fun of the idea before experiencing it first hand: will the countess kill you? she has a temper for sure, but enough to get rid of you? never. despite all tries to calm yourself down, you find yourself looking from over your shoulder multiple times in plain dark, barely sleeping through the day as you're too worried to wake up to her impaling you during the broad daylight.

it's rational that you're hurt, rational about your plans to get rid of the threat that is compromising your comfortable life, so you stay far from the countess as much as you can, surprising her to the point she's now questioning your presence like she didn't get you're heartsick ever since you find her with a hunter.

fuck. why does she have to be like that? why does she always want to have it all?

it pisses you off how she’s acting like everything's okay, like she cannot feel it too, that ache in your chest whenever you're close. you can smell the hunter's perfume like a new scent on caitlyn and you fucking hate it every time. furiously whenever you catch it, making up excuses about random things to avoid the count as you go to your room, plotting more plans that would fail miserably to just- kill her.

it becomes a need soon. so much you start to dream about it, the need to feast on your lover's pet only to leave her dry in front of her eyes — to hell if caitlyn's mad.

"i need to speak to you," the count's dark blue hair shines thanks to the light of the candles in your room, taking a look of the insides as you stand in front of her, barely covered in a white sheer nightgown that caitlyn feels it makes you even more desirable to look at, exposed cleavage as her eyes followed the moles that got lost in between your breasts—. "in my room."

"i know i've been weird lately. and i was hoping we could talk," she tries to convince you after seeing your annoyed expression: is that all it takes? a sexy outfit and some indifference? — "i'm not really asking."

the power she has over you must be studied, cause you simply nod as she leaves, making you promise you'll be in her room in an hour not a minute past midnight. so usually, that would mean a good old fuck, but now? now you're not really sure about what's going to expect you in that room.

will she be honest for once? admit she's been engaging relations with a hunter? putting them all at danger? it's stupid how torn she makes you, but you're standing there forty minutes later cause you're weak, and you'd hear anything she'd have to say not because you have to, but because you need to hear it.

so as you enter, it caughts you off-guard cause the hunter is there over her bed and you think it should all be an illusion but her gaze seems buried in you, very aware of your presence there in the count's room — "is this a tramp?" you ask, and the human's laughing as she props herself over her elbows, looking at the whole scene as if she's waiting for the next instructions.

"sit down," caitlyn’s voice is more of a command one than a plea. the tone she uses to make you do things, compelled by a force that's pulling you to the chair of her desk before you could even understand her words — "in the bed."

the scent of vi's blood is nothing but alluring as the hunter stays at a considerable distance when you both share the count's bed. naked shoulder on display for you to lean forward and just-

"you seem to forget about the fact that i can hear what you're thinking, love" the countess accent is a caress against your cheek, a gentle touch as she speaks.

"never" you admit as the vampire moves to stand between your legs, fingers tightening against your jaw to make you look at her.

"speak louder."

"i said never."

"then you think i'd never knew you were looking at us standing outside of my room like a pervert? that i'd forget easily?"

her tone is like a million cutting glasses in your skin, a taste of her temper as you blush, probably for the blood you consumed earlier, ashamed of her words — "you- you're fucking a hunter in vampire soil. risking it all for a human!"

"but you stayed to look, huh?" caitlyn demands, squeezing your cheeks harshly as her grip tightens each passing time — "stayed to see me cum like a dirty slut. leaved the place stinking with your fucking mess, made you soak your panties right in the hallways and you thought i- we were going to let it pass?"

she's cocky when right. enjoying the fact she has the last word as usual — "answer me."

"yes" you admit shamelessly — "i know i shouldn't have look."

“yes what?”

“yes count kiramman.”

"thing is, we're not really mad at that, aren't we?" she asks as the human shakes her head with a hum. "what i'm mad at is having you spent the whole week acting like resentful minx. this whole act of direspect.”

"this human can get everyone killed my count. you know it."

this time it’s the hunter who’s openly laughing when hearing you, shaking her head unfazed — “no one is finding this out, troublemaker. no one is going to kill anyone, don’t have to worry about me sweetheart.”

you look at her like she’s fucking crazy, staring at her freckles until you come across her blue eyes, trying to know if she’s going to jump to kill you anytime. however, you grow distracted by her features, finding in the rough exterior something magnetic that calls you in, a sudden need to touch her naked shoulder to leave a sloppy kiss to her bare skin.

“you like her too,” caitlyn seem pleased to look, staring down at your figure seated in the corner of her bed. there’s no explanation to how her words make you feel, how her voice tickles something in your brain — “i know you do. such a fucking mess for a hunter. can smell your cunt dripping just like before.”

“i don’t-” it’s pathetic how you try to hide it, how you’re so invested in a plain lie you don’t fully believe. violet’s smell is like a knife straight to the chest as she’s there, expectant, and fuck, the hunter’s gaze is so intense soon after you can feel it somehow, blue irises drinking in the sight of that lacy night gown that’s showing enough cleavage to let her wondering sight study you.

“no more lies,” the count says, shaking her head in disapproval — “i want your full honest or else i’ll get rid of you and your poor conduct.”

it’s impossible not to shiver when vi’s lips come in contact with your naked skin without a previous warning, soft kisses like the ones you wanted to give her before in your very own shoulder— “c’mon bloodsucker, don’t be mean. you’re a pretty vampire aren’t you?”

“yes- i’ll beheave” you answer — “i’ll be good i promise-”

the hunter’s words sends shiver down your spine as caitlyn’s grip in your jaw tightens for a second time, making you look up to her as the human continues on her own bubble. the feeling of her soft kisses is a huge contrast with the vampire’s cold fingers, and good fuck. you know you’re in trouble when you’re craving the warm feeling of the human’s skin, the blood pumping on her veins so close to you — “kiss her.”

the countess gaze search yours as her command lingers in the air, and you look like you don’t believe it at first: kiss her personal toy? did you hear that right? — “you know you want to. kiss her.”

violet’s eyes change to a darker shade of blue almost expectant of your next move, and you’re there, trying to remember she’s the enemy, jeopardized in your own feelings: why do you want to kiss her too? your fingers trace the shape of her lips, lingering on her scars as the hunter’s breathing hitches on her throat: weren’t you about to kill her? weren’t you ready to claim the count as yours? finish all the threats? it doesnt make sense now how a creature made to kill is so invested now in pulling you closer just to steal a deep, demanding kiss.

it’s a game. you’re nothing but a prime killer, top tier in the food pyramid and the human’s there, looking at you with pleading eyes like you’re not remotely near to be a predator. and you want it. pouring in your chest like a long lost need, something you’re craving yet somehow never realized it before.

vi’s lips are soft under her scars, pushing her tongue against yours in a saliva-filled kiss, wondering hands as she steals a moan — oh how quick she forgot you’ve sworn on killing her too! how quick she forgot she’s trained to kill you and the countess as she seems very into the kiss now, leaving a sweet scent in the air that mingles with her own arousal.

it’s almost a victory when you can smell her soaking panties, a trophy you’re planning to keep on your memories as you seek for more.

“aren’t you a charmer?” violet says sharing a look with the countess as if looking for permission — “are all vampires like this? so hot and bothered so easily?”

“no,” you answer sharply, almost offended — “most would kill you. pretty things like you should be destroyed.”

“don’t kill her” the count says as the hunter squeezes your breast when she notices how you’re not pushing away but in, kissing her until she’s choking on something so basic as breathing — “no feeding until i say so, get it? use your words and tell me you understand.”

“yes,” you soon shake your head, looking at vi’s chest filling up with air at the lack of it— “ i understand, no feeding- i’ll do it.”

“that’s more like it,” caitlyn praises as you’re crawling over on your hands on knees to corner the human against the bed, caging in between the mattress and your own body — “wasn’t so hard, see?”

you want to say something, deny it even, but fuck, how could you when you’re so lost in a hunter? bitting her with just enough force to make her body shiver in need, a tease when her reactions to you are like a vice. it’s not your fault when you’re breaking the bandages of her chest, tearing them appart without really making force.

“hey-” violet’s ready to whine before you lean against her breasts, squeezing them between your hands before sucking her nipple in, taking special time on marking her down as if you wanted to rip her off caitlyn’s property and make it your own. the barbell of her pierced breasts only seems to add to her pleasure as she seems to forgot about what she’s going to bark about, a competition almost as the countess makes you stay on your hands and knees, pushing you further into vi’s tits only to make your ass lift up in the perfect position.

“you’ve been nothing but a problem, forgetting about your place” her words are slurred as she moves you in the way she wants you to be, ass up, face buried in the hunter’s chest before spanking you until her whole hand is visible on your ass-cheeks — “should i remind you that i made you? that you’re mine too?”

you’re too zoned out to answer, kisses travelling from vi’s chest to her stomach as the sharp angles on her body now melt away against your lips, traces of visible saliva on her skin as she parts her legs like an invitation, leaving enough space for you to settle between them.

fuck her. the hunter knows what she’s doing, looking down to you as she moans and writhe, silently asking for more like good human pet.

“i can see now why caitlyn’s keeping you” you say, fingers purposefully moving now to reach her black underwear — “you got this nice smell on you and fuck. i could devour you whole, you don’t really understand.”

you aren’t aware of your ass being at the count’s behest, however, the strap is around cait’s waist as she uses her right hand to cup your cunt like it’s hers cause it is. and in her dingy room, her index fingers teases over the fabric of your underwear only to dampen her finger with it, looking, interested, how you’re pulling vi’s panties to the side, licking your own finger to just tease her entrace too.

she’s sensitive as you spit against your fingers, the feeling of your slick saliva in her sensitive sex as you look up to her, the blush on her face that matches her hair and makes your stomach do this thing you don’t even know it can do, a warm feeling spreading all over.

pink pussy on display, a rough slap on your ass and suddenly, caitlyn’s pulling down your panties to your knees, middle finger teasing your entrance without really going in, angling you down to where she needs you to be— “eat her up,” she breathes out, coaxing you into doing what you’ve been craving to since the beggining. “go on. feast on her pretty cunt, want to see you enjoying it.”

it alleviate all your aches, the weight on your back, the worry you’ve been going through the week, the anger you’ve been gathering on the pit of your stomach as the count buries her finger in your aching hole, pushing it inside until her knuckles are brushing against your core and you’re arching your back, presenting your ass to her without dismissing your current job.

she’s elegant even where her actions are nothing but filthy, taking her time in stretching you out as you sink in between vi’s legs.

it’s desesperation what invades you, a depravity that makes you surrender to her, to both of them. moans are muffled against the hunter’s cunt and suddenly you’re eating her up like a meal, tongue rounding her clit in slow, controlled strokes. “fingers-” vi whines, arching her back as she searches for more of your mouth, of your fingers stretching her open without fully sinking in — “please, please use your fingers.”

“so pretty when you beg-” you say, becoming a fucking mess against caitlyn’s fingers itself, moving against her digits to make them reach deeper as your own do the same, burying them in the human’s cunt, mixing up your caresses with your tongue until you can only taste her, flavour filling up your bucal cavity like candy — “ngh-fuck. you’re so warm-”

it’s making your mind go dizzy as vi’s pussy suck up your fingers, delving deeper as they curl inside her dripping cunt, arousal now dripping to your palm making you satisfied as ever.

it’s such a fucking sight.

trapped between the hunter’s pussy and the count’s cock she’s pushing against your leaking cunt, finally burying herself until it reaches that nice, velvety spot you enjoy almost too much so the pleasure becomes unbearable, her fingers leave your channel to be replaced with the her dick, making you look from over your shoulder as profanities leave your lips in response — she loves it. the vampire gets off your messy look, your swollen lips as you finger violet stupid, the blue rubber cock dragging along your walls, pushing against your cervix to take what she wants.

“such a whore, taking me all the way in,” she mutters “good girl letting me fuck you like this, sucking my cock in- keep eating her, c’mon, you’re losing focus baby.”

and god she’s so right. vi’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, lost in the squelch sound as your fingers quickly fuck her, curling inside as she seems interested now in the way caitlyn’s pistoning her hips against your sore sex, pushing her thumb against the entrance of your pucker hole, teasing you only cause she knows you like far more than you’re willing to admit.

connected. you are connected to the count so hell— caitlyn swore she can feel your walls clenching against her dick, your arousal dripping down your tights to stain the sheets of her bed, your sloppy, erratic licks against vi’s cunt and her fucking taste in your mouth.

vi’s abs clench as she’s close, muscles flexing as you look up to her, connecting your gaze to the powder blue eyes, sweat covering her skin in such a human reaction, arching her back to your mouth as she pulls you closer, taking the strands of your hair between shaky fingers — “m’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum-”

the smell. god her smell is driving you insane. fuelled by caitlyn’s rough movements impaling you relentlessly, you swear your vision turns hazy.

“bite her,” the count manages to say composed as ever, looking down to both the hunter and her cute pupil — “you’ve been craving her blood since you saw us. bite her.”

you look up to the human almost asking for permission, like you really give a fuck about her opinions before she nods unaware of her surroundings. and there’s a pulsating vein on her inner tight you can feel pulsating over and over again like the key to heaven, a kiss or two, a slow lick as your fingers sissor inside her pussy and suddenly you’re bitting her with an unknown force, tearing up the sensitive skin to finally, finally have a taste of what you’ve been thinking about from almost two weeks.

it’s common that young vampires are unaware of their force, common that they take so much without noticing, so you think about it for a second, her warmth flowing inside of you only to renew your energy, a new vigor as your fingers greedely fuck her to reduce her into pieces — it would be so easy to just- end up with her.

that’s the emotion of all, you think. making her lightheaded to the point she’s not sure of where she finishes and where you begin, until her blood is staining the countess sheets and you’re sucking, like a fucking leech, the blood that comes out the open wound.

you can feel the hunter orgasm pouring in, the way her pussy spams in your hand, the loud moans as she loses control of herself, shaking beneath you. it’s such a lovely sight as you drink, taking more of her like you werent satisfied already, the pain mixing up deliciously with the pleasure you’re bringing to her.

so when violet cums, you can feel it everywhere. a demolition that crushes her down, destroying that façade of the bad big hunter to reduce her to a babbling mess, trembling against your fingers as she whines when you continue on sucking her blood, not caring about her uneven breathing.

“i said, don’t fucking kill her,” caitlyn’s rough voice it’s the only thing you can hear as she takes you by the hair, pulling on your strands harshly as she takes you away from her leg, keeping your head up as her hips crashes over and over again with renewed energy, the hunter’s pliable body beneath you as her hand comes up to choke you, not really harsh when she’s weak, but gripping your neck and tucking the messy strands of your hair beneath your hair.

“such a pretty pet,” the hunter says, looking down to you even when she’s still lightheaded from the blood loss— “let’s keep her, can we keep her?”

the countess hums in response, you’re her’s but she can share right? she can share a bit.

vi’s hand slides down to your clit, and it’s just right when her fingers move in circles, an added pleasure that makes your body shake, intense coils of ecstasy now forming in your belly as electricity travels down your spine, making your body burn without a previous warning.

it’s delicious- the way you reach your peak, a high you cannot come down as you ride your orgasm, face disorted in pleasure as your vision turns blurry, caitlyn’s burying the rubber cock as far as your cunt allow it just to leave it there— keeping you full of her as a way to remind you who owns you, you made you like this.

fuck.

maybe you are going to be acussed of treason too, cause when vi’s pushing you forward to make you sit on her face you don’t have any questions about it, surrendering to her touch in seconds.

pathetic. you love it.

448 notes · View notes

mv1simp · 6 months ago

Text

Just Hold On, We’re Going Home ♥️

Max Verstappen x Fiancé! Reader

I got my eye on you, you’re everything that I see (I want your hot love and emotion, endlessly)

After a particularly bad argument with his father, Max is mentally checked out and needs to be pulled out of the dark place his mind has gone too. As his fiancé, you know just what to say to make him feel your love and bring him safely home.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, orgasm denial, I know I said I would never write subby max and that was apparently a LIE, but he’s more of a soft pure loverboy who needs you ok, you both have daddy issues, mild angst and childhood trauma, 3.1k WC

You can tell your fiancé’s mind is somewhere else right now, instead of at the intimate dinner you’re sharing at a cosy restaurant. You know this because you know Max well, having been friends before you two started dating, meeting as mutuals within the same extended group, and then online where you would both take a break from your demanding careers to enjoy a friendly grand theft auto competition.

Your friendship had gotten closer when you’d proved to be someone he could trust and always rely on. Especially when it came to talking about his father - a very multi layered relationship given that Max owed a large part of his F1 success to Jos’s discipline and the fact that, well, said discipline had involved emotional abuse on a good day and physical abuse on a bad one. It was a complex dynamic to unpack, and one that he didn’t really do with anyone - because he couldn’t trust anyone outside his family to not leak it to the media somehow. And within his family, the only one who came close to understanding was his little sister Victoria - who wanted to talk about it just as little as Max did.

However, you knew a thing or two about complex relationships with parents, growing up in a household with a luxury property developer tyrant of a father, and a homemaker mother who would never dare come between her husband and his demands for absolute perfection from his children, especially from you - the eldest. Similarly to Max, you owed a large part of your highly successful investment company and Oxford financial degree to your father’s attitude, which had been so sweet on days you performed, and then like a dark thunderstorm on the days you didn’t.

So you’d been the only one to see the look in Max’s eye one night when he’d had one too many to drink at a house party, and had wandered out into the garden by himself. You’d spotted him leaving, already having a growing soft spot for your friend at that stage, and had followed him out. It had taken you a while to find him amongst the dark sprawling bushes, but when you did, you promptly sat down next to the much taller Dutchman and didn’t ask him anything. Instead, you told him about the time you’d scored 99.9 on a notoriously difficult advanced calculus exam, and you’d proudly told your father about the result of your months of study, top in your class - and he’d responded by coldly demanding why you didn’t get the 100. What’d you say to him? Max slurred, morbidly intrigued by the story.

Nothing, I was way too upset I'd disappointed him. But I did go fight the Mathematics head professor about giving me the extra 0.1. You shrugged, telling him you probably should’ve just gone to frickin family therapy instead and saved yourself arguing for 45 minutes only to find out 99.9 was the highest possible mark anyways.

Max looked at you, blue eyes intense in the moonlight. You in turn looked back at him with nervous doe eyes, and when he didn’t say anything, anxiously started apologising. Perhaps you’d read his emotions wrong, you didn’t mean to overstep and relate to his own relationship with his father-

Max cuts you off to explain what had been on his mind. I’m sorry, you - you argued for 45 minutes with the department head for an extra 0.1? On top of 99.9? This time, when your gazes meet, you both burst into drunk giggles at the sheer absurdity of a five foot nothing, 15 year old schoolgirl going toe to toe with a grumpy old professor for such a thing.

He’d started opening up to you after that, bit by bit peeling back the onion layers, because you always met his confessions with no judgement because this was his narrative, and helped him reflect on his emotions and understand why, 20 years on, he still couldn't accept a compliment but easily responded to insults. And when you two finally became a couple after a very convoluted weekend in Ibiza - involving multiple schemes from both parties, various slutty outfit choices from Max that showed off his abs, and your use of one (1) Charles Leclerc to make his Dutch childhood karting rival jealous (a story for another time) - you’d heard the full tale of what Max’s upbringing had been like.

And now, 5 years on from the infamous Ibiza weekend, and sitting across from him at dinner as his fiancée, you know instantly from the look in his eyes what's troubling him. You touch his large hand gently to draw him back in, and with a startle he comes back to you, apologising. It’s been a shit last few races, yeah? You start, going straight to the source of his worries. And now a big one this weekend, Zandvoort, your home race.

Max sighs, nodding, grateful for your ability to pick up on what's on his mind without him needing to say it. On your drive home he rants passionately about all the bullshit decisions his team has been making and the problems with the car he's asked to get fix for months. You soothe him reassuringly, rubbing his hand where it rests firmly on your thigh as his other drives, chiming in to agree with his critiques and make him laugh with jokes to diffuse his tension.

And that night he shows you just how thankful he is for all your understanding, picking you up in a display of strength that always has you needy and dripping for him. He smirks as you beg him to take you to bed and fuck me, please Maxie, after he has you breathlessly stretched out on his large, thick fingers. Like the good fiance he is he gives you what you want, all his stress melting away with each strong thrust into your small frame underneath him, your tiny hands clinging desperately to his broad shoulders.

You're furious the next morning when you wake up to multiple calls that there'd been a massive PR scandal within one of your principal investing companies, sending your high profile clients into panic - including your father, who demanded you fly out to London right now to sort this out. You'd been ready to send your executive manager out instead, not wanting to miss this important race for Max - but he'd chuckled and reassured you he was sure he could handle it - having done some odd 200 races or another. So after giving him a guilty kiss, you two fly off in opposite directions. You'd meant to have arrived to the paddock by Saturday noon at the latest, in time for qualifying at least, but London takes longer than expected. You don't come until halfway through the race on Sunday, and see him take P2 after multiple mistakes on the track - both from him and his team. Despite the objectively good result, you know Max would not be pleased. Seeing the stormy expression on his face on the podium after he'd tersely greeted you post-race, you give him his space to cool off, knowing it's not personal. Instead you catch up with the other WAGs and laugh at Charles who still faintly blushes at the sight of you, thinking about Ibiza. But later, when you head to the Redbull garage, you hear raised voices arguing in Dutch - before Jos emerges from Max's room and storms away. You pause before deciding to go in, gently asking how he's doing.

Max, as you expected, scoffs and sarcastically asks how do you think he's doing. You continue reassuring him, being used to seeing him like this after a bad race, and place a soft hand on his shoulder to soothe him - only for him to rip it off you almost violently, making you flinch in surprise. He yells at you to stop pretending like you understood a damn thing, as if you'd have any idea what kind of high pressure he has to deal with compared to your comfortable office job.

You manage to hold it together as you tell him you're going to leave, you'll be flying back to Monaco and will talk to him there once he's calmed down. He rolls his eyes, telling you to get out, then and you make sure you're well away from the paddock and in the privacy of a car before you left yourself cry. Max had definitely been angry around you before, even enraged - but you'd never felt the full brunt of it come out and attack you so directly. Taking a deep breath, you focus on calming yourself down, as the argument brings up your anxieties from your own father - who had no problem raising his voice when he was angry. By the time you land in Monaco, you're ready to head back to the office, where you end up accidentally sleeping on your couch after tidying up the rest of your PR scandal.

The next day as you're coming home from work, unlocking the door to your shared apartment with Max, you stumble forward when the door is yanked open. On the other side is your rather panicked looking fiancee, who says that he'd thought that you- he swallows, looking like he was about to be sick -that you'd left. Forever. Perplexed, you tell him that you’d never do that, not without talking to him, and he launches into a frantic apology, saying that he regretted his words so much, that you didn't deserve to have him take his anger out onto you. Grateful for the sincere apology, you let him know with a genuine smile, saying that you're completely okay now, you had understood he’d been frustrated in the heat of the moment.

But Max's worried looks at you don't stop as you wander off to take a shower and then continue over your favourite dinner that he'd cooked, uncomfortable with the compliments you gave him about it - as per usual, still struggling to accept a kind word about anything he did. When you feel his upset gaze on you again when you're cuddled against his shirtless chest, watching a movie, you decide enough is enough and pressed pause to gently ask him what was on his mind.

That I just let all my anger out onto you like that without any hesitation. And the things I said about your job not being important - God, it’s something my dad would have said. His guilt at having hurt you with his cruel words make his blue eyes bright with the threat of tears. He says he couldn't just accept that you'd let it go because you thought it was fine, because it wasn't, not really, don't ever let me speak to you like that again, schat.

Bringing yourself up to straddle your fiance's wide lap, you settle in comfortably and closely examine the helpless look in his pretty eyes. It's rare for Max to get so worked about something like this, being the rather laid back guy he is off the track. But when he does get like this, all pent up from stress, his father’s expectations heavy on one shoulder and the fear of turning out like him on the other, there’s very few ways to pull him out of his head. Gun to your head, you’ll admit, you had your own personal favourite method for helping Max unwind. Because on nights like these, it's the the only time he'll hand the control over to you in the bedroom and the only place where he'll accept your compliments. With a teasing smile, you pepper him with gentle kisses, erasing away every tense line on his face.

Sure, Max you whisper breathily into his ear, biting the edge of it, I guess I did forgive you too easily. Maybe I should make you work for it, hmm? A delicious pink flush spreads across Max's cheeks, making you grin wickedly and press deep kisses into his soft mouth. He breathlessly whines when you pull away to tease your hand down his muscles chest, stopping just above his low waisted sweats. You can already feel how hard he is underneath you with the impressive semi he’s sporting. Choosing to ignore it, you climb off him and pull him along with you too. He follows you like a lost dog to where you walk over to the kitchen, dropping your hoodie as you went, to reveal a cute La Perla pink set underneath that he'd given you for an anniversary.

When you stop to lean against the counter, eyeing him coyly, he tilts his head down curiously - only to have you tangle your small hands through his messy, long locks and guide him all the way down, until he's on his knees below you. He looks positively delicious, all soft and flushed, as you coo that he needs to prove just how sorry he is, by putting that mean mouth of his to work and eating you out, yeah?

He nods eagerly, burying his large nose right into your core and breathing in, licking furiously through your thin panties and when he tries to yank the lacy garment out of the way, you swat his hand back, telling him no, not yet, he didn’t deserve it.

He whines openly then, teary and breathless against you as he kisses along your thighs, the swell of your ass, and then to your delicate ankle as you teasingly stop him coming any closer with a foot to his toned chest, your gold anklet dangling. Running a hand through his hair again, you tug on it firmly so you can smirk down at him when he begs you please, schat, I promise I’ll be s'good for you-

Your resolve is crumbling at seeing your normally in control fiancé reduced to putty in your small hands. Trying to maintain your willpower, you teasingly pull your pink bralette off first, enjoying the way Max's breath hitches, eyes wide with pure need, as he follows your hands ever so slowly slide your panties down your legs. But he still doesn't move, fists clenched into his thighs, desperate blue eyes looking up at you, waiting for your approval to touch you. You throw him a bone and slide one soft thigh over his broad shoulder, your other leg still leaning against the counter, giving him irresistible access to your dripping pussy. Go on then, baby, you tease, here's your reward.

He buries his tongue into you in half a millisecond, eating you out like he's kneeling at your altar and worshipping your thighs. His large hands squeeze your curvy ass, pulling you even closer onto his tongue as he hungrily eats you out like a starved man. You're moaning sweetly, telling him he's doing so good for you, it feels amazing, that you wonder how the world would react if they knew their favourite F1 champion was as good at eating pussy as he was at driving racecars.

Your praise has him keening, now desperately kissing and sucking your core, and somehow both your thighs have ended up draped across his strong shoulders, his large palms still squeezing your ass. This angle lets him slide in deeper than you’ve ever felt his mouth reach, face completely buried between your thick thighs, and with a few more talented flicks you’re lean back against the counter and squirting right onto his waiting tongue.

Dazed from the intensity of your orgasm, it takes you a few minutes to come down from your high, and Max slowly licks your clit in the meantime, toeing the line to overstimulation. Standing back up shakily from potentially the most mind blowing oral you've ever had in your life, you tilt his chin up to look at you with a gentle hand, giving him a kiss because he was such a good boy, all for me, yeah baby?

He nods furiously, almost looking like a cute Labrador with his blonde hair and blue eyes and you giggle at the mental image, telling him he’s earned his next treat. Max practically stumbles after you as you gently tug him up by his jaw and back over to the comfortable sofa, where he sits down after you playfully shove his chest. His muscular thighs spread wide to make a perfect throne for you to climb onto. He's still in his boxers, his bulge straining against the damp material, and you tease him with a smug smirk, asking if he'd already cum in his pants just from eating you out, like a dirty little perv?

He desperately moans out his No, no, promise I didn’t, held it all back to fill inside you, please- He becomes breathless from your mean hands that tease his cock further through his boxers. When he tried to redirect you, guiding your hand under his boxers to where he really needs it, you shove him away and tell him to keep his hands to himself. You demand to know why he thinks he deserves to put his gross, sticky cum anywhere near your sweet, precious hole, is he at least going to use some manners and ask politely?

Max pants, face flushed and blonde strands attractively stuck to his forehead as he feverishly begs you, please, schat, he needed to be inside of you so bad, he couldn't take it, hadn't he been so good for you already? You can tell your fiance is close to his tipping point, and you almost send him over the edge with a smooth motion as you slip his fully erect, huge cock out of his boxers and start lazily jerking him off. Sliding your fingers into his mouth for him to lick, you smirk as he does exactly that. Using his spit on your hands to give him a couple good pumps - making his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back his orgasm - you guide his throbbing length to your dripping pussy, which is so ready for a second round.

Max screws his eyes shut, head thrown back, as you wickedly torment him some more, dragging his tip teasingly along your puffy lips, drenching him with your slick. His hands dig into the sofa, desperately trying to resist the urge to touch you like you'd ordered him to earlier. And when you finally sink down on him, all the way to his base, he's moaning and begging again, tears in the corner of his eyes as you slowly ride him - edging his poor cock with the relief of your tight, warm cunny but not giving it quite enough pressure. And when your thighs are starting to get tired from the effort, and Max has ripped holes on your sofa while gripping the fabric, you know it's time to let him take control again.

Guiding his hands gently to your waist, you lean forward into his firm chest to whisper Maxie, baby, it's too much for you, can he please help you out and make you cum again-

His eyes snap open, wide blue eyes coming to stare into your pleading doe ones as you hand the power over to him, all dished up on a silver platter with a pretty please. He brings his forehead forward to lean against yours, your ragged breaths meeting as you feel shivers run up your spine in anticipation of what’s coming. Then, with an all too familiar smirk returning to his face, he tightens his hands into a bruising grip on your waist and easily begins bouncing you up and down on his fat cock. His wide thighs, which had been straining in an effort to hold back, now flex as he thrusts deeply into you from below, making you wail at the furious change in pace and you're screaming his name, proving once again just how good he makes you feel. You two barely last another few seconds before you're cumming, your name on his lips as he pumps an obscenely thick creampie into you.

You stay like that for a while, sweaty and tangled in each others arms, exchanging gentle kisses and loving affirmations with him still deep inside you, until sleep starts to take over. Later, after you'd showered because wow, that had been a particularly filthy session, you find yourself stroking his damp hair as he lies against your chest, the rest of his body on the bed to keep the weight off you. Thank you, liefje, he murmurs sleepily against you. At your inquisitive hmm? he presses a loving kiss to your skin, telling you his thanks was for always knowing how to calm me down. For always bringing me back home. I love you.

You smile in the dark, warmth blooming across your chest as you press a kiss to his head. Always, Max, just like you do for me. I love you too.

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A/N: SOO i never thought i'd write this but after zandervoot im manifesting the return of max supremacy with this. had to rewrite a bunch of times cause genuinly couldn’t picture max as sub instead of dom so lmk what u guys think!! Also… should i do a part 2 where its the reader with daddy issues instead hehehe 😼😼😮‍💨

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 7 months ago

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Do you think it's weird that I was fine with Roxas finding out he was Sora's Nobody in Kingdom Hearts, but Adrien not being what we thought he was triggered my ick factor a lot? Do you think it's because we learned that about Roxas before we had a lot of time to get attached to him?

I was initially going to say that I can't answer this because I've only played Kingdom Hearts 1, so my knowledge of the later games is pretty limited. Then I remembered that my little brother is both obsessed with those games and the Mycroft to my Sherlock*, so I gave him a call and got the expert opinion (and a reminder that I need to play the Kingdom Hearts games so that my brother can talk about them with someone who understands story telling because those games apparently make a lot of... interesting choices.)

Here is the sum of my brother's analysis:

The two properties handled the concept of personhood and artificial beings in such wildly different ways that it would never even occur to him to compare them (though it was an interesting question once posed). A good portion of the later Kingdom Hearts games revolve around asking what a person even is. Should they try to make the Nobodies into people? Do the Nobodies even need to change to be people or are they people already? What makes Roxas different from other Nobodies? These questions start being asked very early on and, for all the story's flaws, you can tell that the writers are aware that they're dealing with a serious topic and that they're trying to do it justice.

Meanwhile, Miraculous introduces artificial beings who don't have true free will and then... completely ignores all of the ethical implications of that plot point. Emilie and Gabriel are good parents. The fact that the heroes have been killing off sentimonsters isn't concerning. Gabriel's commands are just a minor inconvenience to Adrienette and not anything that needs to be explored in a deeper way. He's still totally redeemable and it's fine that Adrien never learned the truth while his father was alive so that he could decide what that meant for their relationship on his own terms.

Given all of that, it's really not shocking that Kingdom Hearts makes you feel invested while Miraculous repulses you because the Miraculous introduced human sentimonsters for cheap shock value to the point where I firmly believe that it was a retcon. Meanwhile Kingdom Hearts planned major elements of the plot around the concept and set it up right from the start of the second game. If Miraculous had done the same kind of thing, then I doubt that most salters would be deeply upset by the concept. They still might dislike it, but it would be seen more as a matter of taste than as a true flaw.

*For those who don't know, Mycroft Holmes is Sherlock Holmes' older brother. Sherlock openly admits that Mycroft is the smarter and more observant of the two siblings. The same can be said of my sibling when it comes to story telling. Everything I can do, he can do just as well or even better. He's never seen miraculous, but knows the major plot beats from a mix of cultural osmosis and reading the occasional fanfic when an author he likes crosses fandoms. He is highly amused that no one he follows does anything save for fix-it type stuff and says it tells him everything he needs to know about canon's writing quality, an assessment I fully agree with.

#tallwriter #ml writing critical #ml writing salt

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s0urw00lf · 14 days ago

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I have a Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: On a hunt you’d been cut off from dean and cornered by the witches you were hunting. But you weren’t afraid because dean will always find his way back to you.

AN: this is somewhere around s!5 dean, and i had to write it because i love unhinged dean protecting his girl. Also this was inspired by the “we have a hulk” quote from the avengers movie.

The house was eerily normal. No dark rooms, seance tables, dead animal parts, nothing to even resemble the house of a witch. Or at least any of the witches you’d encountered in the past.

Sam went to take on another lead for the witches plaguing this town and you and dean took the most risky one.

Dean as always was hell bent on taking the lead just in case so you carefully followed behind him with your gun raised.

“Are we even in the right house? I mean nothing really screams ‘witch’ to me” you asked looking around the living room. Dean didn’t answer instead he let his hand holding his gun fall to his side as he also looked around.

“This don’t feel right. We missed something” he said, you raised your eyebrows in confusion “we’ve checked every room in this house, what could we have possibly missed?” You asked with a sigh.

He looked at you “Sam said these witches are rich, they got investment properties being rented out right?” He asked, you caught his drift immediately “you think they’re using one of the properties?” You asked.

He raised his shoulders “makes more sense than this” he said gesturing around the eerily normal home.

“Guess we’re looking for a vacant rental property” you said, pulling your phone out of your pocket dialing Sam’s number as Dean led you out of the house through the window putting a hand above your head so you wouldn’t hit it trying to climb out.

“K thanks Sammy” you said hanging up a brief phone call with Sam and he was able to find an unoccupied rental home under the company name, only problem was it was across town and dean was low on gas.

“What’d he say?” Dean asked not taking his eyes off the road. You sighed tossing your phone to the side “well, we got an address because the couldn’t be any less obvious.” You trailed off “but we’ll need gas because it’s across town and we probably wouldn’t even make it to the motel because we’re on E” you pointed to the flashing red light on the dash.

“Well let’s get baby some gas” he said.

Didn’t take long to find the gas station and Dean ever the gentleman took the lead in getting out to pump the gas “need anything sweetheart?” He asked as he got out the car, bending down to look at you in the passenger seat.

“I could go for some skittles” you said with a smile. He nodded “thanks babe” you thanked him as he walked off.

You noticed his tense demeanor. He’d been like that since he returned from Hell. His once boyish playful nature dimmed by the horrors he faced in his time down under.

The thing that changed the most was his ferocity. Before Dean would do anything to keep the people he loved alive, but now he’d go to lengths you didn’t even know was possible.

You wished you could bring the glimmer back to his dulled eyes, or the humor back to his personality. But with everything going on and the end of the world looming just around the corner it was a pipe dream.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard something hit the back of the car. It wasn’t loud, quite the opposite actually but it still caught your attention.

You grabbed your gun and opened the door stepping out. You glanced at the gas station and you could see the top of deans head moving behind a tall shelf, before putting your focus solely on behind the car.

You knew it was small, but something in your gut was telling you it was something, and maybe you should’ve listened and stayed in the car because not even two seconds later your eyes went dark and your body limp.

Dean walked out of the gas station and immediately the feeling had hit him in his gut when he saw the open car door and you nowhere around the car. He ran to the impala, searching all around and inside and not finding a trace of you. “No, no, no damn it!” He shouted slamming the passenger door shut. He looked on the ground, spotting your gun and his face hardened.

He picked up the gun, filled up the gas tank impatiently then got into his car and peeled out of the gas station. He was going to find you, and he’d kill anything in between that tried to stop him.

When your eyes opened you were almost blinded from the lights, or maybe your eyes were just sensitive. You stood from you laying position, eyes still adjusting. As if you’d rang the dinner alarm four women walked into the room, or building, you weren’t really sure where you were. “Oh good you’re awake. We can get started then” Gina the leader of the little witch coven said with a sickly sweet smile.

You didn’t have your gun on you, you must’ve dropped it when they did whatever they did to you, and the knife you had tucked into the back of your pants was there but you wouldn’t be able to work fast enough. So you’d just have to talk their heads off until Dean got there if he wasn’t already. Gina gestured to you “tie her up, should’ve been done before you woke up but hey” she shrugged moving to the seance table she had set up.

“Don’t you dare-“ you were cut of by falling to the ground, as if your strength had been sucked right out of you. “You bitch, witches never play fair but guess what?” You said as they wrangled your body to sit up against a pole, then tying your hands together around it “its fine because you’ll end up dead and ill be the one walking out of here alive tonight.” You said confidently. Gina stopped what she was doing at the table, laying down a knife and stalking towards you with a sarcastic laugh.

She grabbed your chin tightly “oh you poor, poor thing.” She fake pouted “i dont know if you’ve realized but your outnumbered, there are five of us, very strong witches, and one of you little hunter.” She said with a smug smile, roughly punching your head to the side as she let go of your chin.

“I may be outnumbered, but I’m smarter than you, stronger, and i have a Winchester.”

This time all of them laughed. To be completely honest you thought they were mutes from how silent they were, “well your precious Winchester isn’t coming, he’s off chasing his tail in the middle of town. Besides nobody knows about this place.” She gestured around “It’s not one of those stupid rental properties like the guy in your phone says.”

You glare at her “you went through my phone?” You asked, she walked back to the table, resuming what she was doing previously. “Of course, the guy, your Winchester. What was his name…” she faked thinking as she sharpened her knife “ah Sam, he kept calling your phone so i just sent him a little message” she said. ‘Your Winchester’ isn’t Sam, how didn’t she know that if shed been watching you at the gas station. She isn’t as smart as she thinks she is, because somehow she found your phone but not the knife and missed the fact that you’d been cutting the rope they tied you up with this whole time.

“You’re just abut the dumbest bitch I’ve e-“ a punch landed to the side to your face, you looked at the man just as the ropes broke loose, you laughed manically “oh that just might have been the last decision of your life big guy” you said, just before you jumped up and plunged the knife into his chest, twisting it for extra measure. You turned towards the other four who were looking between you and their friend angrily.

Before anyone could move the door to the room broke down and in dean with a deadly vengeful look in his eyes “Whaddya say we get this party started huh?” You say, with a smirk. You lunged for one of the girls, your knife missed her by mere inches, she kicked your feet from under you, bringing you to the ground, you grabbed her hair bringing her with you.

You rolled on top of her placing the knife to her neck and successfully pulling it across. Blood spurted out of her mouth and neck as her eyes pleaded for life. Dean had easily taken care of the other two, as they were on the ground right next to the two you took out. The only one left was Gina, who stood singled out from behind the table. Dean went to go take care of her put you put a hand up, stopping him. “Oh you poor, poor thing, who’s outnumbered now?” You mimicked her earlier words.

She looked fearfully between you and dean “he’s- he’s not supposed to be here” she stammered “i sent him the message i-“ you cut her off with a loud laugh “no, honey, you sent Sam the message.” You and dean both walked around the table standing on opposite sides of her. You grabbed a fist full of her hair making her look at dean, who was covered in blood and as hot as ever as he held his knife waiting for your signal.

“You see him, this is dean. This is my Winchester, and the one who’s gonna put an end to your pathetic little life.” You said, giving him a nod. He immediately plunged his knife into her. You let go of her hair, letting her fall to the ground as she struggled to cling onto life. She died quickly, wasn’t much of a fighter. You looked to dean who grabbed you bringing you closer to him checking you over “I’m fine honey” you said. He gave you a look “your cheek is bleeding” he said, you smiled “and the man who did it is bleeding out on the ground, im fine” you said. He begrudgingly accepted it “when we get back to the motel I’m gonna stitch you up.” He said.

You nodded “fine, but let’s get out of here.” Dean agreed, gently grabbing you hand leading you out of the room. And then the house completely. He pulled you into a hug once you reached outside “cant believe you slipped right between my fingers” he said into your neck. You pulled away, from the hug and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “We were barely apart for two hours.” You teased. “Two hours too long” he confirmed.

Maybe dean had been different, but that was one thing that hadn’t changed. Dean couldn’t handle life without you for any extended amount of time. And you were fine with that, because yo were the same way. You were his, and he was yours. Forever your Winchester.

#s0urw00lf #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean supernatural #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural #supernatural family #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester supernatural #supernatural dean

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genderlessdude92 · 10 months ago

Text

PRECIOUS

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship dynamics (but they both love each other dw), Intense emotional distress, Language, Potential Triggers, Donestic conflict. (MAJOR FLUFF AT THE END THOUGH!!! ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!!!) They were a couple alive too if you don’t mind idk i suck at writing- USAGE OF Y/N I ALMOST FORGOT AHHH- Lmk if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.< Property of @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

WORDS: 1.7k

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

“Alastor, are you serious?!” You yelled as Alastor started to walk away from you, mid conversation.

Alastor had just gotten into a big fight with Vox, luckily survived, though. The frustrating part is, he won’t even let you heal him. Or know what the battle was even about?!

Which made you really, really paranoid.

“Alastor, don’t walk away from me, that’s rude.” You caught up with him and began to match his pace and he walked to the halls of the hotel to lucifer knows where. “We need to talk about this.” You say firmly. “I’m going to find out one way or another.” You add, raising your voice slightly.

Alastor stopped walking and turned around to face you. He was looking down at you, which always made you feel so small. Even if he wasn’t actually looking at you, you could still feel it.

“Well, then.” His voice was calm, but a hint of annoyance was there. “Aren’t you just invested in my little public hiccup.”He crossed his arms, waiting for your response.

“Yes I am. And I think we should talk about it, instead of you getting defensive.” You looked him dead in the eye and kept talking. “And why you didn’t tell me.” Your voice went quieter again.

Alastor hid a chuckle, “I thought you would care more about me surviving, than knowing how many lives I took today.” He raised his eyebrow, mocking you. “Or maybe, I don’t want to share this kind of information with someone who will judge me for it.” He was now fully annoyed by you.

You stepped closer to him, trying to keep him from leaving again. “Alastor, please stop. I’m just trying to help. I don’t…” You trailed off nervously. “I don’t want us fighting.”

Alastor smirked at you, “Oh, don’t worry love. We aren’t fighting. Yet.” His tone was harsh and he leaned down to look you in the eyes. “But I will if you continue to harass me about this.”

You felt yourself start to panic, but tried your best to hide it. “I’m sorry Alastor, I just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as he interrupted you.

“No. Don’t ‘just’ anything. You know I hate that word.” He said with a cold smile. “Now leave me alone before I get upset with you.”

“…You know,” You began, standing in your place as Alastor walked away, “You should at least act like you care about my opinion, maybe act like a husband, as well.” You snapped back, but in a more calm, collected tone. (minus the shakiness in your voice.)

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alastor snapped back, turning around to face you again. “What did I ever do to deserve such a self-righteous wife?” He raised his voice a bit, but not enough for others to hear. “How dare you assume things about me without even asking. How dare you come here and make demands of me. How dare you try to control me.” He continued yelling, walking towards you. “You have no right to tell me what to do! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m just saying, maybe you could at least consider what I have to say sometimes…” You tried to say bravely, but failed at the end. You felt so small. So insignificant.

You felt like nothing.

Alastor was now right in front of you, towering above you. His height and stature were intimidating, but his voice was worse. It was rough and demanding, making you feel like you weren’t worth anything. “You are nothing, nothing compared to me.” He sneered. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. What you say. What you do. You’re just a pathetic little sinner who has no idea what real power feels like. You’re not worthy of my time. You’re not worthy of my attention. You’re not worthy of my love.” He spat out the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

His words were cutting through your heart, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You dashed away to the nearest staircase, needing to get to your office. Your only safe space.

***

It has been about a week now since the fight you and Alastor had.

It had also been a week since you came out of your office.

You didn’t really leave your office because, one, it had a fridge of food and other things. Two, you had a makeshift bed with the couch. And three, why would you even go out there?

Only problem is, you’ve cried everyday, and that made you feel like complete imp-shit.

You really wanted to see Alastor, but you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You also didn’t want to be around anyone else, either.

***

Alastor was a gentleman to all women who deserved so.

An example he would give you is Rosie. He’s a gentleman to her because she’s nice to him and has manners. She deserves it.

But, if he was near Velvette, he would call her cruel names and shred all her ‘designer masterpieces’.

But, now he was confused.

What happened with Y/N?

He had never fought like that with her before no, usually she would be next to him in bed right now.

He was starting to miss her.

…he needed to give her an apology.

But he knew he wasn’t good with words.

So, he brainstormed.

“I could probably give her a heart…” He thought, stepping out of bed and pondering for a moment, “…no, no….maybe…some flowers?…” he looked over to his bayou. “…Allergies.”

He slumped onto his armchair and looked around his room for any ideas at all.

“…maybe some candy? No.” He thought, “She doesn’t eat much sweets.”

He sat there for a while longer, thinking.

Then it hit him.

***

You heard footsteps outside your door, and immediately froze. You looked around your room for any escape route, and found none. You decided to sit back down on your couch, and began to wait for whoever was there to leave.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and a knock sounded out. “Y/N, open the door.” Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding. “I know you’re in there.” He added.

You opened the door slowly, and peeked out to see who it was.

“Hello, darling.” Alastor said with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

You just stared at him, saying nothing

‘fuck’, he thought, ‘i caused this.”

“Y/N, I just want to apologize.” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was wrong.”

“…you don’t mean that.” You replied, still not moving.

“I do mean it, darling. Please jsut…let me in.” Alastor said sincerely, taking a step forward.

You hesitated for a moment, then moved aside to let him in. He closed the door behind him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do or say next.

Then, your eyes wandered to the large picture album he was holding to his side.

“Alastor…what’s that?” You asked, taking a step back cautiously.

“…it’s our picture album.” He looked at you, remaining calm. “…from…when we were alive. You know, with all those crappy photos.” He smiled softly.

You looked up at him, “…I’m scared.”

Alastor knew exactly why, as well.

He sighed, “I promise…I will keep myself contained if i ever, ever lash out like that… ever again.” He claimed, tears building up in his eyes.

“What i said back there was not true at all. You are everything to me, you are worth so much, and most of all, I love you.” He dropped the book to the floor and held out his arms to hug you.

You didn’t move, “…I don’t want to be here…” You said, letting a tear fall.

He nodded, “That’s okay, dear, let’s go to our room, okay?” He reassured, picking the book back up and holding you tight to his waist as the shadows consumed you both, talking you to his room.

***

You and Alastor missed this.

Limbs tangled together in bed, holding each other close, breathing in each other’s scents, you wish you had this sooner.

Alastor flipped a page of the album, “Oh look,” He noticed, pointing his claws to the first picture in the album, “It’s our cat, oh, what was his name again?” He asked, looking at you.

You were still crying.

He took a deep breath, “Y/n,” he exhaled, “It’s okay, dear…please don’t think about it.”

You looked at him, “w-what?” you said, wiping your cheek.

He ran a claw through your hair, “Nothing.” He said, smiling softly.

You put your head on his shoulder, “Okay,” you mumbled into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his scent.

He stroked your hair, “Do you remember our wedding day?” He asked.

You shook your head, “…no, I don’t…it was too long ago…” you said, sniffling.

He kissed the top of your head, “That’s alright, sweetheart, we have plenty of time to talk about it.” He assured you, pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved.

Alastor flipped the pages until he found the wedding pictures, “Oh, here we are. Look, see how my mother walked you through the aisle?” He rubbed the picture with his thumb, rethinking back the memory.

“…yeah…I remember now…” You snuggled closer into him, trying to control your ragged breathing.

“…just breathe daring.” He reminded you, “Look here, you see how much you’ve changed?” He laughed softly, flipping another page, “See here? Here you are at our anniversary dinner, you wore that beautiful dress that made your legs look amazing.” He blushed lightly, “I remember you told me I was the only one allowed to see it.”

You giggled, “…that was a joke, silly.” You said, opening your eyes and smiling up at him.

“Ah, yes, I know.” He smiled back,

“…You’re so precious to me, y’know that?” He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩

END NOTES: Idk what i was thinking when i made this fic erm…! Idk I’ve been going thru some shit rn but I’ve gotta impress the community because the notes/likes/comments/reblogs on my posts aren’t doing to good rn!! Oh no!!! (that is a sign from my greedy ass) And i just started a multi-chapter fic so like idk why i’m typing this- support is appreciated. BAI!!![![![11!

-Lynn ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩ Masterlist Link

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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champstorymedia · 4 months ago

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Fast Track Your Property Sale: Proven Methods for a Speedy Transaction

Introduction Are you looking to sell your property quickly and efficiently? In today’s fast-paced real estate market, time is of the essence when it comes to selling your property. From staging your home to pricing it right, there are proven methods that can help you fast-track your property sale. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore some strategies and tips to ensure a speedy…

#benefits of owning rental property #Best real estate investment opportunities #current real estate market trends #finding the right real estate agent #guide to property management.#home staging tips for sellers #how to sell your property fast #navigating the home buying process #real estate financing options #real estate investment strategies #real estate market analysis #tips for buying a home #top cities for real estate investment #trends in commercial real estate #understanding property valuation

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apute11as · 1 year ago

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I hate it when she makes you laugh ~ Leah Williamson x CEO!reader

Summary: You get a new assistant and let’s just say Leah isn’t very good at hiding her jealousy.

Warnings:⚠️ None i’m pretty sure :)

word count: 2032

Author note: Based on THIS request (so sorry it took so long) Also, Leah never did her ACL, Covid never happened.

————

You had inherited an investment firm from your late grandfather 3 years ago when you were just 21. You had turned the the small town business into a multi billion dollar company, earning you a lot of attention from magazines, social media and other people in the investment industry.

Your mother had passed away when you were 15 and it was her father that owned the company so when he died, it transferred directly to you.

Being in the position you were, meant that you met with and attended many events with A-list celebrities, some of them being athletes. That was how you’d first met Leah, the two of you bonded over your shared distaste for the food menu, both agreeing you’d much prefer some toast over the variety of fish on offer. You’d laughed, drank and danced together throughout the night before she invited you back to her apartment, an invite that you gladly accepted.

You woke up the next morning with a fluttery feeling in your chest and a familiar ache between your legs, that told you enough about your night. The two of you had met up constantly after that, although you both had busy schedules. You’d ended up meeting her teammates and parents after a month of dating and safe to say they loved you.

——

Now, 2 years later you were 24 and she was 26 and you’d been officially dating for almost two years now. Life was blissful, Arsenal had just recently come second in the WSL (something you’d decided was a good result, much to your girlfriend’s disagreement) and all was well.

As for your company, the recent incline of growth, your advisors had insisted you get an assistant. You’d assured them that it wasn’t necessary and would just be a waste of time but after some convincing you reluctantly agreed. The interviewing process to find one was tough. You’d gone through several applicants before finding the right

one (you were particular in your choices of company). After a gruelling process that took more several hours, you finally decided on an assistant. Ava was 21, fresh out of Uni and had little experience. Despite this, you saw some of your younger self in her, admired her ambition and also she could hold a somewhat interesting conversation. Many of the applicants lacked personality and motivation, they were robotic and boring.

With that being said, you hired her. She fit in well into your life, as you were very precise in your task doing and a control freak at heart, something she seemed to understand all to well, considering she’d prepared your weekly schedule perfectly on her first day. You came home that day a little earlier than normal due to Ava’s organisational habits, surprising your girlfriend with the rarity of a home cooked meal on a weekday. The two of you discussed your new assistant over the warm lasagne you’d prepared for dinner. Although you saw Leah’s reaction as one of support and warmth towards your new employee, in reality she could feel the pangs of jealousy in her upper stomach as she listened to you ramble about how great Ava was and how much easier she’d made your week.

——

It was December, usually a quiet period of business as many people chose to save for Christmas and there weren’t many properties being sold. However, this year it was unusually busy, meaning you were staying out later and later in the office.

Leah didn’t mind this of course, she was more than understanding, knowing the pressure and stress your job brought. She waited up for you every night with a warm meal (takeaway or microwave as she was a horrendous cook). So when you came home at quarter to midnight after a long day, she was waiting for you.

The sight you saw upon entering your shared penthouse was one of Leah asleep on the sofa. Her blonde bangs stuck out in all directions as she was out cold, an episode of greys anatomy playing softly in the background.

“Oh my girl” you spoke softly, caressing her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open as she took in her surroundings.

“Hi baby” she husked in a sleepy voice. “Have you eaten? There’s leftover pasta in the fridge I somehow managed not to burn it” she smiled to herself

“Thank you my love but me and Ava ordered food in a couple of hours ago” you replied returning her smile, hand drifting onto her shoulder.

“Oh right okay” she grumbled, shifting her body weight so your hand dropped down.

“I’m going to get changed into something comfy okay? Then we can cuddle” you left, oblivious to your girlfriend’s growing jealousy.

“Mmm” she hummed, eyes fixed on the television screen.

——

When you returned, you expected her to be asleep on the sofa but, as you’d went into the bathroom to freshen up, she’d crawled into your shared bed and was sat up on her phone.

You put down your toothbrush and shimmied your way into bed next to her, attempting to cuddle up to her but you were surprised when she shoved you away.

“You don’t smell like you” she complained. “Your perfume is vanilla, you smell like flowers it’s like a 16 year old” she scoffed

“Oh that’s odd, probably Ava’s perfume, she asked me to try and see what I thought. You don’t like it baby?” you questioned frowning at her body position, as she’d now turned away from you.

“No I don’t like it” she snapped, turning out the light and going to sleep

You were unsure what caused this sudden outburst but you knew Leah and knew not to push at it when she was in a mood so you let yourself drift slowly into sleep, making a mental note to bring it up tomorrow.

Her alarm went off bright and early at 7am as she had morning training. You decided to get up with her, despite not having to be in the office until 11am for a meeting. You went through the usual steps of your morning which involved showering (Leah opted against as it was easier to wait until after training), breakfast, dressing and prepping yourself for the day.

Leah was behaving seemingly normal this morning, whatever her issue was yesterday had appeared to have subsided. She hugged you from behind, adorned in her training gear, as you prepared breakfast tortillas for the two of you, wearing a black pantsuit yourself.

“Morning beautiful” she husked into you neck

“Morning my love, do you want ham or just cheese?” You questioned her preference as she was indecisive.

“what no peppers?”

“Do you like peppers Leah?”

“No” she mumbled into your back

“Then no peppers” you titled your head to crack a smile at the blonde

“Weird you’re not trying to sneak vegetables in me today” she laughed

Just as you were about to respond, you were interrupted by your phone blaring from its place on the counter.

“You get it babe, I’ll watch the food” she assured

You silently agreed, shifting to the counter to grab your phone, not bothering to look at the caller id before picking up and not bothering to realise you had speaker on.

“Morning Miss Y/L/N, I’m so sorry to bother you on your morning off” sounded Ava’s voice on the other side of the phone

“Sorry one second Ava I put you on speaker by mistake” you laughed shuffling into the bedroom and shutting the door, completely missing Leah’s expression shift to one of anger and her knuckles turn white from how hard she was gripping the frying pan.

Leah could hear the two of you conversing loudly in the other room. Although you’d turned Ava off speaker, she could still hear your responses. The conversation sounded awfully friendly for one between boss and employee, especially considering you’d been complaining to her this morning about how stressful today was supposed to be as you’d had a meeting with an important investor.

You snapped her out of her thoughts as you giggled like a school girl, laughter Leah interpreted as flirtatious. She was furious now, she trusted you whole heartedly but she didn’t for one second trust Ava. Also, although she’d never admit it, her insecurities in herself and your feelings toward her, played a big part in her jealousy.

——

You wandered out of the room a few minutes later, smiling at your phone as you’d realised that the meeting you’d been trying to get for weeks with a new client, had been arranged.

“You two were laughing an awful lot in there, what was so funny?” questioned Leah in a harsh tone.

“Oh haha nothing Ava just messed up something small with names and was calling to correct it” you laughed

“Hmm usually correcting something small doesn’t take a 10 minute phone call” Leah bit back.

“Noo but she did also tell me that the meeting with UOC inc. went through, we have some of their top board members coming in next week!” You beamed, proud of the accomplishments of your company.

“That’s amazing baby I’m so proud of you!” Leah smiled, pushing down her jealousy to be happy for you.

——

It was on Friday when her jealousy of your assistant finally came to your attention. You and Leah had somewhat of a Friday tradition between yourselves, where she’d meet you at your office at 7pm with food (usually a salad or sushi as she was on a strict diet plan). This happened every week without fail, no matter what the other had going on, even if that meant pushing it forwards or back a few hours, it still happened.

She’d stopped off at dominoes today as an extra treat to show how proud she was of you, after you texted her to say that UOC inc. were open to a deal that would see the company progress even further. She parked her car in your private parking, greeting Roman (a member of your security) on her way in. Excitement filled her body, she couldn’t wait to kiss you, to tell you how thrilled she was and how much she loved you. However the sight she was met when she opened your office door caught her off guard.

You were sat in your desk chair, Ava sat in the corner on your arm chair as the two of you laughed at a TikTok on her phone, a sure sign that you were definitely not just working late.

“Leah hey! Oh my god I didn’t even realise the time” you chuckled, checking the expensive watch she’d bough you last Christmas.

“Sure you didn’t, what’s she still doing here?” She snapped, gesturing harshly at Ava who had paled under the defender’s cold glare.

“She was just showing me something Leah, don’t be rude!” you cautioned, taking a tone of your own.

“Seems like she’s been showing you an awful lot lately doesn’t it and now she’s here, now, on a Friday?” She explained.

It finally hit you, her hands were balled into fists, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, Leah was jealous of Ava. You could’ve laughed at the irony but that would only provoke her more.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve eaten into your time y/n! Especially considering you’d planned to share it with your girlfriend. My boyfriend will be here in just a minute, thank you for the chat, I’ll see you Monday!” She blurted, shuffling awkwardly past Leah and practically bolting down the corridor.

“Boyfriend?” Leah huffed out.

“Yes Lee, boyfriend. I can’t believe you were jealous of my straight employee, who’s basically a teenager” you laughed openly at her.

“Ugh you’re so annoying” she sulked

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous baby” you cooed, pinching her cheek

“Oi get off” she slapped your hand away, rolling her eyes

“Is that for me” you beamed, gesturing to the bag of food in her hands.

“Not anymore” she sassed

“Oh yeah right” you scoffed, making a beeline for the bag, wrestling her to the floor.

“Hey you idiot” she giggled, a smile replacing her previous frown as you sat on top of her, making grabby hands at the food.

———

thank you for reading! <3 My requests and Dms are both open (even though it could take a little time for me to get around to) :)

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #england women #lionesses #lionesses x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader

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markrosewater · 4 months ago

Note

You say that magic is ever evolving and therefore closer to its roots than it's ever been. I think the problem is, when people try to tell you adding spiderman is a bad thing, is these are the people who followed the very story Wizards took the time to create and to them it's something sacred. They're the people who either grew up with the Purifying Fire, or actually rooted for the Gate watch. The people who cheered when Nicol Bolas went down. I think those are the people who are sad to see Spiderman eating up that space. It's like your favorite series but the plot is totally different. It's the story people care about, whether told through the cards or the Wizards website. That Wizards made us care about only to then tell us it doesn't matter. Fans don't like it when that happens. I feel you must understand deep down.

I do understand why people dislike Universes Beyond. I am very invested in Magic’s creative. I spent time creating Magic story (The Weatherlight Saga). I’ve done card concepting. I’ve done names and flavor text. There was even a few years where I managed the creative team.

There was even a time when I shared those beliefs about what Magic’s creative should and shouldn’t be, and was firmly against outside properties on Magic cards. I understand you all because for a long time I was you.

But what Magic is and is not isn’t decided by any one person. It’s decided by the collective consciousness of all of us.

I don’t personally like Walls as a creature type. Commander isn’t my personal cup of tea. And as a player, I’m not a fan of discard. But those are all a part of Magic because the amalgam of Magic players wants it to be part of the game, and I respect that being part of the Magic community is letting each player have the ability to enjoy what they love about the game.

Note when we started Universes Beyond, we weren’t sure what the player response would be. We dipped our toe in slowly. We limited what formats it appeared in.

We then looked at the data. Most players just wanted access to the cards they wanted to play, and didn’t care what the creative that was on it, so over time we leaned more in that direction.

But look, if there’s a large enough playerbase that cares, we’ll respond. If you really want a Universes Beyond free format, make one. If it gets enough player support, we’ll follow suit.

Remember, we didn’t make Commander. The players did. When it got popular enough, we tried out a product, and the success of that product convinced us to make more.

We really do follow the will of the players. If what you feel is important to you, find fellow players who feel the same way. Get enough together and I promise we’ll take notice.

Right now the data that we see, says that isn’t the case, but I’m always happy when the amalgam of players shows us we’re wrong. If that happens, we’ll pivot. We always do.

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monicascot · 2 years ago

Text

Finding the right area for your Airbnb! 🔎🏡📍

🌟Finding the right area for your Airbnb depends on several factors, including your goals as a host, the type of property you have, and the preferences of your target guests.

#what is an air b and b #invest in airbnb #what is an airbnb house #invest in airbnb property #what is a airbnb house #buying an airbnb property #buy an airbnb #how to get started with airbnb without owning property #buy airbnb #how to get in the airbnb business without owning property #how to get a airbnb property #investing in an airbnb #buying a house for airbnb #airbnb real estate investing #finding the right area #your airbnb #real estate #airbnb business

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moody-alcoholic · 2 months ago

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 21 - Sorry Go 'Round

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 10k words. OK so what now? Surly there are no more surprises right?

CW: +18 content MDNI. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, PiV sex, nightmares, alcohol, mental health, mentions of miscarriage, angst.

AN: It feels good to be back.

Previous - masterlist - next

AO3

enjoy <3

She’s alive. It almost doesn’t feel real.

She stood there though, in the garden, and she was real. Your hand goes to your braid running it through your fingers. You moved on. You had let her go but now she’s here. You should be happy but instead there's nothing. Just guilt, and anger. You're angry at yourself for the way you acted, guilty that you punished John for so long. There’s a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” John says.

“Go away!” You shout. He doesn’t though. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him. You can hear him as he sits on the bed. You stay under the covers, sniffling and letting the tears run down leaving a wet patch on the bedding.

“I thought she was dead. I mourned for her. I punished you for her death,” you say between sobs. His hand lands on your back and he rubs it through the covers.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. You scoff and crawl out from under the covers looking at him. You can smell her, and it makes you feel sick.

“When did you find out?” you ask. Maybe he’s known for days, weeks. Maybe he always knew and he lied to you all this time.

“Last night. Kate called to tell me she was on her way,” he says. You believe him. He scoots closer to you in the bed reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“You know what’s the worst part?” you ask him as he brushes your tears away. “I broke the bond I had with her. I let her go. I don’t think I want to repair it.” Guilt fills the air. John gets up, towering above you and cupping your face in his hands.

“You don’t have to, but whatever you want, we’ll be here. We’re a pack.” You nod looking up at him. You should be happy she’s back. She’s not dead after all.

“Can we just spend some time together? That’s all I wanted to do today.” You expect him to say no. He’s going to be busy with Piper. He leans over to kiss you.

“Let me talk to Simon,” he says, breaking from the kiss and stroking your cheek. You smile back at him. He leaves the room and you lay back on the bed. The room is pretty, lit up with shades of deep orange and red. You look up at the ceiling. It would be selfish of you to not reconnect the bond. She’s not in your pack, you don’t owe her anything.

Yes you do, she gave her life for yours. You owe her your life.

John comes back quicker than you expect. He lays in the bed next to you and you hear the car start. Your head turns to the window even though you can’t see anything.

“They’re going out shopping. They’ll be back in a few hours,” he says. You smile, turning your body and wrapping your arm across his chest. You hum letting his arm squeeze you as he pulls you further up his chest.

“Why is she here now?” you ask.

“She was injured. She needed to recover before she could come,” he says.

“What happened? I want to know how it happened.” You turn your head, looking over at him. He lets out a sigh for a second.

“Okay,” he says. He explains it as you run your hand over his stomach. They found her in the basement of Hale’s mansion. They were taking her out when they found their way into the security room. They could see Hale was on the property, Shadow Company was closing in, Hale had invited investors to the property.

He was making a new lab. Piper explained the ‘contingency’ plan as John calls it. It was a perfect opportunity to deal with Hale and cover their tracks. If the mansion was destroyed there would be nothing to invest in. If Piper was dead and Hale was dead, the DOD would wipe their hands with the matter. Then 141 could be free. They could take you and go, which is what they did.

“We always planned on getting her out, but she loved you so much. She knew what she was doing and why,” he finishes.

You let out a sigh. You don’t know if this has helped or not. You’ve moved on. You’ve moved on without her but deep down you still love her.

You will always look at her like the only stable parental figure in your life. She is the mother in your life, she’s who you think of when you think of your mother. You still love her; that will never change. She has always been there for you through thick and thin. But you have a pack now. Things are different. You don’t need her as much anymore.

“I don’t regret it, letting her go,” you say after a few minutes of silence. “I regret being mad at you. It just feels like time wasted.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We all thought she was gone, you had every right to be upset with me,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Still wasn’t fair though,” you say quietly. He sighs rubbing your arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that. No giving your life for mine. I couldn’t live with myself if any of you did that.”

He smiles at you, his hand coming to your chin, then he leans to kiss you. Your hand presses on his stomach as you let him run over your tongue with his. He’s gentle but firm, it's the kisses you’re used to feeling from him, the ones you’ve missed.

Your hand runs further down his stomach to the waist of his pants. He hums in your mouth, his hand running down from your shoulder to the small of your back. You press your body closer to him, and his kiss becomes quicker, needy.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, breaking from the kiss and pressing your nose next to his. His breath is warm on your face. There’s an ache in your body, a need to be with him. It’s been almost a month. You’ve missed his touch, his scent, everything about him. Your fingers slip below his waistband.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he says.

“I want to, please.” You look up in his eyes, your hand slipping further into his pants. He kisses you, his arms wrapping round you and turning you so you’re off his chest laying flat on the bed. His hand rests on your stomach. His touch is warm as he grips the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts.

It’s like he’s testing your reaction, making sure he’s not going too fast or making you uncomfortable. You relax for him, smiling as his thumb brushes over your nipple. You moan softly. His touch sends vibrations down your spine. He leans down to kiss your stomach.

His lips are soft but his beard tickles your skin. Your hands come down to pull your top off over your head. He moves up to your chest. His tongue runs up between your breasts before moving to one of your nipples. You close your eyes, tipping your head back. One of your hands runs through his hair, massaging his scalp. He likes that, his teeth nipping at your nipples, making you rub your legs together in an attempt to quell the throb.

His free hand easily slips past the waistband of your PJ shorts and into your underwear. You spread your legs for him, his fingers immediately finding your clit. The contact is brief before he presses down between your folds, his fingers gathering some of the slick that is building up.

He pulls his mouth off your nipple as his fingers go back to rubbing your clit.

“John,” you moan, opening your eyes so you can see him. His other hand comes around your back, propping you up slightly as his fingers are gentle, slow. He’s pressing just hard enough to make your whole body relax against him. Your breathing picks up, your hands gripping the bedding. You’re rocking your hips against his hand.

“That's it, c’mon, make yourself feel good,” he says, his voice low, rumbling. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

He hums into your neck, his fingers moving down to your entrance. He presses two fingers into you. The stretch feels good. You forgot how thick he is, even just his fingers. You moan out gripping the bedding tighter, his fingers immediately rubbing against the spongy spot inside you. He curls his fingers as he presses kisses on your face.

You clench around him, spreading your legs as far as you can, bending your knees. The scent of vanilla fills the air, and it makes saliva build up in your mouth. You lean over and kiss him pressing your tongue against his.

His arm supports you as he speeds up, his fingers pushing you closer to the peak. He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead against yours. You still have a hand running through his hair. You grip it tighter, panting as you cum, pulsing around his fingers. He slows down his movements, riding you through the orgasm.

His lips come back to yours. This time, he kisses you deep. He moans in your mouth like he’s drinking you up. He breaks away, letting you breathe, then his arms leave you to pull his shirt over his head. You reach out just wanting to be able to touch him. You run your hand up to his pecs.

He reaches down, picking your hand up before kissing your fingers.

“Missed your alpha, huh?” he says. You blush nodding. He smiles quickly, kissing your fingers again. He swings himself off the bed reaching down to undo his belt and pull his pants off. You do the same, still laid on the bed, shimmying your pyjama bottoms and underwear off.

You fling them off the bottom of the bed before going up to look at John scooting his way back towards you. You put your hand out to stop him. He looks confused for a second. You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I want to try something,” you say. He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he says somewhat skeptically.

“Lay down,” you say. He follows your instructions, laying back, his head resting on the pillows. You’re not really sure what you’re doing but you want to try what you learned from Johnny and Kyle. You kneel down next to him sitting back on your legs. His cock is already hard. He’s bigger than Johnny. All of the sudden you don’t know if you’ll be able to do this, but you want to try anyway.

You reach out for his cock rubbing your thumb over the swollen head. You remember what Kyle showed you yesterday, and you press your thumb on the underside, letting your hand work all the way down. He moans softly and you look over to see his head relaxed back on the pillows. Whatever it is you’re doing, you must be doing something right.

You bend over pressing your lips to the tip. Precum is spread across them before you thrust your mouth down him. He lets out a louder moan, his cock twitching in your mouth. You smile, you’re definitely doing something right. You keep going taking him as far as you can even if it’s uncomfortable. His hand cups the back of your neck, his thumb brushing his mark before his fingers lace through your hair.

You find yourself pushing your mouth further and further each time. You have to use both your hands when you pull back up to the top. You like making him feel good, that's your job as an omega, to make him feel good. The way his fingers brush your scalp, his little moans and twitches in your mouth let you know you’re doing a good job.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when he shifts causing you to pull your mouth off him. His hand comes down from your head to rub your cheek.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, your cheeks going red. Maybe you’re not as good as you thought you were.

“Oh no, you did perfect. Christ, where'd you learn to do that?”

You smile at him. He tips his head before sitting up to give you a kiss. You let his arms come round you, pulling you against him and he moves you to lay you on your back. He makes sure you’re comfy on the pillows before leaning over you.

“Now it’s my turn to take care of my perfect omega.” He smiles as you part your legs, his hand runs up your thigh. It makes goosebumps rise on your body as he maneuvers himself between your legs.

You wrap your hands around his neck. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive skin at the base of his skull. He looks down at you, his eyes glossy in the evening sun. It’ll be dark soon. You almost miss his cock pressing against your entrance. A second later he presses into you. It’s like an instant relief: your mind goes blank, no more Piper, no more worries about the future. It’s just you and your alpha, the way it should be.

“I missed you,” you breathe.

He smiles down at you, his face inches from yours. You can feel his breaths picking up as he picks up his speed.

“I’ve missed you too,” he hums in your ear. You tip your head up, baring your neck for him. You project your scent in the air. Vanilla and strawberries fills your nose. It feels so right, your alpha being inside you, his lips on yours. It feels safe and right being in his arms. It’s different from being with Johnny and Kyle. You pant into his neck. He holds you tight. You don’t need to do anything, just lay there and enjoy yourself.

You run your hands down his arms resting them on his chest. You can feel each muscle tense under your fingers. You close your eyes, arching your back slightly. Now it feels like he’s hitting you deeper, your moans becoming more frequent. His breathing picks up too and he speeds his thrusts up to match.

You’re reaching the peak quicker than you expected, your fingers curling the hair on his chest. He’s missed this too, you can tell by the way he’s not quite focused, his usual calm and collected exterior melts for you. His breathing picks up as he adjusts his angle, his moans becoming sweeter, more breathy and desperate.

“John—” You clench around him trying to stop the orgasm rising in your core. He smiles at you picking up speed again as you start to squirm under him.

“It’s okay, C’mon, you don’t have to wait. You deserve to feel good,” he says, his voice low in your ears making a tingle travel down your spine. It’s enough to push you over the edge. He doesn’t stop as you throb around him, your back arching, each part of your body almost shaking. It doesn’t take long for him to cum too, his thrusts slowing and becoming longer.

Eventually, he slows panting into your neck before he comes up to kiss you. You go back to running your fingers through his hair. He looks down at you. You smile at him and he smiles back. You don’t know if it's the post orgasm haze or the evening night but you think it’s the most beautiful he has ever looked.

He pulls out, shifting his body to lay down next to you. You lay there looking up at the ceiling watching the shadows of the trees on the wall. When your breathing slows you turn over to him, running your hand over his chest. He wraps his arms around you pressing his lips to your forehead. He pulls you tighter and you nuzzle your face into his chest breathing him in. You lay there in silence listening to his heartbeat.

“C’mon, let's get cleaned up,” he says after a few minutes. You groan as he pulls away from you, getting up off the bed. He holds his hand out and you take it following him into the bathroom. You run the bath while he goes around getting towels and fresh clothes.

He comes back, gripping your waist as you’re reaching into the bath to test the water. He presses kisses across your neck and back as you lean up against him. When the bath is full you turn the taps off letting him get in first. You lay back against his chest letting the water warm you. His arms wrap round you and he nuzzles his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin. You lean back further against him, letting the water come up over your shoulders.

“John, are things going to change?” There’s silence for a few seconds as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, when we leave here are things going to be different?”

“Maybe, but you don’t need to worry about it.” You don’t know what to say. Of course you have to worry about it.

“Piper is back. You can get a cure. You don—” He shuffles, causing you to turn against his chest.

“Hey, we’re not going anywhere. We’re a pack remember. Whatever happens, we’ll make it work okay?”

You sigh at his words. You want to believe him.

“Do you trust Piper?”

“I trust her.”

You smile dipping your hand under the water letting it run down his thigh.

“She survived. Maybe—” you suck in a breath not wanting to say it. “Do you think maybe Professor Hale survived too?”

“No,” he says immediately. You smile. “He’s dead, Laswell confirmed it.”

You relax. You thought it would feel different, you thought you might miss him. You don’t. It feels right; he’s dead in the ground where he belongs.

You pull your braid out as John starts to wash you, taking his time lathering you all over with soap. You turn round in the tub kneeling between his legs to wash him. He offers to braid your hair again but you decide not to. Maybe you’ll let Piper do it again now that she’s back.

When you hear the car pull up you get out of the bath putting on fresh pajamas. John leads you downstairs, his hand on your back. When you get to the kitchen you see Johnny opening some pizza boxes.

“Thought you might need something to fill you up after all that ‘strenuous exercise’,” Johnny chuckles, nudging Kyle.

“You’re a menace,” Simon says, tapping him over the back of the head. You feel yourself blushing as you go over to sit on one of the stools.

“Try this one, no mushrooms,” Kyle says, pushing a plate with a slice on for you. You smile at him taking a bite as John comes to sit next to you. Piper is standing at the other end of the island. She’s already half way through a slice. She smiles at you too.

You look away sighing. The pizza is good but for some reason it doesn’t sit right in your stomach. You’re not really that hungry. You really want to go to bed. You push the plate away with the half eaten slice.

“I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed,” you say getting up.

“You sure?” John asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod. Maybe you’re not tired and you just want some alone time. You’re not sure. All you know is you’re not ready to talk to Piper yet, not after you’ve had such a good time with John.

When you make it upstairs you wonder where Piper is going to sleep. Maybe she’ll take your room. You don’t mind sleeping with John but you also like your own space. You go to your room cracking the door open. You don’t mind if she takes it. You head into John’s room and climb into the bed. You open one of the windows slightly so the lingering smell of vanilla will air out.

As soon as you lay down and can smell his scent on his pillows, you relax, closing your eyes and breathing it in. You’ll talk to her tomorrow, clear the air and move on. It’s what’s best for you, and what’s best for the pack.

…

You’re back in the bunker. Alarms are blaring. You can barely think. The place is dark only lit up by flashing emergency lights. You stumble out of your room. You make it into the lab and there are bodies everywhere. You can’t smell anything other than the sickly smell of fresh blood.

When you make it to the open corridor something stops you. You’ve never been far outside your room alone before. Now no one is stopping you. There are more bodies out here, you don’t recognise any of them.

A crash pulls your attention to the end of the hall. You see Piper stumbling out of a room forcing a door closed behind her. Even from this distance you can see her covered in blood, her white lab coat and blonde hair stained crimson.

She spots you and rushes towards you checking over her shoulder every now and then. You’re panicking, you can’t think, all you know is something is horribly wrong. When she reaches you, her cold hands grip your shoulders. There’s blood splashed across her face, and it’s all you can smell in the air, the smell of iron.

“Hale is coming,” she says in a panic, pressing something into your hand. You look down. It's a pistol sticky with blood. It feels heavy in your hands, and cold.

“You need to get out of here. Don’t let anyone stop you.” She’s forcing you to look at her as a bang down the hall makes you jump. The weapon feels heavy and foreign, but you don’t have time to worry about it. She grabs your arm tight, her nails digging into your skin as she drags you down the hall.

“We need to get out of here before he comes,” she says, but she’s dragging you away from the exit. You try to protest but before you get a chance to tell her, a door ahead of you crashes open. You see the Professor step out. Piper turns to look at you. He’s coming towards you. She moves out the way.

“Shoot him! You’ve got to shoot him or he’ll kill us!”

You bring the weapon up to your eye line. You’re shaking. You’re not sure what you’re doing. He steps towards you. It’s like he’s growling.

“How dare you!” he shouts, his voice ringing in your ears. Your finger moves to the trigger. You’re not even sure if you’re doing it right but you don’t care. You’re terrified and he’s coming towards you with anger in his eyes. He’s bigger than you remember, blood splashed across his face and clothes.

“Quick, if he gets to us he’ll kill us!” Piper yells in your ear. You don’t want to. Something is trying hard to stop you. A pit forms in your stomach as he speeds up his strides coming towards you. You back up but you just hit Piper. She’s screaming in your ear. You close your eyes and shoot.

…

There’s a noise louder than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

You don’t know what's happened but there’s someone pressing you hard up against a wall. It hurts and it feels like you can’t breathe. You try to cry out but you can’t. Someone is fighting with you, pulling something out of your hand.

A scream catches in your throat as you squeeze your eyes closed.

“You’re okay, hey, just breathe.” There are warm hands on your face. It’s John. You open your eyes blinking a few times looking at his face. His eyes wide; he looks worried. Whoever is holding you against the wall slowly lets you down and you stumble into his arms. He guides your body down to the floor as you bury your head in his neck. You’re not sure what happened but you’re not in the bedroom.

“What happened?” you ask, looking over his shoulder at Johnny and Kyle. Simon is the one behind you. He was the one who pinned you to the wall. You gasp seeing the pistol in Johnny's hand. Tears well up in your eyes and your stomach drops. You’ve done this before. You’ve been disoriented, shaken out of a sleep state covered in blood. Scalpel in your hand, bodies on the floor.

You break from the hug as you see Piper walking up the steps.

“Did I hurt anyone?” you ask, looking at John.

“No, you didn’t. It's okay,” he says, still holding your shoulders. Your lip quivers as you hang your head. You could have killed them. You were sleeping in the same bed as John, you could have killed him.

“I’m sorry.” You throw yourself back in his arms sobbing. He rubs your back, shushing you and telling you it’s okay. You hear footsteps, people going down the stairs. Another hand lands on your shoulder, and you assume it’s Simon. You don’t listen to what John says. Your ears are still ringing.

“C’mon, let's go back to bed,” he says after the last set of footsteps makes it downstairs. You nod, pulling your face off his chest as he helps you to your feet. He helps you into the bed then shuffles in behind you, pulling your back against his chest and locking his legs with yours.

“I could have killed you,” you say. He squeezes you tighter.

“You didn’t.”

You could have though. You could have hurt your pack.

John walks into the kitchen. Everyone is spread around, heads hung. He sighs. The air is thick with guilt. The sun is just peeking through the clouds. It took him longer than normal to get you to settle. He waited till you fell asleep, sniffling and apologising until you exhausted yourself. It was better than nothing.

“How is she?” Kyle asks.

“Sleeping,” he says. His eyes fall on Piper sitting at the dining room table.

“Should someone be with her?” Johnny asks.

“No, we need to talk. All of us,” John says, turning to Simon. He leans in and Simon tips his head towards him. “How was the trip out?”

“Interesting.”

John turns his head slightly to look over at Piper sitting at the table. He hums then looks back at Simon.

There’s something she’s not saying.

Simon moves to stand behind her next to the fireplace crossing his arms. A little bit of pressure should get her to talk.

“Have they been getting worse?” she asks as John turns to look at her.

“Better actually, this is the first time in a while,” John explains. Piper sighs looking down at her mug.

“First time she’s ever done anything this extreme,” Kyle says.

“Where did she get it from?” Johnny asks, looking at the pistol on the table.

“It was the one in the bedside table. I had no idea she even knew it was there,” John says walking over to the table where Piper is sitting.

“This has happened before in the bunker. She would sleepwalk and get into places we never thought she could get access too. She would find weapons and attack the staff,” Piper says solemnly. “It’s my fault. Sorry.”

She looks back up around the room. No one says anything. John studies her face. She was cagey during their talk, the long drive from the next town over to here. There’s something she’s holding back.

“Hale’s alive,” John says. He watches as the others take in what he just said. The only person who doesn’t react is Simon. He’s not wearing his mask right now but he might as well be.

“When did you find out?” she asks

“When Laswell called me,” John says, walking over to the table and sitting down.

“How did you manage to get out? We saw the building collapse on you,” Kyle says.

“I don’t know. Call it divine intervention if you want. I thought I was going to die.”

John hums. He doesn’t doubt that.

“How do you know Hale is alive?” Kyle asks, going to sit down at the table.

“He’s in Florida. Someone Kate knew got info for us.” She reaches down, taking a folder out of her bag. “She thought it would be better if I brought the papers in person.”

“Who was her contact?” Johnny asks.

“Keller,” John replies, opening the folder and skimming through it.

“It’s everything me and Kate managed to find on Hale and his movements,” she says. John closes the folder and puts it on the table.

“Why is he in Florida?” John asks. She presses her lips together looking round the room. That’s it. Something to do with Hale and Florida.

“Only Anderson and I knew about his house in Florida. Anderson is definitely dead,” she says. She's fidgeting. John sighs, leaning back. He keeps his eyes on her. Simon shifts standing up straight, increasing the pressure ever so slightly.

“I wasn’t completely open with you all. He’s in Florida because, that's where his daughter is buried.” She pauses to look around. John lets out a long breath. “She was the first omega. He needs omega DNA to make more of the formula. It was either dig Vanessa up or come after you.”

“Is that possible? How long has she been dead for?” Johnny asks.

“Almost 25 years,” Piper says. A somber look has fallen over her face as she grips onto the mug in her hands. “It is possible, well theoretically. Hale must have the means to do it or he would have fled the country.”

“What do you think he’s planning?” John asks. She shrugs.

“He’s still paying Shadow Company to protect him,” John says.

“They found us in Canada,” Kyle says.

“You think they could be in the UK?” Johnny asks.

“Don’t know. We have to assume the worst. Laswell is keeping an eye on things.”

“Kate had a theory. The reason Hale needs a copy of the formula is to give it to Commander Graves and the rest of Shadow Company.” Piper looks up at John to see his reaction.

“What makes her think that?”

“His assets are all tied up in real estate. He has a little bit of cash in offshore accounts but not enough to cover the cost of hiring them privately for the foreseeable future.”

“He’s building a personal army,” Kyle says. There’s a few seconds of silence.

“It would explain why he ran to Florida instead of fleeing the country. Shadow Company would have been able to get him over the border. He could have slipped under the radar. Would have taken us months to find him again,” John says. His eyes flick up to Simon.

“What if his ego is just that big he needs to have a copy of the formula? Make himself into an asset. As long as he has the formula, the US government still needs him,” Johnny says

“The US government thinks he's dead. I don’t think he cares enough about his ego to dig his daughter up. He loved her,” Piper says. There’s sadness in her voice.

“Did you know her?” John asks. She nods.

“What happened?” Kyle asked.

“The formula was unstable. Her body couldn’t handle the physical transformation. She died after a few months,” she says.

“How old was she?” John asks.

“17.” There’s silence in the room. Eventually someone sighs. Piper's head snaps up to Johnny who’s standing with his arms crossed. “That was when he disappeared for 2 years and came back with the omega.”

“And you still kept working for him?” Kyle scoffs. John can hear the spite in his voice. She just sighs, hanging her head again.

“He was trying to change the world. The formula has the potential to change the world. Do things we could only dream of seeing in our lifetime, cancer and genetic diseases eradicated, people healthy. The super soldiers were just the start. There was even research to support the potential for immortality,” Piper says, hostility in her voice. “The alpha, omega thing that’s just a side effect. That’s why he was trying to perfect the formula. It would have never been ready until he could get rid of that side effect.”

Simon scoffs, going back into the kitchen. She sighs looking back up at John.

“He wasn’t always a monster. It was after his daughter's death. Something snapped in him.”

“Sounds like you don’t disagree with him,” Kyle says.

“No. I don’t. I don’t disagree with his vision, that's why I stayed. I do disagree with his methods. What he did to the omega was wrong. She didn’t deserve everything she went through.”

This time Johnny lets out a sharp scoff.

“Okay, calm down. This isn’t helping anyone,” John says, sitting back up in his chair. “Both of you go check on her then get some rest,” he says waving Johnny and Kyle away. He hears their huffs and murmurs under their breath. He looks over at Simon, his arms crossed leaning up against the kitchen island, his eyes digging into Piper.

John sighs, leaning forward and pulling Piper's attention up to him.

“You always said you’re not one of the good guys,” he says. “I think that's the only time you’re honest with yourself.”

She keeps her gaze on him. He can see sadness in her eyes. He can smell her determination in the air.

“You don’t work for Hale anymore. What happened in the bunker is the past.”

“I know.”

“Our job is to keep the omega safe. Your job is to find a cure. We need to work together for her sake at least.”

“I won’t do anything to harm her, ever.”

“I know that.” There’s silence again, she looks down at her cup.

“I thought I was going to die. I should have died.” He can smell her guilt in the air.

“You said you had injuries that would never heal,” he says, trying to move the subject on. She nods, pulling the sleeve on her left arm up. Her whole arm is littered with uneven bumps and bright red skin. They look like burns but old ones from maybe a few months ago.

“My leg and stomach are the same. Burns can take years to heal, I don’t know how long these will take.” She pulls the sleeve back down then looks up at John pointing at her eye. “I don’t have any vision in my left eye. I don’t know if that will ever come back.”

“How about the Professor?” John asks.

“I don’t know.” John leans back in his chair.

“How much do we want to tell her? Are we going to tell her about the Professor, Vanessa?” Piper asks.

“She almost distressed at the hospital in Canada. We almost lost her,” John says, his voice low. “I don’t know what stopped her or what kept her here but I know I never want to see her like that again.”

“I understand but she will find out eventually,” Piper says. John looks up at Simon. His lips are pressed together.

“Let’s let her have some peace. It is almost Christmas after all. We can discuss it again in the new year.” He looks at Piper then over at Simon. He can tell she’s not too happy with the idea.

“Go get some rest, we’ll talk later,” John says. She nods at him and picks up her mug moving into the kitchen and putting it in the sink before heading out. Simon waits until the door is closed behind her before standing up and coming over to the table.

“What do you think?” John asks Simon as he sits down in Piper's seat.

“If Graves gets the formula, we’ve lost our advantage. Hale is preparing them to come after the omega. It could already be too late.”

“I’m not talking about that,” John sighs.

“A near death experience can change people. I don’t think she’s lying if that's what you’re asking.”

John sighs, flicking open the folder. He pulls out the top peice of paper pushing it over to Simon.

“How long do you think we’ll have before we have to move?” he asks.

John shakes his head. “Don't know. Laswell will let us know if they move.”

“She’s only one person. She could easily miss them,” Simon says. John sighs. He knows he’s right. They need to keep closer tabs on him. They need to know the second Hale or Graves make a move.

“I need to make some calls. We’re not safe here anymore.” John looks up at Simon, as he thinks of who he can ask for help. He’s going to need every contact he has. Simon reaches out, picking up the piece of paper.

“She’s right, you know. Eventually she will find out. She won’t be too happy knowing you kept it a secret.”

“I know.” He hangs his head sighing. “But I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.”

The next morning you decide you need to talk to Piper. Not here, though. You want to go away from the house. Away from your pack. You don’t know why, it just feels right. You walk into the living room. Everyone but Piper is in there.

“I want to go to the loch,” you say, stepping over to John. He nods, putting his mug down on the coffee table.

“Okay I’ll get changed—“

“No, I want to go alone. With Piper,” you say. Everyone looks up at you, Simon steps up next to you, his hand landing on the small of your back. You see John’s eyes flick up to him. You wait holding your breath hoping he will just let you take the time with Piper.

“Okay,” he says.

You take a step towards him. “Promise.”

“You can go,” he says. You look around the room. You’re not sure if you believe him but you have no other choice.

“Thank you,” you say, leaving the room.

…

“It’s nice here,” Piper says, as you make it around the treeline to the opening of the loch. You both walk over to the edge of the water, the snow covered stones crunching under your feet.

“I dream about this place. While you were gone I dreamt about you,” you say. She turns to look at you.

“Did you dream about me last night?” she asks. You nod, bending down to pick up a stone.

“You were trying to save me.” You throw the stone out into the water. “You handed me a gun and told me to shoot the Professor. It felt so real. They always feel so real.”

“Do you dream a lot about the bunker?” she asks, digging her toe into the stones.

“No. I dream about being a bad omega,” you say, reaching down to pick up another stone.

“Why do you think you're a bad omega?”

“Why does it matter?” you snap back at her. You’re mad. You just don’t want to talk about it. You turn the stone round in your hand.

“If you talk about it you might be able to move through some of the trauma you’re holding on to.”

“Stop analysing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, throwing the stone hard against the water. You’re frustrated and it feels like no one understands. It’s not like there’s another omega you can confide in. Piper talks like she understands but really she’s just like the Professor. She believes in the formula as much as he does.

“My job is to be bred, to have children. Satisfy my alpha and submit to him. I couldn’t even do that.”

You hear her sigh like you’ve just explained everything.

“That's what Hale wanted from you. He’s not here anymore. You get to do whatever you want to. You get to choose,” she says. You sigh, hanging your head, digging your toes into the stones. You don’t believe her. Besides, she’s the one always saying you can’t fight biology.

“I could have been a better omega,” you say, trying to hold the sob back. You haven’t spoken about what happened with anyone. You can’t talk to John; he's your alpha. You don’t want to talk to Kyle or Johnny about it. Simon well… You’re still not sure he even likes you. You failed the pack. You failed at one of the only things you need to do.

You’re not even ready to have kids. You know no one in your pack is ready to have kids, least of all with you. It’s still your job though. It’s what you were made for whether you like it or not. It’s a fundamental part of your biology, and you fucked it up.

“You weren't given a choice. What happened with you getting pregnant was out of your control. You don’t have to feel guilty about that at all.”

“I had a miscarriage. That's what they told me at the hospital.” It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. The person you were carrying inside of you died because you were not good enough. No matter what Piper tells you, that's all you can think. That you were never good enough.

Her hand lands on your arm. “It's not your fault. Your body is not ready to carry a child to term. Professor Hale tried to force a child on you so he could have a pure omega.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

“You would have died. Your body only did what was natural. It did what it had to do to keep you alive,” she says. You look up at her. She brings her hand up to brush your tears away. Her fingers are cold, but it feels familiar, and her touch is gentle. You never thought you would see her again. You step back from her. It doesn’t feel the same. The guilt and disappointment turns to anger. You huff, balling your hands into fists.

“I mourned for you! For weeks I punished John because I thought he let you die,” you shout. Anger is strong in the air. She looks down at her feet for a second then back to you. It feels good, shouting at her, getting out the emotions you’ve bottled up for weeks.

“I know--”

“No! You don’t know. Fuck!” You turn away from her hugging your chest. You’re angry and upset. You should be happy she’s alive, that she’s here.

“I broke my bond with you. I let you go,” you sniffle, wiping the tears away. You hear her walking towards you. “You have no idea what it's like to do that!”

You’re sobbing now. You don’t care if she sees you cry. Her hand lands on your shoulder. You want to throw it off but you can’t bring yourself to do it. She comes around to stand in front of you.

“You promised you would never leave. You promised. I had to go through losing you twice!” Tingles raise up your arms. Your body is pumping with adrenaline. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“I thought I would never see you again. I thought I was going to die.” You can hear the sadness in her voice. You look up at her. You think you see tears in her eyes. Now you feel guilty. You should be happy she’s here, that she’s alive.

“Did it hurt?” you ask. Your dreams have been guilt-filled imagining her slowly dying, trapped under a building.

“No, I’m fine. Well mostly,” she says. She bends down so her head is level with yours. “Nothing that happened is your fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame Hale.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes he is. Rotting in the ground where he deserves to be.”

You nod and throw yourself in her arms. He’s gone, he can't hurt you anymore and she’s alive. You are happy she’s alive. She wraps her arms around you and squeezes. Her scent fills your nose. You close your eyes, breathing her in. Lavender, it makes you relax against her chest.

“I thought it would feel different,” you say. She frowns at you. “When he died, I thought I would feel something, like sadness. It doesn't feel right.”

“You need closure,” she says as a matter of fact.

“How do I do that?”

“I’m not sure. We can figure something out though.”

You smile up at her. You turn back towards the lake and she steps to stand next to you.

“I like it here,” you say. Her hand comes up to rub the top of your back.

“Yeah, I thought you would.” She smiles. You stand there with her hand rubbing your back looking out over the lake until snow starts to fall.

“We should get back,” Piper says. You nod, turning away from the lake.

You’re excited when Johnny suggests going out to the pub for dinner. ‘Can’t come to the UK and not go out for some pub grub.’ He was giddy as soon as you got back, throwing his arm around your shoulders, dragging you into the living room

“I wouldn’t mind a pint,” Kyle says. Simon nods with him in agreement. After a few more minutes of convincing, John finally says yes. Piper decides to stay behind; she has work to do apparently. She waves you off though, stranding in the door as you leave.

When you make it to the town the lights strung up across the road are lit up as a sprinkling of snow starts to fall. You hold Kyle's hand as you walk through the street gawking at the flashy decorations. It’s early evening, but most places are still open and the street is still busy.

You stop at the bookstore looking at the books on display pointing out to Kyle which ones look interesting before he gently pulls you to catch up with the others. The pub is at the end of the street on the corner. It looks like it’s the oldest building in the town: massive curved windows, the door decorated with a mosaic of stained glass.

Johnny goes in first. The heat hits you straight away. The dim orange lights, dark walls and furniture make the whole place feel cozy. It reminds you of Johnny’s house, old, warm and inviting. The whole place smells of food, gravy, beef, other things you can smell but can’t name. It makes your stomach rumble.

“John!” a man calls coming over to you all. You watch as John hugs him. They slap each other on the back, then he looks round the group. Johnny introduces him as Archie, the landlord. The place is pretty busy. There are people chatting and laughing, and soft music is playing in the background. You smile looking up at Kyle who squeezes your hand.

“Didn’t think you were back till new years?” he asks, slapping Johnny on the shoulder.

“Got a little break, thought I should come home for once.”

“Good lad,” Archie says and leads you all over to a table in the far corner of the place. You scoot into the circle booth sitting between John and Kyle. Archie tries to pass menus round but Johnny stops him.

“Five steak and kidney pies with all the trimmings and extra gravy,” Johnny says. “And whatever you have on the tap, surprise us.”

Archie seems happy about that, smiling as he writes it down on a pad before nodding and leaving.

“So you spoke with Piper?” Kyle asks, turning to you. You nod, you’re not sure what to say.

“Yeah, I was mad at her. We talked about it, and I'm not mad at her anymore,” you say.

“That's good. I think it’s nice that she’s back.” You smile at him. You know deep down they’re just happy they can get a cure now. You look back at the table bringing your arms closer to you. You don’t want to spoil the night. Johnny at least seems pretty excited to be out here.

Someone brings a tray of drinks and places them round the table. John puts his hand on your thigh, and you smile, looking up at him. You want to lean up against him but you reach out for your drink instead.

“Cheers!” Johnny says, holding his glass up. Simon and Kyle tap their glasses against his before taking a drink. You look at them, confused. John clicks his glass with yours.

“Cheers,” he says before taking a drink. You follow him, taking a big gulp. It tastes good and you don’t mind the alcohol relaxing you. You listen to them talk. Johnny always seems so enthusiastic, talking about everything. He also seems to know almost everyone, with people coming up to the table to ask him why he’s back so early.

The place is warm and after a few sips of your drink you feel your senses dull out as you relax further into the soft booth. John’s hand stays on your thigh rubbing it or squeezing it under the table as he talks with the others. When you’re halfway through your drinks the food arrives. You sit up and your mouth waters when a plate is placed down in front of you.

There is a mini pie and the side of the plate is topped with mash and veggies smothered in a thick gravy. Your stomach rumbles as you enthusiastically dig into your plate.

“Good?” Johnny asks when you look up at him. You nod enthusiastically, your mouth still full with food. He chuckles going back to his plate. You manage to eat everything on your plate. Simon winds Johnny up, something about English vs Scottish cuisine which makes Kyle and John chuckle every now and then.

Your belly is full and the alcohol has made you feel relaxed. When you’re done you do end up leaning up against John who puts his arm around your shoulders. You’re watching the person behind the bar talking with people and pulling drinks for people. You’re not paying attention to what’s going on as John’s other hand strokes your thigh.

It’s been a good day. You’re happy Piper is back. You’re happy that they’re going to get a cure. Things feel better than they have been in a long while, in weeks. Your time in Washington feels like it was years ago, not weeks. It feels like a different world with different problems.

“Henry!” Johnny says getting up. You turn your head to the other side of the booth. It’s the same guy who you saw a few days ago, the one who greeted Johnny in the carpark.

“I’ve been looking fer ya,” he says. He's drunk but whatever it is he seems pretty insistent on talking to Johnny about it. You sit up, the hairs rising on the back of your neck.

“Some fuckin’ brass were looking, askin’ bout yous,” he slurs. You feel John tighten his grip on your thigh. “Yankies fuckin’ sticking their noses in.”

“They ain’t yankies. English, proper posh,” the bartender says as he clears the table of the empty glasses.

“What did they want?” Johnny asks the bartender.

“Wanted to know where ya place was,” he replies. Johnny turns to look at John. You can feel tension rise around the table.

“You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Didn’t know you were in town. Thought they were renting the place and got lost.” The bartender shrugs walking away.

“Shit,” you hear Simon say under his breath. John’s hand leaves your thigh.

“I told ‘em to fuckin’ sling their hook,” Henry says, waving his hands in the air.

“‘Course ya did,” Johnny says, slapping Henry’s shoulder. He looks over at John who is sitting up. His eyes flick to Simon then back to Johnny. He shuffles his way out the booth, his hand leaving your thigh. You look over at Kyle who smiles at you.

“Go back to the car, we’ll pay and meet you out there,” Simon says, handing keys to Kyle. You’re already scooting out of the booth as soon as he finishes saying it. Kyle’s hand rests on the small of your back as he leads you through the cozy pub that seems to have got busier since you’ve been here.

When you make it outside the snow is heavier. You pull your coat around you tighter. Kyle keeps pressing you down the street to the car park. You can tell something’s wrong with the way they moved, the tension in the air.

“What’s happening?” you ask eventually.

“Nothing. It’s late, we should be getting home. John’ll pay the bill then we’ll be back home before you know it.”

You nod but you don’t believe him. Your mind turns to Piper. She's alone at the house. If people went there looking for you, they’ll find her. They could hurt her.

You feel like Kyle can smell your worry in the air as you make it to the car. He opens the door so you can get in the back. You start pulling the skin around your nails trying to keep calm. There’s no reason to be worried. Like Kyle said: it’s late, it’s dark. You watch as the snow falls on the ground melting away before it can set.

Kyle’s hand lands on yours. You look up at him and stop picking your skin. He smiles at you, and you smile back but you can feel your heart pick up, thumping in your chest. You just want to get home and see Piper. You have a gut feeling something is wrong.

You’re only waiting a few more minutes before Johnny, Simon and John pile into the car. There’s a heavy silence. No one says anything, they just share glances between each other. Simon drove the way here but now John is in the driver seat pulling out of the car park before Johnny has even got his seat belt on next to you.

The ride goes in silence. The small county roads have no lights, and all you can see is the snow hitting the window as John speeds as quickly as he dares back to the house. John stops the car further away from the house than normal.

The house is dark, no lights on inside or out. You grip Johnny's arm. John turns the car lights off. Now it’s pitch black. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

“It’s quiet,” Kyle says.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” you say, trying to hide the fear building inside you. John’s eyes are still scanning the building.

“Ghost, Soap. Go round the back, through the kitchen--” John doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the front door opens and the outdoor lights come on.

“Captain Price, we’re not here to fight.”

“Not American,” Simon says. You move so you can get a better look. It’s not just one person, there are multiple people walking out. They’re all wearing suits, some with guns in their hands or bullet proof vests on.

“Where’s Piper?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Stay here,” John says. You nod leaning back to sit in the seat. Everyone else gets out, Johnny, Kyle and Simon have weapons in their hands now. You look around the car confused—where the hell do they get this stuff from?

The strangers take a few tentative steps towards John. John stops and they do too.

“Major Williams, MI6.” He holds something up. He’s young, skinny with groomed thick black hair. “Your associate Kate Laswell, she said you were busy in Urzikstan. I told her ‘Urzikstan for Christmas must be rough.’” He chuckles before clearing his throat.

“What do you want?” John asks. Williams takes another step forward, but his entourage stays behind. John holds his ground. You can only see Simon and Johnny who have weapons trained on him.

“You’ve got yourself wrapped up in a bit of a mess from what I heard. Something about an omega project? Ring any bells?”

John doesn’t say anything.

“You’re hiding one of the lead scientists out here. I thought Dr. Montgomery was dead. Don’t tell me you have Professor Hale hidden here somewhere too,” he chuckles again. He seems nervous. Your stomach sinks. Where is she?

“God, don't look so worried. She’s fine, just took a hit to the head. Thought we were a threat I guess. Look, I'm not here to take her away from you or the omega you’ve got hiding somewhere. I’m here on official business from Her Majesty’s secret service. You know the drill. We’ve had our eyes on Professor Hale’s little project for a while now. So you must understand we were delighted to find out you had two of the most important pieces hidden up here.” The man kicks the snow at his feet.

“We want the omega project. With Professor Hale gone there is no one in the US to continue the project. MI6 is willing to fund and supervise the research of the formula.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It’s never going to end.

There’s always going to be someone to take up Hale's position. There is always going to be someone after you. If it’s not the Americans, it's now the British. Who knows, next week the Russians could be after you. You just want to be free, but maybe you’ll never be free. You can’t let that eat you up now. You want to find Piper.

“We don’t work for you,” John says, pulling you out of your head.

“Technically you do. Put the weapons down, let's talk,” he says holding his hands up. “We can help you too, get General Shepherd off your case, bring in only people you trust. You run this show now. We’re just here to help.”

“Sounds like you want first dibs on the tech?” Johnny says.

“Naturally,” he says nodding.

John turns to look towards the car and everyone lowers their weapons. You open the door getting out the car. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you want to know what happened to Piper. They said she hit her head, was she injured?

Johnny and Kyle turn to look at you. You feel everyone's eyes on you. You walk over to Kyle grabbing his arm. You look down at the weapon in his hands. It sends a shiver up your spine. You look up at him and he smiles.

“Where’s Piper,” you ask, trying to be quiet but you know they can hear you.

“Dr. Montgomery?” John asks. Williams steps to the side gesturing to the house.

“Inside with an icepack on her head,” he says. John looks back at you quickly. You’re still holding onto Kyle’s arm.

John sighs and walks up to the man. Everyone else holds their ground. You can’t hear them talking. His voice is low and hushed. You try to lean forward to listen but you can’t hear anything. After a few seconds John turns around and walks over to you.

“Soap, Gaz take her in. Get Dr. Montgomery and keep them out the way,” John says. He doesn’t even acknowledge you. His fingers point at people, talking in a hushed voice. You watch him until Johnny and Kyle lead you back to the house. You look down the field past the tree line and see a helicopter parked a little down the hill.

“Great. That field’s fuckin’ runied now,” Johnny whispers under his breath, his eyes digging into the other people who came with Williams. They move out the way letting you pass. You’re still gripping onto Kyle like a vice as he leads up into the living room. You see Piper sat on the sofa holding a towel to her head. She stands up as soon as you come into the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything. One of them has a mean swing,” she says, pulling the towel away. Johnny goes up to inspect it. You’re still digging your nails into Kyle as you look over at your nest. They haven't touched it. You let out a breath, breaking away to go to her.

“It’ll heal quickly,” she says sitting back down as you sit next to her wrapping your arms around her arm. She puts the towel down, her hand resting on yours.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her hand squeezing you.

“Not sure yet. Seems like the UK has taken an interest in continuing Hale’s work,” Kyle says. You look back over at your nest. It’s the only place you want to be right now. You want to curl up in it and forget what's happening. It’s like a bubble where nothing can hurt you. You’re not listening to Piper and Kyle talk. You focus on the fire cracking. It’s going to need another log or it will die out.

“—I don’t think we’ll be staying here much longer,” you hear Johnny say. Your head snaps up to him.

“No,” you say. Everyone turns to look at you.

“We’ll come back. Promise,” Johnny says. It doesn’t feel right. You look back over at your nest, unlooping your arm from Piper’s. You get up going over to it, bending down and running your fingers over the blue blanket that came with you all the way from Canada.

“You okay?” you hear Johnny ask. You nod your head. You ignore what’s going on around you, pulling your shoes off before crawling under the blanket. You press your feet up against the stone wall of the fireplace letting the warmth rise up your body.

You’re facing away from the living room. You don’t want to leave. You like it here. John and Johnny said you’d come back but for some reason you don't believe them. You pull the blanket further around you and close your eyes.

…

John walks into the living room almost 2 hours later. Johnny’s the only one left. Kyle and Piper went to bed about half an hour ago. There was no way Johnny was going to leave you alone until John and Simon were done with their meeting.

John hears the front door close behind him, a cold draft wafting in. He looks over at you. You’re curled up sleeping in your nest facing out into the room. John goes over to sit on the sofa next to Johnny.

“Go get some rest. I’ll stay with her,” John says.

“Piper said to leave her be. I don’t think she’s too happy we might be moving soon,” Johnny says looking over at you. “She won’t be comfy if she sleeps in her nest all night.”

“No, but it’s where she feels safe,” John sighs. Johnny gets up heading for the door.

“When do you think we’ll be leaving?” he asks.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” John says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Johnny takes the hint, nodding and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He spent the last 2 hours navigating the finer details of this plan.

He already has a stack of paperwork to go through, NDA’s to sign, people to contact. He’d never worked with the secret service before, this would be new to him. The pay was good though and he was looking forward to getting Shepherd off his back. With the access MI6 could give them they could keep an even closer eye on Hale and Shadow Company. All he needs to do now is convince them to let Kate help.

They made a lot of promises he doesn’t think will ever happen but at least they’ll be safe. They can stay in the UK working out of a MI6 facility. John looks back over at you, your hand gripping one of the many pillows you’ve placed in your nest. It does look comfy.

He gets up going over to you. He sits down next to you leaning against the wall. His fingers brush hair behind your ear and he sighs. They’re going to have to move again but this time they’ll do it right. No rushing around, no more strangers they don’t trust. If everything goes according to plan it’s going to be their way.

“We’re going to keep you safe. I promise,” he says brushing your face. “It’s not going to be like last time. No more surprises.” He reaches down, picking up your hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. A few seconds later John hears the familiar noise of helicopter blades start up.

The noise gets louder as the helo lifts off the ground causing you to stir, gripping John's hand as you blink up at him sleepy.

“Did they leave?” you ask. He nods, smiling at you.

“Want to come to bed?” he asks. You shake your head. You want to stay in this perfect bubble. He tips his head slightly, his fingers brushing your face.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You smile up at him. Maybe he’s right. It might be different this time. You might even be able to stay here but you don’t count on it. He bends over kissing you on the top of your head and pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says getting up. You smile watching as he leaves the room, turning the standing light off as he does. The only light that comes in is the warm light from the fire. You yawn, closing your eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

Dividers by gild-ui & plum98

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