#it’s going to look fucking gorgeous on her

[hongjoongscafe]

Angry F*$!

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut.

Summary: maybe getting angry sometimes isn’t too bad.

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: orgasm denial, pussy slapping, spanking, creampie, spitting kink, face slapping, hair pulling, name-calling, smoking, oral, fingering, panty sniffing (he stuffs his boxers in her mouth, too), unprotected (wrap it up, people, wrap it up or else Namjoon will spank you), cum eating, degradation, daddy kink, doggy style, cuffs, anal, breath play(?), choking, biting, aftercare ('cause I love it).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist. Unedited.

Masterpost.

“Do you even know how dumb you make me look?” your husband, Jungkook, screams at you. “Fifteen fucking years together and this one bitch comes and you trust that cunt over me?”

“Am I wrong?” you scream back. “A hot, sexy assistant is what you got to know and why wouldn’t you wanna have a taste of her?!”

Jungkook’s new assistant is, to say the least, known for wrecking homes. And somehow that bitch wrapped your naive heart in her fingers and filled you with rumours regarding him and herself accidentally as she didn’t know you were his wife as if you two haven’t been together out on the events and face of every possible magazine at least once.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he stood up and walked towards you with a feral look in his eyes. “Taste of her?” he growled.

“Yes, taste of her. Isn’t that right? Wouldn't you want to fuck her; someone sexy, hot, desirable?” you push his chest.

“Why would I?” he yells.

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Fucking-,” he cut himself off and hold you by the roots of your hair and pull you with him to the mirror. “Because I wanna fuck you and love you forever!” he makes you look in the mirror, nowhere being gentle.

“I don’t believe you!” you turn around in his hold and slap him across the face. Your jealousy hitting the skyline.

Jungkook’s face turned dark. Your only warning before he threw you on the bed was “Then let me make you believe.”

You bounced as you landed on the bed. He roughly pulled your legs up, yanked your shorts down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. “Mrs doesn’t believe,” he scoffs. “Now you fucking will and never forget.”

You gasped as he pulled you up by your hair and draped you across his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He harshly pulled up your thongs, making you inhale sharply as the flimsy cloth rubbed against your clit. He rubbed your ass gently before landing a tight slap across your perfect ass cheek, “fuck,” you groaned.

He dipped his fingers under your g-string and pinched your clit making you moan pathetically. “Be a good bitch and count,” he pinched it harder when you didnt start counting.

“One!” you gasped.

He hummed and landed another smack, worse than before. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

“Look at your fucking pussy already leaking through his sorry piece of panty,” he pulled and snapped back. “Might as well get rid of this shit,” he growled as he tore it apart and brought the big wet patch to his nose and sniffed it deeply. “Oh,” he moans. “Keep the counting going.”

Like you weigh nothing, Jungkook picked you up and threw you back on the bed. You looked up at him as he removed his pants and white button-up. His hot abs are now on full display. His muscles flexed as he climbed over to you and ripped your tank top off you. Your boobs jiggle free and your nipples tighten with the utter, shameless need for this sinful man in front of you. You looked down at his huge bulge as your mouth watered.

“You want me to agree with you as you claim to cheat allegations on me?” he muttered, darkly. “You want me to agree with you that I will leave my fucking sexy wife and fuck some fucking assistance who is nowhere near as beautiful as you?”

Your heart rammed against your ribcage. As much as your insecurity flared in front of that sexy bimbo, you felt filthily gorgeous as he was looking at you like an animal. Deep down you knew she was getting into your head but your doubt on yourself was too much to argue with her.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Hm?” he snarls. He spreads your legs wide open as he lowers himself between them. He buried his nose between your wet folds and sniffed as he groaned. Look into your eyes.

“Jungkook!” a surprised scream left your lips as he slapped your wet pussy, hard. His palm inflated on your pussy as rubbed it painfully slowly.

“And leave my delicious cunt for someone else,” he bit your inner thigh, leaving his mark there.

You were gasping for air from his harsh treatment. He had never been this hard on you. And now when he is being hard, you crave it more.

Jungkook could feel your clit throbbing against his palm, hotly. “You like that, huh?” he bites again. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Such a fucking whore,” he spits on your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it in his mouth, his tongue flat against your nub, playing with it.

Your back arches and fingers fist his hair and push him flush against your pussy. He works down and thrusts his tongue in your hot cunt, his big nose rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. “Please,” you don’t know what you are demanding.

“Shut up!” he snaps and slaps your clit, making your whole body shudder. You look at him wide-eyed. Jungkook has spanked your ass plenty of times but your pussy? Your eyes roll back as he lands another one, harder than the previous one. “Count.”

“Three… four,” you whine as he shoves his two thick fingers into your hole.

“Look at that,” he kissed your thigh as he watches his fingers in your cunt. “Your fucking cunt is swallowing my finger like the greedy cunt that it is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he groped your tit. He crawled up, his fingers still inside you, and sucks your other nipple. His soft hair brushes your chin. Your breath hitches and let out another moan as he slaps your dripping cunt again. “Five,” you whisper in his ear.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as he thrust them back. Knowing you were cumming, he removed himself from your trembling body.

“No!” you cry out loud at the loss of his touch. You were so close to coming undone but he ripped it apart.

His chest was pumping up and down with his laboured breath. You looked so fucking fuckable as you lay there covered in sweat and that needy fucking look in your sexy eyes.

He removed his boxer briefs and bunched them in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he orders. But you just gape at him like a damn fish. Already running low on patience, he squeezed your cheeks and stuffed them in your mouth.

Your fingers fisted the sheets. Everything was turning you on more and more. It felt like your body was on fire. And he was just fueling it more and more.

He pulled out your favourite pink fluffy cuffs. Pulling you in a seated position, he cuffed your hands behind you and pushed you back all while you shamelessly eyed his long, fat cock swinging with each and every move he made. A pearly bead of precum was shining on top. All you wanted to do was to lick and choke yourself on his length.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking forget that I will only fuck my slutty cunt,” he rubs hot length against your slit, making it wet and ready with your slick. He thrust his thick, angry pink head in your pussy and mercilessly fucks you.

Your bed bangs against the walls and makes a creaky noise. His cock hits deep inside you, fucking your spongy spot, making your toes curl and eyes water.

“Fucking, whore,” he growls. His thumb rubs tight circles of swollen clit and his other hand wraps around your neck. He chokes you just enough to make you lightheaded.

You moan loudly against his boxers as he fucks you into the mattress. You were already going half-dumb under his sinful spell.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “All whiny and dumb for me.”

His fingers were digging in your neck. You could feel all of his angry thrusts in you. He was hitting the spot with each of them. His breath was coming as wretched as yours. The sweat was beading down his hard chest and abs.

Jungkook removed his hand from your clit and neck, still inside you, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. As he took a deep drag, he removed his boxers from your mouth and blew it in your mouth. He smirked as he felt your walls trembling around his length.

“Jung-,” your breath hitched and turned into a moan as he thrust back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. Your loud moans and his groans filled the room. “Fuck!”

He bent and squeezed your mouth open, “gimme your fucking tongue,” he rasped. You barely followed his order and he spat on your tongue. “Swallow.” Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed. Surprised by his lewd acts, you clenched around his length as you came all over his cock.

You gasp when he lands a slap across your face. It was not painful but just hot enough to make your cunt clench painfully around him. “Did I ask you to fucking cum?”

“N-no,” you whined.

Jungkook pulled out and manhandled you on your belly, pulling your hips up. His large hand pushed your face into the mattress, gripping by your hair.

“Then how dare you fucking come,” he moaned as he plunged back. “Fuck, your cunt is always ready to take my cock,” he rasp, spitting on his cock as he pushes back in.

His other hand holds the cuffs around your wrists, cigarette clutched between his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you moan and bite the sheets.

“Such a fucking slut, my whore,” he pulls your head back and spits on your face, smearing it and pushing his fingers down your throat as you choke on them.

His hand left the cuffs and brought the cigarette to his mouth and clutched it between his teeth and wrapped that hand around your neck, keeping you in place.

The drool was running down your chin to your breasts. He has never been this rough with you but fuck, you would poke him every day if he turned into this demon.

You turned your head to the side to look at his face. His hair was sticking to his face, his lips wrapped around the cigarette. He took a drag and blew it in your face. He was hot.

Your tongue licked his fingers and moved as if giving a blow job. A smirk pulled on his pretty face. He plastered your back to his hard front, removing his fingers, he tossed you back on your back.

“Open your mouth,” he said as he climbed on top of you and slapped your face with his heavy cock. He ran his pink head around your lips. You wrapped your lips around his swollen head and sucked it with hollow cheeks. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his cock. He pushed it all into your throat, making you gag around him. He was all the way down your throat. He pinched your nose and fucked your mouth. You could taste his salty precum in your mouth.

With every second, his thrusts got sloppier. Your lungs burned with the lack of air. You thrashed under him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as the thick spurts of his cum started to hit the back of your throat. He pulled his cock out and pained your face with the rest of his cum.

He sat next to you and smeared his cum all over your face. You were so fucked, and coughing as you were finally able to breathe again. “Would I let myself cover that bitch in my cum? Fuck no.”

He brings the same hand down to your cunt and fingers your hole “or this?” he said and stumped the burning butt on the ashtray.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“What?” still fingering your quivering pussy. “You thought this was over?” he scoffed and stood up.

From the drawer, he pulled out the lube and unclasped it. Pulling you by your legs, he brought you to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your legs apart, he bent you in half. Your knees were touching your chin. You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body jerked when he poured cold lube on your tight rim.

“Wha-” you began.

“Take whatever I give you,” he rubbed your rim with his fingers and slowly pushed them in. “So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you so good, y/n, gonna fuck that shitty thought out of your fucking brain,” he scissors your tight hole. “Look at your cunt, I knew you were a fucking whore for me. You are dripping everywhere,” he runs his fingers across your sensitive cunt and bends down to suck your clit in his mouth as he helps you get used to his fingers in your ass.

When relaxed enough, he replaced his fingers with his cock. His blunt head pushed past your back hole. “Daddy!” you screamed at the intrusion.

“Yes, baby. Scream for Daddy. Beg me to fuck your hole full of my cum,” he sank more and more of his cock into you until his pelvis was touching your thighs, growlung. He pulled your legs around his shoulder and leaned down to capture your pointed nipple in his mouth, letting your hole ease around his length. “So fucking tight. Remind me to fuck you more here.”

“Fuck me!” you whimper, letting him know you were ready. Your loins were on fire.

Jungkook found it hard to keep his breath equal. He was just as ruined as you were. He finally pulled his aching cock slightly out then plunged it back inside with a forceful thrust. Slowly, he started to fuck you harder and harder.

Your mouth fell open, hot noises came out of your mouth. Your tits juggled with each sharp thrust. You had no thought left in your brain. If someone asked you your name, you wouldn't remember.

Jungkook looked at your juicy pussy and pushed his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Your back arched painfully and you let out a silent scream, clenching around his cock tightly, you came all over him.

His eyes were wide open as he looked at your cunt squirting over yourself and him. He slapped it, making you tremble with shocks running down your body.

His cock twitched in your hole, finally bursting and filling your asshole with his hot cum. He slowed his thrusts and slumped over your shivering body.

He had never come so much before. His own body was trembling with how hard he came into your hole. Your heartbeat was running wild against his ear, matching his own.

Your sight was to behold. Your face was covered with his cum and spit. Your makeup was running down your face. So fucked and beautiful. Your pussy and asshole was throbbing with how sensitive they were. Your cheeks, both face and ass, were red from the slapping and spanking.

Jungkook pulled his phone and took a picture of you so that he could show you just how fucked and gorgeous you looked when you were not dazed.

“Did you see what you just did?” he asked you, looking at your dazed, cum and spit-coated face. “Baby?” his eyes widened when he saw you breaking down.”

You surprised Jungkook and yourself by squirting. Now once in your whole life, you ever squirted. “Mmm,” too tired to speak. You just wanted to hug him close and cry, not because you were hurt but because you were overwhelmed with strong orgasms he pulled out of you. “Hands,” you whispered.

Jungkook quickly pulled out, making both of you hiss in sensitivity. He took the key and unlocked the cuffs from your back. Your wrists were red and bruised. The sheet underneath was torn by how hard you were clutching them. Jungkook pulled you into his lap and kissed your wrists.

You wrapped your arms around him and silently cried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry,” kept repeating.

You pulled slightly and took his face between your hands. “I loved it,” you muttered around his lips. “I’m just overwhelmed and overstimulated, that's all.”

Chuckling, he kissed your lips. Your tongue tangled with his as he rubbed your back with a soothing hand. He then picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. “I would run you a bath but I can't wait to cuddle you, baby.”

He helped you under the warm shower and clean yourself. His gentle hands washed every part of your body. You flinched when he cleaned your pussy.

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sitting on the sofa chair in your room as Jungkook changed the sheets.

You both ruined the previous one completely. “Maybe we should keep them in memory of our first filthy fuck,” He joked but you knew he would indeed wash them and keep them in his closet.

Jungkook brought you to the bed and helped you under the blanket. He rubbed the ointment on your wrists, too, and gave you water and a little snack.

Cuddling you close to his chest, he lit another cigarette, kissed your shoulder and then your head. You both shared the cigarette back and forth while talking.

“Baby, never doubt my loyalty for you,” he muttered. “Why would I cheat on you? You are my part. My love. My heart. My soulmate. My freaky partner. My everything.”

You shifted in his hold, “I just— I don't know, she is so much better.”

Jungkook frowned, “the fuck not. She is not. You are! You are my woman, my wife. The most gorgeous, beautiful, magnificent, immaculate, majestic, marvellous woman ever.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. Your body was still recovering from all the lewd things he did to you. “Promise me you will fuck me like this more often?”

Your husband laughed and tickled your sides. “Aren't you a dirty girl?”

“Only for you,” you kissed his chest.

“If I had known, I would have fucked you like today way before… and made you squirt…” he peppers your skin with kisses. Then he looked into your eyes with seriousness. “Tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to fire her, yeah? I don't want that bitch to work under my name. I won’t accept such behaviour. And she made you cry and doubt my love so she must suffer.”

You would ask otherwise but this one time, you won't mind. You don't want her to work for him either. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby…” he cuddled you even closer and dropped an innocent kiss on your lips as you slowly drifted away, letting the sleep overtake you.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@jjkkkk15

Have a nice day/night💓

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[rottenfyre]

Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

[stuffandthangsandangelwings]

Logan nodded. " Yes it is." He kissed her cheek. He takes her hand. " Are you ready baby ?" He asked with a soft smile. With that he takes her into the apartment building. It's a little run down but it had a comforting quality. He leads her to his apartment. The number 17 looking like it was going to fall off any minute. He was about to unlock it when it opens from the inside.

" Hey Peanut !! Where the fuck have you been !" He's wearing a hoodie, the hood up. It obscures his face at the door so Fan can only see half of it. His entire face is covered in markings, almost as if he were burned but different. He looks at Logan before he sees Fandas behind him. " Ohhh... So what ? You got a girlfriend and disappeared for a few weeks....I get it she's gorgeous." He gives her a wave. "Hey , Sweetcheeks!"

He fell with a thud, the metal fused to his bones making him sink deeper into the snow.

He gasped for breath, one of the bullets in his chest, had hit his lung. His vision blurred and goes black.

The last thought he had was how sore he'd be once he woke up. And with that he passed out in the snow. His blood painting the snow around him.

@fan-maddson

[sinofwriting]

Karma - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,396 Summary: Charles and her had plans. 2025 would start with her fully moving in with him and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they’d become public. A certain rapper ruins that in Vegas. Note(s): Lamar!Reader, Reader has the nickname ‘Butterfly’, slight smau, changed results of Abu Dhabi, also yes the title is referring to the Taylor Swift song, lol. Thank you @burningcupcakefire for encouraging me to write this when I mentioned the idea!!!

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Charles could privately admit that when all the diss tracks started to come out, he more than paid attention to them. He had always appreciated Kendrick’s music but in the past year had gained a new perspective of him as both an artist and a person. All because he had started seeing the artist’s younger sister.

They hadn’t gone public yet, were still unsure of when they wanted to. He had reservations about putting more eyes on her and considering how his fans, how motorsport fans were, he could only imagine the baseless claims they’d made, the attacks they’d lay at her feet and Y/N, or Butterfly as she had been nicknamed by her brother’s fans, a nickname that had quickly caught to everyone in her life, had her own reasons.

She didn’t care about what fans would say, they were behind a keyboard, she could be perfect, and to Charles she was, and they would still find something to pick at, there was no winning. It was the attention he brought. She was already sometimes followed around by paparazzi just because of her brother, she knew that as soon as the news broke, she really would never be able to get her groceries in peace without some divorced thirty-year-old shouting questions as he took photos of her.

So they both had agreed that after the new year, when she was finally fully living with him in Monaco, and then at the Monaco Grand Prix, they would reveal their relationship, that of course didn’t go to plan because of one Instagram story.

—

—

Butterfly is fuming when he gets back to his hotel room, the curtains drawn back and letting the lights of Vegas spill into it, onto her. She’s nearly as stunning here as she is on his balcony in Monaco that faces the coast. A gorgeous backdrop that can’t even come close to her beauty no matter how much it tries.

Her fury makes arousal simmer in the pit of his stomach and his lips twitch upwards when she leans into the kiss he presses to the corner of her lips.

“You're nearly as mad as when he mentioned Whitney.”

She scowls at the verbal reminder of that shit. “He’s lucky I’m a civil adult.”

“Very civil.” Charles agrees.

“I mean, honestly what the fuck does he think he’s doing. Acting like he got an interest in F1.”

Charles listens as she starts to rant, having clearly waited for him, and he listens as undresses. Gathering his clothes up as her voice increases in volume and he gently tugs her with him into the bathroom, turning on the shower before easily lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her hands pausing their gesturing to run over his arms in thanks before she continues.

She rants through his brief shower, nearly slipping when she begins to read out texts between her and her brother.

“He is pissed?” His voice is nearly high, head poking out of the shower to look at her with wide eyes.

Butterfly looks at him in confusion, head cocked to the side. “Baby, of course. Your family. We don’t stand for shit like this against family.”

Charles can’t even point out that said shit is just an insta story of Drake saying he’s betting on him to win the grand prix, because he knows it feels deeper than that, especially with Drake’s history of betting. His mind is far too focused on the word family.

“I’m family?”

She lets out a laugh, tongue running over her teeth. “Baby, you got with me right before one of the worst times for our family and stuck through it. You never had to prove yourself, but that did it. You're stuck with all of us now.”

He feels warm all over at the words and he ducks his back into the shower, quickly rinsing off before climbing out, barely remembering to put a towel around his waist before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Her hands eagerly run over his back, legs opening to pull him closer and he tries to keep his upper body away from her, not wanting to get her shirt wet, but she pulls him closer and he can’t resist her, has never been able to.

“You’ve made me all wet.” She teases when they break apart.

He tries to apologize, but then she’s taking his hand and pressing it between them, against her leggings, and the feeling of wetness pulls a moan from the back of his throat.

“You are very lucky that I don’t listen to Andrea.”

“Very lucky.” She agrees.

—

“K said you had an idea.”

Charles lets out a hum, fingers trailing over her ribs.

“He wouldn’t tell me what.”

His fingers pause. “I was thinking instead of staying in Vegas tomorrow we go and see him.”

“We leave for Qatar on Monday.”

“We can make it back to Vegas in time for our flight. It’s barely a two-hour flight from there to here.”

This time she hums.

“Can we go public?”

He nearly chokes. “What?”

“Public, I want to go public. We had kind of talked about doing it before Monaco next season, but things have changed a bit.”

“Because I’m family.”

She laughs, “Yeah, baby, because your family.”

“What if we do a uh soft launch?”

“A soft launch?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a picture with your brother for my insta stories, start following you, you follow me back.” Excitement starts to build as he speaks.

“I post a little something about being in Qatar.”

“We do a little date night in Abu Dhabi.”

She hums, “You kiss me after you win Abu Dhabi.”

“You think I’m going to win?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. First Ferrari driver to win there and you’ll overtake Norris in the standings and maybe Ferrari will finish P2 in the constructors.”

“I like this plan.”

She smiles. “I like it too.”

—

—

—

—

“Yes Charles!”

“Yes!” He screams over the radio. “Where did Carlos finish? Where did Norris, Oscar?” He wants to celebrate the win, but the constructors and drivers are far more important.

“Carlos P6, Norris P3, Oscar P10. You are second in the drivers. And we are second in constructors, 2 points between you and Norris, four points between us and McLaren.”

“Fuck.” The excitement in him is simmered with resentment. Four points was all it came down to and of course it wasn’t in their favor.

“Charles, Charles,” Fred’s voice is thick over the radio. “You did fantastic, another win for you and an amazing drive!”

He smiles, taking his hands off to wave at fans as he slowly moves around the track. Italian easily spilling from his lips as he thanks Fred, Bryan, the mechanics, engineers and the whole team.

It’s satisfying to pull his car to the number one spot as Lando takes off his helmet, jaw twitching. Charles wants to shake him because how can he be this focused on second in the drivers when him and his team won the constructors. He stares at him for a second before getting out of the car and throwing himself into his teams arms.

They easily catch him, hands patting all over, his name spilling off lips over and over again. They grip him tighter before letting him go to take off his helmet and balaclava.

The air is refreshing against his face and normally he's taking a drink of water, starting to put back on jewelry, but today he’s searching through the crowd of red, heart thumping when he finally notices her.

She’s to the side, beaming at him as Bryan stands on her left while his mom and brothers stand to her right. And he goes to her.

His hands easily going to her face, holding it gently before kissing her.

She’s mumbling something against his lips and he wants to know what, but he can’t stop kissing her. Not when she’s clutching at his arms, pressing closer to him. But a nudge to the ribs makes him pull away, breathless, and his tongue runs over his swollen lips.

“So proud of you, baby! So fucking proud!” She yells at him as he’s pulled away for a post race interview and he can’t help but blow her a kiss, happy to have won in front of her for the first time and in front of his family again.

[lovesturni0l0s]

FLUFFMAS DAY 21/22: chris realizes he does want to get married

seeing his gf as a bridesmaid makes him realize that maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad

wc: 1.1k

lmk if u wanna be tagged 🫶🏻

a/n: so sry this didn’t get out yesterday i was super busy 😭

dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws

chris’s POV:

I had never understood the hype around weddings, or even the need for them honestly. It all seemed like too much fuss and stress for one day, and if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with someone I didn’t need to declare it in front of hundreds of people that I didn’t really like.

But when Y/N asked me to be her date to her friend’s wedding, where she was a bridesmaid, I couldn’t say no. Not to her. Even if I didn't enjoy weddings or having to get all dressed up I was gonna go and pretend to have fun because I knew it would make her happy.

On the day of the wedding I showed up to the venue a little early so I could find her before the ceremony began. I texted her telling her where I was so she could come find me, knowing I would get lost looking for her on my own.

“Chris!” I heard her call from behind me and when I turned to her my jaw fell in shock. I had seen her dressed up before but not like this and I was in awe of how gorgeous she looked. I stood frozen, staring at her as she walked up to me laughing, “Hi handsome” she smiled.

“I am the luckiest man alive” I smiled as I gently grabbed her waist, pulling her close to me, “You look absolutely stunning baby.” I smiled at her. “Thank you love” she blushed, “you clean up pretty nice handsome.” She said as she adjusted my tie. “Only for you” I winked, “As much as I would love to stay with your corny ass I do have bridesmaids duties I gotta get to so I’ll see you in a bit.” She said as she kissed me before heading off.

I managed to find a seat with some of Y/N’s friends that I had met a few times and caught up with them while we waited for the ceremony to start. Once the ceremony began my eyes were immediately locked on Y/N as she gracefully walked down the aisle with one of the groomsmen.

She was carrying a small bouquet of flowers in her hand and her smile brightened when we locked eyes across the rows of people. Throughout the entire ceremony my eyes never left her. In their vows the couple talked about their love for each other and how they couldn’t wait for the start of the rest of their lives.

Listening to their vows as I watched Y/N I knew she was it for me, as I saw her smile at her friend, her eyes flicking to mine for a moment, I wondered how I had ever not known I wanted to marry her. She could have a fancy castle wedding with a thousand people if she wanted, and I would be there with a smile on my face, grateful to be loved by her.

We spent the rest of the night dancing and laughing with her friends under twinkly lights that made her eyes glow. “You are so beautiful.” I said quietly as she wrapped her arms around my neck as we swayed to a slow song. “Thank you my love.” She smiled, kissing me gently. Her glowing presence captivated all of my attention.

The next day I found a jewelry store and with the help of her best friend I found a beautiful ring that I hoped she would love. When I came home, the ring tucked in my pocket, she was still asleep in bed. “Morning pretty” I whispered as I laid back down next to her, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Mhm, morning” she whispered, half asleep, “I brought you coffee and your favorite muffin” I smiled, knowing she’d wake up. “Food” she said as she stuck her hand out, eyes still shut, “kiss first” I teased as she slowly opened her eyes. “No gross I have morning breath” she groaned, hiding her face, “and I don’t give a flying fuck” I laughed as I leaned over, kissing her gently before handing her her food.

I laid with her as she slowly woke up, with the help of her coffee and muffin, “We got plans today, I need you to put on one of your pretty sundresses and be ready in two hours.” I told her, “What are we doing?” She asked, “that’s for me to know and you to find out baby.”

Once she was dressed and ready I took her to a secluded spot on the beach, “What are we doing Chris?” She asked, confused. “Well I know the beach is your favorite place so I figured this was the perfect spot” I smiled at her confusion, “perfect spot for what?” She asked, laughing.

“To ask you to spend forever with me” I smiled as I got on one knee, pulling the small velvet box out of my pocket. “Chris?” She said in shock, her hand flying to her face to cover her bright smile.

“Y/N, I have spent the last three years of my life having the pleasure of loving you and being loved by you. You have become my favorite person and everyday I learn something new about you that makes me fall even more in love with you. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out, and when I saw you standing at that altar yesterday I knew I would be an idiot if I didn’t marry you. Nothing in this world would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you so Y/N, will you marry me baby?” I asked, smiling up at her through tears.

“Yes! Oh my god! Yes I’ll marry you Chris!” She said as she choked through tears while I slid the ring on her finger, wrapping my arms around her waist as she clung to me. “Oh my god! I love you so much, holy shit!” She laughed in disbelief as I held her tight against me.

Nick, Matt, and her best friend burst into cheers, as she turned to them, smiling in shock. “I knew you wanted someone to take pictures and I figured who better than Nick?” I smiled as she wiped her tears. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you Chris.” She smiled as I kissed her, her lips pulled up into a smile against mine.

And even though I always said I would never cry at my wedding, when I watched her walk down the aisle towards me, I couldn’t help it .

tags🫶🏻: @bernardsbendystraws @colorthecosmos444 @sturnihoelooo @endereies @matts-myloverboy @hoes4matthew @sturniololuv08 @emely9274 @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @lovergirl4gracieabrams @conspiracy-ash @h3arts4harry @17twelch17 @iluvchriswglasses @prettyybunnyy

[nneteyamss]

ROSES — 19. FAWK

(partly written)

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y/n walked to the park, clutching her jacket closer to her body. the december air blew into her face making her cheeks red as she buried her face further into her scarf.

“why the fuck couldn’t i have picked somewhere warm… my ass should not be put in the cold at 8 o’clock at night.” y/n mumbled to herself, already regretting leaving her warm bed. from a distance she spotted intak seated on a bench, looking at his phone. he was bundled up in a big winter jacket and a scarf wrapped around his neck. yet he had hat, letting snow fall and stick to his black hair. intak suddenly looked up hearing y/n approach and stood to greet her.

“hey… thanks for meeting with me, sorry it’s cold.” guilt instantly ran through y/n’s body because he seemed nervous.

“sorry for making you wait, i don’t know why i picked outside..”

“no it’s okay, i just got here a couple minutes before you.”

y/n simply nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. the silence was lasted as neither of the two said anything after that.

“uhm do you want to sit? i cleared the snow off the bench.” he gestures to the bench and she nods. they sit down and another awkward silence fills the air.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” y/n turns to him, breaking the silence.

“oh right! i wanted to apologize again about the other day. i shouldn’t have kissed you without asking or so suddenly like that.”

“i appreciate and accept your apology, but why were you there?”

“i don’t know how to explain this without sounding crazy but i knew jaehyun was going to be there, and i had a weird feeling he was going to try something. i came in disguise and i approached you because i saw him walking up to you” y/n started at him with a blank stare, processing what he just said.

“so you were stalking me?”

“well no… but yes? yes to an extent!” intak fumbled over his words, not expecting that question. he thought of it more as keeping an eye out on her for a space she knew the man she so says didn’t like was going to be in. now that she said it though, it kind of seemed like stalking. “sorry” he mumbled.

“your disguise was ass by the way, you should’ve asked shota for his fake mustache” she giggled looking ahead of her. the situation was getting too serious, and she felt the need to make it more lighthearted.

“no way… he said the SAME thing. how do YOU know about the fake stache?”

“i’m the one who bought it for him of course!”

“this is like a full circle moment, what the fuck.” the two laughed together at the moment. who would’ve ever thought that shota having a fake mustache would arise in this convo. however, the laughter eventually died down and intak turned serious. he turned to y/n and grabbed her hands, which were now out of her pockets.

“listen, i need to talk about the main reason i wanted to talk. please don’t say anything until i’m done.” he was dead serious, y/n nodded and pushed down any jokes she could’ve made in the moment. “we’ve been fake dating for a couple months now. we both know the original reason this started. but y/n… i really like spending time with you, like a lot. you’re funny, gorgeous, caring, and so much more. i didn’t plan it but i thought this was just gonna be some fun side quest activity. the more time i spent with you and got to actually know you and your personality, the more i started to actually like you. i tried to fight it off because i mean this relationship wasn’t real and i’m your brothers friend, but i can’t help it. i really… really want this to be real. we get along so well, and there’s a connection. what i really called you out here for was to ask this. i really really like you, could i have the honor of being your boyfriend?”

the long speech was followed by silence. one blink, two blinks, no words. embarrassment gnaws at intak who immediately started to regret asking out of fear of her not feeling the same. yet, he didn’t say anything and let her take her time.

“intak, i didn’t know you felt that way. i feel like this is very sudden though. i need to think about this before i answer, im so sorry” intak nodded and gave her hands a squeeze before letting go. “i’ll text you, i just need to think.” she said again before standing up.

“that’s okay” he gave her a small, yet warm smile. his cheeks were red and his hair was getting damp from the snow. y/n reached forward and pulled his jacket hat onto his head.

“you should get home before you get sick… it’s cold and you don’t have a hat.” the words left her mouth quietly, but intak still heard since the night was quiet was well.

“you should get back as well”

y/n nodded and put her hands back in her pockets, “i’ll see you.” she said and began making her exit of the park and going back home, leaving intak standing in the cold. by time she got in her car and started driving away, intak made his way to his car, waving as she backed out the parking spot.

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taglist (closed): @cloudmrk @yyangj3lly @vehaez @mmjhh1998 @gomdoleemyson @alethea-moon @jkslvsnella @starfilledgaze @solvrse @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @nerdsungie @lovesuhng @tokitosun @dokgrayson @222brainrot @jakeshuneybby @antifrggile @cyjzzl @nctseventeensworld @bloomyroses @doughyk @lovefooi @chaerinmin @chenlesfavorite @urlocalbeaner5 @thegracerammy @lionzyon @fairyoflia @haefelt @sunflowerbebe07 @seventeeneration @apolloxxivmin @onlyhyunjin @pinklemonade34 @adorwooks @angelpiixie @jkxlvrr @hisrkive @sunghoonsgfreal @zzurao @mango-bear @bee-the-loser @callita @lttlekomori @neozon3nha @calssunflower @natokkiz @joonsprettygf

notes: lalala guess who finished finals, passed all their classes, and got back to work again this week (i need to make all the money i can over break for psyfe and 127 concerts) 🙂‍↕️

[vikasmama]

✮ thinkin’ of helping pitfighter!vi after a loss.

cw. — (men + minors dni!) afab!reader, lowkey pwp, public sex, mirror sex, free use? kinda, hair pulling, light degradation, creampie, butchcock ˆᵕˆ use of “pretty thing”, “gorgeous”, & “baby”, vi is going through it but she’s still a lover at heart yk

“aah! mmgh— fuckfuck! oh my g-god, viii!”

you’re shameless, moaning her name like you’ve known it more than half an hour. given, you’re being stretched out so good you can barely focus your vision and she’s hitting angles you weren’t even aware existed… how could you not?

“you’resso loud,” vi slurs her hushed words due to the fading alcohol in her system. “whole damn club’s gonna hear.”

anything she says is going in one ear and directly out the other. the swell of her dick inside you is immediately addicting. her rough, bandaged hands hold your hips tight, pulling you back to meet hers over and over with no escape. you’re holding onto the sides of this grimy bathroom sink like it's life or death, much more worried about staying standing than your volume. she’s big, and so fucking good, the drag of her heavy girth relentlessly pushing into you threatens to make you drool.

she lets out her own ragged grunts and moans as she commits to having every one of her thrusts knock the wind out of your lungs. she can’t control it. after such a horrible day, and a loss in the pit to top it off, there was you. so beautiful and sweet in the middle of this bustling nightclub, so eager to listen and take her mind off some things. then she gets you here and you’re so soft, pliant, taking everything she gives; she finally sinks herself into you, just the tip. vi’s been at heaven’s gates a couple times, but that feeling might’ve really been it. she couldn't wait more than a few seconds for you to adjust, plunging into you and chasing your warmth. now she can’t stop bullying her cock into you, forgetting the rage she’s been nursing listening to you fall apart for her.

“ffuck— aah ‘m sorry!” your words don’t come easy. you can literally feel her in your throat. “you- nggh, you’re so deep, vi!”

“you don’t even give a fuck, huh? wan’ people to hear? those friends you were with- haah, know you’re this much of a whore?”

a long whine leaves you at the name she uses, your thighs shaking a bit. along with your incessant moans, the obscenely wet sounds of your cunt sing beneath you, filling the dark bathroom. yet your voice, your response is the one thing she doesn’t hear, and she frowns at the realization that she doesn’t like being ignored.

vi snakes a hand up the expanse of your back, fisting it in your hair once she reaches your nape. she cranes the top half of your body up so you’re facing the mirror in front of you, and now you can also watch how deliciously she splits you open from behind. a sob catches in your throat at the image. the dim lighting above shrouds you both, luckily enough to highlight the sweaty, debauched faces you both made. “look at yourself, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy,” vi emphasizes her last word with a sharp thrust. it makes your eyes scrunch close, and without missing a beat her grip in your curls tightens. she pulls you up and back at attention, harshly. “look.”

staring at yourself, growing dumber and dumber by the second — god, it’s hot. some of her fighting makeup is smudged against your cheeks from aggressive kissing earlier. your mouth falls open repeatedly with the sounds she fucks out of you, lurching forward towards your reflection with each movement. you two make eye contact in the mirror, and she smiles deviously, leaning her strong body over you and bringing your faces side by side. she exhales a moan as you clench around her, your walls lovingly hugging each vein and groove of her length.

“such a pretty thing like you gettin’ dicked down by a stranger.” she coos next to your ear, highlighting the depravity of your situation. your pussy talks back for you, squelching from the vigor of vi’s fucking. the slaps of skin against skin start to reverberate louder as your wetness cascades down your thighs, sticking to both of you in a lewd mess. she just won’t let up, fuck, you’re getting close.

her piercing gaze meets your fucked out one and her eyes could roll back because you look good. so fuckin’ sexy taking her dick like this, like you were made just for this, for her. she isn’t even mad anymore. it’s selfish and strange because you’ve just met, but right now vi thinks she could have you bent over every surface she could find for the rest of time.

she leans back and continues using your hair as leverage to fuck into you as deep as she was. she tucks some stray hairs out of your pretty face, helping both of you see better. the hold she has in your hair starts to sting and yet it feels great, the searing pain balancing with the overwhelming pleasure you feel with each kiss to your cervix. her cockhead twitches inside you at the same time you feel that unmistakable pressure in your core. you're so full, almost too full, and you're delirious - would it be so bad to let her cum inside you? you whimper at the thought and she almost laughs, though she’s cut off by her own desperate moans.

"s-shit, baby, oh my..." vi trails off, thrusts losing power as she grows more sensitive approaching her high. "y'feel good, gorgeous? so- fuck, so fucking good, yeah?" trying to nod proved to be useless with her fingers entangled in your hair so tightly, and she wasn't accepting the lack of verbal answer, anyway.

"say yes." her demand is clear though her voice is hoarse with need. vi finds her drive again quickly, picking up her unabating pace. you cry out, gushing out against her as more of your slick is produced from her movements. "mhm, and look at yourself. watch how pretty you are cummin' all over me. gonna look so fuckin’ good-"

"yes! yesyes- mmph, so good. best i've ever had," you're babbling, loud. she's in awe of you, the crease of your brows, your pink, swollen lips catching every desperate plea that tumbles out your mouth, the way your eyes once again catch hers in the mirror as you continue to beg. "hah, i'm gonna cum! gonna cum for you, vi pleease."

"yeah, i know. cum on my dick, baby, c'mon." vi releases your hair to resume her hold on your hips, roughly prodding the flesh as she fucks you through it with the same force she'd consistently kept. your moans compete with the club's speakers, at this point. vi's breath hitches as she feels her own climax build once again, letting such cute whines slip past her lips behind you. fuck, you love it, you can't get enough—

"inside, ngh, please! cum inside, fill me up!" before your brain can properly connect to your mouth, you're begging for her to breed you, stuff you fuller than you already were. and to your delight, with the immediate spike in her speed and the dirty, filthy way she starts to moan alongside you, you were gonna get just that.

"fuck, what a slut. i'mma give it to you, all of it, baby. fuckfuck-"

as soon as you feel your coil burst, cumming over her and squeezing her tighter than she's ever felt, vi's cursing and trying not to double over on top of you as her dick spurts. you can feel that she cums a lot, the warmth coating every single inch of your walls. she feebly thrusts a few more times, just working you both through the aftershocks of cumming so hard before she starts to shiver from the overstimulation. still, she stays plugged inside you which you're thankful for, letting out a content hum to self soothe. vi softens her grip on your hips, kindly massaging the areas while you both take a breather. you roll your shoulders back, wincing a bit at the ache when you rise from your position.

the light above the mirror flickers, and your eyes flit up at it before seeing vi, her gaze softened with a satisfied grin peering back at you. a giggle escapes you, and you give her the same sweet, gentle smile you had before you both ended up here.

"you feel better?"

"so much better. you healed me, baby."

— ♱*.ﾟvikasmama.

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2

Part One

Note: Big things happens in this continuation.

word count: 1542

Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 

“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.

As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. “I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 

Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.

Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 

“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 

You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 

“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 

Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 

Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 

Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 

Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 

Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much…..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 

He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.

“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 

Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”

Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”

Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”

Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”

Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.

Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 

He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.

“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 

Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom… I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”

“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”

Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”

“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That….. That changes things completely.”

Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more… vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”

“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”

“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.

“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”

“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 

General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.

“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 

“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.

“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”

[qrrieterisunnq]

Marino smut where he gets jealous easily please but not because she’s like smoking hot because of her personality so he tries not to let his teammates talk to her😂😩🥴

Jealousy, Form of Love - John Marino

MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: sex scenes, fluff — SUMMARY: John is jealous because of your warming personality, which leads to him fucking you hard after he finally introduces you to his teammates, and you are friendlier than you should be. — WORD COUNT: 2,12K

You are the definition of people saying, ‘I don’t care about looks, but personality is all that matters.’ It was not that you were ugly or something; you were gorgeous, but that was not what caught John’s eyes; it was your friendly and sunny personality.

You always need to help people even though they are mean to you and keep saying they can manage themselves.

Whenever you see a cat alone on the street, you immediately want to take her home. If it weren’t for John, you’d have an apartment full of stray cats.

That is exactly why John fell for you and doesn’t want you to get to know his teammates. They would fall in love with you the moment you'd have to speak, that’s just who you are. But when he finally gets the courage to introduce you to his teammates, he knows he’ll regret it the moment you talk to them.

“Are you babygirl!” John looks down at his watches, making sure they still have time. “The ride is about fifteen minutes, so you better move your beautiful ass over here before I come for you.”

“Just a second, J,” you yell back from the bedroom as you are finishing your outfit and some touch-ups on your makeup. And I’m done!” you say with a smile, taking your handbag from the bed and making your way into the living room, where John is leaning against the wall, his hand folded across his chest.

“Can we go now?” he asks with annoyance in his voice but the beautiful smile on his lips tells you he’s everything but annoyed.

“Yeah, baby! We can.” You giggle soothing your dress, so it looks perfect.

“You’re gorgeous, babes!” he smiles at you pulling you towards him by your waist for a quick kiss. “Now come on, or we’ll be late!”

“We won’t babe! We still have fifteen minutes. Don’t stress yourself.” You kiss his cheek on the way to the door where you put on your sneakers and open the door for him.

“Yeah, you’re right, now let's go!” he smacks your ass urging you to go first so he can lock the doors.

“So, this is the popular y/n? Am I right, Johnny?” Sean asks with a smirk as he watches his teammate reddening from jealousy. Sean takes your hand and kisses the top with his eyes glued to yours.

“Yeah, I guess that is me,” you giggle at Sean’s questing turning your head to the side to look at John, whose cheeks are red. “It’s nice to meet you, —” you stop yourself realizing you don’t know his name.

“Oh, I’m Sean! Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” You shake his hand and step back, feeling John’s rising chest on your back. You melt into his presence and find his hand to interlock your fingers with his.

“Nice to meet you, Sean,” You smile at him, playing with John’s fingers as you smile nervously. “So, you do this Christmas party every year?”

“Yeah, for the past few years, I’ve been on the team, every year. And this year it was my turn, so I hope you like it,” he chuckles looking around his apartment. “My girlfriend helped me, actually. I can introduce you to her.”

“Oh yeah sorry. I completely forgot that Johnny is on a new team.” you giggle and rest your head on John’s shoulder, feeling his lips on your temple.

“I'm going to get you something for a drink,” John whispers in your ear before taking off to the kitchen.

“So, what do you say?” Sean asks with a grin on his lips.

“Yeah sure, let’s get meet her.” you giggle following Sean inside the living room where most people are.

“Baby!” he sighs when he sees her in a group of other wags. She smiles at him, pecking his lips and whispering something to him. After a while, Sean looks back at you with an encouraging smile. “Baby, girls, this is y/n John’s girlfriend. You haven’t met yet, because she was out of the States.” he introduces you with a smile.

“Hi?” you wave your hand with a nervous smile.

“You are so beautiful! By the way, I am Sadie!” Sean's girlfriend pulls you in a hug, making you feel welcome.

“Girl, you are gorgeous,” You yell slightly, slapping a hand over your mouth afterward. “Like drop-dead gorgeous.” You sigh, laughing with the other girls as Sadie blushes at your words.

“Oh, Can I keep her?” A girl on your left says with a grin on her face. “Please? I already like her! Johnny!” she yells, making you all giggle. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, Beth.” She smiles, reaching out her ebony black hand to shake yours.

As you get to know the girls, John makes his way to you just a few minutes after Beth yells his name. He looks at you with a grin, but that changes as soon as he sees Beth’s face.

“What happened?” he immediately asks, handing you the drink he made for you. He looks you up and down for some injury but finds nothing.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I—” Beth points her finger at her. “—am keeping her.” And then at you with a grin on her lips.

“Beth, you know her for what?” he looks at you with jealousy written in the wrinkle on his forehead. “Five minutes and you want her? No way girl. I saw her first.” He shakes his head, curling his hand around your waist, and brings you to his chest as you giggle at his reaction.

Beth sends you a wink and grins at Johnny, saying, “Oh, come on, Johnny-boy. You can share a little, can’t you? She’s got enough sunshine in her for all of us.”

The girls erupt into laughter, and you find yourself chuckling along, feeling an unexpected warmth from this new group of friends. John, however, wasn’t quite ready to let his guard down.

“You’re not supposed to charm everyone within seconds, you know,” he whispers in your ear, his voice a mix of exasperation and pride.

You lean into him, a playful grin on your lips. “I can’t help it, babe. It’s who I am.”

Sean approaches with another drink in hand, giving John a knowing smirk. “Looks like Y/n’s already a hit. Don’t worry, mate. We’ll try not to steal her from you... yet.”

John rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew this would happen. He knew they’d adore you, just like he did. And while the jealous pangs prick at him every now and then, he can’t deny how proud he feels seeing you light up the room.

“And you never will.” You say, patting his hands that are lying on your stomach while his head is resting on top of yours.

“Eww, stop being so cheese.” Sean shakes his body in disgust earning a slap from his girlfriend. 

“Go away and take Johnny with him. We wanna have some girl-talk here with y/n.” She wiggles her brows at you, making you giggle.

As the evening wears on, John’s patience is tested further. Sadie introduces you to the other woman in the group. And not long after, you become the center of attention. Whether it is story sharing, complimenting their outfits, or laughing at their jokes, it looks like you have wrapped them around your finger.

From across the room, John keeps a watchful eye on you. He can see how effortlessly you charm everyone, and while he adores that about you, it doesn’t stop the jealousy from shimmering beneath the surface. His jaw tightens whenever some of the guys make you laugh a little too hard or linger too close.

When Sean’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a drink, John decides he had enough. He strides over, wrapping an arm firmly around your waist and pulling you close to his side.

“Having fun?” he asks, his tone deceptively light but his eyes sharp as they flick to Sean.

You nod your head, obvious to the tension radiating from him. “Yeah, everyone is so nice! Sean was just telling me about—”

“Yeah, Sean’s great,” John cuts in, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “But I think you promised me a dance, didn’t you?”

You blink up at him in surprise but smile, nonetheless. “Oh, did I? Well, let’s fix that then.”

He leads you to the makeshift dance floor, his hands possessively settling on your hips as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze make your breath hitch.

“John are you okay?” you ask softly, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Just reminding everyone who you belong to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, with John staying glued to your side, his presence a constant reminder to anyone who might forget that you were his. By the time you both say your goodbyes and step out into the crisp night air, his jealousy reaches a boiling point.

The walk home is quiet but charged with unspoken tension. You can feel it in the way his hand grips yours a little too tightly, in the way his jaw is set, and in the way, his eyes burn with something dark and possessive every time he looks at you.

John doesn’t waste any second the moment you step inside your apartment. He kicks the door shut and spins you around, pinning you against it with a force that takes your breath away.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, his hands framing your face as his lips crash onto yours. The kiss is hard, demanding, and filled with all the jealousy and desire he’s been holding back all night.

“John,” you gasp when he pulls away, his lips moving to your neck. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Watching every man in that room look at you like they wanted you,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Hearing them flirt with you, laugh with you… Do you know how hard it was not to lose it right there?”

“But you know I’m yours,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I do,” he says, his voice rough. “But tonight, I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Before you can respond, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with purpose. The air is thick with anticipation, and as he lays you down on the bed, his eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping them possessively as he hovers over you. “And I’m going to show you just how much.”

The room is filled with the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the walls. John’s touch is both fervent and tender as he begins to explore every inch of you, his lips following the path of his hands. Each kiss, each caress is deliberate, as if he is trying to etch himself into your very soul.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes search yours, the raw vulnerability in them catching you off guard. “You’re everything to me. No one else gets to have this—gets to have you.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you reach up to cup his face, pulling him into a kiss that speaks of your own devotion. “I’m yours, John. Always.”

He smiles against your lips, a soft chuckle escaping as his hands roam lower, drawing a gasp from you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go—not tonight, not ever.”

He gets rid of all your clothes laying on top of you with his cock laying directly on your pussy. He presses his lips to yours in a hungry kiss whiles his hand reaches between you, angling his cock on your entrance.

Still kissing you he pushes his cock deep inside you, drawing a long, loud moan from your lips.

He moves his hips in frequent motions, while he rolls them every now and then, getting more of the pleasure. You roll your eyes, when his cock touches the spongy spot deep inside you, bringing you quickly to your ends.

It takes you both only a few more minutes of John’s harsh thrusts and you both fall over your edges.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm still a little bit scared of a/b/o (LOL 🤣), but I am really excited to read this fic, because I LOVE fated mates/soulmates, and I'm also getting a little bit of forced proximity and grumpy/sunshine and I LIVE AND BREATHE GRUMPY/SUNSHINE 😂😊

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

The physical description of Dean is SO good. The use of "stern" and "stubborn" as descriptors fits well for Dean.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

Oh suuuurrrreeee keep telling yourself that Dean.

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

So what you're saying is... she's trapped in a cabin, she's got a broken ankle, in the middle of a snowstorm with no way out and no communications, with a ruggedly hot mountain man with gorgeous green eyes, a gruff exterior, and a mysterious past... Sign👏🏻 Me👏🏻 Up

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

So ready for Dean to just obliterate all her other experiences with total jerks.

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

I live for the after a nightmare comfort trope (if it is a trope? 🧐) and I am SO happy you put this in. Oh my goodness it was so sweet of him to come check on her, and for you to give us a little bit of insight inside of Dean's POV during those moments where she was terrified. This part stuck out to me, because the man is already hook, line, and sinker. He literally tried to go to a cabin in the middle of the woods to get away from it all, but fate really has an odd way of catching up to you. Can't exactly run from it Dean.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

OOooooooOOOooooo shots fired. SHOTS FIRED... But did she stutter??

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

I'm losing it over the fact that Sam named his son DEAN Jr. 😂🥰 And also the bit about "running full speed into glass doors" is making me cackle lol.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

This line is so Dean, it's PERFECT, and I really love that it was what made the reader try to snort her diet Pepsi.

And I just want to say thank you for giving Dean the kinda "homemaker" role in this fic. The fact that he's making food for the reader (I'm obsessed with men who can cook) and taking care of her is just:

There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes. Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself. If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

Oh no Dean, you're not like the Cabin in that way. The cabin is made of strong aged wood that keeps out the chill and is full of warmth! The cabin withstands the elements and doesn't fall no matter how hard the howling wind blows! Dang it, I have way too many emotions over that line. Alex, why did you have to do this to me 😭 It's SO GOOD!!

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him. He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate. Which means he’s already screwed. 

I also really like that he doesn't want to admit it and that he didn't believe anyone was out there for him. It seems very Dean for him to be in his head A LOT and being a little self-deprecating. And I'm not sure if you were trying to say that the reader was also a little skeptical about the true mates and if it is a real thing that happens, but I can't wait for part 2 to see if they actually admit it to each other or if they try to keep it a secret as long as they can! Also the song choice perfectly fits the vibes in this fic 👌🏻

My lovely friend, this was so good and I can't wait for part 2!!!

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels. 

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity. 

Alpha. 

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth. 

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.  

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone. 

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious. 

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes. 

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral. 

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means. 

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time. 

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less. 

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs. 

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that. 

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that. 

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch. 

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes. 

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into. 

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.  

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.” 

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone. 

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.  

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.  

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here. 

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night. 

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.” 

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled. 

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

 You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile. 

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.” 

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think. 

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. 

“Wow,” he says. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.  

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player. 

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand. 

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.” 

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.  

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. “This thing is so expensive.” 

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.  

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips. 

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him. 

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work. 

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood. 

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest. 

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room. 

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know. 

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong. 

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic… 

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it. 

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them. 

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right. 

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally. 

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”  

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment. 

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly. 

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his. 

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed. 

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

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[that-vexaholic-cryptid]

The 'BOTW has a bad story' people really confound me because let me tell you, if it weren't for that story I wouldn't be in this fandom.

My attachment to this game comes from the fact that it was 2020 and I was freshly dealing with the worst phase of my life when I decided to put that game in. I'd never been part of the fandom before, in truth I'd avoided it for years because it felt too big anymore to pick up. I'd only bought it because it was the most popular Switch game I knew outside of Animal Crossing.

And I fucking hated it at first because I was in no way a gamer and it took me forever to get the fuck off the Plateau. But once I was out and able to explore, I started having fun. Just doing random shit. Until one day I decided fine, I'll follow the fish guy.

And all the little cutscenes and quests that followed got me into it. And it had such momentum I couldn't put it down. Before I know it I'm dodging ice blocks and doing midair archery trickshots that I NEVER would have imagined I'd be doing. After all that, you've got to do the Beast, right? That's what all this is for. So I did, and let me tell you, as a first time Zelda player and novice gamer, those puzzles were HARD, Vah Ruta was MASSIVE to me and took hours!

So when I finally solved it and knew the boss fight was next, I was ready to go to bed. It had been enough and I knew I'd get my ass kicked, maybe I'll come back soon. So I saved. And for some reason I decided, since I know it's going to kick my ass, I'm just going to take a run at it and see how bad it's gunna be, it'll be funny. And I honestly don't recall how that fight went because it was such a blur, but I remember being SHOCKED that I won. Just absolutely stunned.

I was so full of adrenaline and righteous joy. How'd this even happen, this was supposed to be so out of my range yet, the plot just pulled me up a mountain and it was awesome! And then, that beautiful music comes in, and you finally see Mipha, and she's so sweet and soft and sad, and so wishes to help you on your journey that she'll use her spirit to heal you. It's so poignant and, damnit, Mipha didn't deserve this fate, she must be avenged! If you weren't in the story before, you might be then, and if not then, then when you walk back down and see Sidon praising you and saying how he was right to believe in you, and all the Zora that doubted you are now cheering for you, and the rain is gone, the sun is out, and Zora's Domain looks absolutely gorgeous, and it dawns on you that you just saved an entire people, and you're gunna tell me you went through all of that and don't genuinely feel like a goddamn hero!?

I don't believe you.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

19 - My Sea Of Solace And Sympathy

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected piv (wrap before you tap) shower sex, sexual healing (hehehe) probably inaccurate medical crap but I try my best

A/N: I thought we might be due for some light SMUT. I couldn't pick a gif for this chapter so just Jake's beautiful side profile was it. As always comments, reblogs, and like are very appreciated! Hope you enjoy! Twisters chapter is on it's way also in the next day or two!

Also! I'm going to put the link for the playlist in the Masterlist so it won't be linked on each chapter anymore.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie

Jake wanted to see his brother, but the doctor recommended he wait until he was out of his sling to do that. He was counting down the days. But the one thing he wasn’t counting was time with Sam. He never put a timer on it. He never looked at the clock. He never begged for more and would never bargain for less. He was happy with whatever time he got to spend with her and now that it was every single day, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He was going to miss her like hell when he finally went back to flying. It almost made him not want to do it anymore, but he needed to be back up in a jet. He needed to so that he could get promoted and become an Admiral. That was his ultimate goal, knowing in his heart and his mind that it would be the best way to provide for Sam and be there for her too. His priorities had changed.

Sam helped him out of bed in the morning and he immediately knew it was going to be a bad day, pain wise. He was sore and stiff and walking from the bedroom to the bathroom didn't loosen anything up. He groaned, having not taken any of his meds yet. He usually didn't until he went downstairs. 

“Dogs?” Jake rasped and Sam nodded as she placed her hands at his waist to steady him. She turned the water on for the shower, not too hot but not too cold. Today was a bandage change day, so she carefully pulled the wraps around his ribs off and checked his stitches. The doctor had to reset some of his ribs to heal correctly and he would need to have x-rays to check how they were healing in a couple weeks. Once the stitches were healed he wouldn't need the bandages anymore. 

Even more than that, Jake couldn’t fucking wait to be out of his sling. He wore it at all times except to bathe. It was uncomfortable and annoying. It inhibited him from doing a lot, but he had figured out ways of doing things he really needed to do. He couldn’t work out so he’d taken to walking and every so often he’d jog a few steps. He probably shouldn’t be doing that with broken ribs but he was going stir crazy. 

“Javy and Maisy took them for a walk. Javy's in love with your dog I think. And Rocco really likes them.” She said as she helped him pull his sling off and gently cleaned his stitches with a wipe. She pulled his boxers down and then guided him into the shower. 

Now that they were a couple of weeks into him being home, this had become his favorite part of the routine. Sam would help him into the shower and then strip herself and hop into with him. He would stand there, while she took off the shirt she’d worn to bed, which was usually one of his Naval Academy ones, or the Tornado Wrangler one his brother had gifted him last Christmas. Her tits would bounce as they were freed from under the shirt. Then, he would gawk at her as she slid her lacy panties down her hips, down the curve of her ass, over her voluptuous thighs, and let them pool at her cute, bare feet. She would always glance at him, and a blush would spread across her cheeks as he took in the sight of her gorgeous naked curves.  

Sam would then hop in the shower with him. She would efficiently wash him off, wash herself, and then tentatively, they would spend a few moments making out under the warm stream of water. No matter how painful his body was, this never failed to make him feel better. 

“How bad is it today?” Sam asked softly. Her arms had settled low around his waist, as she couldn't put them around the back of his neck without it hurting him. He held his arm flat against his stomach to prevent himself from moving it, but his other arm rested around the back of her neck. He absentmindedly threaded his fingers through her hair.

“Feelin’ pretty shitty today but this always helps. Can we try something?” He smirked and pressed closer to her. Her eyes caught his and she tilted her head slightly. She had a feeling she knew what he was going to ask by the lasciviousness that dripped from his expression.

“Jake...I don't know...your ribs...” Sam said, with a small grin beginning to form on her lips. Jake leaned in and kissed her ever so gently. He drew his hand from the back of her neck and trailed his fingers down her arm, linking them with hers. They continued kissing for a few moments as Jake guided her hand down to his cock. She gasped, and pulled back and gazed up into his eyes. There was a wildness there that had been building since he’d gotten home.

“I'll be fine. Trading a little pain for pleasure.” He nearly moaned the last word as he reached up to cup her cheek and pull her into for another kiss. He tangled his fingers back in her hair as she wrapped her hand around his length. She tested the waters and pumped a few times. Jake took in a sharp breath and whimpered. “Fuck, Sam. Need you. ” 

“We can't Jake. I can't hurt you. I'm supposed to be taking care of you...” She whispered and Jake covered her mouth with his again. 

“ You...are... ” He murmured against her lips, letting his hand drift down her neck, lowering to cup one of her perfect breasts. “ All I could think about...how perfect you are...”

“Jake...” Sam sighed, realizing how much she missed him touching her. They had been hesitant to touch each other very much, knowing it would get them both too riled up, but Jake was feeling entirely too pent up this morning. His hand let go of her breast and slid down her stomach, splaying wide over the soft muscle there..

“ How wet are you for me, Samantha?” His voice was deep and husky as his lips touched her neck. She pressed her nose against his cheek and nipped at his earlobe. His fingers traveled further down, swiping two through her folds before dipping just his middle finger inside of her. He moaned when he felt how easily he was able to slide it in. “ All that for me....” 

She felt his cock twitch in her hand and she decided to continue slowly. Fuck it, he wants this so bad, s he thought as she met his gaze again. Green had dissolved to a darker shade as their lips met and Jake worked a second finger inside her. He pressed his thumb over her clit in slow circles, adding to the pleasure building low in her belly. Sam squeezed carefully as her fingers slid up and down his shaft. She had him writhing in her hand and that was when he stopped and grabbed for her, causing her to cease her movements.

“ Shut the water off and bend over.” He demanded. She reached back and shut the water off and caught sight of his pupils, blown wide with lust. 

“Jake...” Her voice was sharper and his brows knitted as he pulled his fingers from her. She couldn’t help the wanton whine that escaped her at the loss.

“You won't hurt me. Please, Samantha . I need you. And I know you need me. We need this.” Jake said, begging for another kiss. She obliged and then she turned, knowing he was right. She hadn't really thought of it until now, but she did want him just as bad as he wanted her. The shower was small enough that she could easily place her hands on the wall to balance herself. 

“You do all the work, honey bun. I'll just enjoy the view.” Jake said as he pulled her wet hair to one side so that she could glance over her shoulder at him. His fingers traced the dip of her spine and then stopped at her hip. He drew her against him and Sam reached behind her, guiding Jake's length inside her effortlessly. They both let moans escape their mouths as she pushed all the way back against him, until he'd filled her completely. His hand traveled around from her waist and he placed two fingers between her legs, and began to work her clit again. 

Jake wanted so badly to grab her hip with his other hand but he knew he shouldn't. He knew he needed to let his collarbone heal and take what he could get, as Sam began to move her back and forth against him. Jake fought the deep urge he had to thrust into her. He fought every bit of carnal instinct coming to the surface and just let her use him. He wanted this. He'd begged her for it. His brain was beginning to get fuzzy and he knew as soon as they had begun that there was no way he'd last long. He couldn’t, not with the admiration he had for the gorgeous curve of her ass and the flawless tanned skin of her back. How could a being so perfect exist and be his at the same time , he wondered. 

“ Goddamnit Sam, you feel so fuckin' good. Where do you want it?” His voice was ocean deep and breathy as he picked up the pace with his fingers. She stuttered in her movements and slowed, canting her hips at a different angle so she could feel him deeper.

“Inside, Jake, it's okay.” She whimpered and he pulled his hand away to brace himself at her hip bone, his blunt nails digging into her skin as he came inside of her. She followed him shortly thereafter, pussy fluttering around him as she toppled over the edge of her orgasm. The amount of control he had exhibited had impressed Sam and he'd even impressed himself. Just his breathing was labored, and his whole body shivered, but he had managed to keep still. This could work for the time being to keep them both satisfied while he healed. Sam straightened up and leaned her head back against his chest carefully. He winced, which she felt, and she went to pull away, but his hand steadied her. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Please stay here. Need this.” He murmured against her hair. She closed her eyes. She felt Jake's shaky breathing behind her and she wondered how much pain he was really in. He wasn't going to tell her because he didn't want to scare her. This was already a lot. They hadn't been together that long and she was taking care of him in ways that one might think only a married couple or the oldest of friends would. She wanted to take the pain and stress away from him. She didn't want him to feel useless, and hearing him say that out loud hurt her heart more than he knew. 

Jake leaned back against the shower wall, the cool tile feeling good on his hot skin. His hand drew lazy circles at her stomach and he smiled. His lips met the shell of her ear and his breath made her shiver as he spoke. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Anything.” She said softly, turning her head slightly to catch his tired expression out of the corner of her eye. 

“You want kids, right? With me?” He asked and Sam smirked and let light laughter escape her lips. 

“Well I sure as hell don't want them with Rooster.” She joked and Jake's jaw tightened. Sam turned carefully and placed her hands on his abs. “Jake...I've never wanted kids to be honest, but you've changed my mind. I want them with you, because of you. I know you'll be a good husband and I can tell you'll be a great dad.”

Jake felt tears sting his eyes. He'd always been called a playboy. He never thought about settling down. He was the complete opposite of his brother. His brother always had a vision of settling with a pretty girl and having a bunch of kids and a farm. Jake always thought he'd be up in the air with his tail on fire and be an Admiral before he was thirty. He was snapped back to reality by Sam's hands caressing his cheeks, her thumbs wiping away tears. 

“What's wrong, handsome?” She asked, her tone soft.

“Not a damn thing, babygirl. I'm just in shock at how much my priorities have changed.” He whispered, touching his lips to hers. As they parted her brows furrowed and her mouth thinned.

“What do you mean?” She asked and Jake sighed heavily.

“I just thought I'd be in a very different place than this. Thought I'd be higher in rank. Never thought I'd have the most perfect girl in the world. So put together, so sure of herself...honestly, I thought hookups were just going to be my permanent. Thought it'd be my hand and girls from the bar for the rest of my life as I climbed the ranks. I didn't need a girl. Didn't want one. Then you came along and you wrecked every damn one of my plans...” Sam smacked him gently and they both chuckled. “I'm so fucking glad you did though.”

“What else did I ruin exactly?” She asked, laying her head on his chest then, sarcasm dripping along with the water on their bodies.

“My grand plan was to be an Admiral...but now thinking on it, what exactly for? Why did I wanna be one? For myself? To be able to say I got there before anyone in my class? No, I really don't know why but now...I still want that...but I want that because I wanna be like Kenny and your dad...I wanna be like Iceman...I wanna have a family that I'm responsible for. You changed that for me. You made me want that, Sam. You .” 

“Jake...why be an Admiral when you could be the Fleet Commander?” Sam wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her voice taking a more serious timbre.

“Oh don't stroke my ego too much, honey bun. I might actually make it a reality.” Jake mused. 

“I wouldn't be opposed to it. When my parents had me, dad was still working up the ranks. He was away a few months at a time and then he'd be home. When he got promoted he was home more often than not. Of course then he got sick...” Sam explained and Jake ran his hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“I wouldn’t want to miss our kid...or kids...growing up.” Jake said solemnly and Sam smiled up at him.

“How many do you want, Jake?” She asked and his lips turned up in a smirk.

“I want two perfect little girls, because I know I’ll be a good girl dad. A boy is gonna be too much trouble coming from me.” Jake chuckled and Sam nodded and pursed her lips.

“And when those perfect little girls are grown up?” She asked.

“Well, obviously they’re not allowed to date Navy guys. I know how they are.” Jake joked and Sam burst out laughing, nearly collapsing against him. He caught her with his one arm and a chuckle built deep in his chest.

“That’s rich, Jake, really.” She said as she pulled away from him slightly. She reached back to turn the water on again. She wanted to rinse off the inside of her thighs. Jake startled slightly at the temperature of the water, beginning cooler than they were both expecting. She stepped under the stream as it warmed up.

“Y’know something? I didn’t think about it until now, but I really love the way you say my name. Sounds pleasant comin’ from your pretty lips.” He said, running his hand across her back and then as she turned back to face him, his fingers ghosted over her hip, rubbing his thumb over the bone.

“I like how your eyes light up when I say your name.” Sam said, reaching up to trail her hands over his chest. He shivered, the warmth of her hands shocking but also soothing over his cooled skin. 

“They do?” He grinned, as did she.

“Ya. You’ve never been Hangman to me. I don’t know that guy. He’s not for me to know either. Jake is mine to know...and only mine.” She murmured, accentuating the last few words with dancing fingers over his abdominal muscles. They tightened and her actions sent a spark straight to his cock, which she noted that it twitched.

“Never thought of it like that but I like it.” Jake’s lids lowered and he leaned closer to her.

“Mmm I can tell.” She said, wrapping her arms around his waist again. He sucked in a sharp breath and then he whispered into her neck.

“Can I have some drugs now? Everything is starting to hurt kinda bad.” Sam gasped and nodded. She turned the water off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. She then helped Jake out of the shower. He thanked her quietly and she could see the pain returning to his expression. She’d given him reprieve for a little while. 

Sam took a moment and looked then, really looked at Jake. The stitches on both sides of his ribcage, the bruising all across his chest that had mostly faded to greens and yellows, almost gone, but still the ghost of them there for her to see. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, but there wasn’t exactly muscle either at the moment. He was thin and it scared her. Not to mention the swelling still present across his collarbone, and down the upper part of his arm. He had a long way to go to get back to himself, but Sam was going to be there for all of it, just like he had been there for her.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

Sam decided that Jake only needed pants at the moment and his sling, and he had agreed. She slung a t-shirt over her shoulder, just in case he wanted it later. She kept a hand on him while he trudged down the stairs, tentatively.

Maverick and Cyclone were supposed to stop by later on. They wanted to talk to Jake now that he’d had some time to settle in. Javy and Maisy had come back with the dogs and the male puppy, Ballast, was eager to see Jake. He reached down and picked the puppy up in one arm and the dog placed his paws over his shoulder, proceeding to nibble on Jake's ear and lick his cheek.

“How come you don't greet me like that?” He joked to Sam and she glared flatly at him. 

“Okay next time we're out in public, I'll bite your ear and lick your face.” She said and he smirked, pressing his nose into the puppy’s fur. The little black dog squirmed and then settled, placing his chin on Jake's shoulder.

“Hey, dude I want one. Your dog is so friggin’ smart. There's that little dog park down the road, the fenced in one, and there was no one around, so we let them all off the leashes. Ballast's recall is crazy good.” Javy said as he moved around Jake carefully. Javy rubbed the puppy’s head and then proceeded to check the fridge. “Maisy and I are gonna go to the store, anything in particular you guys want?” 

“Can you get the dogs’ food if I venmo you for it? I meant to get it yesterday but totally spaced.’ Sam said as she went into the cabinet, where their food was, to check the brand names. 

“Sure can. Maisy is gonna make dinner tonight. Tacos.” Javy said, licking his lips. 

“I’m in for that.” Jake said with a smile. He leaned against the countertop, his head nestled against Ballast’s sleek coat. He still had that puppy smell. Jake then remembered the old hound dog, Dixie, that  they’d had as kids. Of course, Ballast was nothing like that old dog, but Jake still felt nostalgic holding the puppy. He remembered him and Tyler coming home to that dog every afternoon, taking her out to the pond to swim with her, letting her chase cows and birds and her running alongside them on trail rides. Jake loved Dixie, but he might love this little pup in his arms more. He had a feeling he would, because this dog was his dog. Not his and Tyler’s but his own. Just like the old raggedy looking painted gelding he had throughout high school, that horse had been his. And now, as he pressed his nose to Ballast’s fur, he thought about other things that were his.

Like Sam.

“Jake? Javy asked if you wanted anything else?” He heard her voice cut through his thoughts then and he glanced at her and shook his head, but stayed silent. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinkin’ is all. Nothin’ bad. Just got caught up in my thoughts.” Jake murmured and Sam rubbed his back comfortingly, like he would do to her. Javy gave Sam a puzzled glance and Maisy said bye as she dragged him out the door. 

“Are you planning to put a shirt on to talk to Mav and Beau?” Sam asked with a lilt of humor in her voice  as she placed a cup of water and his medication on the counter. 

“Gotta put you down, bud.” Jake said, bending down and groaning as he did. Ballast jumped the last foot to the floor and wagged his tail, sitting at his human’s feet. Jake turned and took his meds and drank the whole cup of water and then settled his gaze on Sam. “It’s a power move if I don’t right?” He laughed and Sam shook her head with a smile. 

“You’re fresh, you know that?” She said and he pulled her in for a kiss with his free arm. 

“It’s the only way I’m getting through this, honey bun. Well, that and your excellent bedside manner.” He wiggled his brows and their lips connected once again.

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty: Freckles Of Deceit SS: - (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 6.1K Content Warnings:

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As Chan and Ayame descend the stairs, their hands clasped together, Ayame huffs quietly, her heels clicking against the polished wood. Chan's grip tightens slightly each time she takes a step, as though she might faceplant at any moment.

"Seriously," Ayame says, throwing him an exasperated glance. "I practically live in stilettos. Your knight-in-shining-armour act is wasted on me."

"I'm being a gentleman," Chan retorts, not letting go. "And this is the thanks I get? Unbelievable. You're mean, shortcake."

"At least I'm consistent," Ayame quips, tugging lightly against his grip as if testing his resolve. Spoiler: he doesn't let go.

At the bottom of the staircase, Ayame stops abruptly, causing Chan to bump into her slightly. She turns to face him, narrowing her eyes. "Your tie's crooked."

"I'm not falling for that one again," Chan says immediately, taking a step back. "You're gonna pull it tight like you're in the fucking mafia, aren't you?"

Ayame rolls her eyes, stepping closer anyway. "You're impossible. It's actually crooked, genius. Stay still."

Chan stays frozen, watching her fingers deftly adjust the knot. She works quickly, her eyes focused, and he feels the warmth of her hands brushing against his chest through the fabric of his shirt. When she steps back, she tilts her head, inspecting her handiwork.

"There. Fixed," she says, satisfied.

"No attempted strangulation?" Chan teases, his voice low, as his hands move to rest lightly on her arms.

Ayame smirks up at him. "Nope. I need you alive for later. Dead men can't do all the things I'm imagining right now."

Chan barks out a laugh, his grip on her arms tightening slightly. "No more discount Chan?"

Ayame shakes her head, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "Nope. I prefer the real thing."

Chan's grin falters for a moment as something warm flickers in his gaze. His eyes flicker down to her dress, lingering for a beat before he meets her eyes again. "You look gorgeous in this, by the way. It matches your eyes."

Ayame blinks, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. She's about to reply when a high-pitched, cheerful voice cuts through the moment.

"Chris!"

They both turn toward the source, and a petite, elegant woman strides toward them. She's dressed in a form-fitting navy dress, her dark hair swept into an effortless updo. Her face lights up as she closes the distance, pulling Chan into a tight hug.

"Hi, Ma," Chan greets, his voice softer as he wraps an arm around her.

"You made it!" Jess exclaims, pulling back slightly to pat his cheek. "You didn't even text me when you got here, you brat."

"I got distracted," Chan says, glancing at Ayame with a sheepish grin.

Jess follows his gaze, her eyes landing on Ayame. Her smile widens instantly. "Oh! And who's this?"

Ayame steps forward, extending her hand. "I'm Ayame. It's so nice to meet you, Dr. Bang."

Jess waves off the title with a laugh. "Oh, call me Jess, please. 'Dr. Bang' makes me sound like I'm about to perform a colonoscopy. And finally, I get to meet you!" Jess takes Ayame's hands in hers, her grip warm and firm. "She's just adorable, Chris. I'm keeping her. Forever."

Ayame lets out a nervous laugh, glancing at Chan. He's grinning like the Cheshire Cat, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. "Uh, thanks. That's very... sweet."

"Sweet, smart, beautiful," Jess says, tilting her head as she examines Ayame with the precision of a seasoned surgeon. "What else am I missing?"

"I'm really good at Mario Kart," Ayame offers weakly.

Jess laughs, delighted. "Oh, I like her, Chris. I like her so much."

Chan shrugs, his voice laced with amusement. "Told you she was a catch."

Jess glances between them, her smile growing sly. "Well, don't just stand here. The rest of the family is going to love her."

"Oh no," Ayame mutters under her breath, shooting a glare at Chan who smirks. "You set me up."

The snow drifts softly down, landing on Ayame's hair and shoulders as she adjusts her green dress. Sitting next to Chan in the front row, she sneaks a glance at his father, Jack, whose expression is as cold as the weather. Jess sits on Chan's other side, beaming, a stark contrast to her husband's stone-like demeanour.

Jack leans over, his voice low and sharp. "Didn't think you'd show up. Not after the last time."

Chan's jaw tightens, but before he can respond, Jess places a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "Jack," she says brightly, deflecting. "This is Ayame, Chris's date."

Jack's gaze shifts to Ayame, scanning her from head to toe with a barely concealed frown. "You look young," he says bluntly, before turning his attention back to the aisle as if she isn't worth another second.

Ayame blinks, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity. She leans toward Chan, whispering, "Your dad makes you look like a fucking Care Bear."

Chan stifles a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. "A Care Bear?"

"Yeah," Ayame murmurs, glancing at Jack. "But like... the kind that eats children in its free time."

Chan shakes with silent laughter, his shoulders vibrating against hers. "Stop," he hisses under his breath. "You're going to get me in trouble."

"You're already in trouble," Ayame replies smugly. "Might as well have fun while we're here."

The opening chords of the wedding march begin to play, drawing their attention to the aisle. Felix appears at the far end, his tailored black tuxedo fitting him like a glove. The lights reflect off his perfectly styled blonde hair, and his freckles give him a boyish charm that balances his sharp, sophisticated look.

Ayame leans toward Chan, her voice soft but teasing. "Your brother cleans up well. Too bad he's not single."

Chan gives her a sidelong glance. "Don't even think about it, shortcake. He's a good guy. You'd ruin him."

Ayame pretends to sigh dramatically. "Damn. There goes my chance at happiness."

"Play some Bonnie Tyler," Chan mutters. "Where have all the good men gone?"

Ayame snickers, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

The flower girl starts down the aisle, her tiny hands flinging petals with wild abandon. Half of them don't even land on the aisle, but her determined expression earns her a collective "aww" from the crowd.

"She's adorable," Ayame whispers, her tone genuinely warm.

"Not as adorable as you freezing your ass off," Chan retorts, noticing her arms crossed tightly against the chill.

"I'm fine," Ayame insists, her teeth chattering faintly. "You wanted me to wear this dress because it's booby, so I'm toughing it out."

Chan doesn't reply with words. Instead, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The warmth of his body seeps through her thin dress, and Ayame allows herself to lean into him slightly, though she refuses to admit it feels good.

"Better?" he asks, smirking.

"Shut up," she mutters, though her lips twitch upward.

As Soojin appears at the end of the aisle, Ayame's attention shifts. The bride is radiant in a sparkling white gown that hugs her figure before flaring into a dramatic train. Her glossy hair and flawless makeup scream perfection, and Felix's expression lights up with pure adoration as she approaches.

Jess dabs at her eyes with a tissue, whispering, "She looks so beautiful."

"She does," Ayame agrees, then leans toward Chan, her voice low. "But, uh, has she got lip fillers?"

Chan doesn't miss a beat. "And Botox. Half her face is frozen. She's had everything done—lips, jawline, cheekbones. Her face is worth more than my car. Probably wouldn't even dent if she was shot out of a cannon into a tree."

Ayame chokes back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "You're such a gossip."

"Stick with me, shortcake," Chan replies, his tone light. "There's plenty more where that came from."

As the ceremony begins, Ayame shifts in her seat, trying to stay warm and interested. Chan notices her restlessness and leans closer. "Bored already?"

"I thought weddings were supposed to be fun," Ayame mutters, glancing at him.

Chan smirks. "Not when my father and Soojin's father paid for it, and her mom planned the whole thing. That woman has the personality of unbuttered toast."

Ayame grins, leaning into him slightly. "I like this side of you—the honest, slightly bitter Chan. Feels real."

He chuckles, his thumb brushing her shoulder absentmindedly. "Stick around, and you'll see all my sides."

As Felix and Soojin exchange their vows, Ayame tilts her head, watching the scene unfold. Despite her usual cynicism, she feels a small tug at her heart. She glances at Chan, who's watching his brother with quiet pride.

"I bet you'd make a good groom," she whispers, the words slipping out before she can stop them.

Chan's gaze flicks to her, his smirk softening into something gentler. "Maybe. But I think I'd need a pretty great partner for that."

Ayame raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching. "Good luck finding one."

Chan grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I think I'm on the right track."

Ayame stands by the bar, clutching an empty champagne flute in one hand. A waiter glides past, and with the precision of a seasoned wedding attendee, she snags a fresh glass of champagne. She barely raises it to her lips when a voice slices through the pleasant hum of the reception.

"Felix's family is driving me fucking insane. Please tell me you have a joint hidden somewhere."

Ayame turns to see Soojin, the bride herself, standing next to her. She's stunning, of course, with her gown catching the light like a goddamn diamond commercial. But there's a sharpness in her gaze and a mischievous curl to her lips that Ayame immediately respects.

"Oh, I fucking wish," Ayame replies, a grin tugging at her mouth.

Soojin sighs dramatically, leaning against the bar like a damsel in distress. "Meth, then? Rat poison? Any controlled substance to get me through another conversation with Dr. Jack Bang."

Ayame laughs, shaking her head. "Sorry to disappoint. Just champagne over here."

Soojin clicks her tongue. "Ugh, you're so boring. But thanks for not lying to me. Everyone else keeps telling me how perfect everything is. Even my mother-in-law is acting like I didn't veto half her ideas."

Ayame chuckles. "It's a beautiful wedding, though."

Soojin waves her off, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, thanks. I had to threaten the florist's firstborn to make it happen, but sure. Anyway, you're Ayame, right?"

Ayame freezes for half a second but nods, holding her glass a little tighter. "That's me."

Soojin gives her a knowing look, her smile widening. "I've been dying to meet you. Felix keeps saying you're the reason Chris actually showed up today."

Ayame blinks, caught off guard. "I'm pretty sure that's not true."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it is," Soojin replies, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Chris doesn't come to family stuff unless someone drags him there. And, babe, you've got 'dragged him here' written all over you."

Ayame forces a small laugh, unsure of how to respond. "Well, I guess I'm doing my part."

Soojin's gaze sharpens, her smile turning sly. "Worked out for the best, though, right? I mean, Chris and I were never a good match."

Ayame's brain stalls. "Sorry—what?"

Soojin tilts her head, her expression turning playful. "Oh my god. He didn't tell you, did he? Chris and I dated for, like, a year."

Ayame's stomach flips. "A year?" she echoes, her voice carefully neutral.

Soojin nods, laughing lightly. "Yeah, back when Felix and I were just friends. Honestly, Chris and I never really clicked. It was always... I don't know, surface-level? But Felix? We just made sense in every way. Once we figured that out, everything fell into place."

Ayame stares at her, every muscle in her body tightening. "Huh," she says, her voice dry. "Imagine that."

"And you're only twenty-five, right?" Soojin adds, her tone too casual to be anything but pointed.

Ayame's nails dig into the stem of her glass. "That's right."

Soojin leans back, her smile softening. "Well, you've done a great job, you know. Keeping Chris grounded. That's not easy. Anyway, I should go mingle before Jess notices I'm avoiding her. It was nice meeting you."

Before Ayame can respond, Soojin drifts off, radiant and carefree, leaving Ayame standing alone by the bar with a hollow feeling in her chest.

She glances across the room and locks eyes with Chan. He's standing with Jess and Felix, mid-laugh, but the moment their gazes meet, his expression shifts. His smile falters, and his eyes widen slightly as he notices Soojin walking away from Ayame.

Ayame lifts her glass in mock salute before draining it in one go, the champagne burning its way down her throat. She waves down a passing waiter, holding up her empty glass. "Another, please," she snaps, her voice sharper than she intends.

Chan starts to step toward her but hesitates, caught by Jess's hand on his arm. He looks back at Ayame, concern flickering across his face, but she's already downing her second glass like it's water.

The waiter returns with a third, and Ayame takes it without hesitation. Her hand shakes slightly as she raises it to her lips. "Cheers," she mutters bitterly, her voice low. "To clarity. And fucking chaos."

The cold bites at Ayame's exposed arms as she leans against the railing at the lookout point, staring blankly over the snowy landscape. The lodge, surrounded by towering pines and draped in white, looks like something out of a postcard. But Ayame doesn't feel the magic. Her dress is useless against the biting chill, yet going back inside feels impossible—too many fake smiles and polite conversations waiting to swallow her whole.

Behind her, the crunch of footsteps through the snow breaks the stillness. Ayame doesn't turn, her jaw tightening as the sound draws closer. She knows who it is before she hears his voice.

"You're going to freeze your ass off, shortcake," Chan says, shrugging off his coat and draping it over her shoulders.

Ayame pulls the coat tight around herself, but she doesn't look at him. "Who let you off your leash? Did your family even notice you left?"

Chan leans against the railing beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. "Not yet. What are you doing out here in nothing but a dress? Trying to test your limits?"

She shrugs, keeping her gaze fixed on the distant treeline. "Needed some air. People in there talk too much."

"Pot, meet kettle," Chan teases gently. "You're the queen of running your mouth."

"Yeah, but I'm funny," Ayame shoots back. "Everyone else in there just wants to talk about how the napkins match the floral arrangements."

Chan chuckles under his breath. "Fair point."

For a moment, neither of them says anything. The silence between them is heavier than the snow falling softly around them. Finally, Ayame breaks it, her voice quieter now.

"Is she the reason you brought me here?" she asks, not meeting his gaze.

Chan straightens slightly, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"Soojin," Ayame clarifies, turning to face him at last. "Did you bring me here because of her? Because you wanted to rub it in her face or something?"

His brow furrows, confusion giving way to something softer. "No. No, Ayame, I brought you here because I wanted you here. That's it."

She narrows her eyes at him, the corners of her mouth pulling down. "Then why the fuck didn't you tell me about her?"

Chan exhales, the cloud of his breath disappearing into the cold air. "Because I didn't think it mattered anymore. And honestly? I didn't want to talk about it. It's embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" Ayame echoes, incredulous. "You didn't cheat, Chan. You didn't dump her for her sibling. You're the one who got fucked over."

He looks away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, but telling people about it makes it real, you know? And everyone already sees Felix as perfect. I didn't need another reason to feel like the failure in the family."

Ayame studies him for a long moment, her irritation softening into something more empathetic. "Chan, your brother might be the golden child, but he's got freckles of deceit."

A startled laugh escapes Chan, and he turns to her, his smirk returning. "Freckles of deceit?"

"Yup." Ayame nods solemnly. "And Soojin? Fake lips, fake ass, fake personality."

Chan huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't hold back, do you?"

"Not when I'm right," she replies, lifting her chin. "Which is all the time."

He leans on the railing again, looking out over the snow. "You're not wrong. It's just hard seeing them together. Like, it shouldn't bother me anymore, but it does."

"Of course it does," Ayame says, her tone softening. "You're not a robot. Today sucks for you."

Chan glances at her, his lips quirking into a small smile. "It sucks less with you here."

She grins, linking her arm through his. "Damn right. Now, let's go find some booze. I'm pretty sure champagne is the only thing keeping this family reunion bearable."

Chan laughs, shaking his head. "I'll drink to that."

As they turn back toward the lodge, Ayame glances up at him, her sly grin returning. "Oh, and just so you know, apparently I'm your 'younger model.' That's what everyone in there is calling me."

Chan snorts, his shoulders shaking. "Figures. You're way cuter than Soojin, though."

"Damn straight," Ayame says, nudging him playfully.

Together, Ayame and Chan walk back into the reception hall. The warm glow of the lights and soft hum of laughter and conversation fill the air. Jess spots them almost immediately, her warm smile shifting to mild curiosity.

"Oh, where have you two been?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Outside," Chan says smoothly, snagging two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handing one to Ayame. His movements are so casual, so practiced, it's almost infuriating. "Needed some fresh air."

Jess's eyes narrow slightly as she looks between them, her maternal instincts clearly on high alert, but she decides to let it slide. She turns back to Jack, who's deep in conversation with Felix. However, Jack, ever the hawk, zeroes in on Ayame.

"Ayame," Jack says, his voice carrying just enough bite to make it clear he's baiting her. "When you first met Chris, what did you think?"

Ayame tilts her head to the side, feigning a moment of thoughtful consideration. Then, with a sweet smile that could cut glass, she says, "Hmm. I thought he was very good-looking, cold, domineering, and freakishly uptight."

Jack lets out a sharp laugh, clearly not expecting the jab. "I thought you needed ambition to be domineering."

"Jack," Jess snaps, shooting her husband a glare that could freeze fire.

"I'm kidding," Jack says with a faint smirk, though the edge in his tone remains.

Chan, leaning casually against the bar beside Ayame, grins. "For the record, I thought Ayame was very smart, but also a spineless kiss-ass."

Ayame gasps, mock-offended. "Excuse me?"

"It's true," Chan replies, raising his champagne glass with a wink. "It was hate at first sight."

Ayame shakes her head, raising her glass to meet his. "Cheers to that."

"Cheers," Chan echoes, clinking his glass against hers.

Felix approaches their small group, tapping Jack on the shoulder. "Dad, it's time for the speech."

Jack nods, standing and adjusting his tie. "Speech time, huh? Your mother wrote me some notes, but I think I'll just wing it."

"Oh, god," Chan mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. "Lord give us all fucking strength"

Ayame leans in closer to him, her voice low. "Is this going to be bad?"

"Buckle up, shortcake," he whispers. "This is going to be a fucking ride."

Jack steps into the centre of the room, clearing his throat as the murmuring dies down. "I always expected great things from my son," he begins, his voice carrying a note of formality. "And he has never disappointed me. He excelled in med school and has become a truly remarkable physician. It's been an honour to watch him grow into the man he is today. A son any father would be proud of."

Ayame feels Chan's hand brush against hers, and she glances at him. His face is impassive, but his grip tightens slightly when she laces her fingers through his.

Jack continues, his voice warming slightly. "But of all the decisions Felix has made, marrying Soojin is easily the best. She's the perfect complement to him, and I couldn't ask for a better addition to this family."

The applause is polite but warm as Jack steps back, raising his glass toward the couple. Soojin beams, clutching Felix's hand tightly, but Ayame doesn't miss the way Chan's jaw tightens.

As the crowd disperses to mingle again, Chan leans down and murmurs, "Cover for me."

Ayame nods, watching him slip out of the room. She weaves through the guests until she ends up by the massive Christmas tree in the lodge lobby. The soft glow of the lights reflects off the ornaments, giving the scene a picture-perfect holiday feel.

Jess approaches with a knowing smile. "Hi, dear. Have you seen Chris?"

Ayame doesn't even flinch, smoothly lying through her teeth. "He went to find some painkillers. Said he had a headache."

Jess sighs, shaking her head. "That speech probably didn't help. Jack should've just stuck to my prepared remarks."

Ayame offers a sympathetic smile. "He did seem... off-script."

Jess laughs softly, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're here, Ayame. Chris has been talking about you for months."

Ayame blinks, caught off guard. "Months?"

Jess nods, her expression softening. "He says you drive him crazy—in a good way. That you challenge him like no one else does. I think taking that job at the publishing house might've been the best thing he ever did. And meeting you? That's probably the second-best."

Ayame's cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, unsure of how to respond. Before she can, Felix appears, grinning.

"You made it through the speech," he says lightly. Then his eyes flick to Ayame. "Ayame, you look much better."

Ayame narrows her eyes at him. "You prescribed me banana antibiotics."

Felix chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, it was effective, wasn't it?"

"I almost puked on my friend," Ayame counters dryly.

Jess places a hand on Felix's arm. "I need to get back inside before your father has another drink and starts telling everyone about his college days."

Ayame leans against the sturdy wooden post beside the massive Christmas tree, her champagne flute dangling from her fingertips. Felix stands beside her, his blonde hair catching the soft glow of the tree's twinkling lights. Outside, snow drifts lazily against the frosted glass windows, painting the lodge in a serene winter wonderland scene.

The silence between them stretches, comfortable but fragile, until Felix clears his throat and asks, "Do you think badly of me now?"

Ayame doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she stares into her champagne, her lips curving into a wry smile. "Freckles of deceit," she says dryly, tilting her head to look at him. "Blonde hair of betrayal. And that stupid Disney Prince face? Designed purely to deceive."

Felix lets out a laugh, the sound warm and genuine. "Fair enough. But in my defence, I didn't exactly plan for everything to happen the way it did."

"Oh, no?" Ayame drawls, turning to face him fully now, her expression sharp but not unkind. "Did you just accidentally fall into your brother's girlfriend? Was it a slip-and-slide situation?"

Felix winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Okay, I deserve that."

Ayame crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, you do."

He exhales, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly air of the lobby. "Look, I know I'm the asshole in this story, but... it wasn't what you think. Soojin and Chris weren't happy together. She was already halfway out the door when we- When it happened."

Ayame stares at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. "Halfway out the door doesn't mean you push her the rest of the way."

Felix opens his mouth to argue but stops, instead nodding slowly. "You're right."

"Damn right, I am," Ayame mutters, taking the last sip of her champagne and setting the glass down on a nearby table.

Felix watches her, a small, almost sad smile playing on his lips. "You're good for him, you know."

Ayame snorts, rolling her eyes. "Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?"

"I'm serious," Felix says, his tone earnest now. "I've never seen Chris like this. He's lighter, even when he's being an uptight bastard. It's like you've... balanced him out somehow."

"Balanced him out?" Ayame echoes, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You do realize most of our dynamic is me pissing him off, right?"

Felix laughs again, his dimples on full display. "Exactly. He needs that. Someone to challenge him. Chris is so used to being the one in control, the one everyone looks up to. You don't give a shit about any of that. You treat him like he's just... him."

Ayame's teasing expression falters for a moment, her gaze softening. "Huh," she says quietly, more to herself than to Felix.

Felix smiles, offering her his arm. "Come on, let's get back in there before my mother sends out a search party. You don't want to see her in full panic mode."

Ayame hesitates for a beat before slipping her arm through his, her fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of his tuxedo jacket. "Fine," she mutters, shaking her head. "But you still have to live with the fact that I'll never let you forget this. Ever."

"Fair trade," Felix replies, grinning as he leads her back toward the reception room. "But for the record, you might be my new favourite person. Don't tell my wife."

Ayame snorts, smirking. "Don't worry. She'd never believe you anyway."

As Ayame and Felix step into the wedding reception, the tension in the air is suffocating. Jack's voice, sharp and full of venom, cuts across the room, silencing the low murmur of conversation.

"An MBA," Jack sneers, standing tall and imperious, "and you're wasting your days running errands and playing house with some younger tramp who flaunts her tits like that makes up for her lack of brains."

Ayame's champagne flute trembles in her hand as her grip tightens. The crystal stem threatens to snap. Beside her, Felix winces, muttering, "I am so fucking sorry for him."

"It's fine," Ayame says tightly, though the edge in her voice suggests otherwise. "We aren't our parents."

Across the room, Jess places a hand on Jack's arm, her face pinched with frustration. "Jack," she says, her voice low but firm, "maybe you should take a walk before you say something you regret."

"I don't regret anything," Jack replies coldly, brushing her off.

And then Chan speaks, his tone calm but deadly sharp. "You do not talk about Ayame like that."

Jack scoffs, his disdain palpable. "Christopher, if you're content wasting your life, that's your problem. But let's not pretend you've made anything of yourself. If you don't want to be a doctor, at least have the decency to do something marginally noble."

Ayame steps forward, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to detonation. She narrows her eyes, her posture rigid as she stares Jack down. "You don't think publishing is noble?" she challenges, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of several nearby guests. "Contributing to culture? Creating stories that change lives?"

Jack barely looks at her, his lips curling in disdain. "I don't think your boy is making books, sweetheart. I think he's fetching coffee for somebody who is."

Ayame's jaw clenches, her fists curling at her sides. "Do not call me sweetheart," she says, her tone icy.

Jack finally turns to her, his gaze sweeping over her like she's insignificant. "And what are you going to do about it? You're just his young slut, flaunting your body to get places. You think you belong here?"

Chan's hand slams against the table, the sound reverberating through the room. Guests flinch, and Jess's eyes widen in shock. "Enough! You do not talk to her like that."

"Chan, it's fine," Ayame says, her voice low but steady, though her eyes blaze with fury. She places a hand on his arm, stopping him before he can escalate further. "Really. It's fine."

Chan turns to her, his expression conflicted, but Ayame shakes her head, gently pulling his hand away. She steps forward, squaring her shoulders and addressing Jack directly.

"You clearly know nothing about your son," she says, her voice calm but cutting. "So let me fill you in real quick."

"Ayame—" Chan starts, his voice softer now, but she cuts him off with a look.

"No, Chan," she says firmly. "He needs to hear this."

The room is holding its collective breath as Ayame sweeps her gaze around the gathered guests. "I'm sorry for the interruption," she says with mock politeness. "I actually like most of you. Really, you've been lovely. But this fucking guy?" She points a perfectly manicured finger at Jack. "He's a fucking dick."

Felix lets out a loud, unfiltered snort into his champagne, and Soojin quickly hides her laugh behind her hand, her shoulders shaking.

Jess covers her mouth, torn between horror and amusement, while Jack's face turns an alarming shade of red.

Ayame takes a step closer to Jack, her chin tilting up defiantly. "Chan has more integrity, more grit, and more brains in his little finger than you've ever had. You think he's wasting his life? Newsflash, your perfect little surgeon golden boy over there-" She gestures to Felix, who raises his glass with a sheepish grin. "-spent years following your orders, and you know what? Even he thinks you're full of shit."

"Ayame," Felix mutters, his tone half-warning, half-impressed.

Ayame squares her shoulders, her voice cutting through the murmurs in the room. "Chan's boss, who is CEO in title only, is a sleazy prick who can't even tie his own shoelaces without fucking it up. Chan runs that place. Actually, we both do."

A collective gasp ripples through the room, but Ayame doesn't flinch. She holds Jack's gaze, unrelenting. "The only reason L&M didn't go up in flames after the merger is because Chan oversaw a reduction of the workforce by- What was it?" She glances at Chan for confirmation.

Chan raises three fingers on one hand and five on the other.

"Fifty-three percent?" Ayame guesses, quirking an eyebrow.

Chan shakes his head, barely containing his amusement. "Thirty-five."

"Thirty-five percent," Ayame corrects herself, smirking. "Like I said, the whole time. Because I don't make mistakes. And because of that, over two hundred people kept their jobs. Two hundred families didn't lose their livelihoods. But yeah, Jack, he's not a doctor. Who the fuck cares?"

Felix snorts, turning away to hide his laughter. Soojin elbows him, her lips twitching as she tries not to grin. An elderly woman nearby gasps audibly, clutching her pearls like they're the only thing keeping her upright.

Ayame steps closer to Jack, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. "Here's what you don't get, Mr. Bang. Chan is smart. He's relentless. He's made me better at my job because I've had to compete with him every single day. He's the reason L&M didn't implode. He's the reason people still have jobs. And the fact that you can't see that your son is fucking amazing is... sad. Honestly, it's pathetic."

Jack opens his mouth to speak, but Ayame cuts him off, raising a finger. "And another thing, your whole dismissive attitude? The 'tramp' comments? It says a lot more about you than it does about me. And for the record, I flaunt my tits because they're fucking amazing, not to impress any man."

The elderly woman gasps again, louder this time, as if the weight of Ayame's words has knocked the air right out of her. Jess presses a hand to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with barely concealed laughter as Chan grins widely.

Ayame turns to Soojin and Felix, her tone suddenly lighter. "Anyway, congratulations to the happy couple. You both look stunning."

She pivots back to Jack, her smile disappearing. "And as for you? Fuck you, Mr. Bang. Fuck your outdated, arrogant opinions. Chan, let's go home."

Chan, who has been watching with an expression of unrestrained delight, grins even wider. "Best idea I've heard all day."

He steps up beside Ayame, slipping his hand around her waist as they turn to leave. Ayame pauses, glancing at Jess. Her expression softens as she says, "Jess, it was lovely meeting you."

Jess steps forward, cupping Ayame's face and planting a warm kiss on her cheek. "You too, darling. You're always welcome in our home. Well, mine, at least."

"Thank you," Ayame says, her voice sincere.

Jess turns to her son, her expression firm but loving. "Chris, call me later. I'm serious."

"Will do, Ma," Chan replies, grinning.

As they make their way toward the door, Felix raises his champagne glass, his voice loud and clear. "To Ayame. The best thing to ever happen to this wedding."

"To Ayame!" Soojin echoes, laughing as she clinks glasses with Felix.

Ayame glances back at the room one last time, catching Jack's stunned expression and Jess's knowing smile. She smirks, tilting her head toward Chan. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," Chan says, his arm tightening around her waist as they step out into the snowy afternoon.

Ayame links her arm through Chan's as they stride quickly out of the reception hall. The chilly afternoon air bites at her exposed skin, but the sting is nothing compared to the rush of adrenaline still surging through her. She glances back over her shoulder, cheeks flushed. "Oh my god, everyone was staring."

"You almost killed my aunt," Chan says with a teasing lilt, his voice vibrating with amusement. "She was clutching her pearls so hard I thought they'd snap."

Ayame groans, rolling her eyes. "I am so sorry. Truly, I didn't mean to give her a heart attack."

Chan laughs, his dimples deepening, making him look far younger than thirty. "Don't be. That was fucking brilliant, Lim Ayame. I'm actually mad I didn't record it. You verbally annihilated my father in front of all those people."

Ayame glares at him, tugging him forward. "Walk faster, people are staring!"

Chan slows deliberately, grinning. "Let them stare. You just delivered the speech of the century. Might as well bask in it."

"No, no, no," Ayame mutters. "I don't want them looking. I want to disappear. This is mortifying."

Chan's hand tightens gently around her arm, his tone soft but insistent. "Stop caring what people think, shortcake. They don't matter."

Ayame shoots him a deadpan look. "I can't help it. It's a disease. People-pleasing disorder."

"You need an antidote," Chan says, laughing as they reach his car. "Come on, hop in."

Ayame slides into the passenger seat with a dramatic sigh, crossing her legs and smoothing her dress. "I should be banned from weddings."

Chan slides in beside her, adjusts his mirrors, and starts the car. "If anything, you should be invited to more of them. You made that wedding memorable."

As they pull out of the snowy parking lot, Chan reaches over, resting his hand on Ayame's bare thigh. His fingers are warm, his thumb tracing slow circles against her skin. The motion sends a shiver up her spine, though she doesn't let it show.

"You're going to kill me," Ayame mutters, staring pointedly at his hand.

Chan smirks, his eyes focused on the road. "Oh, relax. It's just a hand."

"It's your hand," Ayame shoots back, her voice sharper than she intends. "There's nothing casual about it."

Chan's grin widens, his thumb pressing slightly harder. "You're dramatic, you know that?"

"Hmm, says the man who smirks like he's the villain in a K-drama," Ayame counters, resting her elbow on the door and staring out at the falling snow.

Chan chuckles. "So, what now?"

"Naked time," Ayame says matter-of-factly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Chan barks out a laugh, his head falling back briefly before he focuses on the road again. "After naked time?"

Ayame pretends to think. "Rehydration? I don't know. Maybe we can solve world hunger if we're feeling ambitious."

Chan glances at her, his tone growing quieter, more serious. "Ayame, I've had a lot of women tell me I'm not the kind of guy you settle down with."

Ayame freezes for a moment, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "Is this where I start playing the tiny violin?"

Chan exhales, his hand pausing its motion on her thigh. "What I'm saying is, I'm not that guy to most people. But I want to be."

Ayame blinks, her gaze softening as she studies his profile. "You think that's what I'm doing? Just fucking around with you until I find someone else?"

Chan shrugs, his jaw tight. "I don't know. But I hope not."

She shifts in her seat, turning to face him more fully. "Bang Chan, you are a puzzle. One minute, you're shoving me into closets and pissing me off. The next, you're saying shit like this."

Chan glances at her, his expression lighter now, teasing. "Closets were your idea, by the way."

Ayame huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, the tension between them easing slightly. Then Ayame sits up straighter, pointing out the window. "Drive-through. Coffee. Now."

Chan raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Bossy."

Ayame smirks back. "Damn right. You're paying, by the way."

Chan shakes his head, laughing as he steers the car toward the drive-through. "Anything else?"

"Maybe," Ayame says, her voice light but laced with mischief. "Depends on how good the whipped cream is."

Chan laughs, the sound warm and full as they roll up to the menu board. Outside, the snow falls in thick, lazy flakes, but inside the car, the world feels a little brighter, a little warmer, and infinitely more charged.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

[etotruski]

König’s Obsession

(Part 1, Part 2,) Part3

König x reader/f is addressed as y/n or you

Writers note: This is part 3. Thank you to everyone who read my first and second part <3

Warning: This story contains a bit smut and will contain more in the following parts.

Word count: 1,790

After your office meeting with König, the next day somehow no one looked at you disgusted or whatever anymore. So he was able to make the rumors die down somehow. You couldn’t help but wonder how and that’s when you noticed some looked scared at you. You heard others whisper.

“All the things that Ashley said were lies, König confirmed that, but he also confirmed, that…y/n was in the Navy, y/n was called Spider, because of how brutally y/n killed their enemies.”, he whispered the last part and glanced at you a few times during the conversation with his buddy.

‘Now how the fuck did König know about that?’ You thought to yourself but then your anger died down and you thought ‘Aye at least these rumors are gone. FINALLY NO SIDE EYES TO ME ANYMORE, I FELT LIKE AS IF I’M DONALD TRUMP!!!’

The rest of the week you continued your training still with way too long, lingering and unnecessary touches from König. Sometimes you want back to your barracks room and it was open, but you swore that you had it locked, but you didn’t care and thought you forgot to lock it.

König’s POV:

‘Oh how beautiful Y/N is. I wish I could just grab her by her hair, bend her over my table in my office, rip off her clothes and just fuck her so violently that she’d forget her own name and would be dick dumb. Ohhh how I wish I could just stuff my cock into her warm filthy mouth, her lips are so fucking beautiful. How I’d slide my dick between her gorgeous fucking tits and fuck em too. Oh I just want to fuck every hole. I could fuck her anal too. I just want to claim her in any way. It doesn’t matter which hole or space, like her thighs. I just want to claim her. Make her fucking mine.’ 

He breaths heavily as he jerks off for the 10th time in the day, because y/n made him have unexpected boners, despite him being not a school kid anymore.

He practically inhales her scent from the millionth used underwear he stole from her room. He snuck at least millionths of times into her room whole her being in absence. 

He fists his cock harder and imagines the way y/n would be fucked hard with his dick. It was practically a sword, it could compete with fucking drake. 

He groans loud in his room on his bed as he cums on her used underwear.

He now was satisfied and could finally go to sleep. He’s secretly obsessed with her but he hides it, bad, but thank Burger King that she’s oblivious as fuck.

‘I need to text her to come to my house tomorrow. She will are for the child and then I’ll ask her out on a date, I hope so fucking bad I can make her mine as soon as possible. But she is mine, even now, she just doesn’t know it yet. Poor y/n should’ve never come here, I grew attached the moment I saw her. I wonder if she noticed, that Ashley is gone?’  He thought to himself.

After texting her and sending the address to his home, he finally could sleep even though it was 3 in the fucking morning and he couldn’t get her off of his mind and just wanted to fuck her but had to fuck into his hand several times instead.

Y/N’s POV:

It’s officially weekend. Finally. But of course y/n has to help König. At 8 AM she already was at his house. It looks like a fucking mansion. And his car? A fucking Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon. DAMN. ‘Maybe I should try to seduce him and live a life as a happy house wife.’ You thought to yourself.

Of course you were dressed in a black baggy abibas hoodie, along with these cute baggy military cargo pants and some random white sneakers. A but underdressed but you didn’t care.

You knocked and seconds later he opened the door. He looked so fucking hot.

Why? Because even though he put his mask on, he was shirtless and sweating. Looks like he was doing his daily routine right now. The only thing you could think of though was his fucking pecs flexing and these…these…MAN BOOBS. YOU JUST WANNA SQUISH EM. (Writers note: Don’t hate on me pls, I know you guys wanna do that. *evil laugh*)

If you could you’d be licking his pecs like the damn SpongeBob meme.

After a few more seconds of staring you finally snapped out of your thoughts.

“He-…Hello, Sir.” Your fucking voice broke. BROTHA.

He just looked at you and nodded. You saw something in his eyes…but then it quickly disappeared. ‘Wowa Wewa…’ You thought.

You walked inside and that’s when you see the baby, approximately 1 and 1/2 years old. You ran to him and you couldn’t help but say.

“AWWWW. Aren’t you a cute little guy. Such a cute little baby.” 

Meanwhile König watched you babying the baby. You felt his gaze literally BURNING into your neck.

“I’m going to continue my work, look after Vladimir.”

‘Vladimir…PUTIN’ You unlocked a new nickname for the baby. You looked after it the rest of the day. You fed it, played with it, made it fall asleep, cooked food and fell asleep on the couch yourself. Later when you wake up you see König staring down at you, with something…primal in his eyes?

**to be continued**

[whoops-all-jennas]

The Ghost of Lovell Hill - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

"You live in Lovell Hill?"

"You know it?"

"I just didn't think it was occupied by anything except ghosts."

Summary: Winnie brings a ouija board to Cairo's place, Cairo sees someone she didn't expect to see ever again.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, death, and aging

Cairo is sitting by the window of the by the stairs with a book. It's a dark day today, thunderstorms expected to last till tomorrow. She sees Winnie approaching the house under an umbrella.

Cairo heads down the stairs to get to the front door before Winnie can knock, her house, or more so her parents house, is gorgeous. It's old but has been well kept.

"Winnie, what is that?" Cairo opens the door, looking at what she is holding with a look of skepticism.

"It's an ouija board, duh." Winnie says with a dumb smile plastered on her face.

"I mean why'd you bring it here?"

"You said somethin' about Mr. Miller assuming nothing but ghosts lived in your house so." Winnie extends the o when saying so while bringing the ouija board closer to her face. "We find out."

"Whatever." Cairo moves out of the way of the door so Winnie can come in.

"What? you're tellin' me you're not curious?" Winnie asks with a look of curiosity.

"No, ghosts aren't real Winnie." Cairo starts the ascend the staircase with Winnie following behind her. "Besides that was exaggeration, I don't think Mr. Miller believes in ghosts either."

Winnie sets down the ouija board on Cairos bed, sitting in front of it. Getting ready to use it.

"I said no Winnie." Cairo says with a hint of annoyance in her voice while grabbing her laptop before finding her spot on the bed.

"What, afraid you're gonna be possessed or somethin'?" Winnie says teasingly.

"No, like I said ghosts aren't real." Cairo says will grabbing a cigarette. "We have school work that we need to work on."

"I'll only be a minute" Winnie says while putting her hands on the planchette.

"Are there any spirits in this house?" Cairo rolls her eyes while she starts typing on her laptop.

The planchette glides over to the text saying 'Yes'

Winnie's eyes go wide in bewilderment. "Holy shit."

"What? did you hand move whatever that is to the yes?" Cairo says with a smirk. "You're not gonna fool me."

Winnie looks towards Cairo with a serious look, an unusual look for her, before she goes to ask another question.

"What's your name?" The planchette starts to glide over the letters to spell out Y/n.

"What's the supposed ghost's supposed name?" Cairo asks, not lifting her eyes from her laptop.

"Why should I tell you? I thought you didn't believe in this stuff." Cairo shrugs her shoulders at Winnie's response, she didn't care enough to argue.

"How old are you?" The planchette glides back down to the lower section of the ouija board with numbers, hovering over 1, then 8.

"They're 18, maybe they're single." Winnie sayings jokingly to Cairo.

"Oh haha." Cairo says with a straight face, reaching to put her cigarette in the ash tray before the ash tray suddenly flies off the table.

"What the fuck was that?" Cairo exclaims before putting her laptop aside to pick up the ash tray.

"What do you think? I'm over here talking to spirits and junk and you think science and reason pushed your ash tray off your night stand?" Winnie looks at Cairo, raising an eyebrow.

"What you were being serious about what the board was sayin'?" Cairo stands, quickly walking to leave the room. "I ain't fuckin' with no ghost."

Right as Cairo was about the leave her bedroom door slams shut. Cairo jumps back, tripping over her own feet, and falling onto the floor.

Winnie gets up to look at Cairo. "Are you alright?" Winnie looks back to see the planchette moving on its own this time.

Winnie quickly heads back to the Ouija board to read what you're spelling.

"Come to the garden?"

Cairo quickly stands up and looks out the window to the garden in the backyard. There is a silhouette of a girl in a black dress holding a lace umbrella that shouldn't last two seconds in that storm.

A flash of light fills the garden for a moment, highlighting the silhouette, followed by the crackle of thunder. She was beautiful, contrasting the intimidation of the storm.

Winnie gets next to Cairo and looks out the window. "Did you see anything?"

Cairo glances at Winnie and than back out the window.

The lady was gone.

The door to Cairo's bedroom creaks open slowly, a lamp on the other side blinking.

Cairo slowly approaches it, when she's close enough the light turns off. Cairo quickly looks down the stairs when she sees another light flashing.

The stairs felt longer than usual as Cairo descended the staircase. Each step feeling louder than the last.

Winnie soon catches up, carrying the ouija board in hand.

When Cairo finally catches up to the light, the door to the garden slams open. The sound of rain filling the house as the wind carries it. Another flash of light seen out the door, soon caught up with the loud snap of thunder.

Cairo sprints towards the door, hands blocking the rain from hitting her face. When she finally gets close enough to close the door Cairo is meet with a sudden push.

"Cairo!" is the last thing she hears before falling on to the ground.

Cairo is now on the patio near the garden, it is deafening quiet besides the sound of faint waltz music and the smell of rain is gone. She looks up to the sunlight blinding her.

After her eyes adjust for a minute, she stands up and sees the garden decorated for a party. The flowers in full bloom, showing their off their beautiful white and pastels.

Cairo turns around to open the door, only rattling the door knob. She inspects her wrist to find shes not wearing the clothes she was wearing before. She was wearing a beautiful green lace dress.

"I was waiting for you!" It was the girl from the silhouette Cairo saw from the window. She picked up the bottom of her beautiful black lace dress while ascending the few steps between the patio and the garden.

"Come dance with me!"

Cairo finds herself being dragged by her hand to the center of the garden. Cairo looks at her face and faintly recognizes it.

Its you.

It has been years since she's seen you last, but as she's dancing with you, looking at your face again. The memories come rushing back.

-

Cairo was 14, her parents were finally back home from whatever country they were staying at for work. They were throwing a party for the little they would be home for. Cairo invited you as her date to the party.

You arrived to Cairo's house in a black lace dress, it was beautiful and you adored it.

You also hoped Cairo would adore seeing you in it.

Your knocks on the door were soon answered by Cairo's father.

"You must be Y/n! Cairo told us all about you." Cairo's dad makes room so you can get into the house.

"Thank you."

You enter the house and look around, there's a lot of noise and it's all the more overwhelming without Cairo by you side.

"Y/n!, you made it!" Cairo makes her way to the door where you were stood awkwardly.

Cairo is wearing a beautiful green lace dress and it's ten times more beautiful now because Cairo is wearing it.

You felt Cairo's eyes on you as well, admiring you.

"Cairo!" you grab Cairo into an embrace, too embarrassed to give her a kiss in front of her parents. You see her all the time but every hug means so much to you.

"I know you don't like these kinds of things, and I don't either, so it means a lot for you to at least suffer with me." Cairo let's go of the embrace and looks you in the eyes.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." You give her a patient smile.

You and Cairo head out to the garden, hand in hand.

The garden is filled with people in beautiful dresses and handsome suits. The flowers in full bloom, mostly white and pastel colors, as it's spring. There are string lights above the center where everyone is dancing to the waltz music.

Cairo let's go of your hand to offer her other hand in a dance.

You find a smile creeping up onto your face as you take her hand.

You both enjoy your dance for a few minutes, getting lost into her eyes and the music. It felt as if you two were the only people in the world, until someone knocks into Cairo with a red drink, most likely wine, spilling it all over her dress.

You let go of Cairo while she moves her arms by her shoulders with her mouth open, gasping at the sudden wetness on her dress.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry." The man says while running his hands over where he spilt the wine, making it ten times worse.

"It's fine it was an accident." Cairo hiding her annoyance as she faces towards you.

"I'll be right back, I'm gonna. you know." Cairo motioning over her dress.

"It's cool, I'll just be waiting here." You gave Cairo another patient smile as she walks past you into the house.

A little bit of the wine splashed onto your shoulder earlier, but you didn't realize.

Suddenly the music felt so loud, like you could feel the music gently touching your skin. You started getting goosebumps as everything felt so much more sensitive.

Someone bumps into you, suddenly you feel the wetness of your dress on your shoulder. The murmur of the people drilling into your ears.

The tapping of shoes, the smell of flowers, the uncomfortable high heels, feeling like a sore thumb in a pool of strangers. Every thing together was just too much for you, you were overwhelmed.

Your eyes start getting glossy at the over stimulation as you soon grab the base of your dress and start running to the gate of the backyard to go to the only spot you could think of to calm down.

There was an abandoned treehouse by a river in the woods behind Cairo's house. You and Cairo would go there to hangout when it was a beautiful day outside.

It became a safe space for you over time and it was the only place you wanted to be right now. Not even Cairo's touch would make you feel better. You just needed to be alone for a minute.

You climb the ladder into the tree house, sitting under the window with your legs to your chest as you start crying.

You couldn't hear it over the sound of your tears but the aged and weathered wooden floor underneath you started to creak.

The floor underneath you caves in as you fall through, first landing on your tail bone, instantly starting to swell, before falling backwards towards the river, hitting your head on a root by the river before falling in.

You're surrounded by the water you use to find comfort in, no idea what was up and what was down. Your dress tangling your legs together.

The aching of your injuries soon faded as you gave in and the let the light beyond your eyelids fade.

Cairo goes back to where she left you, to end up confused on where you were. She searched through out the garden unable to find you, and then the whole house.

By this point she is starting to panic, where could you have gone? She rushes to the telephone to call your house.

"Hello, y/l/n residence."

"Is y/n there?" Cairo says with fear in her voice.

"No, she said she was going to a dance, why who is this?" The voice behind the phone asks, their tone now laced with concern.

"It's Cairo, she was just at the dance and now I can't find her. I assumed she couldn't handle it here anymore and went home." Cairo's voice now carrying panic instead of fear.

The phone line goes dead, the other side hanging up.

Cairo runs through the house, back to the garden. There was one place she didn't check, the abandoned treehouse, their safe space.

Cairo has never ran so fast in her life, her feet aching due to the heels she was wearing but she didn't care.

You were the only thing on her mind.

She climbed the ladder as fast as she could.

"Y/n!" Cairo shouted as she got high enough to look inside the empty tree house. She sees the hole but assumes it's just natural weathering.

She climbs down the ladder and looks back at the house to see red and blue lights alternating. There was a police car in front of the house.

When Cairo gets back to the house a police officer approaches her.

"Were there any places you know she would go to feel safe?"

"The only place I know of is the abandoned treehouse behind the house, but I just checked to see if she was there and she wasn't."

The police officer is writing into a notepad.

"Stay at the house until further notice, got it?" The cop gives Cairo a stern look until she nods. The police officer heads towards the treehouse while Cairo waits in the garden.

A few minutes pass and she hears the sirens of an ambulance approaching.

The ambulance goes through the grass and Cairo stands up to watch as the police officer from before is approaching back with a face he's trying to keep serious and stern, but there is a layer of sadness behind the mask.

Everything doesn't feel real, the silence is deafening as she watches the officer talking to her parents before the officer glances at her than walking away.

Her parents slowly approach her with sadness written in their faces.

"Cairo, we have some bad news about your friend." Her dad starts while putting a hand on Cairo's shoulder.

Cairo looking back and forth between her parents eyes, her eyes getting glossy feeling like she already knows what they're going to say.

As much as she didn't want to hear it.

Her dad sighs, looking at her mother for a second before meeting his eyes back to Cairo's.

"They found y/n's body a little down stream past the treehouse."

Body, y/n's body.

This was all Cairo needed to hear before the tears instantly starting to break through her eyes.

You were dead, you died because someone spilled wine on Cairo.

"No! it can't be." Cairo wraps her arms around herself before falling onto her knees, sobbing into her forearms. Her arms covered in her tears.

She needed a hug, but she didn't want one from her parents who are never home, not even for her birthday.

She desperately needed comfort, but now that you're gone there was no one to comfort her.

There would forever be a hole in her heart from the loss of you. She felt more alone now than before she had you.

-

Cairo felt a hand go to her cheek, as a thumb was wiping away a tear.

"It's okay, I'm here now" You give her a gentle smile as you sway her to the music.

"I-" Cairo was interrupted by her own tears avoiding eye contact.

"I missed you so much." Cairo says with all the emotions in her body, reconnecting the contact to your soft gentle eyes.

"I missed you too." You gave her a patient smile before continuing. "I waited so long for you, and I would've waited an eternity if it meant I can see your eyes once again, to feel your touch."

"I don't want to lose you again! I can't lose you again!" Cairo screams, her hands moving to lightly pound onto your chest.

"You won't ever truly lose me, I won't be able to be here forever while you're alive, but there will be a time that we'll see each other once again."

"Before I go I want you to promise me something."

"Anything." Cairo looked longingly into your eyes past her tears.

"Live your life to the fullest, the way you want to live. I don't want to be a burden to you." You started and paused before saying your next words.

"Live a life I couldn't." You grab Cairo's face with your both your hands, raw emotion in your eyes. "Could you do that for me?"

Cairo stared into your eyes for a moment. "Yes, of course I'll do that." The tears somehow stronger than before. "I love you."

"I love you too." You say, tears streaming down your face as you pull Cairo into your last kiss for a long time, the world fading around you.

-

Cairo wakes up in her bed, Winnie looming over her quietly.

Cairo instantly burst into tears hugging Winnie, Winnie looking around confused before hugging her back.

"I'm gonna miss her so much!" Cairo sobs into Winnie's shoulder, Winnie still confused as to what happened.

"It's gonna be okay, I got you." Winnie is running her hand through Cairo's hair comfortingly.

She didn't need to know what was going on, she just knew Cairo needed her in this moment.

Pretty soon, all of Cairo's tears went dry. She was exhausted.

Winnie laid down with Cairo as she fell asleep, speaking words of good affirmations in hopes of guiding her to good dreams.

-

Some time passes, Cairo gets accepted into Yale University through describing her story with you and focuses on an English Major.

After graduating college she publishes her first book, "The Ghost of Lovell Hill." Which tells the story of a girl who is haunted by her past lover.

On the bottom of the book cover near to where it says "New York Times Best Seller." it says "Based on True Events." Along with a note in the back of the book saying "Dedicated to Y/n Y/l/n, may we meet again soon."

Some years go by, Cairo has now published multiple books, being a successful author. Her friends are always curious about why she never goes on dates, and she always tells them something like "My standards are high." or "I'm not just interested in dating at the moment."

Truth is, she only wants you. And she's willing to wait an entire life time for that to happen.

Her friends start having families and children of their own. Cairo remains single and determined. No one could compare to you in her eyes.

The years continue to fly by, Cairo's hair is starting to get thinner and paler, her skin not as young as before. Her friend's kids are now starting to have children of their own. She has lost contact with a lot of her friends, but she doesn't mind being alone.

The room is silent, filled only by the sound of the heartbeat monitor. Cairo is hooked up to multiple machines, her hair grey and skin aged. She is dying alone in this hospital bed, but that doesn't matter to her.

Pretty soon, she'll never be alone again.

She closes her eyes, accepting the embrace of death. She lived the life she wanted, just like you asked. You were never a burden to her, you never could be a burden to her.

She is satisfied with life.

The sound of the heartbeat monitor stops.

Cairo opens her eyes slowly, she's back at her old house she lived in in high school, Lovell Hill.

She gets out of bed, realizing her body doesn't ache the way it use to. Before approaching the window in her room.

She looks like how she did when she was younger. Her hair healthy and thick, her skin young and smooth. She looks past the reflection to find you, sitting patiently in the garden.

Cairo practically leaps down the stairs, running to the garden door, and opening it with all her strength. You stand up and stare at each for a moment, until Cairo runs into your arms.

"I did what you asked!" Cairo sobs into your shoulder, gripping the back of your shirt.

"I lived my life the way I wanted to." Cairo raises her head from your shoulder and grabs your face, longingly staring into your eyes.

"I missed you so much. I'm so happy I have you again after all these years."

"I missed you too, but you were worth missing." You say, tears streaming down your face, taking in every feature of her face before holding her tightly again.

"We have each other forever now, that's what matters." You say, comfortingly running your hand through her hair.

Cairo let's go from the embrace, holding your hand for the first time in awhile. "Let's go inside, I can tell you everything that happened." Cairo sniffs with a smile, her eyes puffy from crying.

Cairo guides you into the house, admiring you one last time before opening the door.

a/n: guys idk how this story happened, I was watching Millers Girl and heard Mr. Miller say something about how he thought only ghosts lived in Cairo's house and thought it was a good idea for a fic. then it turned into this somehow I'm so sorry. either way, my brain is so fried, hope you guys enjoyed :)