#and probably another thousand dollars

[dorkylittleweirdo]

Me to my emt students: if you guys are gonna get covid it better not be during fucking finals week, wear a goddamn mask when you go out and self isolate for the last month bc you can't make up these exams and practicals so you'll have to retake the entire class

My emt students: *testing positive for covid during fucking finals week*

Me:

[elodieunderglass]

Do you have more Moby Dick: Modern Translation chapters anywhere that certain interested parties (me and everyone with taste) could read?

In reference to this translation of Moby Dick into insufferable modern idiom, in which Ishmael is suddenly shown up in a startling light as a person we’ve actually met and knew well but didn’t really like:

I’m sorry, I haven’t written any more of that! After chapter 1’s mad rush of energy, the book tackles more tricky, boring and unfunny content, including passages that are just uncomfortably problematic in any time; and, like, entire chapters about listening to a church sermon.

A line translation (and that is mostly a very faithful line translation! The only thing I regret not doing was perfectly capturing the fart joke!) apparently has a lot of educational value, and helps to reframe the whole novel. That’s worthy work! But i simply wouldn’t want to do a line translation on the next few chapters. My brain is picking daisies instead, already. I would say: “sorry, I’m abridging this for my own mental health. You’re eligible for a free refund.��� In which case the educational value is negligible (you can just read the plot summary online. There’s a really big whale in it.)

Anyone else who wants to take a stab at it (FROM HELL’S HEART) would be welcome and I’ll gladly promote your efforts. It’s just. I am going

🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼-🌼

- come here let me measure your head

[noandpickles]

Not "the NHS is non-functional so that proves socialized medicine doesn't work" but "the NHS is non-functional so we should eat the rich and use their money to fucking triple its budget"

[daforged]

emailing a breeder and trying not to die of cringe as i describe myself in a peppy upbeat and yet realistic and honest way

[trivia-yandere]

sentient

you're gifted a high-technology android by an old friend who appears to know everything - even about you.

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @ultimatebasura @

word count: 12.513

warning: smut, dirty talking, cyborg namjoon duh, nipple sucking/pinching, face-riding, oral sex, fingering, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie, intense orgasming, possessive namjoon duh, carbon monoxide poisioning, yandere tendancies, character death(s)

halloween masterlist

“Seriously?” you sigh with an arched eyebrow. “I don’t think I can handle anymore of your science bullshit.”

“Science bullshit?” Karan scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “You should be honored to get all of my science bullshit for free. What I give you can go for thousands!”

You’ve known Karan since grade school and he hasn’t changed a bit. His skin remained the same deep russet color, his eyes just as dark and kind but determined. His dark hair often grew out past his shoulders, and when it did, it told you that he was working on something that took up all his time.

Sure, Karan grew taller and his voice deepened a bit. He decided that when he wasn’t - in your words - emerged in his science bullshit, he did go to the gym and bulked from the once scrawny boy you remember. However, that didn’t change that he was a geek, a term of endearment. 

You should have expected Karan to be at your doorstep with his hair as long and thick that’s tied in a low ponytail in the back. It meant he was working on something that took all of his time - and it meant he wanted you to be the test dummy, of course. 

“Karan,” you let out a breath. “what’s in the box that it took you and 6 of your geek ass colleagues-”

“Y/N!” Karan gasps, his head turning to said colleagues who are awkwardly standing by your front door. “Lower your voice.”

“Karan.”

“Right.” Karan claps his hands. The box is large and wooden and stands taller than him. It was a struggle to even get it through the door - hence 7 men had to bring it in - but they managed. “This is my gift to you.” Karan says, turning around to go to open the box.

“A gift?” you scoff, though you give Karan hell, you do appreciate his friendly gestures. ��Or am I just a test subject?”

“Both.” Karan answers with a snort. The wooden frame opens and you nearly jump out of your skin when you witness what was inside of it. “This is-”

“What the fuck is that!” you screech, your skin crawling with goosebumps.

“If you would shut the fuck up, Y/N, and let me speak.” Karan hisses. “This is an android.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to not let out another scream when Karan takes a step back to admire his work.

The android was so lifelike and it frightened you. It’s tall - taller than Karan or any of the other 6 men he brought here. Your eyes zone in on it’s face - it was so lifelike that it’s uncanny. 

“Why don’t you have a closer look before I turn him on.”

“Karan,” you shake your head instantly. “this is too much.”

Karan lets out a groan. “Y/N, be mindful. Androids so lifelike go out for thousands of dollars. This is the first official model and-”

“And of course you want me to experience a heart attack day and night, huh?!” you hiss, your eyes unable to move away from the life-like robot. You take a deep breath and try to do as Karan says and be mindful. “Karan, I don’t think I can handle something like this.”

“Why not?”

“I…” you shake your head. You aren’t aware when the last time any man - unless it was Karan - entered your home. Knowing you, you’d forget about the robot all together until you wake up in the middle of the night for some water and see it there. You’d probably die on the spot - that or try to attack it which would force the robot to kill you.

“You’re thinking too much into it, Y/N.” Karan speaks, probably reading your thoughts just by looking at the terrified look on your face. “I’ll meet you guys back at the lab, okay? I should be able to get him started.”

“Karan, no.” you nearly pleaded with your friend as the other scientist lead themselves out of your home. 

“You’ll come to enjoy him, Y/N.”

“Him? You mean it?”  Did you sound offensive at the moment? It was an android and could they really have gender roles. 

“Him.” Karan corrects. “It’s a male android.”

“I don’t see how.” you murmur under your breath. 

“He has a dick.” Karan shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe if you had one inside of you-”

“Don’t go there, Karan. When’s the last time you-”

“Hello.”

You shriek once more when you hear the robot speak, a deep voice sounding throughout your small home. 

“Ah, hello. It didn’t take you long to power on.” Karan smiles. “Come, Namjoon, get out of the box, please.”

Your heart is racing and your fight or flight senses are activated. Your first thought is to indeed run - run far as you could to be away from him. “You…named him?” you murmur to Karan, your eyes glued to the android who does as Karan says.

“Namjoon named himself.” Karan explains. 

This wasn’t sitting right with your spirit.

“Namjoon, this is Y/N. The one I was telling you about.”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened. What did Karan mean? It wasn’t as if the robot was a living, breathing person - he was created in a lab!

“It didn’t take me a week to create an android, Y/N. It took years of my time.” Karan glances at you. “I’ve programmed Namjoon just for you. Years of collecting data-”

“Karan.” you raise a hand to stop him from speaking. You shake your head. “What do you mean you…programmed it-”

“He.” Karan grits his teeth. 

“-for me?”

Karan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you the whole truth for there was a possibility you’d be beyond freaked out, but he could tell you a fraction of it. 

“Namjoon know’s your likes and dislikes.” Karan begins. “He knows your allergies and just what to do if you have a reaction.”

“What…the fuck…?” your eyes widened. “Is this not a HIPAA violation?”

“Not when it benefits you, no.” Karan shakes his head. “I programmed Namjoon to be the perfect…” he tilts his head. “...assistant?”

You scoff.

“Like Siri or Alexa but…” Karan points at Namjoon. “...alive!”

You bring yourself to glance back at…Namjoon. He is tall, towering over both you and Karan. He’s waiting patiently, his eyes - a dark shade of brown - already on you. He offers a smile that causes your heart to jump once more. You notice that his cheeks are dimpled and he has a set of pearly white teeth.

“Take a closer look, Y/N. Touch him.” Karan insists, lightly patting your shoulder. “He doesn’t feel robotic.”

It takes you five minutes of hesitation, but you do. You touch the skin of his cheek and your eyes widened by how human he did feel. Warm to the touch, soft skin. You tilt your head. “Explain yourself, Karan.”

Karan swallows and chuckles to himself. He understands what questions you have and it’s easier to lie for your sake than to tell you the truth - being that Namjoon was once full human and doesn’t have any memories of his human life. Now he is more of what people consider a "cyborg". No, that would cause you to panic, and in return would cause Namjoon to, as well, as he is designed to protect and serve you.

“I can go on and on about my science bullshit to explain to you why Namjoon is so human-like, but that’ll only bore you.”

You groan at how right Karan was. You muster up the courage to continue to feel Namjoon and how human he truly was. His hair was soft and a shiny black color that matches perfectly with the cool and tan tone of his skin. 

“Doesn’t he feel like a man?” Karan questions. “We know you need one.”

“Fuck you, Karan.” you snatch your hand from Namjoon, who is eerily still and watching you. 

“No. Buuuut Namjoon can.” Karan cackles at your reaction.  “You’re going to hate me, Y/N, but we’re best friends, right?”

You swallow back your response. 

“I hacked into your devices. Namjoon knows…a lot about you.”

It takes you a moment to understand what Karan was insinuating. 

Your body heats up. “Karan!” you hiss, your hands turning to fists. 

“Y/N, you and I both know you need to get dicked-”

“Karan!” you hiss, the amount of times you had said his name in under an hour is insane.

“I’m leaving. Let me know if anything is out of order. There shouldn’t be seeing as Namjoon’s took years to perfect.” Karan smiles, making his way towards your front door. “Now, excuse me.”

You want to follow after Karan and punch his head in, but you decide not to. You take a few deep breaths. 

“Your heart rate is increasing.” Namjoon speaks, his voice causes you to yelp. “You should try calming yourself down.”

“Easy for you to say.” you murmur, more to yourself. You stand a little straighter, your heart continuing to race - something the android could sense somehow. You would be sure to ask Kanan how later. “I…I don’t know what to say.” you murmur awkwardly.

“That’s fine.” Namjoon chuckles so normally that it brings chills up your spine. “You don’t need to feel shy around me, Y/N.”

You swallow, body heating up once more. Curse the way Karan built this android. It’s noticeable that Namjoon was a special invention. He appeared so lifelike, carved beautifully, you’d admit. You pondered how his voice didn’t sound robotic, or even the way he speaks, blinks, smiles - everything. 

“I…I’m sorry.” you take a deep breath. “This may be a stupid question.”

“No question is stupid, Y/N.” Namjoon lightly shakes his head. “Ask away.”

“Do you…need to be charged?” 

Namjoon cracks a smile and shakes his head once more. “No. I do not.” he answers. “I do have a rest mode, however. I’ll allow myself to rest at times to recharge my system.”

You nod your head slowly and then bite your lip.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t want you to feel like my slave.” you attempt to joke.

“I was made to serve you, Y/N. Ask anything of me and I’ll do my best to achieve it.”

Namjoon was so human-like. 

Karan explained in scientific terms as to why and that only caused more confusion - but in simpler terms, he explained that Namjoon was similar to a digital assistant like an Alexa or Siri, of course. He “adapted” to your likes and dislikes and modern society. He studied how men (the ones you were attracted to, how Karan knew this was beyond you) around his age - late 20’s - would talk and walk. 

No one knew that Namjoon was an android - no one but you and Karan and of course, Namjoon himself. 

Living with Namjoon took a toll on you at first. You had woken up one day and forgotten that the android was there and had walked out in the middle of the night to find him. He was resting as he said he was, only this time leaning against the wall of your kitchen. You screamed at the top of your lungs and activated Namjoon who was programmed to think that an intruder was in the house. He had sensed your heart rate skyrocket and was prepared to attack - only he was said intruder.

After that night, you gave Namjoon his own room. You had used your spare bedroom as a storage and closet all at once, but if Namjoon was going to be here then you’d have to show some type of respect to him.

As time went on, you grew to enjoy Namjoon’s company. He often sat around and waited for you to need him. Having no partner meant that you were accustomed to being alone and thus doing things by yourself. When you couldn’t reach something, you weren’t opposed to jumping onto something to grab it or grabbing a chair. Namjoon came in handy in that department. 

Namjoon would also build your furniture - your entire bedroom set being one that you were grateful for. 

Namjoon took the liberty in ordering any necessities that were lowstock, along with groceries - Karan had managed to implement a chip that could save your data to Namjoon so he could do it internally. You’re still unsure how you feel about it, but for now you’re sure it works.

One thing you learned about Namjoon, being an android, was his desire to gain more knowledge. He would often read books. You had allowed him to order as much as he wanted since he was a help to you the past few months - and he appeared content. He would tell you what he read about, albeit fiction or nonfiction, you’d listen.

“There’s no way you can get any smarter, Namjoon.” you said to him one day as you catch him reading yet another book - this time a math one that would hurt your brain if you’d attempt to look through it.

“Knowledge is power, Y/N.” was the android’s response.

As for Namjoon, he was content with living with you. He got to make sure you were safe and always assured that you were up to date with any doctor appointments. He would keep track of any reminders you’d tell him - “call so and so later,” “don’t forget to take the meat out the freezer at this time”, “call Karan to annoy him” and so on.

Namjoon doesn’t tell you that he knows more about you - deep facts that you would probably never tell anyone. He doesn’t want to embarrass you and cause your heart rate to grow high, so he doesn’t tell you. Like how he doesn’t tell you that he can hear everything - especially the buzzing noises at night when you play with yourself mixed with soft, but oftentimes disappointed moans. He recalls the time when your heartbeat became quick as you were going to cum just for the vibrator to die - how disappointed you must’ve felt.

Namjoon knocks on your door five minutes after your shower once he’s sure that you are dressed - his eyes could see past the closed door and into your bedroom when he knows you’re rubbing lotion onto your already soft skin. You’re dressed for bed, as well, in shorts that barely cover yourself and a tank top with one of the straps missing as you’ve grown to love the old top.

“Joon,” you furrow your brows as you open the door. “is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Namjoon nods. 

“You don’t usually seek me out this late at night. You’re usually resting.” 

“You’ve been working hard the last few days.” Namjoon responds. “There’s knots in your neck.”

You sigh with a short nod of your head. “You’re right. I’ve been working overtime lately.” you explain. “I’m glad the clothes I got fit you. I wasn’t sure what size to get.” your eyes scan the pajamas he wore - a simple plaid pajama pants with a dark color shirt. Namjoon insisted that you buy him simple pajama’s wear so he could be as human as possible.

“Thank you.” Namjoon offers a dimple smile that causes your heart to beat faster - he senses it. “Would you like a massage?”

“Uh…what?” your body heats at the sudden question. “You never asked me that before.”

“Indeed I haven’t.” Namjoon tilts his head. “But I sense that the knot in your neck is causing you discomfort. I don’t want you to sleep like that, you might wake up even worse.”

You take a deep breath with a shrug. You’re sure he was right - he was the artificial intelligent android that knew everything, not you. 

“I don’t want to treat you like a slave, Joon.” you joke, but even you were curious about how a massage would be. Namjoon’s hands were large and you pondered how they would feel on you.

Namjoon smiles once more. “I was made to serve you, Y/N.” he murmurs, so low that it catches you off guard. “If you do not want me to then I will not force it. But please never feel as though you are a burden to me.”

A massage wouldn’t be bad, right? Sure, Namjoon was hot - you curse Karan for making something like him - but he was an android. Surely he didn’t feel the things a human could and wouldn’t jump at any sexual opportunities.

“Why not?” you sigh, opening your door wider for him to enter your room. “I do have a few knots and my back has been killing me lately.”

“I have watched massage videos while you showered.” Namjoon speaks. “To perfect my craft.”

“Of course you have.” you laugh to yourself. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

You’ve gotten used to Namjoon being able to control most of the devices in your home - like the lights. He dims them as he enters your room and for your speakers, he adds a soft melodic tune. “For you to be comfortable.”

You lay as Namjoon advises you to, on your stomach with a few of your pillows beneath you to not be in discomfort.

You had to admit that Namjoon was good with his hands, and even that wasn’t much of a compliment. He works his thumbs right into your neck, massaging out any knots he sees. 

Your eyes were growing heavy and Namjoon senses how relaxed you are, mind clear. He works his hands onto your back, rubbing along your spine and sides. Your breathing is low and steady, an ultimate sign of how relaxed you were.

Namjoon’s hands go lower and lower, massaging your tense muscles with the perfect amount of pressure that you couldn’t help but moan low to yourself, unbeknownst that Namjoon could hear every sound.

“Feels nice?” Namjoon questions softly, both hands gently massaging past either side of your hips. He offers a firm squeeze before working his way down to your thighs.

“Mhmm.” you hum, cheek pressed firmly against your soft pillows. “It feels nice.”

“You are relaxed. I can sense your heartbeat.” Namjoon states as he often does, giving you updates about your own body that he appears to understand more about than you do. 

“Thank you.” you mumble. “I’ve been stressed lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Namjoon slightly nods his head with a bit of a tilt.  “I have.” he responds, his hands massaging down your calves and slowly back up your outer thighs. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

You snort. Though your eyes were heavy and you could truly fall asleep like this, you decided against it. Namjoon was a good conversationalist. “Help me with work?” you question, though rhetorically. “I’ll just take some personal time to relieve some stress.”

“I could assist you in relieving stress. Though, if you’d like me to help in your field of work, I would be happy to do that, as well.”

“What do you mean?” you question, genuinely confused. 

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and in his silence you begin to ponder what he was speaking of. 

Namjoon’s hands are large and warm - he hasn’t admitted that he could radiate his own heat, another sensor that Karan has put in him in case, in any instant, you needed it. They slide past your ass in massage movements and it catches you off guard that your eyes slowly open, but you remain silent. 

Namjoon’s hands don't linger as he can sense your quicken heartbeat and he begins to massage up your lower back.

“I believe you’re stressed out, yes, but more than you lead on.” Namjoon finally speaks. 

“Namjoon-”

“I could help you, if you’d like. I know whatever toy-”

“Namjoon!” you’re embarrassed now and immediately, you get up from your laying position to turn to look at the android. His eyes appear curious instead of soulless like they should be for an android. “I…I don’t know what…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “I know you’re left disappointed with your vibrator.” he says bluntly. “I can sense it everytime.”

Your blood runs cold and now you’re left truly embarrassed. Namjoon could sense when you were…you wanted to die. 

Curse Karan for creating such an advanced android.

“I want to help you…cum.” Namjoon’s system assists in finding the right words that would be considered “modern” and not too scientific to turn you off. “I would like to help you cum.”

“I-I don’t think that’s n-necessary!”

“Why not?” Namjoon questions. “I won’t die like your vibrator would.

Your legs clench together and you gasp in disbelief. He knew about that, too?

“You’re embarrassed. There’s no need to be. I’m here to serve you, Y/N. Like Karan said, I know what you like.”

Fuck Karan - again and again. He has hacked into your devices and showed poor Namjoon what you watched on whatever porn site. It couldn’t be considered what you wanted to happen to you, because at times you did watch some hardcore shit.

You take a deep breath.

“I…” 

“If you don’t like it,” Namjoon sets his palm upon your bare thigh and you visibly stiffen. “then I’ll stop, just tell me.”

This was crazy, you think. Namjoon is an android and you didn’t want to treat him like a sex robot. You imagined only incels would do that - but here you were contemplating it. It doesn’t help that Namjoon felt so human - his skin was as soft as a human. Warm at the touch, as well. He was carved so perfectly that it’s hard to believe that this wasn’t a human man before you.

“O…Okay.” you meekly murmur, innocent eyes staring right back at him.

Namjoon works his way towards you slowly. He tests to see what causes your heart to jolt. His hands gently push you back against the pillows as he hovers above you. 

“Remember, Y/N, I was made for you.” he reminds you.

Namjoon allows his hands to place themselves along your breast, not hesitating. You are stiff, silently watching as he gently rubs them. You weren’t wearing a bra - you never wear one to bed - and it’s easy for him to do what he does next.

Namjoon sneaks his way inside your tank top to grasp your breast. Your nipples are hardened almost instantly. His thumbs rub along the sensitive bud, dark eyes flickering to you.

“Feels good?” Namjoon whispers, but he already knows it to be true. 

You slowly nod your head.

Namjoon continues to rub along your breast, often pinching and twirling them between his thumb and index finger.

You fight back the moans, eyes watching Namjoon between your eyelashes. Maybe it was because Karan was right - you haven’t been with a man for who knows how long. It causes great embarrassment that even Namjoon, an android, knows this, as well. 

“Relax.” 

Namjoon murmurs, coming a bit closer to you. 

“Treat me like you would another man.” Namjoon suggests. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just you  and I here.”

You nod your head slowly, biting your bottom lip. It’s easier said than done - how could you look at yourself in the mirror after this was done and over with? In the moment it’d feel amazing, sure, but once the high is down you’re positive you’ll feel like a complete freak of nature.

You lean forward, taking a deep breath. No one had to know that you were doing this - it’s something you’d take to your grave. Namjoon rarely left the house with you, and even then, his loyalty was with you, right? Maybe in ten years you’ll admit this to Karan, but until then…

“Can I…can I…” you bite your lip harshly, body heating up. “...kiss you? It’s um…it’ll be weird if I-”

“Yes.” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate, sensing your growing embarrassment and discomfort. 

You nod your head, unable to say anything further. You begin to lean forward, sitting with your legs crossed. You place a hand on Namjoon’s shirt, leaning even more towards him.

“You act as if you’ve never kissed a man before.” 

Namjoon is teasing you. There’s a glint in his eyes and a soft smirk on his lips. You want to roll your eyes at how typical Namjoon was for an android. Your hands snatch Namjoon’s loose shirt and force yourself to kiss him. 

Namjoon’s lips are soft, which shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. It’s eerily soft and it always has you pondering just how Namjoon was created; how someone could build Namjoon in just a few years.

“It's not so hard now is it?” Namjoon murmurs against your lips, offering another quick peck. 

“Shut up.” your response is muffled against Namjoon’s lips, an urge to continue your kisses upon them.  “I’m trying my best.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond - he knows you are doing just that. It’s a weird feeling for you, he’s sure, to feel how human he is. Skin as soft as yours, radiating the exact amount of warmth. He doesn’t maneuver as an android nor does he speak as one - it would freak anyone out.

“I think you’re still holding back.”

Namjoon is the first to speak, but he brushes his lips against yours for a moment before continuing. “Come,” he says, ushering you closer to him.

Come for Namjoon meant you sitting directly on top of him, your legs straddling him beneath you. You swallow as Namjoon places his hands securely onto your hips, tapping his fingers against them. 

“Now, let’s continue.” Namjoon pecks your lips once more, allowing you to adjust to the new position and to follow his lead.

It’s just as different as before, but again, you tell yourself that you have to see Namjoon as a man, and not an android. You have to trick your mind in thinking that Namjoon wasn’t someone created in a lab to assist you - maybe you met him…in a bar?

 No, too cliche, you tell yourself. Maybe at a cafe of sorts while he was reading a book. Namjoon enjoyed reading. 

It was easier for you to pretend Namjoon and you met in more normal circumstances for you not to feel like a total sexually frustrated woman. 

You’re unsure how long it’s been - five minutes and forty-six seconds, Namjoon knows - since Namjoon and you have been here. However, your tongue dances with his, your nails digging into his shoulders. His hands are roaming your body entirely, gripping and tugging at your clothing.

You admit it feels good to be touched like this - to be on top of Namjoon kissing without a care. 

“I want to make you feel good.” Namjoon speaks when the two of you - of course you since he didn’t need to - decides to halt your makeout session to breathe. 

Even knowing what you’re doing here would ultimately end with you and Namjoon doing something sexual, him stating such causes your stomach to jump with nerves.

“I…”

“You’re nervous. I can sense it.” Namjoon can hear your heart beating so loudly due to your nerves. He squeezes your hips and offers a low smile and even then his dimples sink deep into his cheeks.  

“No,”  you shake your head. It’s pointless to try and cover up your anxiousness from Namjoon as he could sense it regardless. Still, you’ve already gone this far and you’re sure you could stop now, but you didn’t want to. “...um, how do you want to do…that?”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and instead presses a peck onto your lips. He doesn’t linger there and instead begins to kiss further down, starting with your jaw. He goes towards your neck, fingers tapping up your waist to your lower back and eventually up your spine. It causes you to shiver, goosebumps prickling along your skin. 

Namjoon’s tongue is warm upon the nape of your neck, massaging your smooth skin. His teeth sink into your neck, grinding it only a bit to force a deep moan from your mouth -  exactly what he was looking for. 

“You’re very pretty, Y/N.”

Namjoon words catch you by surprise and slowly, your eyes open in response. Namjoon’s caught up with his kissing, going lower and lower. He can sense your body temperature rising only slightly, your heart beating so loud in your chest that it could be alarming if you didn’t bring yourself to relax.

“You act like you’ve never done this before.” Namjoon’s tone is teasing once more and you could only snicker. 

“You act like you have.” you retort with a raise of your eyebrow.

Namjoon scoffs. His eyes flicker upwards at you, your breast now in his face. You can see the gears in his mind - did Namjoon have a brain? You’d have to ask Karan another time - as he processes your words.

“I know how to pleasure you, Y/N.” Namjoon once more pokes his tongue out, trailing it along your breast teasingly. “I know exactly what you like for me to do.”

You swallow, biting your lip. You weren’t going to back down to the android. You have to hold your own. 

“Are you sure you’d be able to deliver?”

Namjoon doesn’t speak like you expect him to. Instead, his tongue - so warm and still human-like - wraps around your erect nipple. He latches onto it and continues to suckle. The action was so sudden that you yelped aloud. 

Namjoon makes no sign of backing down. It wasn’t as if he had to halt for air - an added bonus. The sensation never stops and it causes your hips to jerk involuntarily, your shorts sticking to you as you go to rub yourself against him.

You had such an abundance of questions that swirls through your head - since Namjoon was an android, he couldn’t possibly get an erection.

Unless, of course, it was already…

You release another moan - this time long and deep at just the thought of him already being erect. The thought that you could just mound him at any given moment causes you to clench around nothing.

Namjoon senses just how aroused you are, your arms now around his neck as he continues to suckle on your nipples. He now has both of them right his mouth, sucking with all his might. 

You’re rubbing yourself against him, wanting out of your shorts immediately. You could feel him - whatever it was beneath his pajama pants. You’re sure that it’s as real as the rest of Namjoon, more questions that you’ll leave unanswered as they were too complicated. 

Namjoon pops your nipples from his mouth, a string of warm saliva connecting the two together. Very slowly does the tip of his tongue lick along your nipple, siren-like eyes looking right up at you. 

Your pussy clenches again at the look of Namjoon, wishing he was deep inside of you with the same look on his face.

Fuck Karan and his creation, truly. 

“You want to ride my face?”

You’re positive you were leaking and it would all come out when you get out of these shorts. 

“I..I don’t…you’d let me do that?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Namjoon tilts his head. “I was made for you. You can cum all over me if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Namjoon speaks nonchalantly. Dare you say it was cute coming from an android.

“Would you like that?” Namjoon murmurs, further pushing himself back onto your bed. He’s certain that you would like it as you hadn’t stopped grinding against him the entire time. 

You nod your head hastily and Namjoon taps your back. You lift yourself all too quickly to remove your shorts and panties and toss them aside without a care.

 Namjoon reaches his arm out towards you and you take it. “I can hear your heart beating.” Namjoon licks his lips, those siren-like eyes flickering from your face to your exposed bottom half. “Come,”

You’ve never been in this position before. You’ve almost always received oral while on your back - but this was new. You shouldn’t be embarrassed because Namjoon wasn’t a regular man. You didn’t have to be ashamed of how you looked, seeing as - according to him and Karan - he was made for you. 

Namjoon’s fingers grip at your thighs to keep you in place and without much hesitation, his tongue dips between your folds. You jerk instantly at the newfound sensation, but you are unable to move. Namjoon makes sure of it.

Namjoon pleases you as if he’s the one receiving it, his tongue plunging deep between your folds and hammering right against your clit. Your hips are buckling, but he’d never allow you to be too far away from him.

Namjoon’s slurping is loud, but so are your moans. Your eyes are shut tightly because having to look down at Namjoon devour your pussy like a man starved was going to send you over the edge. 

“J…Joon, slow down.” you groan with a shake of your head. Your thighs are shaking, stomach sinking in as you inhale. “...I don’t wanna make a mess-”

Namjoon ignores you all together, squeezing hands jutting your hips against his tongue. His eyes watch your face closely, eyes zoning in on the way you’re struggling to breath while moaning. Your eyes are squeezed shut, refusing to look at him.

Namjoon wanted you to make a mess all over him - this is what he was made for. He was created to serve your every need and craving. He was the perfect being for you; attentive and caring. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you as his master.

“Joon, I don’t think-”

Your eyes snap open when you feel Namjoon enter you - his fingers. They’re as long as they look and they fill you up so nicely. It was a mistake to look at Namjoon beneath you because this sight would forever be embedded in your mind.

“Oh shit,” you groan as Namjoon's fingers pound inside of your pussy. Your arousal coats his chin and now is dripping down his wrist, but he makes no sign of stopping. 

With his free hand, Namjoon glides it up to grip your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” Namjoon hums, fingers curling into your pussy and hitting your spot with each thrust. “Talk, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…!” you shriek, thighs widening to feel more. You needed more of Namjoon - whatever and however much he was willing to give. “Please make me cum, Joon. Please…”

The gears are turning now in Namjoon’s head with the clear demands - no matter how polite - you give him. After all, he was made to serve you and only you. So, Namjoon does as he is told. He quickens his fucking into your pussy that it squelches off of the walls, juices flying out and soaking his chest.

Over the course of the next few months consisted of moments of you and Namjoon entangled together. The following night after you came - entirely too much and the hardest you’ve ever had - you woke to Namjoon massaging you. He had insisted that you needed another full body massage before he left your bedroom to start a bath for you.

It wasn’t awkward as you initially thought it would be and maybe that had something to do with Namjoon not being human. It was easier to get through your own embarrassment as he only appeared to be the lovable assistant he assured you he was created to be for you.

You found yourself going to Namjoon more often than not and of course, he was always willing. You thought that maybe you were taking advantage of the poor android and using his endurance for your own sick pleasure, but Namjoon comforted you. He would always encourage you to come to him for whatever needs you needed fixed.

And of course you had.

Namjoon had made you cum too many times to count; each time more intense than the last. Your legs would be left shaking and tears would be nearly streaming down your face due to pure pleasure. 

It was addicting and no matter how wrong it felt at times, you would always come back and return to Namjoon to make you feel good. He knew exactly how to speak to you and coach you through your orgasm. His voice would deepen in your ear, encouraging you to make a mess all over him - that it was okay to be doing this. 

Whatever Karan did to program Namjoon in understanding your own kinks was amazing and incredibly terrifying all at the same time. 

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks one Friday evening. He had sat by and cleaned while you were showering. His senses caught that you were using your more expensive body wash and lotions - the one you typically used when you were going out. He watched behind your closed door as you dressed in a short, black dress that was entirely too tight for you to ever sit comfortably in. 

“I, uh…” Namjoon senses your awkward laughter and he stops his scrubbing on the circular, glass bowl. The sink water runs as he awaits for you to answer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I…I’m going on a date.” you respond. “A, uh, blind date.”

“A blind date.” Namjoon repeats without a blink in his eye - did Namjoon ever blink? 

“One of my co-workers set it up.” you look away for a moment. “Said she was tired of me being alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Namjoon continues washing the dishes, his eyes now leaving yours to focus on them. “I’m here.”

You smile.”I know you are.” you murmur. “But, she meant…someone human.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond and unlike him, you cannot sense anything. You weren’t an amazing creation like he was. He knew when you were going to be ill days before it even happened and he would prevent it. He learned how to cook by reading books carefully and assured that all your meals would be cooked for you right as he knew your stomach would start to churn. 

Namjoon was amazing for the little things, as well. He would order whatever you needed right before it went out. He assured that your bills were paid on time and would often run errands for you when needed be - he just wasn’t a sex toy to get your high off of. 

“I should be back tonight.” you trail off when Namjoon doesn’t say anything. You inhale. “Is something wrong?”

“Why do you ask?” Namjoon turns the water off and turns his eyes to look at you. 

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s nothing.” you mumble. You’re sure Namjoon didn’t feel any type of emotion and that wasn’t his fault. He knew how to display the idea of emotions when you needed him to. He would laugh at your jokes at times and be just as playful back, but maybe that was apart of how he was programed for you. 

“You do not know this man, right?”

You’re at the door when Namjoon finally speaks. “Right.” you respond, placing your heels onto your feet.

“Then would you like for me to accompany you?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” you giggle. “It’ll be hard to explain why I have another man with me.”

“You do not know him. What if he’s not who he says he is?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Joon.” you shake your head with a low grin. “I appreciated it.”

“I do have to worry about you, Y/N. I wasn’t created to allow harm to come your way.”

“I won’t be harmed, Joon.” you raise your hands to calm him down. “It’s just a date at a restaurant.” you scoff. 

Namjoon’s head snaps to the door just as a few knocks sound off. His eyes flashes and he sees the man just behind the door. He scans his face, the system in his mind calculating everything there was to this man - just who he was, where he worked and even details and information no one should have access to.  

“He’s here, Joon.” you tilt your head. “You should be fine here, right? I’ll be gone no longer than 2 hours.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to your face and slowly, he nods. “Be safe.” he responds. “It should be a little windy tonight. You should grab a jacket.”

Your lips stretch into a smile and you nod your head. Your heels click over to Namjoon and you wrap your arms around him, your head in his chest. “It’s good that you always know the weather beforehand, huh?” you laugh before unraveling yourself from him. “I’ll grab a jacket on my way out. I’ll see you tonight?” you ask. “I want us to finish reading that mystery book. We’re so close to finding out who the killer is!”

Namjoon doesn’t move for the first hour, his eyes lingering on the same spot you were just standing. He counts the minutes you’ve been gone, processing the man you were with - a complete stranger to you - and just how comfortable you felt going out with him. 

Namjoon busies himself by continuing to clean. You couldn’t manage to get through all the hard to reach places and he assures that he does, moving furniture and dusting the house top to bottom. You were no good if you were sick.

Namjoon scrubs the walls with scented detergent with a shake of his head at how you lived in such situations for so long - even if he worked months to assure everything was clean for you. He ponders if you noticed all the work he’s done to assure that you were safe from harm's way. 

It wasn’t two hours like you’ve said. It was four. Namjoon is unable to stop counting until he hears your footsteps stumble through the door. Only it wasn’t just your two feet, but another set that alarms him. Immediately he springs into action, his eyes flashing through the wall of the second bedroom you had allowed him to rest in, dropping the book he was reading.

Namjoon’s eyes catch the familiar man standing behind you. You’re laughing along with him and you press a finger to his lips to shush him. 

You’re drunk, Namjoon knows immediately. Not entirely drunk as you’re coherent, but you’re far beyond what you’re usually were; sober. You’re laughing more around the man who’s just as equally drunk as you are. You two nearly stumble onto the ground as you attempt to close the door.

Namjoon follows the way you and the man make your way to your bedroom. You close the door behind yourself quietly almost as if he couldn’t hear anything. He continues to watch you, unable to stop himself. 

You and Namjoon often listen  to podcasts and watch tv shows and he’s positive that this could end badly - this man could be a murderer for all he knows. 

The man isn’t - as far as he knows. He had no criminal record, after all, but that wasn’t going to stop him from ensuring your safety. 

This is the first time you’ve ever brought someone home before. He only saw Karan a handful of times and you opted to talk to other friends over the phone. It’s weird that you did now out of all times - and not only that, but you were going to sleep with this unknown man.

30 minutes is what it took for it all to be over and Namjoon isn’t surprised in the slightest in knowing that you weren’t satisfied. The look of disappointment on your face is the easiest sign of it, but Namjoon knows you. He knows your body. He sensed the way your heart beat increased a bit and your breath hitches, only for it to die down when the man himself cums - never you.

Namjoon shakes his head. Of course you would be left unsatisfied. This man wasn’t someone who gave a damn about you or your pleasure. He was a random man who had no ties to you, so of course he couldn’t care less to make you cum - that's what Namjoon was for. 

Namjoon knew you in and out. He knew everything there was about you - the side that you preferred to chew your food while you ate. He knew which side you preferred to sleep on at night and your entire morning schedule before work. It’s Namjoon that assures that your health is up to date and even scheduled two check-ups with your doctor so far.

Namjoon has to remind you about the dentist appointment, however, seeing as you haven’t gone in a few years. He shakes his head as his glowing eyes watch you walk the man out, a look of disappointment on your face.

“Want me to start you a shower?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at Namjoon’s sudden entrance. Your back leaned against your closed front door and hadn’t noticed him enter. 

“I…I thought you were….resting?” You bite your lip. Namjoon didn’t need to sleep, of course, but you recall him stating that he’d often rest to recharge. Karan had once stated that if Namjoon goes outside, he could also recharge solarly - whatever that means. 

Namjoon only stares blankly at you. 

You bite your lip for a moment. 

“I, uh, probably do need a shower.” you chuckle humorlessly. “Is everything okay?”

You can feel the tension in the room as Namjoon continues to stare at you. 

Namjoon turns on his heels and saunters down the hall to the bathroom. His change of mood is different but maybe it’s all in your head and you were overthinking this.

Namjoon didn’t have mood swings. 

“Thanks, Joon.” you murmur, entering the bathroom as he starts the shower. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Namjoon again doesn’t respond and instead begins to light candles - aromatherapy is what he called it when he started doing this for you. The different scents are soothing and relaxing just as Namjoon said they would be.

“Are you upset with me?” you question as you begin to disrobe, silk robe lying at your feet. “Is that a stupid question? I don’t know if androids can feel any type of emotion or-”

“Why did you bring him here?”

The shower water falls rough against the tub floor. You blink a couple times to process his question with a quick lick of your lips. “I, uh, didn’t know you…heard us.” you’re embarrassed now.

“I can hear everything.” Namjoon eyes you from his reflection in the mirror, his back turned towards you. “I can see everything, as well, Y/N. I can see right through these very walls.”

Your eyes widened a bit. 

“Excuse me?”

Namjoon remains quiet as you internally question his words. 

“You were watching us?” you are unsure if you should feel upset or further humiliated. If that was the case, that meant Namjoon saw how disappointing your sexlife truly was and just why you always came back to him time and time again. It causes you to close your eyes for a moment and mentally curse yourself - and for Karan for making Namjoon too perfect.

“That’s an invasion of privacy.” you mumble to yourself, turning away from Namjoon to begin your shower.

“You didn’t know that man.” Namjoon retorts. “He could have been a murderer.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “A murderer? He sells chicken.” you reach out your hand to feel the water - it’s always at a perfect temperature whenever Namjoon does it. He doesn’t have to configure it like you do.

Namjoon knows fully where the man works. He is scheduled to work at 9am the next day. 

“What does that matter? You’re drunk.” Namjoon’s tone changes to one you haven’t heard before. “He could’ve taken advantage of you. Then I’ll have to kill him.”

You freeze, hand underneath the warm water. There’s a shiver up your spine and slowly, you turn towards the android. He’s facing you this time, eyes unmoving. 

You’re unsure how to react to what Namjoon has said. Namjoon wouldn’t kill anyone. He barely left your side at times. He reads books and hell, he even shows interest in gardening. 

But that didn’t mean Namjoon wasn’t capable of killing anyone. He wasn’t human - he’s highly intelligent. He could figure out anything in under a minute and just recently did you learn he could see you through your walls. There’s so much you don’t know about Namjoon already that it causes your heart to jolt.

“You’re becoming frightened of me.” Namjoon speaks. “That’s not my intention.”

“N-No, I-”

“I can sense your heartbeat quickening. The hair on your arm is rising, as well.” Namjoon interrupts. It’s pointless to lie to him. “I would never hurt you, Y/N. You know that.”

Did you?

Namjoon’s eyes squint a bit, almost as if he could read your thoughts. 

“I would never lie to you, either. I would kill him.” Namjoon admits, voice a bit monotone. “I would kill anyone who would harm you.”

Your hand was going to prune if you left it under the water any longer. You turn away from Namjoon and decide to get into the shower. You’re speechless for the time being, your heartbeat only quickening. You want to take Namjoon’s words as true - you never felt unsafe with the android around. But there’s something in his tone that does indeed frighten you.

There was a shift and Namjoon noticed it immediately. 

You no longer allow Namjoon into your bedroom and any form of sexual encounters has slowly come to a halt. 

You, when asked, stated that it wasn’t fair to Namjoon to be used as a sexual object for your own satisfaction if he couldn’t gain anything from it - and he dropped a bomb on you that you were too embarrassed (and ashamed) to ask Karan about.

“I feel everything.” was what Namjoon stated and it doesn’t sit right with your spirit. Androids shouldn’t feel things, right? Sex for him should have no feeling - how could it? Asking Karan wasn’t an option because then he’d know you were just as lonely as he said you were. Asking Namjoon wasn’t either because you had a feeling that even he wasn’t sure why.

Namjoon wasn’t content with you stopping him from pleasuring you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let it bother him. He was still here for whatever you needed. He continued to clean and started cooking for you, as well. He would read books to you still and it was soothing, similar to an audiobook. He didn’t make mistakes nor did he miss any words - it was perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was him coming around. The man who’s name he knew, but didn’t care to ever mention. 

The same man who couldn’t make you cum - and never has. Why you brought him back time and time again was beyond him. You were always left disappointed and would eventually use your vibrator to fix it.

Similar to tonight. Namjoon watches the man leave your room and make his  way out of the home and you lay on your bed with a few short breaths. You’re just as disappointed as you always are - what you’ll always be if you remained bringing around that man.

Namjoon tilts his head, his feet moving until they stop right outside your door. His glowing eyes turn back to normal and he raises his arm  to lightly knock onto your door.

“Joon?” you ask from behind it. “Come in.”

You sit up against your headboard as Namjoon enters. He lingers at the door, the hallway light shining behind his tall frame. 

“Was I…too loud?” you trail off, unsure of what Namjoon wanted at this hour. He has stopped attempting to come into your bedroom once you cut your sexual encounters off.

“Why was he here?”

You click your tongue, knitting your brows. You take a deep breath. “Excuse me?” you question in response. “Why are you questioning who I bring into my household, Namjoon?”

Your tone catches Namjoon off-guard and instantly he notices your growing irritation. 

“It’s my job to protect-”

“Cut the bullshit, Namjoon.” you lift your hand to silence him.  “I’m not in any danger. He’s been here almost every night.”

“And every night you lay here and buzz the nerves off of your clit because he cannot make you cum.” Namjoon shoots back.

Your eyes widen.

“Yet, you allow that man back into the household for what?” Namjoon steps into the room. He’s sporting plaid pajama shorts and a tanktop and appears to be ready for bed; in his case, to recharge. “To use your body to masturbate? He doesn’t pleasure you-”

“I told you to stop watching me.” you hiss, your hands clenching into fist. 

“You haven’t came once, Y/N. Once.” Namjoon retorts with a shake of his head. “But you allow him to come back time and time again.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

Namjoon and you are staring right at one another, the tension as high as ever. 

This was your first disagreement with Namjoon, the android not backing down. You’re a bit surprised by his response and unmoving nature. 

“Namjoon.” your teeth grits. “Get. Out.”

“No.” Namjoon responses, gritting his own teeth - maybe to mock you. “I’m not going to sit by while you allow a nuisance back into our home.��

“Our home?” you snicker. “You act like you pay for anything around here.”

“You act like you clean anything around here.” Namjoon retorts. “Or get groceries. Or necessities. Or rearrange anything in this household.” 

You look away. Maybe you were being harsh with Namjoon. This was his home as much as it was yours and it wasn’t fair to him that you were a bit snappy. 

“I didn’t mean that.” you sigh. “I probably shouldn’t take my irritation out on you. You don’t deserve it.”

Namjoon agrees - he doesn’t.

“I just want us to have boundaries.” you cross your arms as you speak. It’s as if you’re trying to save his feelings and lately, you were beginning to think Namjoon, as an android, truly did have them. “I’ve realized that we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t…?” Namjoon is at the foot of your bed now. “...I shouldn’t make you cum?”

“Joon,” you sigh with a slight roll in your eyes. “you’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Why should we stop?” Namjoon questions. “What makes him worthy and not me?”

“I…I just…he’s just…there.” you’re not making any sense, even for a highly intelligent being as Namjoon. “...maybe I don’t want to be lonely.”

“You’re never alone.” Namjoon quips. “I’m always here for you.”

“Of course.” you nod, licking your lips. You want to say more. You want to explain why you and he couldn’t continue further, but you’re left sitting on your bed, unable to look at him for longer than a few seconds.

“Are you upset with me?”

Namjoon takes a seat at the end of your bed.

“No, Joon. I’m not.”

Namjoon’s lips slowly form into a smile, and like always it’s his dimples that has your heart jumping.

“Your heart’s beating fast.” 

“Joon-”

You yelp when you’re suddenly dragged from your seat position to laying flat onto your back. Namjoon had snatched your ankle and yanked you closer to him. He doesn’t allow you any grace time to comprehend what’s happening. 

You’re naked beneath your robe and it hikes up when Namjoon forces your legs apart. He then proceeds to wrap them around his waist, arms embracing you fully. 

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.”

“J-Joon…” you shake your head with a thick swallow. You’re even more ashamed now that Namjoon’s voice causes your pussy to clench with such need. “...we can’t.”

“I’m going to make you cum, Y/N.” Namjoon repeats. “Isn’t that what you want? To cum?”

Yes it was.

Namjoon knows this - you’re rubbing against him as you both lay here, unbeknownst to you. 

“Why are you against that, Y/N? What are you afraid of?” Namjoon thrusts forward and that causes you to gasp, the friction of his shorts rubs against your clit. “Your heartbeat is increasing as well as your libido.”

Fuck Namjoon for knowing your body inside and out, causing you to go through such different amounts of emotions all at once.

Fuck Karan, as well, for forcing this upon you.

“Human emotions are complicated.” you hide your moan the best you could. “Human…touch is…I’m sure you can’t understand it fully.”

“I can feel you.” Namjoon quips, his embrace tightening. “You’ll have to ask Karan as to why. I feel everything just the same as you do.”

Your eyes flutter a bit, your mind racking with a thousand questions.

“And now,” Namjoon’s hand trails up your thigh. “I want to feel your pussy around me.”

Namjoon was growing amazing at turning himself modern - another thing you had to yell at Karan about. 

“I’m not going to think further about it.” you sigh, defeated and utterly horny. “I’ll just end up hurting my own head.”

Namjoon embraces you into a kiss - one that you allow. It causes you to remember just how much you had missed Namjoon on you. You missed his touch on your skin that would leave a trail of goosebumps behind them. You missed the way he would kiss and suck upon your skin.

You missed Namjoon’s hands, so large and strong yet soft to the touch; the way they feel inside of you especially.

“You’re wetter now than you were with him.” 

Namjoon is smug, knowing fully that no man could pleasure you like he could, especially not a human. He was the perfect being for you - highly intelligent and strong; completely unbeatable. He understood exactly what you needed in life at any given moment. Could a human man truly help you while in sickness? Could they sense when your body was working overtime to prevent you from falling ill and just what to do to prevent it? Could they reach all of the hard to reach places to clean - could they even detect mold or carbon dioxide?

No.

But Namjoon could and with that knowledge, you’ll never be safe with any other human being. 

You inhale deeply when Namjoon’s lips lift from your own. If you could see yourself now, you’ll be sure that your lips were swollen and you appeared like a woman starved to be touched.

Namjoon wants to taste you again. Completely ravish you whole. He has a deep desire to sink his fingers deep inside of you and allow you to quiver and shake with pure need and ecstasy. 

“No foreplay.” 

Namjoon stops in his tracks, having already kissed down your neck to your collarbone, nearly ripping the silk fabric of your robe apart. 

“No…foreplay…?” Namjoon tilts his head, eyes slowly lifting to witness your face. “You love foreplay.”

“I do.” you sighed out. “I just,” you lick your lips. “I just want you to fuck me.”

Namjoon lifts his brows and then he nods, understanding your sudden need. Namjoon leans back to push his shorts down while you watch with curious, lustful eyes.

Namjoon’s cock springs out and your eyes are fixed upon it. It’s erected - of course, you truly ponder if it ever truly wasn’t - and the tip is an inviting flushed pink. There’s veins wrapping around the base of it and as you look closer, they are slowly pulsing.

You hum.

“You,” Namjoon begins, grabbing his cock into his hands and centers the tip directly onto your clit. “look so defeated. So…desperate.”

You bite your lip harshly. Namjoon is teasing you, circling the tip of his cock between your folds. The sight alone is hypnotizing, nearly causing your mouth to water. However, it’s the look upon Namjoon’s face that has you moaning, finally cracking. Namjoon’s eyes are zoned; focused. He eyes the way his cock rubs along your wet clit, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. His mouth is slightly ajar, short pants coming from between them.

Namjoon could actually feel you like he said he could. It’s eerie to think about how an android could, but once again, you did not wish to think too far into it.

“Are you going to fuck me or…” you lick your bottom lip. “...or are you going to fuck me?”

Namjoon glances at you. “How much?”

You tilt your head. “How much what?”

“How many times do you want me to make you cum?” Namjoon questions, his tip now , sliding down to your hole. “How about one for each time he couldn’t?”

Namjoon enters slowly, a raspy chuckle sounding from his lips. “We’ll be here all night, wouldn’t we, Y/N?”

“Fuck you-”

With a quick thrust, Namjoon enters you whole. You yelp out and your back arches. 

“I will.” Namjoon groans.

With both hands gripping firmly upon your waist, Namjoon begins to thrust in rhythmic motions, cock springing in and out of you.

Your hands reach out to dig into the pillows surrounding you for support. You cannot hold back your moans any longer and fully embrace the pleasure that Namjoon provides. It’s insane how much you missed Namjoon and just how much you wished you’d sought him out instead of dealing with someone else. 

For Namjoon, the erotic feeling is something he hasn’t felt before and it’s a sensation that he doesn’t wish to stop. As a highly intelligent being as himself, even he cannot explain what Karan and the other scientist has done to have him feel the normal sensations that a human would - and he wasn’t going to complain about it, either. 

Namjoon’s nails dig into your skin possessively; with such greed. Your pussy is clenching around him perfectly, drawing him in more and more.

“J…Joon, slow down…!” you groan, your eyelids fluttering and barely managing to remain open. 

“No.”

Namjoon’s hips are cracking into you, speed never ceasing - it wasn’t as if he ever needed to stop to gain stamina. When he was done with you, his hand marks would be embedded into your skin permanently. However, the way he’s making you feel at this moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You’re close. I can sense it.” 

Namjoon was always right. It’s inevitable for you to not cum so quickly when he’s fucking you with such need, slamming into your sweet spot with each powerful thrust. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, shaking erratically against your bed.

Namjoon wasn’t done - he had a dozen more times to make you cum and he was fully intending on doing so. You have no time to recover when he flips you from your back to your stomach. He fully rips the robe from your body, exposing you fully.

Namjoon’s pace is just as punishable as it was in the first round. You could barely manage to sit up as for each time Namjoon would only fuck you deeper into the mattress. 

Namjoon is enthralled with the way your pussy only appears to grow tighter; wetter. There's a milky cream coating his cock that evident of your arousal and it only causes him to want to fuck you more.

Large hand glides up your hips, past your back and rests onto your shoulders. He forces you up, back arching. He continues his punishing pounding and your vision blurs at the new found position.

“You’ve ignored me for so long, Y/N.” 

Namjoon’s voice is laced with need, even more evidence that he was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“I should fuck you all night until you’re begging me to stop.” 

Your breast bounces furiously in rhythm with his thrusts.

“You were taunting me, weren’t you?”

“What…?” 

Namjoon’s throat lets out a groan. His right arm snakes around your neck and he pulls you closer to him. Your back slams against his broad chest and his mouth is against your ear. He’s moaning and that alone causes you to once more clench around his cock. 

“You bringing that man here was taunting me…” Namjoon hisses. His thrust slowed down and now they’re hitting deeper. “...I thought of a thousand ways to kill him, you know?”

It should frighten you, Namjoon’s words. It should cause red flags to wave in your mind.

It doesn’t. Namjoon’s words, mixed with the raspiness of his voice, only causes goosebumps to erupt throughout your naked skin. His deep, slow thrusts has your mind clouded with nothing but erotic lust and pleasure that he’s offering you.

“I held myself back because I care for you.” Namjoon’s free hand roams your body, gripping possessively at your breast. “But you didn’t care about me.”

“I do!” you protest, your own hand placing itself atop of his larger one. 

“Then why’d you go against me?”

Namjoon begins to kiss the nape of your neck, free hand trailing down past your stomach and between your legs. He rests it onto your pulsing clit. 

“Why’d you allow another man into our home?” Namjoon bites your neck, teeth sinking into your skin. When you scream out, Namjoon continues. “Why’d you allow another man to touch what was mine, Y/N? Have you no respect for me?”

Namjoon doesn’t let up, his fingers circle your clit as his thrusts begin to increase. 

This felt far too intimate - the way Namjoon holds you, the way he speaks to you. His words are full of emotion, hurt being one of them. 

You recall you and Karan, a few years back, once speaking about robots and if they truly could become sentient and it was a conversation you didn’t truly care for. Now, however, you begin to ponder if the conversation was brought up because he was creating Namjoon, an android that was sentient.

“Joon,” you gasp, your hand reaching back to grasp Namjoon’s head. He’s a bit shocked by your actions, but he doesn’t allow it to halt him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…done that, I-” you were going to cum again. “-I should have thought about your feelings, too.”

Namjoon grumbles inaudible beneath his breath, his thrust sloppy. There’s something in the bit of his stomach he hasn’t felt before, and if he has once it’s a feeling he cannot remember. 

“You love me, right? Say you love me, Y/N.” Namjoon pleads. His aggressive and dominant demeanor is slowly breaking. “I was made for you,Y/N. No one else!”

Your fingers tug at Namjoon’s hair, the soft locks tickling your fingers. His tone is so soft and vulnerable.

“I do love you, Joon.” you sigh out a long and deep sigh. Your fingers continue to tug at his hair for support, an action he does not mind in the slightest. 

Namjoon shudders, your sticky arousal coating his twirling fingers. He lightly shakes his head against your neck, his embrace upon you only tightening. 

“Say it again.”

Your snap your eyes shut, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach only returning. 

“I-I love you, Joon.” you stutter out. “I…I know you were made for me.”

It isn’t long until you’re cumming once more, even harder than the first time. Namjoon allows both of his arms to wrap fully around you as he thrusts forward, panting in your neck.

“Love you so much, Y/N. Never gonna let you go.” Namjoon senses it, the unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach that confuses him but what he does understand is that he wants to let it all out.

A warm substance enters you, shooting throughout your core. Your mind doesn’t process it at first, far too enthralled in your own orgasm to realize that Namjoon, an android, had came directly inside of you. How? The both of you are entirely unsure.

“I’ll be back in the lab in an hour.” Karan speaks as he climbs the steps to your front door.. “It’s been months since we’ve revealed Namjoon.”

Karan stops at your front door and snorts.

“No, of course not. Namjoon is perfect. It took us years programming him.” Karan responds, nose against his ear. “Besides,Y/N hasn’t said anything about him malfunctioning so that’s a good sign.”

Karan lifts his hand to knock upon your door. “I gotta go. Try not to fuck anything up while I’m out.”

Karan puts his phone into his jacket pocket as he awaits for the door to open. He doesn’t call you beforehand - he never did. Today would be no different. 

Karan was curious how Namjoon had come together and if he had managed to adjust to modern society. You would ask a few vague questions, but never anything far too in depth that would have him questioning.

It was nearly a decade ago when he came across Namjoon, the very man who he had gifted you. Namjoon, in simpler terms, was dying and had offered his body to science. It cost Karan a fortune alone to pay for and long, exhausting hours to perfect along the way.

“Karan…”

Karan isn’t taken aback by Namjoon greeting him at the door. He has expected Namjoon to. From you, he has heard that Namjoon was doing amazing in being an assistant and an overall friend, exactly what he was programmed to do.

“Namjoon!” Karan waves his hand. “How are you and Y/N? I’ve come to visit you two. See if everything is fine.”

Namjoon blinks, the door only opens a crack - enough for Namjoon to show his face.

“Okay.” Namjoon murmurs, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Karan nods his head, stepping into the home. It’s eerily quiet inside the home. He strolls past the foyer and his eyebrows furrow. 

There’s flowers on the floor, petals scattering down the hall that would reach your sitting room. He doesn’t question what’s happening - maybe he caught you at the wrong time.

“Is Y/N in the sitting room…?” Karan stops in his tracks as he reaches the sitting area. “Y/N?”

“She’s fine.”

Karan’s eyes fall to your crouched onto the ground. You’re breathing heavily, panting as you’re breathing into an oxygen mask. There’s tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N what the hell-”

As Karan steps closer to get to you, he notices another figure, however this time lifeless. it's a few feet away from you and nearly hidden behind a couch, but he catches it. His mind races at what in the world was going on prior to him entering.

“Namjoon, what happened?” Karan asks. His mind was racing, pounding louder and louder now. 

“Home invasion.” Namjoon responds, closing the door behind him to then step inside the home deeper. “He,” Namjoon points to the man who is lifeless. “came uninvited.”

Karan tries to understand everything that goes on, however Namjoon is being far too vague for his understanding. 

“Y/N is too trusting and naive.” Namjoon shakes his head. “I told her that he could be a murderer of sorts when she began dating him.”

Karan’s head is spinning. He has to sit down - it feels as if the whole room is spinning uncontrollably. 

“H-He tried to h-hurt Y/N?” Karan manages  to find the nearest seat, his body crashing down against it. His throat is clogged, unaware of what is happening to him.

“Sure, let’s say that.” Namjoon chuckles. “I got rid of the problem, Karan. I was created for Y/N. To assure her ultimate safety and him,” Namjoon scoffs. “was not a part of the reason. Y/N doesn’t need another man in her life.”

Karan’s heart is beating erratically, Namjoon notes, but he wasn’t here to assure that Karan was safe. As long as you were then he’s alright with that. 

“You must feel it, right? The Aftermath of Carbon Monoxide poisoning. The dizziness…the shortness of breath. Soon it’ll be nausea.”

Karan begins to cough. It was growing hard to remain alert, his body growing weak and tired. He was growing exhausted by the second.  

“I gave Y/N two options. Us or him.” Namjoon takes a seat on the couch by you, his hand stroking your back gently. “And rightfully so, she chose us.”

You’re continuing to cry, unable to process just what Namjoon has done. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to move from this spot due to pure shock.

You weren’t expecting to wake up one morning to flowers, neither was Namjoon. He watched you welcome the man into the home you and he shared together and thank him. You placed the flowers along the kitchen island and offered him a drink - as if he wasn’t in the next room.

“Y/N is too nice to people. I got rid of the problem, right, baby?”

Maybe Carbon Monoxide was a little harsh - but it scared you enough to obey him. When you experienced the shortness of breath, the fatigue and booming headache, you caught on that this was no longer a joke. That Namjoon wasn;t going to sit around and watch you be taken advantage of by a mere human man who couldn’t keep you safe.

Literally - he laid dead on the floor because he couldn’t save you.

“It’s either him, Y/N, or me.” Is what Namjoon told you as you struggled to breathe. The small oxygen tank in his hands as he watches you. “If you choose to die here tonight then so be it. I’ll sell destruct and we’ll all be dead.”

Namjoon didn’t like doing this. It hurt him to have to punish you like this, but you needed to be taught a lesson. And you learned from your mistake when you reached out for him and with that, now you’re here alive and well. He would nurse you back to health like he was programmed to do because he loved you.

“Namjoon you…you can’t…”

“You weren’t supposed to be here, Karan.” Namjoon speaks. “Why did you have to come today? Now you’ll have to die here, too.” There wasn’t going to be anyone to stop him from his ultimate goal - not even Karan who he felt no ill feelings for.

Karan is unable to move. It’s as if all the air from his lungs were gone.

“I promise to do right by you as your greatest creation.” Namjoon strokes your cheek with his finger. “I’ll keep Y/N safe and together, we’ll grow to love one another deeper.  We can be a family.”

Your tears fall rapidly and you snap them shut as watching Karan slowly die wasn’t something you wanted to see - not now or ever. 

Namjoon wraps an arm around you and presses you to his chest. He assures that your oxygen mask remains on so you could breathe. His eyes watch Karan and he snorts. “I suppose you wish you hadn’t used my body for this purpose.” he murmurs, sure he couldn’t hear him any longer. “Maybe you thought I’ll never grow sentient, but a part of me still is human even if the majority isn’t.”

Namjoon held you a little tighter as you continued to cry. He presses his chin atop of your head and sighs, closing his eyes. Now it could only be you and him -  no one else can come between the two of you and the love you share.

halloween masterlist

[inkskinned]

the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.

capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.

now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.

and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.

and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.

and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".

it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"

[evansbby]

you get a request from a mysterious viewer for a private chat…

❃▹or ❃▹

sugar daddy ari meets cute camgirl!reader and she doesn’t know how to act around him.

{18+, dd/lg overtones, daddy kink,minors dni}

A. Levinson has requested a private chat.

The message pops up on your screen the moment you’re about to shut your laptop and call it a night. It’s already past midnight and you’ve just ended a particularly wild livestream. Tonight, you’d done the whole innocent girl act that your subscribers loved so much. You’d asked them to suggest on the live chat all the different ways you could touch yourself. As expected, it had gone over a treat, and you’d done your highest numbers yet thanks to your loving fans.

Speaking of which, your laptop beeps again with another notification:

A. Levinson donated $500.

You recognise the name immediately. Of course, you have no clue what he looks like or who he is. But he’s a new regular on your livestreams. Thousands of people watch you but you recognise the names of those who donate frequently. A. Levinson is one of those people – and his donations are hefty, too. Oh, should you accept? You didn’t really do private chats…

The buzz of another notification snaps you out of your thoughts. Another five hundred dollars. And this time, there’s a message attached.

A. Levinson: I really enjoyed your show tonight. Could I possibly take up your time for just a little bit longer? You can name your price.

Well… he didn’t sound creepy. He was most likely an older gentleman, probably lonely with a bunch of wealth and nobody to spend it on – aka, your favourite type of customer. You hover over his name quickly – no profile picture, forty-two years old (practically double your age!), new profile. Yep, it all checked out. You’d been planning on calling it an early night tonight but perhaps you could stretch it out a little longer and give this lonely old soul a bit of an extra show… For the extra cash, of course.

You fix your hair and adjust the lingerie you’ve still got on. You hadn’t stripped nude on tonight’s livestream, and most of your viewers had been too enraptured watching you make yourself cum over and over again to really even notice. Plus, you always chose the best lingerie to wear for your cam-shows. Tonight, you had on a pretty lacy set in the softest, cutest shade of baby pink, with creamy white ribbons and detailing completing the look along with your signature pink pumps. This A. Levinson guy would be in for a treat and a half. You quickly accept his request for a private chat, easily slipping back into the character you play in your shows.

“Hello there,” you feign shyness and smile into the camera how you always do. “What’s your name?”

“Ari,” the stranger responds, his voice sounding like liquid chocolate pouring straight out of your laptop. Damn. He didn’t have his camera on but that was unsurprising – most of your fans were very shy. “I have to admit, I didn’t know if you’d accept my private chat request.”

“Well, how could I not?” You adjust the straps of your bra slowly, “I love my fans, you know.”

He chuckles, “And they sure do love you.” A pause. “You looked breathtaking tonight.”

You’re used to compliments from your fans. Comments ranging from: “you’re gorgeous” to fuck ur so hot xx” to “I wish my girlfriend looked like you” to “you made me cum so hard in my pants baby.” But the way this Ari guy says it… the way he says the word “breathtaking” – all soft, and slow and melodious and confident. Instantly, your heart thrums, leaving you feeling a tad embarrassed.

“Oh… why thank you! That’s super sweet of you to say.” You recover quickly, slipping back into your “innocent girl” character as you smile softly and avert your gaze and do that thing where you rub your arm and pretend to be all shy. It goes over great with all your other fans.

But this fan only chuckles, “You can call me Ari for now, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?!?

You clear your throat, “Were you feeling lonely tonight, Ari?”

“You could say that. I try to tune in to your show whenever I have the time. You were beautiful tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so sweet.” Oh, there was that liquid chocolate voice again – all velvety and smooth and deep! You vaguely wonder what he looks like…

“Thank you, Ari. What was your favourite part?”

And okay, so maybe you’re being a bit boring right now. Usually, on the rare occasion you did agree to a private chat, you’d be a lot more flirtatious. But this man’s voice was almost putting you in a trance, making you have to think your next words so you don’t stumble over them. Gosh, none of your other fans sounded like he did! All calm and self-assured, and…

“I really enjoyed the part when you were using your fingers. You had that lost look in your eye, as though you were on another planet. I thought it was really cute.”

You giggle, shuffling closer to your webcam so he has a good view of your cleavage. The ring-light behind your camera casts a flattering, bright hue over your body, accentuating the way your breasts spill out of your bra and bounce slightly as you move closer. You think you hear a rumble escape his throat, but you can’t be too sure. Either way, you lean into the camera, “You like it when I touch myself?”

“Honey, I don’t think there’s a man in this world who wouldn’t like that.”

Another spark flutters down your spine, and you wonder why his words are making you react like this. You’ve been on the receiving end of a bunch of different compliments from your fans day after day. So… why now? Why tonight? Why him? Why was it different now?

The buzz of your laptop knocks you out of your reverie.

A. Levinson donated $600.

“Do you think you could touch yourself for me again?” He asks, his voice all velvety smooth yet rugged at the same time. And it’s a request that he doesn’t even bother to veil as a question, and for some reason, you feel a jolt down there at his expectant tone. “I would really love to see that pretty look on your face again.”

You giggle nervously before remembering to put on your innocent girl act for the camera. “Touch myself? I dunno… It’s getting kind of late, sir.”

A. Levinson donated $800.

“I told you, please call me Ari for now.”

You don’t know whether you clench from the sheer amount of money he seems to be throwing at you as if it’s nothing, or the delicious hint of authority in his tone. None of your fans were like that – they all acted like you were very much the one on charge, the one with all the power, the one who could log out and end the chat and leave them hanging at any moment. Which you could – so then why was Ari acting like he was the one who held all the power?

And why did you not hate it at all?

Slowly, you slip your hand down your body, making sure to look demure and seductive in front of the camera.

“Play with your lingerie,” he commands, “Play with those cute little white ribbons.”

“Yeah, o-okay,” you breathe, inwardly wondering why the hell you’re not taking control of your own show like how you usually do. Why you’re so okay with letting him take the lead. Nevertheless, you twirl the ribbons of your panties around your fingers, stroking the satin softly as your core begins to pulse in need. But instead of going down to touch your pussy, you keep playing with your lingerie instead, imagining that your hands are not yours, but rather… someone else’s. Someone who’s rough, tough, masculine and rugged… And hell bent on teasing you.

“Use your other hand too,” Ari says, “Squeeze your pretty tits, baby girl. They look so pretty in that pink bra.”

“Th-Thank you, da–” You bite down on your tongue just in time, mortified that you almost let that word slip out. And you think you hear a smirk on the other end of the call, but you’re too preoccupied with listening to Ari to really pay any heed. With one hand still playing with your panties, you squeeze your breast with your other. Your nipple feels hard against your palm, and your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you knead your soft flesh at his orders.

“That’s so good, pretty girl. You look so pretty and cute like that.” Ari compliments. “In fact, your choice of lingerie is one of my favourite parts of your shows. You’re always wearing something cute and girly. It’s very charming, sweetheart.”

Oh, how was he being so calm right now? Usually, your fans got themselves worked up within the first few minutes of your private chats. It didn’t take much to get them to blow their loads and their money too, and the chat would be over in about five minutes. But right now? Right now, it seems you’re the one who’s getting worked up. Quickly, you clear your throat.

“Thanks. This set is one of my favourites.”

“Is that so? Well, you have to promise me you’ll buy yourself a few more sets as adorable as this one.” Ari responds, “Cute and pink and pretty, just like a princess. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you agree, cringing at how dumb you sound. He seems unperturbed, however, and you soon grow preoccupied with touching yourself again. Squeezing your other breast while you make direct eye contact with your camera.

“Good girl. Why don’t you touch your little pussy now? I’m sure she’s starting to feel a bit neglected.” He chuckles, and you marvel at how in control he sounds, how easily the words slip past his tongue. “After all, she’s the star of the show, isn’t she?”

“She is,” you agree softly, blinking at the camera, “She’s very wet.”

“Mm, I’m sure she is, baby girl. Push your panties aside and spread your legs so her daddy can take a look at her.”

You gasp when you hear him refer to himself as that, but he seems so damned unperturbed that you feel you have to act the same. Oh gosh, when had this all taken such a turn? Never before had you taken orders from a fan in a private chat, but it’s like he’s somehow programmed you to listen to him through that velvety voice of his.

You spread your legs like how you’d do on a regular livestream, angling the webcam to get the perfect shot. Your panties are soaked when you push them aside, and you bite your lip as you use two of your fingers to spread your folds. They glisten under the lighting, your wetness trailing down your thighs and staining the rug under you.

“Such a good girl,” Ari rewards you with a compliment. “Such a good little girl with a cute little baby pussy. You should be so proud, princess.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, do you want daddy to turn his camera on? And don’t worry, it’s alright if you’re too shy and you don’t want me to. You’re just a little girl after all, and I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Your heart lurches. Ari? Turn his camera on? Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit curious to see what he looked like! To see the face that matched that insanely chocolatey voice… A nervous thrill ripples through you, but you try your hardest to remain cool.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to get out, hating how you stutter. You never stutter on your own livestreams and chats. Never. You clear your throat, “Yes. Yes, you can turn your camera on.”

A moment later you find yourself staring at a set of deep blue eyes. You blink several times. Now, you see a handsome face. A very handsome face. Bronzed skin, a thick beard. Striking eyes, high cheekbones. A gorgeous, sloped nose. Long brown hair that brushes over his eyes before he pushes it back and out of his face. Oh, he was hot! And fully dressed, too. In an expensive-looking suit with his tie loosened around his neck.

“Oh… wow, Ari… I–” You’re at a loss for words, but thankfully Ari takes the reins.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that.” He licks his lips, long lashes fluttering across his cheekbones as he blinks, “And call me daddy, baby. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, daddy, that’s fine.”

“I thought so. Now, why don’t you tell daddy your favourite way of keeping your baby pussy happy.” He murmurs softly, slowly, hypnotically.

You watch as his own hand slips down, and it thrills you to think of what he’s doing, what his camera isn’t showing. Oh, none of your other fans were as handsome as him! Or as put together or as in control! No, Ari’s energy is completely different. So softly dominant that it sends chills up and down your spine as you clamber to obey him.

Suddenly, you remember he’d asked a question.

“My stuffie, I guess.” You answer hypnotically, staring into his blue eyes that look to be so deep, so soulful. Like he was a man who’d seen everyone and everything this world had to offer. A man who’d lived an entire lifetime, a man who was, well, a man in the purest sense of the word. So virile, so mature – someone you could look up to, follow, listen to.

“Your stuffie.” Ari repeats, savouring the word on his tongue, “You stuffie keeps your pussy happy, huh? I think I remember watching one of your livestreams where you did something like that. But I’d like you to show me again, baby. Will you do that for me?”

Luckily, your stuffed teddy bear is only a foot away from you, and you quickly grab it. And it was true, sometimes you’d ride your stuffies during your livestreams. Your fans loved to watch you writhe and moan and lose yourself in the moment, watch you go from cuddling your stuffed toys to humping them and making yourself cum. Clearly, Ari had been a fan of this routine too.

You get into position, placing your teddy bear between your legs, watching how its fur goes damp as soon as it makes contact with your soaking pussy. Biting your lip, you waste no time as you start rocking back and forth tentatively. Ari lets out a rumble of approval, and you see his arm flex as he leans forward.

“That’s so good, baby girl. You like using your little friend to make you feel good?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s one of my most viewed livestreams.”

He smirks, “But you’ll put on a better show for me right now, won’t you?”

“Yeah, daddy…”

Your breathing slowly goes shallow, mind clear of any thoughts except how sexy and manly Ari sounded on this call right now. And it feels so delicious already, your teddy’s fur catching on your throbbing clit, incensing you to grind down harder.

“You have a wishlist, babygirl?”

The question is posed so casually that it somehow almost winds you. Your hips slow down and you look up at your webcam. But Ari narrows his eyes, nodding his head as if commanding you to continue, which you do. God, it was so hot how nonchalant he was being — and yet he sounded so attentive too!

“A wishlist?” You squeak, voice going high-pitched as your hips pick up pace, and you wish it was Ari’s thigh you were grinding on instead of this stuffie. Your body’s doing that thing where it feels empty, craving something bigger, more substantial…

“Yes, sweetie. A wishlist. A list of things you want. Clothes or makeup or anything like that.” He’s pumping his dick now, you can tell with how his hand’s moving. But the rest of him looks so unperturbed and unbothered, as if he’s having a normal conversation and not jacking off with a camgirl while he watches her masturbate with a stuffed teddy.

“I—um—yeah, I do…” you somehow manage to get the words out, but you’re mostly focused on cumming now. Your mind conjures up images of you naked on top of a fully dressed Ari. Him big and powerful, guiding your hips with just one hand, dragging you back and forth on his muscular thigh. Or maybe picking you up and placing you on his bulge, letting you rub your soaking cunt on it while he calls you a good girl in that deep, sexy voice of his…

“Sweetheart? You with me?”

“I, yeah, sorry!” You pant, feeling so close and yet a part of you knows you have to answer him. “I d-do — I have a list but—”

“You’re going to send it to daddy after you cum,” he tells you. “A pretty little girl like you needs her daddy to reward her after she humps her pretty little princess cunt and gets off so nicely just like how I asked you to.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. And it’s his words that tip you over the edge. So dirty, yet he talks in such a sweet way! Oh, a man’s never spoken to you like that! So casually talked you through your orgasm, praising you so sweetly and telling you he’d buy you everything on your wish list?! Who was this man??

“Send it to me. Now.”

You’re weak and spent, legs shaking from cumming so hard. But you quickly send him your wish list on private chat. You doubted he’d buy everything on it — all the expensive jewellery, designer clothes, shoes — especially since he’d already showered you with so many cash donations. But you send it to him anyways, and he hums in approval.

“That’s such a good girl. I really enjoyed our chat, baby.”

Your heart sinks. Was this it?

“Why don’t you show daddy your pussy again, baby girl? I want to see how messy it is now.”

Again, you obey. Angling your webcam and opening your legs for him. A part of you imagines him doing it for you, gripping your soft thighs with his calloused, manly hands so he could inspect to his heart’s content. God, he just exuded dominant energy and it was making you lightheaded. Quickly, you spread your sopping folds with your fingers, letting him see everything.

“Fuck, you’re so messy, aren’t you?” Ari murmurs, and you watch him brush his long hair out of his face. His tanned skin glistens slightly, his lips pink and plump and you find yourself just staring at him in awe.

“I-I’m messy…” you repeat, feeling dumb and spaced out after your orgasm.

“Bet you need your daddy to clean up that baby pussy, don’t you?” He licks his lips, pumping himself faster. That’s when his camera lowers slightly, and your breath hitches at the sight of the angry red tip of his dick.

“I… I don’t know… I—”

He chuckles kind of breathlessly, “You’re all dumbed out, huh? That’s alright, sweet girl. Daddy understands.” Again, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at you. “I understand that little girls like you get tired easily, especially after playing with your toy so naughtily like how you were just now. That’s why you need your daddy.”

“D-Daddy…” you whimper, incapable of saying anything else except repeating what he’s saying, but you’re able to press your thighs weakly together, as if his words are just too much and you need to get off again despite being so weak.

“You need me, don’t you? To hold you in my lap, clean you up, take care of you, think for you, buy you whatever you want. Lap at your little baby cunt till you cum in my mouth. Am I right?”

Ohfuck. You feel newfound thrill ripple down to your pussy, making you clench at his words.

“I… I don’t.. I just— daddy, I. —“

Ari chuckles breathlessly, and a lock of his hair falls over his forehead, but apart from that he still looks pristine. The complete opposite of fucked out, messy little you.

“You can’t even speak straight, can you, Princess? That’s alright, little girls like you aren’t meant to think or talk anyways. That’s your daddy’s job, that’s why I’m here. All you have to do is look cute and play with your little toy on my lap while daddy does all the thinking for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” You cry, feeling needy and vulnerable and still a little bit confused as to how this virtual stranger has reduced you to such a blubbering mess.

“Fuck. Say it, then. Tell me how badly you need me.”

“N-Need daddy,” you blubber, vaguely wondering what your viewers would think if they saw you now. Often, you acted all spaced out and whimpery in your livestreams. But this… oh, this wasn’t acting at all. Ari had well and truly reduced you to a whimpering mess — and you didn’t even know the guy!

“I know you need me,” he croons, “Little girls like you always need their daddy. And I want to take care of you too, sweet baby.”

“Please do!” You cry, “Need you to take care of me so bad! Can’t think, can’t… I can’t…”

You press your thighs together and cum again. And it’s a shock to you, you hadn’t expected to orgasm again so quickly. But you hear Ari groan, and a moment later you watch enraptured as he blows his load, spurts of his thick cum landing on his palm. And you wish so bad you were there in person to clean him up too.

“Both of you are quiet for a minute or so after that. All you can hear is his breathing - rapid at first before it goes steady. You, on the other hand, are beside yourself. Whimpering, crying, breathing hard. You just want him to hold you - and it’s crazy because you don’t even know who he is! Not really, anyways. But he looks so big and strong even on the laptop screen, and you really feel so small in front of his eyes, but in a good way… He had a way with words, so soft and dominant that it made you want him to take care of you, and-

"Thank you, baby girl,” Ari chuckles after a while, “thank you for indulging me.”

You clear your throat, “I…uh… I… okay.”

“You still dumbed out, honey?”

You lower your eyes and nod, feeling all kinds of shy now that you’ve cum twice and your senses are all coming back. Had you really gotten that submissive and vulnerable with a viewer on private chat? Oh gosh…

“Do you need daddy to tell you what to do next?”

You nod, embarrassed at how helpless you feel. Your legs are still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm, ears still buzzing from that smooth, gravelly voice of his as he’d coaxed you through those two orgasms.

“First, I want you to send me that wishlist of yours. Then, I want you to go and take a nice, hot bath to calm yourself down, alright?”

“O-Okay, daddy,” you agree quietly.

“Mm, that’s my good girl. Then, I want you to put on something comfy and tuck yourself into bed. I know little girls like you need your daddy to do that, but for now I need you to do it for yourself. Got that?”

You nod dumbly.

“Daddy needs you to use your words, sweet girl.”

“Yes, I - uh - I’ll take a bath and tuck myself in, daddy.”

“Good girl. But I’ll need you to take pictures as proof you’ve followed my instructions.”

“I will, I will!” You blurt out, wanting to make this virtual stranger proud. Oh, you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore but you didn’t care. Not in the least.

“Thank you, baby. And one last thing.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Would you like to talk to daddy again tomorrow night?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

“I thought so. Why don’t you give me your number, sweetheart, and I’ll be sure to make that happen.”

THE END.

Honestly wrote this super quickly so it’s probably paced like shit and not that good but YOLO. also i tried something different with the layout heheehehe LMK WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE FIC PLSSS LOVE YOU GUYS

[bemusedlybespectacled]

what's happening with James Somerton right now: a probably-incomplete primer

TW: suicide, including suicide as a threat and a manipulation tactic.

The short version:

James Somerton is a former Youtube essayist who focused entirely on queer history, queer media criticism, and queer issues in general. He is also a flagrant grifter who has made tens of thousands of dollars via fraud, both directly (lying about his finances to beg for money and getting donations for films he never even started making) and indirectly (stealing whole essays and articles and books, reading them out loud verbatim for his videos without indicating they were anything other than his own work, and then using the prestige he gained from using their work to get Patrons and sponsorships).

The story as told James and James apologists was that James attempted to apologize twice, was hounded mercilessly on the internet for weeks, and then, driven to the end of his rope, he posted a suicide note on Twitter, was MIA for several days, and from then on has been avoiding the internet.

The actual story, as revealed yesterday, was that James used two sockpuppet accounts to defend himself and parrot his talking points (again, while publicly claiming to be trying to take responsibility for his actions), using one to try to rebrand the con under a different name and another to deliberately stoke the panic caused by his suicide note. He was not only aware of the pain and anxiety he was causing people, but he encouraged it on one alt while hornyposting about his favorite movies on the other.

He is an unrepentant con artist who successfully used a suicide threat to prevent further interference with future cons. The only reason he was caught is because he is apparently incapable of going more than a couple of weeks without trying to get back in the internet spotlight, allowing people to tie his alts back to him. He lies for fun and profit and he should not be taken seriously, ever.

The long version:

In December 2023, Youtube essayist Hbomberguy (Harry Brewis) put out a four-hour-long video about plagiarism on the internet, and devoted two hours to addressing as much of JS's plagiarism as he could. I strongly recommend watching the entire thing, as the first two hours build on the concepts that he uses later in the video.

He also blew the whistle on James' fraud surrounding Telos, a studio James founded using thousands of dollars of IndieGoGo money that never actually produced any films despite him definitely working on them! Any day now they'll be released! Don't you worry!

A day later, Todd in the Shadows, a guy whose entire thing is music reviews, posted his own video debunking multiple outright lies that James had told about history, especially queer history. A few more days later, The Ace Couple, who run a podcast about asexuality, released an episode detailing how they'd lost $1.5k donating to Telos.

I have put the videos, Twitter threads, Patreon posts, and Reddit posts by other people discussing different aspects of James' fraud under the cut.

Every other time James was caught plagiarizing, prior to Harry's video, he would lie about it. Either he'd have some excuse (easily proven to be a lie) or he'd retreat to his favorite deflection: "I'm just being harassed because I'm gay."

This last lie was one he'd use not only to deflect accusations of plagiarism, but all criticism in general, no matter how trivial. Every time, the critic or someone associated with them would somehow dox him, or harass him, or send him death threats, or threaten to falsely accuse him of sexual assault.

This happened to The Ace Couple (who'd tried to correct him on something extremely acephobic in one of his videos), Jessie Gender (who'd tried to correct him when he claimed that there were no queer content creators on Nebula, given that she and a bunch of other queer creators were definitely on that platform), and the person who first blew the whistle on him stealing from Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin (who was accused of being behind death threats he'd received, and hounded so harshly they had to leave Twitter).

It is important to note that every time James faced potentially damaging criticism, or even just a threat to his ego, suddenly he would claim to be harassed by people connected to the critic, including threats to his life. There has never been any proof of any threats being directed at him, nor evidence that, if the threats were real, that they are actually from people connected to the critic.

In the original video by Hbomberguy, Harry makes a compelling argument that James brought on a friend of his, Nick, as a co-writer specifically as a shield against accusations of plagiarism. "How dare you accuse me of plagiarism! Nick would NEVER do that!" This is even more apparent given subsequent developments which I will get into.

When evidence started dropping about different aspects of his fraud (not only Harry's video, but Todd in the Shadows' video debunking his misinfo, The Ace Couple's podcast about their experience donating to his fraudulent film studio, and Dan Olson's tweet thread about James' obvious lies about his finances), he went into hiding for two weeks, and then put out the first of two apologies. He then deleted that one and put out another one a few weeks later. And then he immediately deleted that one.

While his first apology was rambling, vague, and dramatic (lots of sniffing/crying), and his second was more measured, thought-out, and totally batshit (lots of hilariously and bizarrely implausible excuses for why he'd done what he'd done), they had roughly the same points:

Not ALL of his stuff was plagiarized! Actually, a lot of it wasn't! No specifics as to what, though!

Most of the stuff that was plagiarized was just a failure to properly cite sources, as he had no idea that putting someone's name in your end credits or video description (without specifying what parts are attributable to that person or disclosing that you are using their words verbatim) is not sufficient credit,

Also, he totally had permission, in some cases, to use their work verbatim prior to publishing the video (this is not true, and is disproven both in Harry's video and his own screenshots);

He definitely didn't commit fraud with Telos and would soon have a good explanation for where the money went! (he did not)

He was going to keep the videos up so that he could either donate the funds from any monetization to the fund Harry had set up for his victims or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing his work;

He lost his best friend (i.e. Nick) over these allegations, who absolutely definitely wasn't a scapegoat, except Nick was also responsible for a lot of the stuff James was being criticized for;

He was going to keep the videos up so he could either donate the advertising proceeds to Harry's fund for his victims (first apology) or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing the work he'd done; and

As a result of this entire ordeal, he had attempted either self-harm or suicide (he merely alluded to "doing something stupid").

Again, his response was to 1) downplay the severity of his actions or flat out ignore allegations against him, 2) come up with ridiculous excuses for his behavior, 3) throw Nick under the bus, and 4) claim to be in mortal danger. As far as I am aware, he has never taken any concrete action to make amends to any person, not even donating money to charity.

This was coupled with some kind of attempt to profit: monetizing his apology videos, closing and then reopening his Patreon right before the monthly charge cycle happened (totally to let people unfollow him, not at all as a grab for that money), creating a new Patreon under a different name, and changing his Twitter and Youtube handles to distance himself from the controversy while gathering new followers.

At one point (I forget if this was on Twitter or Instagram), he also said that someone had broken into his apartment due to the notoriety he'd received from Harry's video. I believe that was after his first apology, when people started to point out that he'd just changed the name of his Twitter and Youtube channel and had restarted a new Patreon under a pseudonym. (BTW, the pseudonym he used for his new Patreon was "The Gay Raconteur"; this will be important later).

It had what I think was the desired effect: any attempt at pointing out that he was rebranding his grift now came across as weirdly fixated on minor things he was doing, which certainly wasn't worth putting him in physical danger. (Again, he has never provided any proof of this happening, nor provided any evidence that these people allegedly threatening him were, in fact, in some way inspired by Hbomb).

So along comes March 5, 2024, and James posts a suicide note on his Twitter, saying that he is going to set up his videos to automatically publish (for Nick's portfolio), provide in some way for the ad revenue to go to a suicide prevention nonprofit, and then kill himself.

The immediate response from the internet was compassion and totally chilling any further criticism, since you might be callously criticizing a dead person. Harry and Kat worked for a couple of days to get a wellness check for him while a substantial section of the internet called them murderers.

On March 6, a day after the note was published, Nick tweeted that that he had cause to believe James was fine. Kat confirmed that James was safe on March 11. Due to the drama of the "suicide attempt," however, the chill on criticizing James stayed in place for months.

And then yesterday Lady Emily, one of the cowriters for Sarah Z., drops two more bombs:

James has not one but two alt accounts that he was using to rebrand and start over.

The first one was created between his first and second apologies, and originally was for "The Gay Raconteur" until he changed it to "Will"/"thatgayyouknow" and, later, "The Achillean Boy."

The second one was much older, under the pseudonym "Mikey JB," and used stolen pictures from Grindr instead of his own face. However, it is pretty obvious that it is, in fact, a sockpuppet account and not just some other person who happens to like James, as detailed below.

Both accounts, both between apologies and after his "suicide," talked about how criticism of James was unfair because the plagiarized stuff was "like a decade old" and repeating the same excuses that James had also made.

The "Mikey JB" account not only supported James, but actively threw Nick under the bus, saying that a criticized part of a video "reeks of his co-writer."

On March 6, the day after James' main Twitter posted the suicide note, The Achillean Boy account was hornyposting about Ryan Phillipe. James didn't even take a day or two off of Twitter. If he had been completely off Twitter for a couple of days, that could have been an indication that he really had hurt himself and was unable to access his phone, or at the very least unaware of the panic. But he wasn't. He was aware of it and did nothing. Actually, no! Worse than nothing!

On the same day (March 6), the Mikey JB account was actively contradicting Nick saying he was okay (they "haven't spoken in months" so there's no way Nick could know if he was alive) and saying that "people like you" i.e. his critics, "drove him to it." Not only did he ignore the panic he'd intentionally created, he actively drove it.

He saw people going emotionally through the wringer over the idea that they might have somehow caused his death, and intentionally made them keep thinking it. He say people calling his critics "murderers" for "driving him to his death," and he joined in.

Why am I explaining all of this? I want to make a couple of things extremely clear, and the context is necessary to my ultimate points, namely:

James Somerton didn't merely "credit people improperly;" he conned his followers out of more money than some people make in a year with the Telos con, while raking in thousands more per month on Patreon and buying expensive equipment, while claiming to be near insolvency and in desperate need of money.

James Somerton has never taken full responsibility for his actions or attempted to make amends. He has only ever tried to dodge responsibility, particularly by throwing Nick under the bus.

Every time he has ever been criticized, for any reason, he has lied about threats to his life to gain sympathy and quell criticism. This is a standard part of his MO. He has done this over and over and over again. At this point, I think if he says the sky is blue, someone should go out and check first before doing anything.

"But BB, what if he really is getting harassed/threatened or really is suicidal?"

So, okay: people who are attempting to manipulate you may use legitimate problems as a tool. It doesn't need to be fake to be effective - in fact, it might be more effective if it it's true. An abusive ex who says "if you leave me, I'll kill myself" and genuinely means it and actually attempts it (and possibly even succeeds!) is a lot harder to leave than someone who says the same thing but is clearly just bluffing, because the threat is real.

My rule of thumb in these cases is to treat the threat like it's real, without caving to the intended manipulation. Whether your ex is lying or telling the truth when they say, "I'll kill myself if you leave me," the appropriate response in both cases is to immediately call a mental health service or supportive family member. If it's fake, it's inconvenient for them; if it's real, you reacted appropriately. Your response needs to be the same regardless.

You don't get back together with them because it's a real threat (presumably you wouldn't do that if you knew it was fake and they were never in any danger), and you don't tell them that they're a piece of shit who should be dead (HOPEFULLY you wouldn't do that if you knew for a fact that they were telling the truth).

In this case, I am extremely confident in saying that he was coldbloodedly lying the entire time and was never once threatened, and certainly not to the degree he claimed to be. But even if he wasn't, that does not and should not change anyone's behavior in terms of holding him accountable.

And I mean actually holding him accountable: making sure he doesn't try to start a new con on new people, continuing to point out that he hasn't paid anyone back for his previous con (so long as it's still true), that sort of thing. It doesn't mean people should tell him he should go die for real or, I don't know, try to get him fired if he gets a job at Tim Horton's or Target or something else that's not fraud. That would be wrong regardless of whether he's actually in danger or not. The point is to avoid being cruel without negotiating with terrorists.

Video sources and links under the cut:

Links:

It's like Breaking Bad, but backwards: a brief history of how Somerton successfully screwed himself Dan Olson's Twitter thread about the financial fraud My Year With James: Todd's post explaining the backstory of his video (Patreon-locked) DJSO#: Dan Olson's breakdown of James' second apology (Patreon-locked) Lady Emily's Twitter threads revealing James' alt accounts, part 1 and part 2

[pinkhairswagtourney]

please consider helping a disabled queer person get their life back together

you've probably already seen a few of my posts floating around. in case you haven't, long story short; i lost my job several months ago and haven't been able to find another one willing to make accommodations for my disabilities. i have diabetes and need insulin every day to survive -- the price of that, along with my other medical necessities (medication, doctor copays, etc), makes simply existing very difficult. i've been relying on commission money and the generosity of others just to survive.

i am so tired of just surviving. i need serious help. i have a few very kind people willing to walk me through the process, but i desperately need out of my current living situation. it's a very toxic + abusive household that is stifling my ability to grow at all. i am in debt with no way to pay it off ($1,000) and i also need to somehow afford a car (which will be several thousands of dollars). just the thought is almost enough to paralyze me with fear. it's very very overwhelming. especially when nowhere in my small town wants to hire me. i have to do all of this before i can even consider moving out. i'm struggling to even keep myself alive, it's nearly impossible to save any money at all.

my commissions are pay-what-you-want, meaning you can pay however much you think the piece is worth, so that it's affordable for you and also helps me! if you can, please consider supporting me!! even a few dollars helps so much more than you know -- it's the difference between me being able to eat or not. also, please boost and reblog this post so that more people see it. thank you so much for reading <3

commission post p-yp-l c-sh-pp

[hotchner-edu]

I was thinking about a cute scenario where Hotch misplaces his Rolex and is kinda bummed about it but reassures his girlfriend that he’ll just get another one someday. She has been saving up to get a new car but instead uses her money to surprise Aaron with a new rolax and he’s all like 🥹🥹🥹

The thought of spoiling that man consumes me.

The Watch | Aaron Hotchner

The case of the missing Rolex came to your attention before it did to Aaron's, and you were probably more devastated about it than your boyfriend was.

"Sweetheart, it's fine. I'll just get another one soon." He tries to placate you as you practically tear through his closet. Knowing Aaron, soon meant close to never due to how hectic his work life could get.

"It's not fine!" You call out from your spot on his closet floor. "A Rolex submariner going missing should qualify as an emergency situation."

You hear Aaron chuckle fondly and come up behind you, crouching down to give you a kiss on your temple, his hands moving down to stop yours before you could claw through another stack of his folded pants. "Honey, you won't find anything there. Besides, I mean it. I'll just get a new one."

Frowning, you lean back into him and sigh as he wraps his arms around your middle and drops kisses around your face. "You stress me out." You say lightheartedly, sagging in his hold.

He lets out an affectionate laugh, his chest rumbling under your back. "I love you, too."

To the misfortune of your bank account, your love for Aaron spurred you to endlessly research the variety of Rolex series available on their website. You have to fight back a grimace at every comma in the price tags.

After logging out of your bank account app (to protect your peace), you settle on purchasing the oystersteel model which resembled the one he lost.

You ended up digging into your car savings fund to purchase the watch, but you had no regret in doing so. Although it created a bit of a dent in your efforts to replace your current car, Aaron deserved to be spoiled. Plus, you’d be receiving your next paycheck soon enough.

The watch takes a little less than a week to deliver. Taking no risks, you had the delivery fully insured and tracked the package’s movements like a hawk for days.

The hard part of the entire ordeal came with having to actually give the gift to Aaron. Of course, he wasn’t above accepting gifts, but receiving gifts that cost thousands of dollars, especially on non-holiday occasions, was something else entirely for him.

One night as he’s laying beside you, watching tiktoks with you on your phone, you decide to bite the bullet.

“Honey, did you ever find your Rolex?”

He chuckles a bit sheepishly, seemingly still a bit embarrassed to have misplaced something so valuable. “No. I think I might’ve taken it off during a case somewhere and left it in the hotel.”

Nodding, you suppress an excited smile as you suddenly sit up, causing his hands to grip your waist in surprise. “Where are we off to, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee really quick.” You say smoothly, giving him a sweet kiss. "And no, you can't come this time." He gives your ass a quick slap as you crawl out of bed, causing you to shake your head playfully as he chuckles.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you gently open one of the sink drawers containing your skincare items. Digging to the bottom, you pull out the green leather box containing the Rolex, taking a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice sounds from across the room immediately, noting how fast you left the bathroom.

"I forgot something." You say and hurry toward the bed, unable to hide the giddy grin on your face.

Aaron props himself up on his arm and raises an eyebrow as you practically launch yourself back on the bed.

"For the best boyfriend in the world." You coo sweetly and extend the box toward him.

Aaron stares at you like you have three heads for a moment before frowning and carefully taking the box. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to..."

Your mood dampens a little at that and your shoulders sag. Aaron picks up on it immediately and sits up fully, eyes widened as he places the box aside and cups your face. "Thank you, really. But it must have cost a fortune, baby."

"You deserve to be spoiled, Aaron. Besides, I'm still being conscious with my money, so don't worry about it." You say, smiling when he tucks you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

"It's my job to spoil you, y'know." He grumbles playfully, squeezing your hip.

Accepting his affection, you reach for the box again and wiggle it in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you want to see what I picked out for you?"

Before he opens the box, he showers you with more kisses, unable to ignore the fuzzy warmth that filled him.

"The watch, Aaron!" You protest in a fit of laughter.

He grins against your skin as he kisses your cheek. "Thanking my woman comes first."

When he finally does see the watch, he wants to just freeze time and take a picture of your expectant grin, thinking you look absolutely beautiful as you wait to see his reaction.

So while you fuss over putting the watch on for him, all he can do is stare at you lovingly and debate on whether to buy you a new car or an engagement ring first.

[charlotteking23]

Money, money, money - MV1/33

Max Verstapppen x reader

Summary: texting Max you spent 5k on various expensive brands.

Warnings: 'Money, money, money' by ABBA mentioned a lot, recommend playing the song while reading this.

Shopping...

One of your favorite things to do besides cuddling with your babies Jimmy and Sassy.

So here you were roaming the expensive Monaco mall, with your cute white dress and a little bow in your hair making you seem so innocent at first glance.

Upon looking at the many stores none have caught your eye, as you walk aimlessly around the mall.

The sound of your YSL heels clicks around the white marble floor, seeing your favorite clothing store in sight.

As soon as you enter all the stress and worries melted away seeing the displays of clothes.

"Ok, don't go overboard again, be calm, and don't get too much," You said in your thoughts walking timidly around the store, trying to say the affirmations in your head as best as possible.

Upon saying those affirmations you saw your favorite brand and out those affirmations went, that you were trying so hard to follow.

You saw so many clothes you had yet to buy, putting them in your basket not slowing down.

"Excuse me, Ma'am", One of the store clerks said interrupting your from you shopping addiction rampage.

"Um, yes", you said slowly turning around to see the store clerk smiling at you with an empty basket in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt but I noticed your basket full so I came to give you another one," She said rather kindly handing you the basket.

You looked down at your basket which was full to the brim, now in any other situation you would decline politely and make the hard decision of putting some of the clothes back in their belonging place.

"Thank you", You said taking the empty basket shooing away any worried thoughts out of your head, only thinking about shopping.

You waited in line to purchase all the clothes you wanted to buy before hearing the lady calling for the next customer.

You put your two full baskets of clothes on the table, watching as the lady was probably judging you for buying all these expensive items, but that didn't matter as the total came out to 5k.

5k as in 5 thousand dollars, you grab your wallet out taking out the first credit card you could see before inserting it in the machine and hearing the beep to take it out.

You waved goodbye to the lady, walking out with large shopping bags from various brands in your hand while looking at the receipt in disbelief.

You take out your wallet again to put the receipt inside so you don't lose it but something else catches your eye...Max credit card.

"Oh..No, omg don't tell me I paid for this 5 thousand dollar clothes with Max's credit card, damn it", You were astonished how the hell did you mistake your credit card with Max's credit card.

I mean you knew why, you were so surprised by the total, you weren't paying attention and must have picked up Max's credit card instead of yours.

You knew you had to come clean to Max as already the guilt was starting to way in on you.

You tried calling him but to no avail, so your next option was to text Max.

Well that was not what you were expecting, but I mean Max is loaded with money.

'ding'

you opened your phone to see a notification from Venmo, OMG.

Max just sent you 10 thousand dollars through Venmo, what the fuck.

You quickly called Max anxiously, swaying back and forth frantically.

"Max!", you shouted out before seeing the looks you were receiving by onlookers before speaking more quietly but still frantically.

"yes, liefje what's wrong", Max said either oblivious to your shouting worries or teasing you.

"Maxie, why would you send me that much money", you whispered loudly before quickly leaving towards the exit of the mall.

"Why not liefje, you deserve it", Max charmingly said.

"I already spent a lot of your money, why more?", You said with guilt, riding in your conscience.

"Liefje, you can spend as much money as you want, I want to be able to afford whatever your heart desires", Max sweetly said, you don't know what happened but as soon as you heard that all your worries melted away.

"Thanks, Maxie I appreciate the gesture but I think I am done shopping for today", You quietly whispered ready to just go home.

"hmm, if you're sure. Do you want me to come pick you up", you heard Max say. Also hearing some faint noises in the background.

That only means one thing Max is sim racing right now, "It's okay, I brought the car anyway, I will see you home".

"Okay liefje, I love you", Max spoke through the phone.

"Love you too", you said before hanging up.

You walked towards your car opening the backseat door before putting all your shopping bags in.

You turned on the car, putting on your favorite singer ABBA.

"Hmm 'Money, money, money' or 'Dancing Queen'...well 'Money Money Money' seems to fit the situation better.

You began driving and singing all your worries away, dancing very crazy in the car with not a single care in the world.

'If I got me a wealthy man I wouldn't have to work at all'

'Money, money, money Must be funny In the rich man's world'

'So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco'

You made it home to you and Max's shared apartment with your dignity slightly intact.

Your hair was all crazy and you were out of breath with your private dance party you had just seen yourself witness.

"Hello my babies", You smiled at your cats already purring on your leg right when you got through the door.

Oh how I wished cats could talk, you wished silently in your mind before setting all your shopping bags on the dining table.

You walked towards Max sim room hearing the faint screaming of him.

You open the door peeking your head out a little but leaving enough room for Jimmy and Sassy to come through to see their cat dad.

Max heard the door open, seeing you peaking behind the door, "Hi liefje", he said motioning you to come in.

"Hi Maxie", you say rather shyly hearing the other f1 drivers Max was gaming with.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna log off, see you tomorrow", Max said quickly before signing off not waiting for their replies.

Max stood from the chair before wrapping his arms around your waist, giving you a peck on your lips.

"How was shopping, Liefje", Max smiled teasingly.

You rolled your eyes at his snide remark before answering "It was fine, Maxie", you shrugged with a smile appearing on your lips.

"That's good, I hope you like my gift", Max replied walking out of the room with their cats in tow following wherever their mother goes.

"you know what song I was listening to on the way here", you said excitedly already humming the lyrics.

"Oh how could I ever guess what song you were listening to", Max said pretending to think before sitting on the couch in concentration.

"it was 'Money, money, money', by ABBA", you repeated in excitement sitting next to Max singing some of the lyrics.

"How could I guess that, it's not like you don't sing that song 24/7, I can even hear it in my dreams", Max said pretending to shudder as if he was scared.

"sounds like a nice dream to me", you said not missing the way Max rolled his eyes at your antics.

"Of course, Liefje", Max said turning on the TV hoping to stop you from singing the ABBA song but to no avail since you already started singing the lyrics as loud as possible, with the cats joining in your dancing.

I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay Ain't it sad? And still, there never seems to be a single penny left for me That's too bad

In my dreams, I have a plan If I got me a wealthy man I wouldn't have to work at all I'd fool around and have a ball

Money, money, money Must be funny In the rich man's world Money, money, money Always sunny In the rich man's world A-ha, ah All the things I could do If I had a little money It's a rich man's world

A man like that is hard to find, but I can't get him off my mind Ain't it sad? And if he happens to be free, I bet he wouldn't fancy me That's too bad

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game My life will never be the same

Money, money, money Must be funny In the rich man's world Money, money, money Always sunny In the rich man's world A-ha, ah All the things I could do If I had a little money It's a rich man’s world

Money, money, money Must be funny In the rich man's world Money, money, money Always sunny In the rich man's world A-ha, ah All the things I could do If I had a little money It's a rich man's world

It's a rich man's world

Masterlist

[1d1195]

Honey I

Read Honey here | ~5k words

From me: Supposed to be a one-shot but I have literally NOT stopped writing. So it's going to be a series because I CANNOT shut up and while I tried to keep it short and sweet, there was just too much for them. Majority of this story is going to be in Harry's POV (kind of) because I just think it's more interesting.

Warnings: parent death out of NO WHERE early on, angst, fluff, and a whole lot of baby stuff

Summary: “Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Me,” she smiled politely, but her focus was sweetly on the baby as she chugged her bottle. “The little ones that had me before loved Matilda, we watched it weekly, and they said I was sweet like Miss Honey.”

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

Harry had decided he was only going to have one love of his life and that was it. He had tried a lot. But now that he was officially in his thirties, it was time to stop being flighty. Time to focus only on those that would make his life better and only on the things that added to his life.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated falling in love with her as hard as he did. He had heard the stories. But she was different. Naturally. He didn’t believe it was possible. Harry was in love before, and it always burned him the wrong way. Cheating, lying, using... he was victim to terrible relationships.

But her?

She was different. Her love was unconditional. The very first day. Harry was putty. A mess. A complete sap. The little girl was growing to have sweet green eyes and perfect pink lips. She had the making of soft brown hair and Harry wondered if it would turn to curls like his.

But she was so beautiful and so perfect. It brought him to his knees every time he came home from work and saw her little face glow with recognition that he was all hers—and he was. So truly, there didn’t seem to be much room for anything else.

He didn’t love her mom. It wasn’t anything personal. The plan was to co-parent. It was an amicable decision. They weren’t in love with one another. Only with the baby. “She is one-hundred percent Styles,” Chloe smirked in the hospital. “Traitor,” she cooed and kissed the little one on the forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Guess m’good for something,” he winked and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for all your hard work,” he joked.

It wasn’t a bad thing. They weren’t meant to be together, and it was evident in the way she continued to date throughout her pregnancy. The way she drove Harry insane as he worried about every little blip on the ultrasound and paid no mind to the aches and pains she had. (They were minor; and Harry was a control freak.)

Someone like Harry didn’t like surprises.

Which was probably why he was so angry at the driver that took away his friend and the mother of his child in a horrific, tragic car accident. Leaving Harry completely at a loss as to how he was to care for the sweet little girl who’d only barely been in the world for a month.

*

Harry was an extremely successful businessman. His company made millions of dollars a day. Hundreds of thousands of dollars per hour. So, he had the means for just about anything. Except he hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to help a defenseless baby without a maternal figure. Chloe was happy to stay home, and Harry was willing to pay for anything she needed. They weren’t in a relationship, but he was happy to be friends. She needed a friend as much as Harry did. There wasn’t much family in her life and in a weird way, they were a family. Harry struggled to trust people. Be it because of the money or simply because he worked so hard to get where he was it was hard to let Chloe in after he found out she was pregnant but he was willing to for their baby.

While Harry had relied on his mum and Gemma following the accident, it was impossible to let them take on all the responsibility. Given Harry hadn’t been to the office in almost a month, he needed to figure something out and the sooner the better.

He wasn’t going to cheap out on a nanny. Not even slightly.

So, for the first time since the accident, Harry packed his schedule. Brought the baby and the pink backpack that didn’t match his navy suit to the office. The women fawned over the little miss. Even the men made faces at her. Especially her Uncle Niall—Harry’s best friend and business partner. “Think maybe I’ll just quit and watch her for you,” Niall suggested brushing his finger on her cheek.

Harry snorted and settled into the conference room where he would be conducting interviews. He had done interviews hundreds of times before in the very room, but this time was much different. This was his little girl. He was going to be thorough, and he was determined to find the best person.

“When’s she coming in?”

“Last,” he told Niall not needing a clue about who he was referring to.

“Best for last, I like it,” he joked. “If you need help or want a second opinion, let me know. Just anybody won’t be good enough for my niece. Isn’t that right Little Miss?” Niall cooed and pressed his lips to the top of her head making her little face quirk up in a smile in delight.

“Aw, she loves me.”

Harry didn't like the idea that she was smiling at Niall at all. “It’s probably gas,” Harry scowled. She wasn’t going to love anyone. Especially not a boy and especially not one that wasn’t Harry.

Niall clapped him on the back with a chuckle as he left the conference room with a wave.

*

The interviews were intense. Within seconds, Harry knew if the woman across from him was going to be a good fit. Harry wasn’t blind; he knew many of the women that traipsed into his office for an interview were there for him. Not the little one. The ones that didn’t even glance at her in her seat were given a set of short questions. Those that oohed and ahhed over her received a longer list of questions that he hoped would tell him everything he needed to know. But no one had sparked his interest by the time he got to the last name on his list.

Harry had the baby in her car seat on the table between them watching the way she interacted with her. For most of the time she slept. Harry did work between interviews—especially when the shorter ones ended before the allotted time scheduled.

It was right before the last interview that she woke from her nap. Her eyes wandered around the room, and she suckled on her pacifier. Harry smiled at her and gave her seat a little rocking motion.

Despite being the interview that he was most hopeful for, Niall chose that moment to interrupt. Requesting his presence immediately. Harry glared at his friend and turned his attention to the woman across the table from him. Her eyes hadn’t moved from the little one—only to hold Harry’s gaze while she shook his hand. Her handshake was warm, gentle, but firm. He thought that immediately spoke volumes and the moment their introduction was complete, she turned her attention to the baby.

“Why hello, Miss Cecelia,” she grinned. “Are you having fun at work today?” She asked. “Are you the boss of everyone?”

“She definitely the boss,” Niall said in the doorway gathering Harry’s attention. He wanted to smack Niall.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled as he walked through the door and glanced back at her as she played with Cece. “It couldn’t wait?”

“I don’t know why you even bothered. Sarah and Mitch’s friends swear by her.”

Harry sighed. It was helpful knowing that someone Sarah and Mitch trusted were content with her services. They said she even babysat for their baby a few times over the years and had nothing but good things to say.

“Hi, sorry, to interrupt. But she’s making a gummy little noise—I think she’s hungry. Do you have a bottle I can grab her?”

“It’s in the fridge,” Harry turned to Niall looking for help.

“I’ll go grab it—”

“Allow me,” she offered and hurried down the hall as if she had already been in the office her whole life. Niall looked at his friend pointedly. When Harry changed her diaper earlier, the woman he was interviewing was unimpressed and when her face twisted in disgust Harry dropped the short number of questions to an even smaller number.

About a minute and a half later she returned. She glanced over her shoulder, shaking the bottle and then testing it on the inside of her wrist in one movement. “Jeez, drool much,” Niall muttered. Harry looked at him curiously and wiped at his mouth in case he was drooling at the sight of her. But Niall nodded at the person at the end of the hall staring at her from where the break room was.

One of Harry’s employees was smiling after her as she walked down the hall, his gaze clearly lingering on something that was not his to linger on. “I’m not sure who he is, but he needs a sexual harassment seminar,” she muttered.

Harry’s gaze flicked to the man who’s eyeline was still much lower than it should have been. He opened his mouth to shout something, but Niall gently pushed him toward the conference room. “I’ll fire him, just go... hire the insanely perfect nanny.”

He stepped back into the room and she looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sor—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted quickly holding the bottle still. “I’m so used to just...” she shook her head and turned to Harry expectantly. “Does she eat in the car seat, or do you need to hold her? I can write my own notes for you if you want while you feed her,” she offered. Cecelia was starting to fuss, her eyes catching sight of her food and anticipating how yummy it would be.

Harry tried not to feel an overwhelming sense of hope but that was hopeless. She was already perfect.

“You can feed her,” he offered. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Hold this sweet little cutie? Don’t have to tell me twice,” she grinned delightedly and expertly and sweetly plucked the little one from between the straps and settled into her seat. “Hi girly, are you hungry?” She cooed. “I’m sure,” she said as if Cece had answered.

Harry felt a squeeze of pressure around his heart. While Cece settled into eating, Harry gave them both a moment to adjust while he clicked into her application documents on his laptop. The rest had been put into the computer’s recycle bin.

“Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Me,” she smiled politely, but her focus was sweetly on the baby as she chugged her bottle. “The little ones that had me before loved Matilda, we watched it weekly, and they said I was sweet like Miss Honey.”

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

But now that she was in the room, he noted Miss Honey had a gorgeous smile which was not part of the qualifications. But Harry wasn’t blind to that either. It was perhaps the only way she looked similar to the women that came through for interviews before her. But even then, there was something so much better about her smile than the rest. Maybe because it was shy and sweet. It wasn’t flashy and certainly not directed for Harry. No, it seemed her smile belonged to Cece and that was it. She watched as Cece sucked down her milk and her eyes shone with pride, adoration, and warmth. Something Harry wasn’t sure he could explain to someone else without having them see it with their own eyes. Her body held Cece perfectly. Like she was meant to hold her. Effortless.

What was part of what made her infinitely more qualified than the others he saw, were the glowing and gushing letters from the previous family that had her. Even the little ones who signed with their name and ages (five and eight) told Harry in their little crayon letters that Miss Honey was the best. It was tragic they were moving, and she couldn’t go too far from her own family. She was everything Harry could have hoped for. The two letters from the children she nannied for pulled at his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“Hi Cecelia,” she cooed while Harry looked over the words Mitch and Sarah’s friends used to describe her: dependable, intelligent, wonderful, and completely perfect. “You are so pretty; do you know that?” She asked and brushed her finger on Cece’s little cheek while she ate. “Does she sleep well?”

Harry was exhausted. Mostly because he thought every little noise was bad. He was completely thrown during the time off he took while he figured out the situation. It was a huge adjustment for him and Cece. Everything he did felt like it was wrong. “Sometimes,” he said quietly.

“How about eating?” She asked. “It seems like it’s good. Are you a good eater, Miss Cecelia?” she smiled excitedly at the little one. Harry didn’t answer because he felt like he was being interviewed and even though he had no issue answering her, he just wanted to feel a semblance of control over this otherwise stressful, uncontrollable life. “Sorry,” she blushed a shade deeper when no answer came. “I just... I want to know everything about her. I’m not judging, I swear. I... I heard about what happened to her mom,” her voice was full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry Mr. Styles.”

Harry didn’t love Cece’s mum—not that way, but she didn’t deserve to be ripped away from their daughter either. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Thank you.”

Over the last month and a half, Harry became even colder and more distant. Once Cece was born, he didn’t love anyone but his baby girl, his company, and his family. With the little one, he planned on never falling in love again. Maybe when she was eighteen and started to live her own life, he would try again but he was certain he was never going to be able to leave Cece to her own devices. He was wrapped around her little finger that was smaller than the width of his bottom tooth. “Can I ask how many people have interviewed?” She wondered.

“Several...” Harry sighed. It felt like hundreds.

“What do you want for Cecelia?” She asked. Harry tilted his head at her. She was still looking at Cece, she was almost finished with her bottle and her little fingers wrapped around the bracelet near the bottle. “Do you like jewelry, Cecelia?” She giggled. “Good girl; don’t ever settle for anything less than what you want,” she smiled knowingly. Once the bottle was finished, she placed it on the table, then immediately brought her to her chest to burp her.

Harry was unable to form any of the questions he wanted to ask. In the span of a half hour, he hadn’t asked a single question he had prepared because he didn’t need to. “Good girl,” she praised as the little air bubble escaped her lips. Harry thought she would be good. But he didn’t know she would be this good. Then, she placed her back into the car seat and grabbed the toy Harry had left for her to hold onto while he interviewed. It was a small set of rubbery keys. Each one had a different texture and color. They were also filled with little balls that sounded like a rattle when it moved. “Is that so cool?” She asked Cece and giggled when Cece shoved one of the keys into her gummy little mouth.

Harry’s phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it because even though he was taking time off to figure all this out, he had to work anyway. He sighed heavily; wishing he could ask at least one question from his list. “Would y’mind? I have t’take this,” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled politely.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes and then Harry was back at the conference room table. He looked at her playing with his little girl making silly noises and faces at the baby. Looking at her with so much love Harry felt like he was intruding.

Then Cece giggled a funny little sound that was most definitely accompanied by her smile. Harry’s heart clenched. She had never made that sound before but when she made it again, he was surer. He gasped. Miss Honey turned to Harry and tilted her head curiously. “She’s never giggled before,” he murmured.

“Oh goodness,” her cheeks pinked again in embarrassment. Then she bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Some parents were heartbroken about firsts happening while they weren’t around nor responsible for it. Looks like she would be looking for another family entirely.

“Don’t be,” he came over and brushed his finger over her little cheek and she smiled at the sight of him. It made his heart ache deeply. “Is Miss Honey so silly?” He used a voice that he should have felt embarrassed using around someone he was interviewing but if he was going to hire her, she would have to get used to it.

“Can you giggle again, cutie pie?” She asked and popped her lips, making the smile Harry loved more than anything in the world appear on her lips. Then the tiniest little noise came from her mouth again making Harry forget all about her smile and fell in love with the noise instead.

“Aren’t you so silly, Cece,” he cooed again and made the same popping sound.

She giggled again and it seemed it was decided. Cece had spoken. Or giggled her suggestion.

“This is m’address,” he handed her a business card with his home address on the back of it. “I’ll have a moving truck come t’your place on Friday. My personal phone number is there too. I already have you’re your phone number from your application,” he explained. “You can start Monday?”

“Yes, absolutely...but are you sure...? I know things popped up you didn’t really get to ask me any question—”

“Do y’want the job?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, very much so.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Her smile was so beautiful Harry wanted to reach out and touch her face. “Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

“You can call me Harry, love,” he said and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do something insane like touch her face. “M’sorry ‘bout my former employee. Thank you for bringing it to m’attention.”

Her jaw dropped. “You fired him?”

Harry nodded easily. “Of course. I have a daughter. If he’s going t’ogle you and say something t’you that obviously wasn’t appropriate, m’not going t’let him work for me.”

“Harry,” she said quietly. “That was... I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s done,” he said simply. “I’ll see you Friday?” He asked.

She nodded. “Friday.”

“Do y’want t’say goodbye t’Cece?” He asked while her eyes darted to the little baby gnawing and drooling all over the toy keys.

Her smile bloomed and her cheeks blushed. “Yes, please,” she nodded quickly, unable to hide her want.

Harry smiled.

*

The next month passed in an insane blur.

She had moved into Harry’s spectacular home. It was huge. Tall ceilings, beautiful light fixtures, and shiny hardwood floors. Harry made sure her room had everything it needed. But still remained simple. A desk, a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. But she had plenty to make it her own, which Harry assured her she could do whatever she wanted to the walls so long as she didn’t knock them down, which made her giggle.

She had a huge walk-in closet that fit more clothes than she had which only signaled she could go shopping. But the best part was a little alcove that she would use for reading—it pushed outward of the house with a little bench in front of the window. It caught great light, and she could see Harry’s expansive backyard and garden through it. Harry also had a huge pool which excited her. It would help get her workouts in.

The walls were grey-blue, and it fit in with a lot of the décor she had. She hung pictures using removable sticky hooks—a holdover from college. She spaced them out between her couple rooms. She thought this room would have been perfect for a nursery but when she saw Miss Cecelia had a skylight that let in the moonlight and when she checked on her in the middle of the night that first day, it made way more sense.

Her bathroom was massive as well. It had a walk-in shower and no tub, which was fine with her. It was painted a light yellow, so it felt just bright and sunny. The water pressure was to die for she worried she would really stay in the shower way longer than she should have because of it. Harry took Cecelia to his mom’s house where he was going to stay for the weekend to let her get settled without him around. “Do you have a nanny cam?” She asked him. “I don’t mind if you do, I just want to make sure I don’t walk around naked or anything,” she joked.

Harry’s face had a strange look on it and then he cleared his throat. “No, security cameras are... they’re all outdoors.”

“So no skinny dipping,” she joked again, hoping the weird expression would disappear from his face but instead it remained and Harry smiled weakly before turning his attention back to Cece and making sure she was correctly in her seat.

“If you need help moving furniture or anything, let me know I can send someone over.”

“Okay,” she answered quietly worried she would say the wrong thing again.

“Alarm and lock codes and keys are on the breakfast counter for you. You’re welcome t’anything in the kitchen. You can use the car in the garage or y’can call m’driver,” he looked at her pointedly. “I’d prefer y’not Uber or take taxis.”

Her heart fluttered for what she wasn’t sure. It was no secret that Harry Styles was beautiful. When her previous family told her they were moving, she was devastated. She had been with them for two years and she loved them like they were her younger siblings. They offered for her to move with them, but she didn’t want to be far away from where they were. It was at least the same coast as her family, and she just loved the city they were in.

But when they told her they were recommending her to Harry, she was happy. Her research (social-media stalking) found very little. He was in news articles pertaining to Cece’s mom’s car accident which made her heart ache for both of them. Even though the articles made it very clear they were not a couple. Cece would never know her mom, but she hoped that Harry would tell her about her anyway. She found his company and read their mission statement. Harry did a lot of philanthropy which made her heart ache again. It was so kind and sweet. But there wasn’t much she got about Harry from her search. His personal pages were private and there was very little information. Even articles in local newspapers and magazines didn’t have much from interviews. Of course she could respect his privacy, but she was hoping to know a little more about the man she was going to be living with.

This was only her third nannying gig. But she fell in love with Cece the moment she laid eyes on her. She wanted Harry to like her and so far, all she felt was his cold and distant indifference. When he smiled at Cece she saw warmth and happiness. It was completely different than the persona he had when he directed it to her. But Harry chose her to do this. That had to mean something. Maybe he loved Cece’s mom more than the articles let on. Maybe it was a ruse. She couldn’t imagine what that call was like for Harry. There had to be stuff he was working through.

So she didn’t let his indifference bother her.

Or at least... she tried to not let it bother her.

*

Monday, she woke up early and got herself ready early before breakfast time. Harry said he left the house at seven-thirty so he would be at work an hour earlier than most everyone else. When she got to the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee. But then she noted there as a box of English breakfast tea, and she realized her mistake and turned the kettle on the stove instead.

Once the drinks were set on the counter to cool just a bit, she headed to Cece’s room. Found her gazing up at her mobile. “Hello sweet girl,” she cooed and her little face grinned. “We’re going to give you a quick change and then go get you some breakfast, yeah?” She scooped her out of her crib and turned to the changing table. She heard the shower turning off a couple rooms over while she quickly changed her. Harry was naked only a few rooms over.

Harry was excessively handsome. He was tall, with dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline that looked like it could cut through marble. But she thought he was most handsome when he smiled at Cece. It made a flutter in her heart to see him interact with the little one.

But a naked Harry might have been good too.

Cece made little noises trying to talk in a way that only made sense to a two-and-a-half-month old and pulled her inappropriate thoughts from her boss’ body. Even if she was sure there were muscles upon muscles hiding under suits.

When Cece was all changed and comfy, she put her on her hip, draping her securely with the wrap meant to keep her hands free. The kitchen was still empty, so she tended to Cece’s bottle and grabbed the bread from the breadbox to make toast. Once she learned what Harry liked she would make a better breakfast but surely everyone liked toast. Given there was a jam that was half eaten in the fridge she only assumed that she was correct.

“Hi,” Harry said quietly as she pulled the bottle from the warmer. She spun around and took in Harry’s perfectly styled hair, his suit that fit him like a second skin, and his shaven face.

“Good morning,” she grinned. “I...I made you tea, but I didn’t know how you took it.”

He tilted his head at her and noted the toast popping as well with his favorite jam sitting on the counter. She was making him breakfast.

Was that normal? Harry had no idea how a nanny worked. He never thought he would need one.

“Um...there’s also plenty of coffee if you prefer that—”

“No, thank you. Tea. Three sugars. Thank you,” he repeated and grabbed the sugar.

“Do you like a lot of jam or—”

“Just a regular amount,” he watched scooping the sugar into his drink with a teaspoon.

She slid the plate across to him. “Do you want to feed her, or would you like me to?”

“I’ll take her,” he offered. He wanted to see his little lady before he left anyway and could use a snuggle. It was the first time in a month he wouldn’t have her glued to him.

“Let’s go see Dada, Cece,” she cooed and pulled her from the strappy wrap that Harry could never figure out. “Who’s that?” She wrinkled her nose and smiled as she held her out to Harry. Cece grinned and melted Harry’s heart as he smirked and held his hands out for her. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Ce,” he hummed and grabbed the warmed bottle as well. He sat on the stool around the breakfast island and brought the bottle to her lips. “Did y’sleep well, cutie pie?”

She didn’t answer of course, focusing on sucking down her bottle instead. Part way through, her little eyes closed, and she stopped sucking. “Blow on her face,” she said.

“Pardon?”

She smiled. “If you blow on her face, she’ll become alert again. The bottle just tastes so good she’s a little drunk,” she giggled.

Harry blew a quick breath on Cece’s perfect little face and sure enough she perked right back up.

Harry had such long arms he could hold and wrap his arm around, so the bottle reached Cece’s mouth with one hand (sure it wasn’t the most comfortable angle) but it allowed him to take a sip of his tea and get a bite of his toast as well. Harry watched as she made her second cup of coffee and put cream and sugar into it. “Coffee hmm?” He asked.

She nodded. “I prefer iced, but I won’t say no to hot coffee.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and put it on the counter so he could tap at the screen. “I’ll buy an iced machine,” he said quickly scanning the quick reviews on Google for the best one.

She was gaping at him. “Harry, that’s not necessary.”

“Course it is. Want you t’be comfortable here. S’least I can get you. S’your house too,” he shrugged.

Perhaps it would have been different had he been in love with the woman that previously lived here. But this was different. That was too much. “Harry, seriously.”

“Seriously, s’fine, love,” he shrugged one shoulder without looking up at her.

“Honestly, I can just use ice from the—”

“It’ll be here by the end of the day,” he said ending the discussion. He took another sip and bite of his tea. “Did y’do something different to the toast?” He asked putting his hand in front of his mouth so she wouldn’t see him chewing.

“I put butter on before the jam. I think it makes it sweeter. Sorry I should have—”

“I like it,” he smiled. A genuine smile. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome. But...about the coffee... I really don’t think you needed to get me—”

He shook his head as he sipped the final remnants of his tea. “It’s done, love. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout,” he shrugged and just as Cece finished her bottle, Harry caught the time. “I have t’go,” he frowned. “You have a fun day with Miss Honey, Cece, yeah?” He winked at her making her heart skip a beat as she watched him kiss his baby’s cheek again. “I love you have a good day,” he cooed and kissed her again. “Do y’want her or should I put her in the swing?”

“Um... I’ll take her,” she murmured stunned by the interaction.

“Have a good day, Miss Honey,” he smiled sweetly.

She liked morning Harry a lot.

--

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[hischierhoney]

Dog Days

dog dad!Nico Hischier x dog mom!reader

masterlist

summary: a dog park meet cute with the potential to change your life. or: months ago, @theemporium & i went down a spiral ab that picture of Nico & the dog with the devil horns. this fic is what came out of it. 10.1k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol, doodle slander (adopt don’t shop)

There’s a guy in the dog park who’s staring at you. Really, you should be more nervous about it, because he’s a large man, and you don’t know him, and he keeps looking at you. But his dog- Bernie, you think he called her- is cute, and she’s getting along great with your dog, so you’re a bit inclined to let it slide. Besides, he’s not being creepy. He’s probably just checking to make sure you’re okay with your dogs playing together. He’s here often- you recognize him well, but it’s the first time the dogs have taken interest in each other.

You watch another dog join the fray, some sort of hypoallergenic doodle, if you had to guess. The type that costs thousands of dollars for no apparent reason. It’s wearing a Patagonia puffy jacket, which makes you laugh. You hide it behind your hand. You watch as the dog bows low between your dog and Staring Guy’s dog, and then the doodle rolls over in the mud, and-

“Excuse me!” Someone yells. “Excuse me- hey, you! Is that your dog?”

You turn and blink, realizing the woman is talking to you. She’s storming your way in her matching Patagonia coat, face red with anger. You stare, eyes wide. Staring Guy is looking, too, not even trying to hide it now.

“Um. Which one?” You ask.

She gestures wildly. “The- that black mutt,” she hisses. You frown. “The one who was in the mud with my Bessie.”

Staring Guy snorts from his spot twenty feet away. Your eyes flicker to his, and he’s holding back laughter. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from doing the same.

“Yeah, that’s Moose,” you say, turning to look over your shoulder. Moose and Bernie have abandoned Bessie in the mud, more interested in sticks. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“Yes! My dog is covered in mud now!” The woman snaps, and you rear your head back. “I mean, honestly-“

“Oh, yeah, she really seemed to like that puddle,” you agree, nodding. “You know how dogs are.”

She shakes her head angrily. “Not my Bessie. She’d never do that. So.”

“So?”

“So are you going to pay for her grooming? And the dry cleaner for her coat, oh, that coat-“ the woman sighs. “She’d have never done this if she hadn’t been influenced-“

You turn to look over your shoulder, to where Bessie is still rolling in the mud. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say my dog influenced yours to roll in the mud? And now you want me to pay for- you understand how ridiculous you sound, right?”

She huffs. “Bessie is a well behaved, purebred Bernedoodle. Yours is-“

She stammers, so you fill in the gap. “Moose is a rescue.”

“Right, so-“ she waves her hand. “You see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” You say, incredulously.

The woman is so angry, now, that her whole face has gone beet red. She lurches towards you, and you take a couple steps back. Her hands are in fists at her sides. You’re not exactly afraid of her, but you hadn’t been planning on getting into a fistfight in the dog park, and she’s making you feel a little uneasy.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. You turn and find Staring Guy, walking up with his hands in his pockets, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You widen your eyes at him, praying he gets the message. He sends you a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth softly. He has a kind face, warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows that arch over them. The woman goes off on her tirade again, about her precious Bessie and your awful influence of a mutt, and how you hadn’t done anything to stop them from playing in the mud. Staring Guy’s dog comes trotting up as she goes on and on, and Moose isn’t far behind. He winds himself in front of your legs, and you reach down to fix one of his ears, the one that always gets flipped inside out. Bessie isn’t far behind. You chew on your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of her, soaked in mud.

“Oh, that’s probably Bernie’s fault, actually,” Staring Guy says, dark brows furrowed. “She really loves the mud. She’s the one who started it.”

The woman splutters. “Oh- but- well- I’m not sure-“

Staring Guy shakes his head. He takes a couple steps forward, effectively placing himself between you and her. Your heart melts just a little. Moose looks up at him, and his ear flips back inside out. You sigh at the sight of him- he is covered in mud, and it’s going to be a pain to get him cleaned up.

“I just think she should’ve tried to keep them out of the mud.” The woman says, though she’s calmed down a bit.

Staring Guy’s deep voice and large stature seem to have calmed her down a bit. If you’re being honest, he’s calmed you, too. He’d make a good mediator, you think. He’s soothing.

“It’s a dog park, not a doggy day care,” he says, voice a little bit more tense. “You’re responsible for your own dog. Says so on the sign.”

The woman huffs and looks between the two of you. She seems to realize she’s getting nowhere, and she marches off, leash in hand, headed for poor Bessie, who’s likely in for the bath of a lifetime. You and Staring Guy watch her go, staring as she stomps across the park, to the gate, and all the way out to her shiny car. She steps in a puddle on the way out and splatters mud up her jeans. You hunch over and start to giggle.

Staring Guy lets out a laugh, too. “That was fucking ridiculous,” he says.

You nod, unable to speak as the laughter takes over. Moose sits down on the grass and stares up at you. Bernie sits down next to him and does the same. They both look incredibly concerned. You wipe tears of laughter from your eyes and stand up.

“I mean, she’s probably right, Moose is definitely a bad influence,” you say, cooing down at your dog. “I mean, look at him.”

Staring Guy laughs and tilts his head. “His name’s Moose?”

“Basic, I know,” you shrug. “They were calling him that at the shelter. I felt bad changing it, so here we are.”

Staring Guy shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s a good name. This is Bernie,” he says, nudging his dog with his knee. “And I’m Nico.”

He sticks out his hand to shake. You do so, and introduce yourself, too. He repeats your name back to you with a soft smile. Bernie seems to take this as a sign, and she walks up to you, sniffing the air, tail wagging wildly. You crouch down to pet her, running your hands through her thick, sandy fur. She pants happily.

“She’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Nico. “Golden retriever?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I think. She’s a rescue. I thought about doing one of those dog DNA things, but…”

“It never feels important enough,” you fill in. He’s scratching Moose’s head, and he nods, grinning. “Moose is a rescue, too.”

“They’re the best kind of dogs,” he says, finding the spot behind Moose’s ear that makes his left leg thump against the ground. Nico laughs. “No Schnoodles or Whoodles for me.”

You laugh and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Moose looks between you and Nico, tail wagging happily. Not for the first time, you wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you could read his mind.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” Nico says, toying with the dog leash. “But it was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” you say, giving Bernie one last head pat. “Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem.”

…..

Weeks slip by, and Nico stays a constant in them. Wednesdays and Fridays, you find him at the dog park in the mid afternoon, Bernie waiting eagerly for you to let moose off his leash. The two of you chat and watch your dogs play and then bid each other farewell to go back to your own lives. It’s nice. He’s nice.

“Are you busy?” Nico asks one afternoon, shoulder nearly touching yours.

Moose and Bernie are playing in a pile of leaves, a week post Bessie-mud incident. You watch as the wind picks one up, and Moose chases after it. Bernie chases after him. You turn to look at Nico, feeling slightly confused.

“Like, now?” You ask.

He nods. “Now, and for a little while? There’s this dog friendly coffee shop down the street. I was going to take Bernie there. Though maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Your heart jumps. He wants you to come with? He wants to see you outside of this dog park, outside of the primary meeting spot. He wants to see you.

You nod. “Yeah, sure, that sounds sweet. You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Has anyone ever said yes to that?”

“Nope,” you say. “And I’m still alive, so it’s working.”

The two of you gather up the dogs and head for the coffee shop. They walk together happily on their leashes- matching ones from the same brand. You and Nico chat about the leashes, and dog supplies in general, and your favorite pet stores. By the time you make it to the coffee shop, you’ve run out of dog topics and moved on to other ones. You talk about coffee and New Jersey and home- which is Switzerland, for Nico, which explains the accent. You order coffee and pastries and take a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The early afternoon sun is shining down. There’s an autumn chill in the air, but the sun takes the edge off.

Nico gets dodgy when you start talking about work. At first, you wonder if he’s some sort of politician- he has the face for it- or a business guy. He doesn’t seem like the type to work in the tall buildings in the city, crunching numbers and barking orders. You’re not sure what else would’ve brought him to the US from Switzerland, though.

“D’you watch hockey?” He asks, and you blink.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It was never my thing. A few of my friends are big fans, though.”

“Of the Devils?” He asks, nodding his head down the street, where, if you walked far enough, you’d find the Prudential Center, home of New Jersey hockey.

You nod and swallow a sip of your coffee. “Mhm. S’that what you do for work? You work for the Devils?”

He shrugs, then nods. “Basically.”

You let it go, then. Maybe he’s just trying to be careful- after all, he barely knows you. You’d done the same, been careful about not telling him where you work. He seems trustworthy enough, but you can never be too careful. The two of you move on to more important topics- which donuts are best, and what the best restaurants in town are. The afternoon slips away quickly and quietly, and you only realize you’re late when your friend calls you.

“Shit,” you mutter, standing up. “I know I said I wasn’t busy but- I have to meet my friends for drinks, and I’m probably going to be late-“

“It’s okay,” Nico says, softly. “I’ve gotta go too. But this was really nice.”

You smile softly. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

You both wave goodbye and take off down the street in different directions- you, back towards your apartment to drop off Moose, and him towards his, you assume. You can’t wipe the smile off your face the whole way, and it’s still stuck there by the time you slip into the booth at the restaurant a half hour later.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, as your friend Alyssa sends you a glare. “I was out at the dog park with Moose, and then I lost track of time, and-“

Your other friend Nora laughs. “Were you too busy staring at Dog Park Guy?”

Your face grows hot. “His name’s Nico.”

Both of them blink at you. “Did you actually talk to him?”

You let out a long sigh and launch into the story- Bessie and her bitchy owner, Nico’s rescue, the increased interactions, and the cafe today. Their eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” Nora squeals.

“If he’s cute,” Alyssa adds.

You roll your eyes and ignore the looks they’re giving you. “We’re just friends. Because our dogs are friends.”

“Like I said,” Nora says. “Cute.”

Eventually they drop the subject. You have your drinks and catch up, and make plans to hang out again the next night. Alyssa wants to watch the hockey game. She’s the biggest Devils fan you know, could name every player and all of their stats. You and Nora agree to watch, as long as she provides the alcohol.

You show up just after the game starts the next afternoon, Moose in tow. You snag a plate and grab some snacks and join Alyssa on the couch.

“Can you grab me a beer?” You call out to Nora, who’s in the kitchen.

She returns with a bottle in hand, passing it off to you. You thank her and curl up further on the couch, turning to look at the TV. You wonder if Nico’s working, if he has to be at the games or if he does more of the behind the scenes stuff. Maybe he runs the charity branch. That would fit him. You take a sip of your beer, and then nearly spit it right back out.

You turn to Alyssa, who has the remote, and make a frantic gesture. “Rewind it.”

“What?” She asks, not looking away from the TV. “It’s a power play, I’m not gonna-“

“Rewind it,” you say again, reaching for the remote. “Lyss, just-“

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, frowning at you. “You don’t care about hockey.”

“No, I know, I just- I thought I saw someone,” you say, staring at the screen.

“In the crowd?” Nora asks. You don’t answer, so she says your name. “Babe, what is going on?”

Before you can answer, Alyssa throws her hands up in the air and cheers. Goal. The puck is in the back of the net, and the camera zooms in on the player who scored- number 86, the name Hughes emblazoned on his back. One of his teammates comes skating towards him, nearly shoving him into the wall, and-

You gasp when the camera settles on his face. Number 13, Hischier. Nico Hischier, you would assume, unless Dog Park Nico has a doppleganger hanging around Newark. A doppleganger who also works for the Devils. You work for the Devils? Basically. Oh. Nora doesn’t seem to notice anything, but Alyssa turns to you slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait,” she says. “You wanted me to rewind it, to where?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter.

She’s staring at you, while you stare at the TV screen. “You said Dog Park Guy’s name was Nico,” she says, brows furrowed. “What’s his last name?”

You shrug. “Haven’t asked him yet.”

She blinks once, then twice, and when you see Nico on the screen again, you must react, because she leans over and grabs your face. She pulls you to look at her, then at the screen. She grabs the remote and pauses it, and Nico’s face fills up the whole picture. He’s grinning wide.

“What’s happening right now?” Nora asks. “Somebody fill me in.”

Alyssa points at the screen. “That man, right there, is the team captain. Hischier,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Nico Hischier.”

Nora gasps. You shrink down into yourself. You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the screen. It’s definitely him. You’d know that face anywhere. You can see the smile, can picture it in the dog park as he pets your dog.

“Is that Dog Park Guy?” Nora asks. You nod, figuring there’s no point in lying now. “Oh my god, you didn’t mention he was hot.”

Alyssa groans. “I’ve never been more jealous of you in my life.”

“You’re engaged,” Nora reminds her.

“I know,” Alyssa sighs. “But god, he’s dreamy.”

Nora nods. You curl further in on yourself and reach for the remote to hit play. The game starts back up again, and you try to pretend you’re not watching for his number. Nora and Alyssa don’t let it go for the rest of the night. You have a feeling they won’t be letting it go for a while.

When you see him next Wednesday at the dog park, you greet him with, “Hiya, Cap.”

You’ve walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bernie and Moose are rolling around in fallen leaves. Nico smiles at you at first, and then, as if he’s realized what you said, he jolts. His brows furrow, and you grin.

“You work for the Devils, huh?” You tease, grinning widely.

His cheeks go red, and he laughs. “You said you didn’t care about hockey.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “But my friend Alyssa does, and she had the game on when I was at her place the other day, and imagine my surprise when I looked up at the screen and saw you on the ice.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn’t tell you because I thought it’d come off as bragging.”

Moose barks, and you both turn to look, but he’s just playing with Bernie. The two of them have found a stick in the leaves, and they’re pulling back and forth. Bernie has a leaf stuck to her nose, and it makes you smile even more.

“It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it?” You ask. “Lyss said you’re like. A rockstar. Team captain, first round draft pick-“

“Oh, she went way back,” he teases.

“She’s a Jersey girl,” you say with a shrug. “You’re lucky she’s already engaged or she’d be here, too.”

He laughs louder at that, and his shoulder bumps against yours. Across the grass, your dogs roll around on the ground, happy as can be. It makes you smile wider, makes your heart warm.

…..

Early fall turns into late fall, a change that brings with it colder weather, something you’re already regretting not noticing. Nico frowns when he sees you in the park. He makes his way over as Bernie runs to greet Moose, and he has his brows furrowed. He’s wearing a beanie and a thick hoodie, and you envy him.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, tugging at the hood of your thin sweatshirt, which you have pulled tightly over your head. “Where’s your coat? And a beanie, maybe?”

You shrug and bury your hands deeper in your pockets- you don’t want him to see you’re not wearing gloves either. “I live on the third floor. It looked warm out, and by the time I got outside, there was no way I was dragging him back upstairs.”

You shrink slightly under the disapproving look he gives you. He sighs heavily, and you smile at him, like that’ll make it better. You want nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, press yourself into his body and soak up some of the heat. You’re sure he’s warm. He just looks like he runs warm.

You don’t stay long at the park, because your hands are freezing and so is your face. Nico bids you farewell with a little wave, and you rush home to your warm apartment.

Two days later, when you show up to the dog park, Nico’s already there. Bernie’s running circles around him, barking happily. She skids to a stop when she spots Moose, and you let him off the leash to join her. Nico waves, a big grin on his face as the two dogs take off together.

“Still no beanie?” He teases, shaking his head.

“I thought the cold day was a fluke,” you mutter grumpily, hands shoved in your pockets. “I worked from home today. I didn’t know it was this cold.”

Nico continues to shake his head. His next move is so unexpected you don’t quite realize what he’s doing until it’s over- he pulls a beanie from his pocket and pulls it onto your head for you, adjusting it carefully with narrowed eyes. You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. Then he slips his jacket off his shoulders.

“Nico-“ you protest as he wraps it around you.

“I wore layers, and I’m warm,” he says, holding the jacket around your shoulders and waiting until you slip your arms through the sleeves reluctantly. “Better?”

His jacket is warm and cozy, and you smile and nod. “Much better.”

He grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges. His cheeks are flushed, and it makes your face feel warm, too. You shove your hands in your pockets- his pockets- and turn back to watch the dogs, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him. The very first flakes of snow of the year begin to fall. Moose and Bernie don’t seem to notice. If Nico notices the way you lean close to him, trying to shelter yourself from the cold, he doesn’t say anything.

…..

The next time you see Nico, he’s stressed. He’s got his beanie off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Bernie, as if she senses his distress, is sitting at his feet patiently, even though her leash is off. You let Moose run over. He sniffs at Bernie, then at Nico’s knee, and whines.

“You’re really bringing down the mood,” you call out.

Nico’s head whips up, bottom lip still tugged between his teeth. Something twists in your chest. You don’t like to see him upset like this, you realize. You’re growing far too attached. And yet. Here you are.

You cock your head questioningly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. Just- my usual dog sitter apparently moved and didn’t tell me until this morning, and I have to be out of town starting tomorrow, and so now I’m trying to find someone to watch her or somewhere to board her and-“

“I can take her,” you blurt out.

His rambling comes to a screeching halt, and he blinks at you. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, or…”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head and smiling. “Her and Moose get along great, and I already know half of her routine. And I think she likes me alright, too. It wouldn’t be a hassle.”

Nico puffs out his cheeks, glancing up at the sky. “That would be… are you sure? Because. I mean-“

“Nico,” you say, softly. His gaze flickers back to yours. “I’d love to watch her. How long are you gonna be gone?”

He bites his lip again. “Friday through Sunday.”

You nod. “Easy peasy.”

You should probably be expecting it, just because it seems like something he would do, but you yelp a little when he hauls you against his chest. You hug him back, though, and laugh into his shoulder, and the dogs both bark at your feet. Then Bernie takes off running, as if she knows everything is fine now. Moose follows happily.

“Thank you,” he says, chest rumbling against you, and your breath catches.

“Anytime,” you respond. You mean it.

He drops Bernie off the next morning before you start work for the day. He texts you from the lobby of your apartment building to let you know they’re headed up, which is sweet. You hear Bernie before he knocks on the door, and when you open it, Moose perks up from his dog bed. He’s up within seconds, tail wagging, searching through his pile of toys for one to bring Bernie.

“Look at them,” you coo, watching the two dogs greet each other happily. “We’re gonna have such a fun weekend, aren’t we, Bernie?”

Nico’s smiling, too, when you look up and meet his gaze. He has a dog bed tucked under one arm, and a bag of other supplies in the other. You let the dogs play while he unpacks the stuff on your kitchen counter and tells you what little you don’t know about Bernie’s routine. When she eats, what toys are her favorites, and so on.

“Normally I tell people about the dog park,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But you already know that.”

You nod eagerly. In the living room, Bernie is sniffing Moose’s dog bed.

“Oh, um. Sometimes for the first bit she won’t want to eat,” he says. “I got her when she was young, and it was during the lockdown, so. She wasn’t used to being away from me. She’s gotten better about it, but… if she goes too long, you can put a little cheese on her food and that usually helps.”

You nod in understanding. “Moose was the same the first time I left him. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Nico laughs. “I think this is actually the least worried I’ve been about leaving her, ever.”

You set up Bernie’s dog bed in the living room, a little ways away from Moose’s to give them each their space. Nico lays out her favorite toys for her, and a threadbare red hoodie that you’d bet used to be his. He wavers in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching as Bernie inspects her stuff. It makes your chest ache a little bit. He seems reluctant to leave.

“D’you have time to sit for a little bit?” You ask. “I have plenty of coffee.”

He turns over his shoulder and grins. “Coffee would be great.”

It should probably feel strange, to have Dog Park Guy sitting at your kitchen table, sipping coffee out of a big mug that looks small in his hands, but it doesn’t. It feels almost natural. Like this was always how this was going to go. He tells you about the away game he’s going to play, about their odds and the other team and how he’s stuck sharing a hotel room with Jack, who he loves but who also talks in his sleep loudly and denies it. You laugh and commiserate & complain to him about your work day, which is full of meetings. By the time the coffee is gone, he doesn’t really seem to want to leave, but he tells you he has to finish packing and get to the rink, and you’ve got a meeting anyways, so. You walk him to the door. He crouches down to pet Bernie one more time, and lets out a big sigh.

“I’ll see you all soon,” he says, smiling. “Have a good weekend.”

Bernie sits down and stares at him. You see his smile waver, so you step forward and pat the top of her head gently, then scratch behind her ears the way you’ve seen Nico do so often.

“Be safe,” you tell him. “We’ll be here waiting.”

Bernie does get a little sad just after he leaves. You feel for her, because you’re strangely sad about him being gone, too. You take most of your work meetings from the couch so she can curl up with her head on your lap. Moose keeps bringing over his favorite toys and dropping them off for her, but she doesn’t take much interest. Nico texts around lunchtime, just before he’s getting on a plane, and asks how it’s going. You send back a picture of her head in your lap, your work meeting in the background.

she seems very interested in Carol’s progress report.

Nico sends back a little laughing emoji, and then She looks cozy. Thank you again!

After work, you leash up both dogs and walk down to the dog park. You want to keep Bernie’s routine as consistent as possible. The two of them do so well together, walking happily, never tugging on the leashes. You snap a pic of them, and send that to Nico, too. He probably won’t see it for a while.

Once you’re at the dog park, you let them off leash to run around. They take off together, barking happily, kicking up piles of dead leaves like the always do. You sit on a bench and fight the urge to text Nico.

It’s just that in the couple of months since you finally spoke to him, you’ve found yourself really looking forward to your dog park chats. Venting about your days or catching up or telling fun stories about your dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been gone, but it’s the first time it’s hit you like this. It’s odd.

You take them both home eventually, calling them over and clipping on the leashes. Back in your apartment, it’s dinnertime- you heat up leftovers for yourself and give the dogs their food. You try not to watch Bernie like a hawk. Nico had said she might not want to eat at first. But when you do sneak a peek, they’re both eating happily. You breathe a sigh of relief- she must feel comfortable enough.

They wander off into the living room before you do, and what you find makes you stop in your tracks. Bernie’s got her dog bed in her mouth, dragging it over next to Moose’s. He sits on his bed happily, wagging his tail at you. Bernie drops the bed and immediately curls up on it, letting out one of her signature big sighs, the ones that Nico always copies. You let out a matching sigh, and she wags her tail.

You snap a picture of the two of them curled up next to each other and send it off to Nico.

He replies just before you roll over to go to sleep. Did she move her bed??

Yup, you answer. Ate all her dinner, too

He takes a while to type his response.

Adorable. Thank you. Again.

…..

You’re not a hockey fan. You know this about yourself. You’ve watched games enough times to know this. But when Saturday rolls around, you turn on the game anyway. Bernie should watch the game, after all. She should watch her dad play.

You cuddle up on the couch with both dogs, who are definitely paying less attention to the screen than you are. They both fall asleep halfway through the first period, and you roll your eyes. You could turn it off, but you find that you don’t want to. It’s suddenly different when you have a reason to be invested. Nico’s on the ice, at least for some of the time.

When he scores, you cheer so loudly you startle both dogs awake. They look around, bewildered. You snap a pic of the two of them with the tv in the background and send it to him.

Bernie & Moose say good job!!

He doesn’t answer until you’re in bed for the night, again. Time differences and media responsibilities and all that. He heart reacts to the photo, and then you watch him type for a couple moments, the little dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.

How’d you like the game? He asks.

You waffle a bit on what to say back. You wonder if he’s paying enough attention to notice you’re taking a while to answer, or if he’s moved on.

You settle for sending back, it’s a lot more fun to watch when i’m cheering for you

He’s typing back nearly immediately. My good luck charm!

You laugh and lock the phone, setting it down on the nightstand. Bernie and Moose are curled up in bed with you, snoring away. You’re not sure why you feel so happy, but you hope it brings you good dreams.

Nico gets back into town late Sunday afternoon.

There’s a knock on your apartment door. From the couch, you call out “Come in!”

You hear him kick off his shoes in the entryway as he calls out a greeting. He pads towards the living room, and you lean up slightly to see him as he walks in.

“You should really lock your door, you know,” he says. “I could’ve been anyone.”

“But you’re you,” you lilt as he rounds the corner of the couch. “Besides, I’ve got my guard dogs.”

He eyes you skeptically. The dogs are in their same spots as the picture you sent him yesterday. Moose is curled against your chest, while Bernie is laid out over your legs. You’re tucked under a blanket, smiling up at him. Neither of the dogs have moved a muscle, from the knock on the door until now.

“Great guard dogs,” Nico teases.

“Well, they know you. Bernie, look who’s here,” you say. His dog lifts her head, wagging her tail slightly. You shrug. “Guess she likes me more.”

“Can’t blame her,” Nico says, stretching his arms above his head. “You guys look cozy.”

“And you look tired.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but he does. There are purple shadows beneath his eyes, his hair is a mess. The scrubs along his jaw looks to be at least a day old, by your guess.

He snorts. “Thanks. I am.”

You pout. “You could join us, if you want.”

You shift your feet slightly to open up a space for him on the other end of the couch. He eyes the spot with a tired gaze, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. You’re trying to ask casually, to pretend like it won’t make a difference to you one way or the other if he stays or not, but you really do hope he sits down. You’ve missed him- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve missed him.

“If I do that I’m definitely gonna pass out,” he warns, voice quieter. “Probably for an extended period of time.”

You nod. “I’d expect nothing less.”

He huffs and drops his car keys on the coffee table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laugh when he climbs his way onto the couch. He sits down at the opposite end, his legs side by side with yours. The dogs move to accommodate him, though not without their own grumbling about it. Bernie finally gives in and gets excited to see him, fumbling her way onto his lap. He wraps his arms around his dog and snuggles in, all while you watch, unable to pull your gaze away, heart pounding in your chest. He’s here, in your apartment, on your couch. He looks so soft.

When he falls asleep in no more than ten minutes, it makes you feel even warmer. He trusts you enough to fall asleep here. Bernie is curled against his chest, also falling asleep, reunited at last. You find yourself dozing off, too, brought on by how comfortable it all feels.

You wake up to Bernie pacing back and forth on the living room floor, and Moose standing on the couch, his nose in Nico’s face. You scramble to push the dog away with muffled words and limited success. Nico sniffles and raises his head, scrunching his eyes shut in the face of the sun coming in through your window.

“Sorry,” you whisper, fighting the urge to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. “They're getting antsy.”

He’s adorable when he’s just woken up, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pets Moose with the other. You get up and start to gather the dogs’ things while he continues to wake up. By the time you’ve got them both leashed up, he’s sitting up on the couch, brighter eyes than before.

“Best nap of my life,” he says.

You think of how much you wanted to cuddle up on his chest, and you wonder if that would take the winning spot.

Nico puts on his jacket at the door, taps his foot impatiently until you roll your eyes and pull on a jacket of your own, and then the two of you head out, dogs in tow. You keep your hands shoved in your pockets, but when you get to the dog park he hands you a pair of gloves, glaring playfully at you. You put them on, feeling warm and fuzzy, and not just from the fabric around your hands. You let the dogs off the leashes in the fenced in area, and you watch them run off through the light snow.

You bump your elbow against his. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

He nods, leans towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah. M’good. Just tired.”

You nod in understanding. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

You head over to a nearby bench and sink down. He follows suit. And. It’s cold, so really, that’s probably why he sits so close, his thigh against yours, his side pressed to your side. But then he shifts slightly, and his arm falls to the top of the bench behind you. You try not to hold your breath. Across the park, Bernie and Moose bark happily. You lean your head against Nico’s shoulder, and he sighs happily, resting his head against yours.

He sighs. “Wake me up when they’ve worn themselves out.”

He’s joking- he doesn’t fall asleep, you’d be able to tell. You can feel his breaths, can feel him shift every so often, and he laughs when the dogs tackle each other in the snow. But he stays right there, curled against you, warmer than any jacket or pair of gloves could ever be.

…..

When people say it takes a village, you’re pretty sure it could be said about having dogs, too. You’re amazed at how much easier things are when you have Nico to help out. He’s insistent that he owes you one for watching Bernie, but it really turns into the two of you just trading dog duties.

You get held over at the office on one of the rare days you have to be in person, and he picks up Moose and takes him along to the park with Bernie. Nico gets stuck in traffic on the way home from a game in New York City, and you do the same, leaving a container of leftovers in the fridge for him, too. The dog park meetups and coffee shop hangouts keep happening, much to your benefit. You like spending time with him. Probably a bit more than is healthy, really, but you can’t exactly help it. He’s sweet, and funny, and handsome, too, to top it all off.

When you call him early on a Tuesday evening, you know he’ll pick up, because he’s done with practice for the day. He probably assumes you’re checking what time he’s going to be at the dog park, or letting him know you and Moose won’t be there. He gets nervous, now, if you don’t show up. Texts to make sure you’re alright. It’s endearing.

“Hello,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break Bernie’s heart and miss out on the dog park tonight.”

“Hi, no- my… my power’s out,” you say, sounding as frantic as you feel. “And like. It’s fine, I’ll survive, but it’s already cold in here, and Moose is giving me evil eyes. But I can’t find any dog friendly hotels, so I was wondering if maybe you could take him for the night-“

Nico laughs on the other end. “Come stay with us. Both of you.”

You pause your digging through the cupboards. “Oh, you don’t have to- that’s okay, Nico-“

“I mean it,” he says, firmly. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. And I just ordered way too much pizza, actually. Come over, bring Moose. Bernie’s bored, anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you tell him.

“You could never,” he says. “If you’re not here within a half hour, I’m driving over there to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can protest again, and you turn to Moose with a sigh. Then you start packing for both of you. 20 minutes later, you’re in the elevator up to Nico’s place, trying not to freak out about all of it.

He lets you in before you even have a chance to knock. Maybe it’s just the fact that your place was cold, but when he ushers you inside, it feels like he’s cranked the heat up a few degrees. Bernie comes racing to the entryway, whining excitedly at the sight of Moose, and you grin down at the two dogs. Then you look up at Nico and find him smiling, too.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” he offers, nodding his head towards the rest of the apartment. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

It all feels oddly domestic, staying with him. You eat dinner together and watch the news- a habit he picked up from a roommate back in his days playing hockey in Canada, he tells you. Moose and Bernie cuddle up in the middle between the two of you, which you sort of hate. You want an excuse to lean into his side.

You get one when you get up to go to the bathroom. You come back, and both dogs have moved into your spot. Nico smiles up at you and shrugs, patting the spot right next to him. You take a seat without protesting, settling into the soft sofa. He moves the blanket he’s been using so it falls over your lap and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your head. It probably means nothing, but being so close to him feels nice. Comforting.

When you start to doze off, he nudges you awake and towards the guest room. You fight the urge to lean up and kiss his cheek when he says goodnight. Moose follows you into the room, and you shut the door behind you.

You want to kiss Nico. This is becoming a problem.

It’s just. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a good friend, he helps you take care of your dog, he’s letting you stay with him. But he’s an athlete, and they usually date other famous people, not their dog park friends. You’ve got no chance, probably.

You would roll over and scream into the pillow, but you’re afraid he’d hear it anyways.

…..

You’re standing in his kitchen early the next morning when the front door creaks open. You freeze in surprise- you’d assumed from the fan running in Nico’s bedroom, and the quiet of the apartment, that he’d still been asleep. Maybe he’d gone out for a run already, or had gone to take Bernie for a walk. Footsteps echo in the entryway, and you hear someone trip over a pair of shoes. The muttered swear word is definitely not said in Nico’s voice, and panic bites at your chest. You reach for one of the knives on the counter and hold it at your side. Moose, seeming to sense your anxiety, steps in front of your legs. Your phone sits too far away on the counter, and you swallow. You could yell for Nico, but then whoever is in his apartment would hear you, too.

The footsteps fall closer. The man appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and he jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sight of you, hand pressed to his chest. He looks familiar, with his almost shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears- one of Nico’s teammates. There’s a photo of the two of them hanging on the wall in the living room. You drop the knife on the counter discreetly when he isn’t looking.

“You’re not Nico,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“Neither are you,” you state, heart still racing.

He laughs at that and eyes the dog in front of you. “And that’s not Bernie, huh?”

He leans towards the dog, and Moose presses against your legs and growls. You gasp. Apparently, he hasn’t quite gotten the memo that whoever this guy is, he isn’t a threat. You reach for his collar.

“Moose,” you say in a scolding tone.

“Oh,” the man says, drawing out the noise, a look of understanding washing over his face. “Cool wolf. Is he gonna bite me? I have hockey practice later.”

There’s a flurry of noise before you can respond, and Bernie comes loping into the kitchen. She beelines for the guy, and at that, Moose lets his guard down, his tail wagging happily again. You roll your eyes. A great guard dog until his friend likes the guy, then all bets are off. Nico appears in the kitchen, scratching his head, and his eyes go wide when he spots his teammate.

“Jack,” he says, and the man turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

The man rubs his face sheepishly. Your dog scurries over to Nico, sniffing at his ankles excitedly. Your gaze bounces back and forth between the two men.

“You’re Jack,” you say, looking at the early morning intruder.

He nods.

You laugh. “I hear you talk in your sleep.”

Nico sighs while Jack tries desperately to deny it.

Ten minutes later, once Nico’s explained the whole situation, they head off on a run. They take Bernie and Moose with them, on Nico’s suggestion, because both dogs could use a bit of exercise, and, in his words, Jack could use a bit of motivation. While they’re out, you take a moment to tidy up your stuff, and you do the dishes from the night before. Nico had insisted you were welcome to any of the food in the house, so you whip up a light breakfast of cut fruit and yogurt, making sure to save some for him.

He returns a while later, both dogs in tow, minus Jack. He gives you a sheepish smile, sweaty locks of hair falling over his forehead. His t-shirt is clinging to his skin, damp with sweat despite the chill outside. You chew on a piece of strawberry and try not to stare at him.

“Sorry about him,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I forgot he was coming over. He called, but I had my phone turned down and I slept through it.”

You shrug. “Nico, it’s fine, it’s your apartment,” you say. “Though I did have a knife ready, so he’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”

Nico laughs and takes a couple steps into the kitchen, leaning on his hands on the counter. “The Devils hockey organization thanks you for your hesitation.”

You laugh and nod. “I have breakfast, if you want some.”

When he squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, you try not to let it show how nice it feels.

“Thanks, schatz,” he says.

You don’t know much German, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean friend.

…..

Nico goes to practice a bit later and then comes back. The power at your place stays out for the rest of the day. You keep checking, trying to make sure. Realistically, now, you could call Alyssa or Nora and ask to stay with them, instead, but when you offer, Nico looks offended at the suggestion.

He’s laying on the floor with Bernie and Moose both sprawled over him. “I mean. If you want to go, you can, obviously.”

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you tell him.

He shakes his head and lets it drop back to the floor. Moose shoves his nose under Nico’s chin. “You’re not.”

That’s pretty much the end of the discussion. The two of you take the dogs out to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, a place Nico tells you is dog friendly. He makes sure you’re both bundled up adequately for the chilly walk there and back. In the afternoon, you get some work done on your laptop, Bernie’s head on your lap, while Nico scrolls aimlessly on his phone and plays tug of war with Moose. The routine feels scarily easy to settle into. You make dinner together, pasta and chicken and broccoli. You move around one another with ease, like moons in each other’s orbits. The dogs wait patiently in the living room while you cook. Nico gives them pieces of chicken for their good behavior, and then you dish out dog food while he refills their water bowls. It’s nice. It’s so nice. You’re trying desperately not to get attached to this, to him.

You wake up the next morning to Moose and Bernie in your bed, a text from Nico saying he took them on their morning walk before he left for morning skate, and an alert from your apartment complex that the power is back on. You sigh, kiss the top of Bernie’s head, and roll back over in bed.

He’s gone for most of the day, today, between practices and media requirements and meetings with the team that he’d complained about to you the night before. You could pack up and leave before he gets back, but then you’d be leaving Bernie alone, and it feels weird to not say goodbye to Nico after he let you stay here. So you spend the day how you were planning to, and gather up your things bit by bit.

Nico comes home in the afternoon when you’re halfway packed, and he stands in the doorway of the guest room, seemingly hesitant. He’s frowning. Your heart lurches.

“My power’s back on,” you say quietly.

“Oh,” he responds. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

You nod. “Just realized I’ll probably have to clean out my fridge, and get new groceries, but yeah. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowns, nose wrinkling. “You weren’t in my hair.”

You blink at him. “I just meant… you can have your own space back. You must be sick of us by now.”

Nico wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet. You’re holding one of your t-shirts, and you pull it close to your chest. There’s something hanging in the air.

“I don’t think I’d ever get sick of you,” he says. A spark runs down your spine. “I liked having you here.”

You blink, unsure what to do with yourself suddenly. “I, uh, liked being here. You’re a great host, you know.”

He shrugs, then nods. He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the motion. Then he releases his grip on the doorframe and takes a couple steps into the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and you try to keep your breathing steady as he walks towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” He asks, looking hopeful.

You blink up at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Guess it depends on what we’re having.”

You’re trying to be brave about this. Trying to go with the flow, be casual. Maybe he’s just got a meal planned for two, maybe he needs your help to make it. You don’t want to read into it, even as he comes so close that you could reach out and touch him, that you can smell his shampoo and cologne. One of the dogs barks in the living room. You both ignore it, unable to tear your eyes away from each other. The air feels electric.

His hand comes up to touch your cheek, fingertips featherlight. You swallow. Your heart is pounding in your chest. He’s grinning, like he knows it. So sure of whatever he’s about to say.

“I thought maybe we could go out,” he says, casually. “Just me and you, somewhere nice. Let the dogs hang out here and keep each other company.”

You blink, take a breath, nod. “Okay. I can stay for dinner.”

“Cool,” he says, trying to be nonchalant about it. His wide grin gives him away. “Then it’s a date.”

Your breath catches in your chest, but you nod. “It’s a date.”

When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you swear the world stops spinning. When he pulls away it spins faster than it ever has before. You watch him walk away, dumbfounded, heart racing, skin burning.

All that worrying about it all, and it was that easy?

…..

At dinner, you both come to terms with the fact that you can’t really call this your first date. The two of you are too comfortable already, too at ease with each other. Nico claims the real first date was the coffee shop, months ago. You claim it was the day he came to pick up Bernie and took a nap on your couch.

“So I was asleep for half of our first date?” He says, nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”

“Well if it was the coffee shop, then I didn’t get your number for weeks after,” you retort. “So that would be weird.”

Eventually the two of you decide to agree to disagree. Maybe it happened somewhere in the middle without you even realizing. But now it feels official and real, over seafood and wine and warm bread. Nico’s face is lit by the candles on the table, and he holds your hand half the night.

Hours later, you stumble out of the restaurant, wine tipsy and giggling as you lean against his arm. He’s laughing, too, until he’s not, until he’s holding you by your hips on an empty sidewalk, waiting for a cab to roll by. You stare up at him, the dark night sky and city lights behind his head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, quietly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you reply.

Nico kisses exactly the way you’d imagined- soft and sweet, at first, in a way that makes you feel everything. And then his tongue slips past your lips and his grip on your hips tightens and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. It’s a bit all consuming, threatens to leave you breathless, sends shocks across your skin.

He gets you into a cab and gives his address, and then he leans against you, his lips against your temple, his hand intertwined with yours. He speaks quietly against your skin.

“I’ll follow your lead here,” he says, quietly. “If you wanna take Moose and head home, I completely understand.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Okay,” you say, deciding to leave him hanging. He laughs against your skin like he knows what you’re doing.

When the car pulls up in front of Nico’s apartment building, you step outside while he pays the fare. He grabs your hand again to lead you inside, through the lobby, and towards the elevator. He’s watching your every move, you can feel it- he’s trying to read you. You think he probably sees right through your little game, but that’s okay.

When the elevator doors slide closed, you turn to him, threading your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“You should ask me to stay over,” you whisper, leaning up to brush your lips against his ear.

He groans softly, his hand falling to rest on your hip. “Yeah?”

You nod.

He swallows. “You want to stay over?” He asks, voice breathy. His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he brushes a kiss there.

You lean in to kiss him again. You think that’s answer enough.

The two of you tumble into his apartment a few minutes later, hands wrapped tightly in each other’s. You muffle your giggles with your other hand, and Nico does the same with his own. The dogs are curled up on their dog beds in the living room, snoring away. You take off your shoes carefully, and the two of you tiptoe through the apartment. If you wake Moose, he’ll be needy, begging for attention. Bernie will be the same with Nico.

You make it to the bedroom, and within seconds, Nico’s on you, pressed up against the closed bedroom door. He latches his lips onto your neck, and you sigh happily. His hands are already roaming everywhere, and your whole body is on fire.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, between kisses, and you melt.

“Positive,” you say, already gasping for air. “Please, Nico.”

He groans into your skin, and you both start to fall apart.

Later, you lay in bed, your cheek against his bare chest. His hand sweeps up and down your back smoothly. You can hear his heart beating, feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths. There’s a lot of things you want to say, but they all feel far too intimate for a first time on a maybe third date, so you keep your mouth shut. You settle for drawing shapes on his skin until he shivers and laughs.

Seconds later, there’s a dog scratching at the door. Moose whines. Then, so does Bernie. You groan into Nico’s chest.

“They’re so needy,” you grumble.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he responds.

He pulls away before you can retaliate, reaching for his t-shirt and tossing it to you. You pull it on as he tugs on a pair of shorts. Then he opens the door. Two fur covered, heat seeking missiles come shooting onto the bed, barreling into you, making themselves comfortable atop the covers. Nico crawls back into bed before he loses his spot, nudging Bernie out of the way so he can pull you back into his arms.

Moose rests his head against your side. You rub behind his ears as Nico does the same with Bernie. Something about this moment just feels right. The way the four of you all curl up together, around each other, held tight and warm and safe.

Nico kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You kiss his shoulder. “G’night, Nico.”

In the dark, Bernie whines.

“And goodnight to you too, Berns,” you laugh, reaching over to pat her head.

…..

Nico stops in the parking lot, his arm around the back of your seat. You continue staring out the windshield. In the backseat, Bernie and Moose wag their tails happily. You hope he can’t see where you’re holding onto the seat tightly with your right hand.

“Hey,” he says. His hand brushes against your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if they all hate me?” You ask.

Nico scoffs. “Then they’re all stupid.”

“Nico…”

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning over, pressing his lips to your temple. “You met Jack, scared the shit out of him, and he still asks about you all the time. And you’ll have the dogs. That’ll win them over immediately.”

You sigh and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. “You’re their captain. What if I don’t live up to the… I don’t know, Nico-“

He cups your face in his hand and turns your head towards his. There’s a soft, kind smile on his face. You bite your lip.

“You don’t need to live up to anything,” he says, firmly. “I want you there, that’s enough. And if you want to leave, you just tell me. We’ve got the dogs as an excuse.”

You nod. He pinches your cheek lightly, and you laugh. When he climbs out of the car, you follow suit. Moose and Bernie are itching to get out of the backseat- you each unbuckle one dog and get them ready to go inside.

In the stadium, he stops and helps you get the dogs ready- winter coats for them to wear, little shoes to protect their feet that you’ve been getting them used to for months now. Moose still glares at you a bit when you first put them on, but he gets over it quickly.

Nico laces up his own skates and helps you, too, and then it’s out onto the rink, under the lights, staring up at the big empty stadium. The dogs stay close at first, getting used to the slippery surface.

Everyone is here- his teammates, their families, their friends. When he’d invited you, you’d nearly broken down into tears- you know how much it means to him, how much he loves this team and this sport. You’re honored he wants to share it with you. You were the one who suggested bringing the dogs, too. Now, out on the ice, you’re thrilled it all ended up like this.

“Cool wolf,” Jack says, as he skates by. “Hey, Luke- you know what his name is?”

Luke shakes his head.

“Moose,” Jack says, and Luke sighs. “Which one of you is the cuter one, huh?”

“Definitely the dog,” Nico says, squeezing your hand.

“You all suck,” Luke says. He turns to you and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Not you. You seem great.”

Nico hooks his elbow in yours and nudges you gently. “Wanna do a lap?”

You smile and nod, and he starts to pull you around on the ice. The dogs follow happily, having found their footing. Across the ice, some of the kids point at them excitedly. You think back to the dog park, so long ago, now, and the lady and her dog Bessie. If she’d never gotten angry with you, would you and Nico have ever spoken? Or would you have just stared at each other from across the park forever? You’re not sure you want to know. You’re just happy it ended up the way it did.

“I love you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He blushes and grins, dimple popping up on his face. “I love you too, schatz.”

He kisses you on the lips, then, a quick peck that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat. At your feet, Moose whines, and Bernie follows suit. You and Nico sigh.

“And we love you two, too,” you say, shaking your head at the dogs.

“So needy,” Nico says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you tease, elbowing him.

He grins impossibly wider. You feel warm enough to melt the ice beneath your feet. He tends to have that affect on you, and you don’t think it’ll ever grow old.

thanks for reading!!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

It's Okay To Ask For Help

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: angst, unwanted touching (grabbing one's ass without permission), creepy men

Summary: Things don’t look good from where you are. You work at a run-down bar, you’re a single mother trying to keep a roof over your head, and you’re trying to give your daughter the childhood she deserves. You don’t see yourself going up from here until reconnect with Spencer Reid.

Square Filled: bartender au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Sweetheart! Another round!”

You have to keep the disgust off your face as you pour the man another round of whatever he is drinking. Sweetheartisn’t the worst thing you’ve been called at your job, but it’s the way he said it that has your skin crawling. You slide him the beer and pull your hand away fast enough before he can reach out and touch you. He grabs his beer and goes back to talking to his friend but keeps one eye on you.

You move to the other patrons of the bar and push the creepy man out of your mind. It’s not that you hate this job, you hate the people that come in. You’re the only female bartender which warrants unwanted attention from men nearly twice your age. Your boss isn’t any better as he usually lets this type of behavior slide, but at least he doesn’t try to touch you every hour.

The alcohol is running low so you step off to the side to grab some more while your coworker mans the bar. You walk into the back and bend over to grab two bottles when you feel someone press against your ass.

“Damn, baby, I have been thinking about this ass ever since I stepped foot in the bar.”

You stand up so fast that you would have gotten dizzy if it hadn’t been for the stranger groping your ass.

“Get your hands off me!” You turn and push the man away. “You’re not even supposed to be back here!”

“Come on, darling, just give me ten minutes of your time. I promise to make it worth your while.”

You’d slap him if you thought that would keep him away from you. Fucker probably likes that shit.

“No! Get the fuck out of here!”

You’re loud enough to cause your boss to enter the back room, and you look at him with wide eyes that have tears threatening to spill out.

“What’s going on here?”

“Sorry, man, I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“It’s the other hallway,” your boss points.

“Right. Thanks, man.”

You don’t wait for the door to fully close before talking to your boss.

“That man was lying. He came in here and grabbed my ass! I want him thrown out of the bar!”

“Whoa, calm down. That man has paid a lot of money tonight. I’m not going to just throw him out,” your boss sighs.

“He grabbed my ass. Don’t you care that he assaulted me?”

“Don’t be overdramatic. I’m sure he was just looking for the bathroom and accidentally knocked into you.” Your mouth opens. You can’t believe your ears. “Kevin is getting swamped out there. Get the alcohol and get back to work.”

You stay in the back room and cry for the next ten minutes. You’d quit if you didn't need this job. You have a daughter at home to support, and her father is only doing the minimum to help you. The court ordered him to pay you a thousand dollars a month for child support, and that barely covers your rent. You still have to work long hours just to put food on your table. You can’t afford to lose this job because no other place will hire you.

You’ve applied for other places and have even gotten an interview once, but nothing ever came of it. It’s like they back out as soon as they hear you’re a bartender at this bar, or the fact that you’ve got tattoos that you can’t exactly cover up with normal clothes. You don’t have any on your face or neck, but you do have some on your hands and chest. Darren, your boss, only hired you because of the way you look in a crop top--at least that’s what you believe.

You wipe your tears and join Kevin behind the bar to continue as if nothing ever happened. The man is gone but that only; means two more people just like him replace him. The only thing getting you through this shift is the fact that your sister is kind enough to watch Delilah until you get off at five in the morning. She’s agreed to the arrangement since she leaves for work around the same time you get off.

You’re saving what you can even if it’s only fifty bucks a paycheck, but it’s not nearly as much as you’d hope. Something needs to change or else you’ll drown in pain.

The rest of the shift goes by relatively smoothly, and you leave just as the sun is peeking over the horizon. You drive to your sister’s house where she is getting her lunch ready for work. Her husband is already out of the house since he’s a contractor and works before the sun is out, and Delilah is still in her pajamas watching cartoons in the living room.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“No. Just a rough night, I guess.”

“You really should look into getting another job.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “Are you ready, Delilah?”

“Yes, Mommy!”

You leave with your daughter and head back home where you get her ready for school. You drive her to the bus stop and watch as she gets on. After the bus has left, you manage to make it home without crying. As soon as you step through the door, the waterworks are in full effect. Once that dam has been opened, it’s hard to close them. After a quick shower, you crawl into bed to try and get some sleep. You don’t have blackout curtains so the light still shines through the dark curtains, allowing you to see all the artwork you’ve hung on the walls.

You’re a good artist but you can never make any money off it. If you could, you’d be doing that full-time instead of bartending to a bunch of assholes. You manage to fall asleep until three when you leave to pick Delilah up from school. Your shift starts at seven in the evening so you have a little time to spend with your daughter before dropping her off at your sister’s.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! I got to sit next to Lily today. Her and her Daddy are going to the fish zoo this weekend. Can we go?”

You chuckle at what she calls an aquarium. Your smile is lost when you think about Lily and who her dad is.

“You mean Lily Reid?”

“Yeah. Can we go? Pretty please?”

“Sure, baby. That sounds fun.”

You’ll have to work a double in order to pay for it, but you’ll do it if it means giving your daughter a normal childhood. Back before you had your daughter, you used to live right next door to a man named Spencer Reid. You two were joined at the hip and did everything together, often spending the night in each other’s apartments to keep each other company. You never did figure out how you felt about him until he left for the FBI academy.

By then, it was too late. You haven’t seen him since.

There are rare times when you see Spencer drop his daughter off at school before he goes to work, but you hear about him more than you see him. Delilah and Lily have a lot of after-school playdates at your sister’s house when you have to go to work early or need a bit more sleep, so you hear about Spencer from your sister. She knows about the two of you and often tells you about how he’s doing. She’s rooting for the both of you even though you don’t think he’d be interested in you now.

It was rough work but you managed to make it to the weekend without too much of a problem. Kevin agreed to take your shift on Saturday so that you can spend it with your daughter, and you agreed to take his Monday so he can have at least two days off in a row.

“Come on, Mommy!”

Delilah practically drags you into the aquarium hoping that Lily is there waiting for her. Spencer and Lily aren’t there yet so you two decide to wait in the large waiting area. The place is a large glass tunnel where you have an unobstructed view of every sea creature swimming by. Due to the excess water, the entire room has a blue hue to it. Delilah is mesmerized by the animals and runs over to the glass to press her face into it. You’re kind of nervous at seeing Spencer after all this time because you finally figured out how you felt about him after he left.

You were in love with him… you might still be.

You take out your phone and take pictures of her posing in front of the animals and some when she’s not even paying attention. She looks to the right and squeals when she sees her best friend.

“Lily!!”

You watch the two little girls run and hug each other, and your eyes lock on Spencer’s. Seven years apart but it feels like no time has passed when you look into his eyes. The girls go off to explore while still being close enough to you and Spencer.

“It’s been a long time. How have you been?” you ask.

“Still in the FBI and catching bad guys.”

“That’s so cool to be in the FBI.”

“Not as cool as you might think. How have you been? What are you up these days?”

“Bartending at the moment. Remember Skull Bar?”

Spencer stops walking and looks at you in shock. “You’re still bartending here? Didn’t you hate that place?”

He must remember the nights when you’d come home crying because you hated how you were treated by sleazy customers.

“I still do, but what am I going to do? I have Delilah to support, and it’s not like her father is helping much. I should ask for more since he is making a lot of money, but I haven’t had time to go to the courts.” You two continue walking after both of your daughters. “I miss living next to you.”

That’s your way of telling him you miss him dearly even if he doesn’t pick up on it.

“You know, the apartment next to mine just opened up. You two can move there. I know Lily would love it.”

It hurts knowing your lives would be much better staying at a place that doesn’t have broken appliances, but how will you ever afford it? You can barely afford the dump you live in now.

“Spencer, it’s a nice thought but it’s not like I can afford it. I make good tips but bartending barely puts food on my table. I can barely afford the twenty-five hundred dollar rent I have now. Apartments in the city cost a lot more. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Are you still drawing? I remember you always making me something. You were and probably still are incredible.”

“Some but it doesn’t pay the bills, so I had to put it on the back burner.”

“You’re talented enough to make it a career.”

“Well, when you know of a job that will benefit me, let me know.”

Spencer nods in thought and you two continue to walk after your kids in silence. His phone rings and he steps off to the side to take the call while still following the girls. You look at Spencer and admire him without him knowing about it. He’s grown a lot since you last saw him not only physically but mentally. He must have been through a lot of shit to have that faraway look in his eyes.

He ends the call ten minutes later and walks back over to you. Lily and Delilah are busy petting the sting rays which will give you another twenty before they’re ready to move on.

“I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to shut it down immediately. I want you to think about it,” Spencer says.

“Okay…”

“My team is looking for a sketch artist, and I know you’d be perfect for the job. You have the skill. It pays well, better than bartending, and the benefits are so much better. You and Delilah would be taken care of.”

You gasp at the thought of finally leaving that shit hole, but you remember the promise you made Spencer. You bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from denying it. After two minutes of thinking about it, you release your bottom lip.

“What do you think I’d say to that?”

“That you’re not a charity case and you don’t need help.” He’s right. You would have said that. “Just think about it. Think about Delilah. It’s still within the school’s boundaries so she doesn’t have to switch.”

You look at Delilah and Lily who are laughing from the water the sting rays are splashing. This job would offer you a more normal schedule and allow you to spend more time with her. You’d be able to provide her with a better childhood.

“Your office is on the other side of town from where I live. My car isn’t that great.”

“I know of a place a lot closer,” he smirks.

“Is this a ploy to get me to move in next to you?”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Sometimes people need help, and it’s okay to ask for help. That doesn’t make you a bad mom or a bad person. It makes you strong because you’re doing it to get better.”

Tears well in your eyes at the opportunity being presented to you. You don’t hesitate to give him your answer.

“I’ll take it.”

You pull Spencer in for a hug and wrap your arms around his neck. Spencer wraps his arms around your waist and closes his eyes from the feeling of you being back in his arms. You pull away from him but don’t step away from him. He glances down at your lips wanting to kiss you but not wanting to overstep.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Lily says loud enough for you two to hear. “Look at them. They’re gonna kiss. I told you bringing them here was a good idea.”

You giggle at the thought of both of your daughters being little masterminds. Well, if money is on the table, you better make Lily ten bucks richer. You lean up and kiss Spencer, finally feeling like everything is right in the world.

x

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[ticktokrobotsnot]

Hurricane

This is part 1. You can read part 2 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n. 

Word Count: 9.5k 

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

--

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick. 

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons. 

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.” 

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile. 

“Tell me something good, y/n.”  Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good. 

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died. 

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him. 

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen. 

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?” 

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with  an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair. 

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.” 

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.” 

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face. 

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind.  She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part?  She was enjoying herself. 

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark. 

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second. 

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?” 

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy. 

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.” 

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life. 

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired. 

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment,  “tempting.” 

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place. 

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys. 

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.” 

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new. 

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad. 

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation. 

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do. 

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.  

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car. 

“You good?” 

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark." 

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place. 

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh. 

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up. 

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield. 

“Thanks again Carmen.” 

“Will your car be back tomorrow?” 

“The day after.” 

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing. 

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation. 

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed. 

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.” 

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable. 

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off. 

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment. 

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to  find his phone. 

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories. 

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave. 

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out. 

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

 Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting. 

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over? 

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in. 

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?” 

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically.  “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-” 

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did. 

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously. 

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief. 

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?” 

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly. 

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed. 

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing. 

“Let me think about it.” 

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance. 

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant. 

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow. 

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly. 

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office. 

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned. 

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence. 

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.” 

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.” 

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.” 

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him. 

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries. 

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n. 

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n. 

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?” 

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen. 

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.” 

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.  

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor. 

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.” 

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver. 

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow. 

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k. 

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.  

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her. 

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways. 

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n. 

“What? Why?” 

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I’m not letting you do this unless-” 

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good. 

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer. 

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie. 

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen. 

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything. 

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.” 

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.” 

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do?  Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes. 

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home. 

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose. 

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute. 

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived. 

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.” 

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.” 

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed. 

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk. 

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible. 

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk. 

“Payback time.” 

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better. 

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now. 

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun. 

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk. 

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.” 

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party. 

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene.  Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself.  Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.” 

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes. 

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.” 

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups. 

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together. 

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what? 

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes. 

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something. 

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”. 

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful. 

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee. 

“Your past the counter, chef” 

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter. 

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath,  y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter. 

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm. 

“Make it hurt.” 

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie. 

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought.  Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible. 

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter. 

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men. 

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?” 

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside. 

“A shot of water?” y/n offered. 

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes, 

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.” 

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position. 

“How was that, chef?” 

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter. 

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock. 

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break” 

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled. 

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong. 

“I need to go to bed.” 

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.” 

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie. 

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head. 

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there. 

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself. 

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch. 

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car. 

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.” 

“You need some sleep” 

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her. 

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered. 

“I have a jacket” 

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap. 

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness. 

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Aggravated Assault.” 

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on. 

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.” 

--

Part 2

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 20 || The Night of Regrets

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, & fluff. (!!Brief drunk sex warning!!)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AND OH HOW YOU HATE being alone like this. Especially because it wasn't just a one-day thing.

No, instead, Choso distances himself from you.

It hurts like hell too. His messages get drier, and he has an excuse for every time you try to hang out with him, and your calls go unanswered.

What a sweet form of torture it is to have your crush give you the same treatment you give your blackmailer. At some point, you think you wallow yourself in a self-isolating pit of pity.

Shoko thinks she hears less from you more than ever, Gojo still receives the same treatment as always, Geto tries to comfort you every now and then but it's no use, and Choso continues to set boundaries for you and him.

It gets pretty rough for you mentally after that.

How are you supposed to deal with being stripped of the company of the one man who sought to bring you joy? There were some nights you cried about it and some nights you took out that stupid journal with that stupid list and scribbled out every name there-- only to rewrite it back afterward.

Reluctantly, you ended up telling Gojo that you managed to sleep with Choso, to which he was quick to send you money. Getting paid was nice and all but the money felt meaningless when you no longer had Choso by your side.

What's another six thousand dollars when the guy you like won't even read your texts anymore?

The panging you get in your chest every time you think about it all is dizzying. After all, no matter how you think about it, none of it is your fault.

Sure, you could've had your bedroom door closed that day Gojo walked in but... would such a small change have made any difference to your situation? The man could've still recorded you. Hell, knowing him, he probably would've.

You hate him so much.

You wish you knew how to express just how deep your hate for him goes but it's difficult to do so as he tries to make up for his wrongdoings.

Every notification from Gojo never fails to piss you off but it gets one hundred percent worse when you no longer have Choso around. Not being able to get with the man you like is obviously Gojo's fault so anything from that man reminds you of the situation and you get upset all over again.

This leads to one night full of mistakes, regrets, and... surprises.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What started your unfortunate night was a final text from Choso that consisted of him explaining that it's hard to talk to you because of how he feels about you.

It was a long paragraph that explained how every time he talks to you, he wants to express his feelings more and more, which ultimately makes it difficult for him to communicate with you because it hurts to know that he's not yours and you're not his. Very explicitly, Choso basically says he doesn't want you to text him anymore.

He wasn't rude about it or anything; even making sure to carefully request such a thing in kind consideration of your feelings. Though, that didn't change how much it hurt.

Choso was your way out, your slim form of freedom. And yet, you lost it.

Where does this lead you? To a bar.

Was heading there the best decision in the world? Probably not. Did you care? Not one bit.

You needed something to relieve your stress, something to take this weight off your shoulders, even if only for one night. So there you sat, swallowing down drink after drink after drink in hopes of washing away all the pain you felt.

Does the sting of liquor down your throat and warmth over your body help you feel any better? For a moment, yes.

It was like all the voices in your head stopped screaming for just a second. No longer were you cursing yourself out for every mistake you've made leading up to now and no longer did you think of all the terrible things happening to you right now.

Instead, you felt just a slither of peace again. The sounds of laughter and soft clicks filled your ears as you calmed your brain, sinking into a tipsy state.

After swishing down your nth drink of the night, you found yourself feeling incredibly good. Almost too good, honestly. Not only was your body warm and your mind at ease but, there was this annoying pulse spurring in between your legs.

The only downfall of you drinking your sorrows away was that you happen to be one of the most unfortunate forms of drunk. Not any angry drunk, silly drunk, or sad drunk but, a horny one. And terribly at that.

The feeling is frustrating actually. It'd been a while since you last went out for a drink and you almost forgot how ridiculously horny you get after some time. The throbbing you feel is so very annoying, especially when all you can do is mentally replay events with Choso.

The man has actually made you squirt more than once. And every time it was because he was giving you head. You recall riding his face once, as per his begging request, and at this moment all you can remember was the way he looked at you and that damn tongue of his lapping at your cunt.

Just thinking about it again makes you dizzy, your stomach churning as you remember it all. His deep guttural groans and pretty whines still echo throughout your mind.

Then there's the way he fucked you-- the feeling of his cock hitting all the right places inside you, making you cry out his name for hours on end, and his praising words... it all haunts your mind.

Shit, now you're really horny. You wish you could call him. If he wasn't upset with you, you'd definitely call him right about now. You're so worked up that you could probably get off on just the sound of his voice right now.

A sigh leaves your lips as you realize you can't even call him. God, you miss him so much and it hasn't even been that long since the last time you saw him.

With a frown on your face, you move to rest your cheek against your knuckles, holding your head up with your hand.

"Y'know, the last thing I expected to find today was a wonderful piece of ass sitting at this bar with a frown on her face," A sudden voice to your left points out.

You physically revolt against the man's words to you. You don't even spare the male a glance in response to his comment, acting as though you didn't hear him.

A sudden god awfully strong collonge seeps into your nose, the smell clearly expensive but unpleasant nonetheless. Then, in your peripherals, you notice this male leaning toward you.

"Oi, I know you heard me." He pesters.

With a groan, you cut your eyes over to him, eyelids rising at the sight. Just your fucking luck, you managed to run into Naoya at the bar and he's absolutely disgusting. Well, at least every time he opens his mouth.

His face on the other hand makes up for it, to some extent. Your gaze is met with sharp brown irises from the male who just spoke.

Your upper lip twitches as you scrunch your face up at him, disgusted by his words to you. "I wasn't aware you were speaking to me." You hum plainly, glancing away from him.

He scoffs, "I cannot stand women who lie."

"That's wonderful but, I don't remember asking." You comment, your tone cold.

The arrogant man tuts, "And she's rude too? Hah, juuust my luck."

Slowly, you force yourself to turn your head to him, your gaze void of emotion. "If all you came over here to do is foolishly run your mouth, I suggest you fuck off because I'm not in the mood." You say to him.

The corner of his lips pulls into a smirk. Damn the way it resembles Toji most weirdly. "What are you in the mood for then, dollface?" Naoya questions.

Ugh, you cringe at his question. He's so very lucky that you have a list to complete because that's the only reason you're tolerating him right now.

"Truthfully? Mindless sex." You blurt out. It's very obvious that you're drunk by this point because the sober version of you would've never uttered such a thing, especially not to this asshole.

A haughty grin spreads across his visibly handsome features and dyed blonde hair with deep dark green roots sways whilst he tilts his head. "Well, then you're in luck. I happen to be an expert at that." Naoya tells you with a wink.

God, you hate everything about his personality already.

"Is that so?" You ask dryly.

"Yeah," He responds, clicking his tongue, "Maybe if you're good enough I'll show you."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you slide out of the barstool you sat at and-- oh. He's taller than you expected him to be. Even so, you blink away the realization and simply sigh at his words.

"If I'm good enough? Please." You reply, "How about this, since I'm not in the mood to argue with you and make you feel small, I'll give you two options."

His brows push together, "Make me feel small? Excuse me-"

"You can either fuck me or fuck off." You interrupt coldly. Beneath your drunken state, you wish he'd fuck off and magically disappear from the list but unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Naoya stammers for a moment in reaction to your straightforward words. After a second of collecting himself, he shrugs, "Well..." He chuckles, "How can I say no when you give yourself up to me so easily?"

Another sigh leaves you, "Right..." You say, finally allowing your eyes to roll before you grab a rough hold of his shirt and begin to drag him away from the bar.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The whole thing is a mess.

For your first time having drunk sex in the bathroom at a bar like the true whore you've unwillingly become, it wasn't completely terrible.

Naoya may have a disgustingly offputting way with words but, he's not that bad as fucking you against the wall. Your chest and face are pressed into the cold bathroom wall as the man sloppily rutted into you from behind.

This was most definitely your lowest moment yet. The sex was so... vanilla. Naoya lacked foreplay in every way possible that you're pretty sure he doesn't even know what it is. Half of your moans were fake because there were only a few times when you felt the tip of his cock kiss that sweet spot inside you.

His thrusts were too fast and not in a pleasurable way but in a way that made you want to scoff. Naoya was pale in comparison to the past men you've been with. The only thing saving him was the size of his dick and the fact that you were already horny.

If not for those two factors, this whole thing would've been terrible. He tried dirty talk but it all went through one ear and out the other due to how terrible it was. To make up for that, you can't deny the fact that his grunts and groans turned you on.

"Aagh, fuck." Naoya would groan, his voice near your ear and causing your cunt to flutter around him.

There wasn't much else that he did that fueled your arousal though. You were mainly getting off on the sounds of sex and the few times he thrust into you at the proper angle. That aside, to even come close to an orgasm, you had to imagine you were with someone else.

It's sad but, at least the man's name would be checked off the list after this.

A single orgasm was building up within you the very second you imagined it was Choso with you. You could practically hear the way he'd moan into your ear, begging you to cum around his cock and make a mess of him.

The thought alone made your eyes roll back and you were so close. Then, to the least of your expectations, Naoya selfishly pulled out of you, leaving you high and dry.

Your brows furrowed quickly as you panted against the wall. With a loud grunt that fills the bathroom, Naoya cums embarrassingly onto the floor. You have to bat your eyelashes as you gather what the hell this man just did.

Surely he's not done... right?

To your disappointment, he is. The sound of Naoya fixing himself with not even a word uttered to you can be heard, his hands working his member back into his pants before he moves to wash his hands.

You blink in slow motion, pushing yourself off the wall and standing on legs that are also trying to process what just happened. You'd just been denied an orgasm completely.

You scoff, "Is this a joke...?"

Naoya raises his brows, "Is what a joke? You've fulfilled your purpose, you can go now." He dismisses.

And that does it for you. Annoyed, you move to hike your underwear back up your legs and then tug your dress down into place, feeling absolutely disgusted with what just occurred.

"You..." Another scoff exits your mouth, "You asshole..."

The man chuckles at your claim before heading toward the bathroom door, "I've heard worse." He hums, winking at you, "And hey, for what it's worth, you have good pussy." He... compliments?

You send the man a dumbfounded look. Is he for real right now? Like, is he so fucking for real right now??

"You could probably make lots of money off it, honestly," Naoya comments one last time before opening the door and leaving.

Your skin is crawling with an overwhelming feeling of disgust. Never in your life have you felt so utterly used. This feeling is worse than what Gojo's put you through. You're ashamed you even let that dickhead of a man put his dick inside you.

You shudder at what you just did, a permanent scowl stuck to your face. This is worse than when you thought Choso left you. Hell, you'd prefer that a million times over what that misogynistic fuckface just said and did to you.

After gathering yourself and making sure you don't look like a complete mess, you are about to leave the bathroom when the nasty mess he left on the floor catches your eye. Even drunk, you didn't have it in you to leave such indecency on the floor.

So, you were quick to grab paper towels and clean it up, saving the janitor who'd later have to come in there from doing so.

After that, you toss the paper towel into the trash and stumble out of the bathroom. With everything you just experienced, another round of drinks is screaming your name. There's absolutely no way you're going to allow yourself to sober up after that.

So, you make your way back over to the bar and return to your previous activities, now feeling so unsatisfied and unhappy with everything.

Every drink you swallow down merely provides you with a temporary moment of satisfaction. The second you feel that the excessive drinking isn't working, you feel sad all over again, just like how you did when you first entered the bar.

You wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Your head was spinning and your vision began to blur a little, terrible feelings bubbling up inside you as your regret washed over you faster than the alcohol washed down your throat.

When your eyes grew teary, you were quick to scramble for your phone. If not anything else, the one thing you could use right now is either a good fuck that'd make you stop thinking or, someone who can give you genuine advice so that you don't feel so shitty anymore.

And who can provide either of those things for you? Well, none other than Geto Suguru himself.

Your thumb swiped through your recent calls, hazily spotting his contact and calling him. The phone rings for barely even a second, the call connecting as soon as you lift the device to your ear.

"Hello?" The man's voice rings through your ears, making you smile ever so slightly.

You swallow, "Hi Sugu..." Your words are so obviously slurred to anyone listening.

There's a second of silence before he responds, "Hey, you alright?"

"N-No..." You hum, "Can you uhm... C-Come pick me up?" You suddenly whisper drunkenly.

You hear a sigh then some shuffling, "Where are you?" He asks.

You giggle, "The bar."

There's another pause. Then, you hear him sigh again, "What bar, sweetheart?"

"I'll send you the uhm... the uh..." Your brain suddenly freezes as you search for your words.

He makes up for you, "Address...?"

"Yeah, yes. That." You say quickly.

A slight chuckle is heard over the phone, "Alright, send me the address, sweets. I'll be there soon."

"M'kayy," You hum as you move to send him the address.

You end up simply sending your location but you were too drunk to see the difference, not that it mattered. As the message is sent, an amused chuckle is heard over the phone.

You furrow your brows, bringing the cell back to your ear, "What's so funny?"

"What're you doin' all the way across town, love?" He asks in return, finding it humorous.

You pout, "I dunno, can't remember why I came all the way-," You burp slightly, "Out here."

You can't see it but the male shakes his head, "I see. Are you drunk?" He asks, tone concerned.

You smile, "Mayyybe."

"Maybe? Yes or no, sweetheart."

"Yeah, kinda." You sigh.

He hums and you can hear soft car noises in the background, "And I assume you're alone...?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"Didn't wanna bother Shoko with my..." You sigh heavily, "My problems."

"Did something happen?" The man questions, "Why would you go out drinking alone?"

"I dunno Sugu, I just need to drink away my problems, y'know?"

"You could've done that with..." He trails off for a second before finishing, "With me."

You yawn, "Yeah, I could've..." Your words come out lower and the man over the phone can tell you're growing drowsy.

"Are you fallin' asleep on me over there?" He asks, chuckling slightly but clearly nervously.

You move to lay your head down on the bar, just barely holding your hold up against your ear, "Mhm."

The sound of him sighing is heard, "Need you to stay awake for me, sweetheart."

"Sugu..." You mumble tiredly, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

There's a sudden silence over the phone.

A throb pains your head and you wince at the abrupt feeling. "S-Suguru?" You call out, your voice revealing your pained state.

"Y-Yeah?" He responds.

"You didn't answer my question..."

"I know." He states, "Are you okay over there? You sound hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me please." The male rambles, clearly panicked by the sound of your voice.

The most he knows is that you're at some bar alone and drunk so to hear you in pain has his heart worried in more ways than one.

You struggle to respond to him as you steadily slip from consciousness.

"Fuck, c'mon, don't fall asleep on me." He urges, his voice anxious.

"M-Mhm..." You mumble.

"Sweetheart, listen to the sound of my voice okay? I can't have you pass out before I get there."

You groan a little, "...Okay."

He smiles at your reply, "Keep yourself awake by talking to me, tell me about your day."

"M-My day?" You frown, "It was shitty..."

"S'that why you went out for a drink? You had a bad day?" The way his voice has gone all soft makes your heart throb for some reason.

Your eyes get teary all of a sudden, "Y-Yeah."

"Tell me what happened." He requests, "You can do that, right?"

"Uhuh..." You agree.

"Good girl," The male praises, his words giving you encouragement. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

"Well..." You steadily begin to explain the events of your day.

From how normal it was to how Choso's single text ruined your mood and then to the terrible sex you just had, you explain everything over the phone with a slur to your words every now and then. Your explanation comes out slowly since you're fighting sleep but you get through it.

"Then I..." You exhale softly, "Then I called you."

"I see." He hums, "Well, I'm right around the corner so keep your eyes open til' I get there."

"No promises." You say with a chuckle.

"Not funny, sweets. I need you awake." He replies sternly.

You groan, "Whyyy do you keep calling me thaaaat?" You whine.

Again, there's no response to your question.

"I'm gonna hang up on you, Suguru." The chances of you doing so are unlikely but you are seconds away from falling asleep.

"You better not." He says.

"Then tell me why..." Your voice fades out as your eyes shut comfortably. Mentally, you got your question out but realistically, your sentence trailed off.

Distorted sounds of your name being called are heard in your ear but second after second, the sounds fade away and blissful white noise engulfs you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your sleeping frame is spotted by the man you called as soon as he enters the bar minutes later, his heart rate all over the place. Quick and long strides are made to approach your resting body and hands fly to your face, lifting your head from the cold and dirty bar to get a good look at you.

Even through your sleep, you're pretty sure you hear a familiar voice whisper to you, "What am I gonna do with you?"

Those same hands move from your face and to under your legs and behind your back. Your limp body is lifted from your seat bridal-style and your head relaxes against a lean chest.

The slap of brisk fresh air causes you to stir awake for only a moment. Your eyes flutter open and the smell of cologne is in your nose, the scent almost... nostalgic? It quickly makes you think of Gojo for some strange reason.

"Suguru?" You croak out.

The male holding you is quick to look down at you, his eyes filled with worry. "Sweetheart, you gave me quite a scare," He says softly, his voice making your brows furrow. "Are you okay?"

You groan and rub your temples, feeling the remnants of a pounding headache. "Not... really," You admit, your voice still slurred from the alcohol. "And why do you..."

You end up trailing off as you shift your gaze upwards to the face of the person holding you right now. The question gets stuck in your throat while you eye the man's face.

Soft blue eyes are peering lowly at your drunken expression, a firm pair of slender hands carrying you as if you weigh nothing, ruffled white hair bright enough to blind someone and a face that's all too angelic for the hate you hold for it.

After a gulp, you bat your eyelashes and squint, wondering if you're seeing things. "Gojo?" You whisper softly.

A beautifully broken smile is given to you along with the sound of a shaky yet relieved sigh, "Yeah?"

You pout, "Why are you here...?"

"Well, love," His voice is gentle, "When you call..." He leans just a little bit closer to you, "...I come running."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

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