#considering I still have work from nine to five

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 20

“Run Away” by Sarah Jarosz

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant. 

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place. 

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.” 

Now he knows you’re messing with him. 

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about. 

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression. 

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?” 

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling. 

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable. 

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink. 

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop. 

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention. 

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful. 

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.  

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours. 

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing. 

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap. 

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself. 

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him. 

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid. 

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did. 

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder. 

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared. 

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep. 

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine. 

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings. 

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass. 

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked  upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along. 

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend. 

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash. 

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night. 

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[moominsuki]

12 DAYS and 20 HOURS WITHOUT YOU w/c: 5.1k - ; NAGUMO YOICHI x F!READER

✎ᝰ he’s a nuisance & you should be glad to be rid of him… so why does your heart ache for him so much? OR the part two in which you finally address your feelings for your hanger on ex.

࿄ ! warnings — porn WITH plot, MINORS DNI, piv, very explicit smut, unprotected sex (wrap up ppl), cunnilingus, fingering, female reader, nagumo is sexy and you will fall in love so pls keep that in mind.

/ note. i should be revising for my exams but instead i wrote this for a man who is severely underrated. it’s gonna be a nagumo fall. enjoy this anywho :P (ps. can be read as a standalone fic)!!

13 days. that’s how long it had been since you had seen nagumo. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t eating you up inside.

after your small spat (if you could even call it that) you wrongfully assumed he’d be somewhere in your bedroom the next day when you hadn’t seen him on your couch. you were just about ready to scold him for having his feet all over your satin pillowcases.

only when you trudged upstairs, your bedroom was exactly how you left it. the door ajar, a small breeze from the window. pillows not askew. your sleepy kitten lounging on the covers.

at first, you considered yourself relieved. “good riddance,” you grumbled to yourself, falling atop the blankets and sighing, hands brushing at your pet. the chirp of the cicadas eats at your eardrums. has your home always been this quiet?

“whatever. knowing that idiot, he’ll be back in a day or two… now what to do…”

unfortunately for you, nagumo’s unprecedented drop ins had become part of your daily routine. you don’t become aware of the fact until it’s been exactly 4 days and he still hasn’t shown his face. it had already struck you as odd on the second day, let alone the fourth.

“why do you even care?” you ask yourself, standing under the hum of a sweltering shower. why do you care that your ex hasn’t come around to lounge in your home and bother you? in fact, isn’t this a good thing? the first few times it happened, you were irritated beyond belief - telling the man to get lost, locking your windows and doors only for nagumo to show up despite your barrage of insults, whether that’d be in your kitchen or on your couch or even in the shower (the image of seeing a naked nagumo after all this time was truly something, though you’d never admit it to his face, instead opting to throw a hard bar of soap at him and to which you then had to tend to his aching back after he so called “wept in pain.”) so why did he now decide to just ghost you?

“typical,” is all you can think, drying your hair off, eyes lingering on the razor he left on top of the toilet.

day five comes around. a good day at work with a cute man asking you out renders nagumo forgettable. you’re glad your brain decides it’s high time to forget about him. day six, seven, eight, nine. it’s extremely bearable. you start to see him in your dreams on the seventh day - exactly a week since he just up and left. “that’s normal,” you muse. you dream about people that aren’t in your life all the time. he’s no different.

the night of day ten falls. you’re incredibly exhausted, and you’re regretting making plans on saturday with that somewhat attractive man who works across the street. “it’s no biggie. it’s just one day till the weekend and i can cancel.”

you’re nodding off into your dinner. the warm smell of char siu and noodles doesn’t do much to keep you awake.

then you see him. dark brown eyes and a goofy smile to match. it makes you jump so hard you spill half the content of your meal down your shirt. nobody’s there. your cat sits at the leg of your chair, licking the sodden mess off of the ground.

the gravity of the situation dawns on you. you really really miss nagumo.

ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ

day eleven comes and goes and the twelfth drags, as do most fridays. that guy who asked you out the other day offers to drop you home when you’re standing outside. it’s warm out and you think a walk would be good for your head. you don’t decline his offer.

the man asks about you and confirms the details of your excursion, and you politely affirm, answering all his questions and asking them back just the same. “he’s not much of a talker,” you think. you’re not used to that.

by the time you’re home, you just want to pass out. you look around your kitchen, living room - heck, even the bathroom for safe measure, just in case you-know-who decided to drop by. the sound of metal clattering has you running to your bedroom, ventricles pumped. not that you cared… you’d act super cool and nonchalant if when nagumo drops by again. it’s all in vain, anyway. it was just your cat jumping onto your vanity. you shoo her away. your heart falls like a crescendo from loony tunes.

who exactly were you kidding? you had long dropped the facade that your heart wasn’t yearning for the idiot, and you wonder how he’s doing when you settle into bed. it would be unlike him to die in an unforeseeable accident, and he would never succumb to a death on the job. another looming realisation dawns on you.

he’s ignoring you.

you groan into your pillow. it’s not like you could really call him (you totally could, and it’s not because you noted down the digits of two of his burner phones, definitely not) without outing yourself. don’t forget the phone works two ways. forget it. you have a date tomorrow.

saturday comes. you get up relatively early. (un)fortunately for you, it’s a miserable day out, contrasting the beautiful weekdays that had passed.

your date texts you in teasing and sweet fashion and the pre-typed out message that consists of grovelling, apologies and more grovelling sits at your fingertips. fuck it. you can’t stay wound up over a man who probably didn’t want you in the first place.

you get ready very early, and you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, all done up in a silk to do and the accessories to match. it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper date. a few flings here and there, sure, but this seemed real. like a sure thing. similar to when…

!creaakkk!

your cat meowing and dropping things around in your bedroom has you standing up right, casting aside your lipgloss and running to shoo her away.

“honestly, ponyo, you’re such a drama queen-”

the words die on your tongue at the sight before you. nagumo sits at the edge of your bed, kitten fidgeting in his arms. he looks you up and down, and then he sends you an earth shattering smile, eyes crinkled.

“hey stranger. long time no see!”

your mouth opens and closes as he gets up, and ponyo leaps up and away when he places her on the ground.

“do you think she missed me? i think so. with the stuff you feed her, it’s inevitable-”

“are you serious?!” is all you can say, exasperated, gasping. nagumo’s eyes widen, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“don’t tell me you’re still mad at me? don’t make me get down on my knees and beg because-” the man gets cut off again as you all but throw your arms around his frame, face in his shirt, a little shaky. if nagumo feels the wobble of your body, he doesn’t mention it and a hand comes to rest at the small of your back.

“so can i assume that you’re not mad at me anymore?” you shake your head, and nagumo chuckles, nose pressed into your hair.

“i wasn’t mad at you,” you say, muffled into his shirt.

“oh? tell me more,” and you move your face slightly so your cheek is smushed against his shirt, eyes pointed away from him. though, you can already feel the expectant smile on the corner of his lips and you want to slap him. kiss him? both.

“i was mad at myself. and i was going to apologise for what i said but you basically ghosted me… for almost three weeks.”

it’s quiet for a moment until the man laughs, guffaws even and it emanates through his chest. you huff and step away from him, back turned away.

“ok, it’s not that funny. you can stop laughing now!”

“sorry, sorry. i’m done, i promise.” nagumo walks from behind you to step into your line of sight. “and technically, it’s only been… i wanna say 12 days and 20 hours.”

you deadpan. then you roll your eyes. “you were counting?! you’re unbelievable!” and he just pouts at you. eyes wide and shiny. you don’t admit to him that you’ve also been doing the same. that day’ll come.

“i mean, i would’ve come around sooner buttt! contrary to popular belief, i’m not so socially inept to not give you space. although, i was starting to think you were replacing me with that loser at that law firm. i want to say his name is hajime-”

“okay, not even close-”

“and what kind of idiot takes their woman out to a sushi bar on the first date. and he drives a toyota camri. he’s lame.”

“…first of all, i’m not his woman. how did you know i was going on a date tonight? and how do you even know what car he drives?”

“…let’s not sweat the details. that dress is new, right? haven’t seen it before. looks beautiful on you-”

“so not only were you spying on me but you were ignoring me?!” you fist the man by the collar of his coat and you just loll your head onto his chest. “were you always this crazy when we dated?” you hum and he laughs again. like he knows you’re addicted to the sound and how it makes your tummy ignite into something worse than flames. his hands find their way into his pocket and he shrugs.

“probably. but you liked it.” you don’t bother to contend. nagumo grabs you by the wrists, and takes a good look at you. his deep eyes follow the sliver of gold against your collarbones, all the way down to the hemming of your dress. it makes you feel hot under your heart shaped neckline.

“like the dress. like it a lot. wouldn’t waste it on some shitty sushi and cheap sake, though.”

“well it’s not you taking me out tonight though, is it? it’s…” you think for a second. you can feel the laughter blooming in his chest and you try to fight your way out of his grasp, though it’s in vain. nagumo laughs so hard that the pout on your face starts to pop into a smile and it’s infectious enough that you laugh too.

when the laughter inevitably dies down, you and the dark haired man share a look that you encompasses all the thoughts and emotions that have been swimming in your head the past long few days. he’s still holding you by the wrists, your fingers crinkling against the loose material of his shirt.

nagumo says your name, more so to himself as his tattooed hands stay wrapped from the width of your jewellery clad wrists down to your forearms.

“you’re being awfully touchy to a woman who’s supposed to being out on a date in a few hours,” you say, just above a whisper.

he hums at that, pulling you in further by the elbows. “i guess you’re right. you could always tell me to go away, though. wouldn’t be the first time.”

you groan audibly and he shoots you another grin that climbs its way into the wrinkles of your brain. “what do i have to do for you to not bring that up? and don’t make me get on my knees and beg-”

“damn, that was my first choice too!” you roll your eyes. he’s still holding you. your palms are flat against his chest. “i suppose i could call it even if…” nagumo pretends to ponder for a moment. you try to shove him with as much power as you can on the man.

“if you don’t just come out with it-”

“kiss me.”

the speed at which your eyebrows almost shoot into your hairline is unprecedented. you try to read his face for any sign of playful unfairness, but you’ve known him long enough to read the softness of his eyes.

your hands fist at his shirt again and it’s your turn to laugh at him, head thrown back. he pouts in response.

“you’re unbelievable,” and before he can retort, you lean up on your tip toes to do as he asked. he’s exactly how you remember, all those years ago. warm, sweet, slightly intoxicating. the sigh you release is shaky and he swallows it whole. the width of his palms immediately let go of your arms and find purchase on your waist and your hands travel all the same, resting on the planes of his face and neck.

the kiss is over before it started and you don’t even get a chance to breathe before nagumo is back on you, pulling you in by the hips, tongue slipping in comfortably like you’ve always been this way. and you give in, your body adapting to years old muscle memory. it’s like you’re almost a decade younger all over again, and your brain turns to mush when nagumo gropes you, grabbing all the parts he can to get impossibly closer to you.

you almost don’t notice the way he throws off his coat. and the fact that he’s trying to get you onto the bed. almost.

you protest in a breathy whine, breaking apart from locking lips. “we-i can’t. my date-”

“sucks. he sucks. i’ll take you wherever you want. buy you everything you want. just let me have you.”

you’re too out of it to even give a snarky answer, grabbing nagumo by the neck and pressing your lips to his own once more. he grunts, lightly pushing you both down onto the pillows.

he breaks apart from the kiss to lave more around your jaw, with one heavy hand resting on your cheek while he bruises on your neck, clavicle and the top of your breasts, all heavy and imposing. you writhe in his touch, and you can’t help the fact that your thighs start to rub against each other to soothe the heat arising in your core.

as perceptive as ever, nagumo quickly notices and makes fast work of placing his leg between your own, and you can’t help but breathe out a winded “yoichi.”

he groans, smirking against your collarbone. “missed hearing you say that.”

you huff, pushing his hands down the curves of your body. “don’t push your luck, nagumo.”

he chuckles, unfazed, and smooth, deft fingers climb under the hem of your satiny dress. he hikes your dress high enough to see a flash of damp cotton panties.

he presses a digit against your clothed clit and you can’t control the way your head falls against your pillows, mouth falling open as you whine out his name again.

nagumo halts all movement though, pushing himself backwards to lean further onto his knees off the bed. you practically jump up, confused and stupidly horny.

“strip for me.”

you narrow your eyes. he shoots you a saccharine smile, and you don’t bother to banter with him, getting on your haunches and pulling down a thin strap on either arm, and shimmying out of the garment. you can tell by the elated shock in nagumo’s eyes that he hadn’t expected you to comply but you throw the dress in his face, and he shakes it off faster than you can adjust yourself on top of the bed covers. he’s already crowding over you, face mere centimetres away.

“sorry, you can’t be the only one having your fun,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his nose and it’s his turn to not take your bait, but maybe it’s because he’s too enamoured at the sight of your naked body after all this time. a tattooed hand reaches up to grab a handful of your boob, pinching slightly at your nipple and the other makes it descent down to the hemming of your panties. his fingertips dip into the front, pushing the material to the side and he groans when he can see the way your pussy clenches over nothing.

“you’re so pretty,” he sighs, and you watch the way he touches you, featherlight and it has you writhing, inching closer to feel more of his touch.

“patience, baby.” nagumo throws off his shirt, and you take in the expanse of his never ending tattoos. your hand reaches up to touch the one on his stomach and he smirks, albeit warm and slightly teasing.

“got a few new ones a couple months back,” he all but whispers and you hum.

“i like them,” you state, matter of factly and he pushes your hand away to lay on his stomach between your legs.

nagumo’s face presses into your belly, and you push a few fingers into the dense strands of his hair. he kisses you at the belly button, paving a wet path down to your moist underwear.

he noisily smooches on your panty clad clit and you wordlessly protest in embarrassment, groaning and whining while he smiles against you. though, you’re quick to stop complaining when he pushes your panties to the side and breathes you in, kissing your uncovered pubis. now you’re frantically trying to push him away instead.

“you’re so shameless,” you fuss and nagumo doesn’t say anything. he only pushes your legs further apart to accommodate him.

“can i eat you out?” he asks and you raise a brow, face flushing. he shrugs, “i wanna hear you say it.”

you want to insult him for trying to fluster you in his own weird way but you’re also stupidly, ridiculously turned on right now that you can’t be bothered to play this cat and mouse game.

your hands cover your face and you mumble ever so quietly, verbatim: “please eat me out.”

“can’t hear you, sweetheart. come on, you can’t possibly be acting all shy. my face is literally in your-”

“just please eat me out!” you say, exasperated and incensed by the burning desire to have his mouth on you.

nagumo doesn’t mess with you any further but he can’t help the snicker that escapes him. you’re also ready to call him names and berate him, unfortunately being the hot head that you are, but it’s a useless act because nagumo already has your pants down your legs and strewn across the room somewhere, and he’s immediately pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your love button.

a strangled “yoichi!” escapes from your throat and you’re already helplessly weaving between the strands of his black hair. it only goads him on further, and your head struggles to keep itself up when he thumbs at the hood of your clit, lifting it up to suck at the bundle of nerves. you become one with the plush pillows beneath you once again.

nagumo’s tongue soothes and pokes around, sucking and kissing at all the sensitive parts of your flower. he lifts one leg up higher to allow him more access, and you lock your fingers on top of his hand that grips ardently at the tender skin of your thigh. you have no time to react when you feel two fingers press into your cunt hole, and you chant his name like a mantra, gasping and almost tearful from the way he feels.

you can feel his dark brown eyes on you, and he stops tasting you to bite your inner thigh. you yelp, and he lulls over where he indented you with his teeth.

“you’re close, right? want you to look at me when you cum,” is all he says, and you don’t get to reply when he’s back sucking your pearl into his mouth, pressing his fingers against a certain spot inside you that has your legs trying to close in on themselves around his head.

“f-fuck, ‘ichi, i’m gonna cum,” you moan, and per his request, your eyes stay on his own, and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, the applied pressure stopping you from falling back and losing it.

“say my name like that again,” he groans, and you don’t fail to notice the way he grinds against the bed ever so slightly. “come on, baby, you’re almost there-”

“hnngh, fuck, right there ‘ichi, ‘m cumming-,” you gasp and a flash of white behind your eyes renders you temporarily paralytic, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opened in an ‘o’, and the grip on nagumo’s hair tightens. he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, and your heart would burst at the romantic gesture of him interlocking your fingers together at literally any other time, but he doesn’t stop his assault on the spongey spot inside you until you go limp and you practically have to pry the man off of you.

nagumo’s no sadist (to you, at certain times) so he stops, pulling back and watching the way your chest heaves and the way you glisten between your upper thighs. you don’t register that he’s next to you again until you feel nimble fingers touching on your lower belly. you open your eyes to look at him, and the full blown lust in his eyes makes you choke a little bit.

you grab his hand off your stomach to kiss his fingertips, and then you’re clambering on top of him, palms splayed against his decorated chest. you feel the thickness of his hard cock pressed against your wet core, and you grind against the strained material of his trousers. nagumo grunts, head falling back slightly as he immediately finds purchase on your ass.

“you’re hard,” you assert, and he laughs a little breathlessly and it breaks off into a moan when you press down on him a little harder.

“i guess i am,” he rustles, squeezing your lower curves to push you against his stiffness. “you should let me put it in.”

“oh? is that so?” you say, taunting the man as you slide up and down his neglected cock that’s begging to be released from its confines.

“yeah… wanna fuck you, baby.” nagumo’s all heavy eyelids and suave lips as he gazes up at you, hands all touching all over you. you’re heating up from his languid touches, and you’re cursing yourself for already being so raring to go after he ate you to his heart’s content.

“okay,” is all you say, and you shimmy backwards to undo the man’s bottoms, unbuttoning his pants and helping him kick them off till he’s left in tight gray boxer briefs. your eyes find the damp patch on the front of his shorts, and you softly finger the head of his cock through the cloth. nagumo grunts, sighing your name when you waste no time pulling down his underwear to reveal him in all his glory.

“didn’t that hurt?” you wonder out loud, more to yourself if anything, and nagumo realises you’re referring to the tattoo above his pelvis, only shy of the dark trail that nests above his erection. he places a hand over your wandering one and he chuckles.

“a little. nothing i can’t handle.” you make a noise of something, and you lean down to kiss him very gently and so very close to where he wants. nagumo groans, and he reaches down to pet your hair.

“another time,” you wink, biting your lip. nagumo smiles, raising a brow and he looks like he wants to ask you what you mean but you’re ahead of the curve and you’re settling back up on his lower body, your soaked heat brushing and sliding against his cock. he’s putty after that, head in the clouds as he feels the drench of your lips rub against the hardness of his cock.

“tell me you want it,” you say, and you stop looking down to where you’re almost conjoined to meet nagumo’s eyes; his face contorted to something readable only to you. “or, you know, you could just cum like this.”

nagumo moans at that, and he sets a heavy handed grab on your ass. “don’t remember you being such a tease, baby, sh-shit.”

you croon at his words. you don’t stop the ministrations of your grinding and the raven haired man beneath you barely puts out until the slick of your cunt hole catches the mushroom shaped tip of his cock.

“fuck, i want it, baby, want you to cream on me-” and you don’t let him finish his vulgarity because you grab him at the base of his cock and settle yourself right on top of him, inch by inch.

nagumo hisses, and his iron grip on your hips doesn’t subside until he’s all the way inside you. you both simultaneously moan in relief when he’s by the hilt, and you can practically feel him all the way in your throat.

“fucking missed this so much,” he keens, and you feel him raise his knees to accommodate to you better. you slowly get the rhythm going, grinding and gently bouncing on his dick and you’re delirious at the way his pubic hair brushes against your swollen clit, and how you can feel the slap of his weighted balls against your ass.

nagumo plants his feet on the bed, refusing to loosen his grip on you and you can’t even bring yourself to care about the bruises that’ll stay depressed into your skin. you move one of his number decorated hands to grab at your chest, which he complies with and the other stabilises you against him so that he can thrust into you at a steady pace.

“so, so good,” you whine, almost falling forward by the jolt of nagumo’s body. you plant both arms on either side of his head, tits bouncing in his face, going back and forth against his open mouth that tries to catch a pebbling nipple.

taunting words leave his mouth as he watches you try to keep up. “feel good, baby? shit. tell me how it feels, y-yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this, huh?”

you clench around him tighter. “hnnngh, so fuc-fucking good, ‘ichi.”

you lean down on your elbows, and while he bucks up into you, his eyes don’t stray, and when your lips follow the sharp lines of his jaw and press on his jugular, nagumo angles his head so you can sloppy kiss him on the mouth.

it’s like that for a few moments until he stops to throw you off of him, and you’re ready to whine and complain, but he’s already on you again, this time on top.

“gotta take my time with you,” he breathes, and he finds a new position, this time pulling your left leg over his shoulder and spreading the right one to fit around his hips.

“is that code for you were gonna cum too fast?” you giggle, and nagumo doesn’t grace your playful ribbing because he slips back into you and your once teasing laughter breaks off into a deep moan of pleasure.

“don’t make fun of me,” he says, feeding his cock into you at an achingly slow rate, “hurts my feelings.” and you want to call him embarrassing and silly, you really do, but your heart is on your tongue and nagumo overcrowds every part of your senses.

nagumo leans over you, and grinds himself inside your compact walls. his face is in the crook of your neck and he teethes at the tender skin. you throw a callous hand in hand to satiate the hunger in your belly.

the unrelenting pace in which he fucks you is downright insane: all you can think about is him, all you can smell and taste is him. when you open your eyes, he’s looking down at you, holding and stretching you open, spitting not-so-sweet nothings at you. you worship him all the same, crying out his name, begging him to take you harder and faster, nails raking across the width of his back.

“you’re s-so, hah, shit, you’re so gorgeous,” he moans, “not gonna last, f-fuck.”

you’re almost there, teetering on the finish line, so nagumo ever so slightly adjusts his position, and he presses his cock head against that point inside you. you’re weightless in his hold, writhing when he reaches down to rub taut circles against your puffy pearl. it’s enough to make you sob, gasp and cry out a throaty “‘ichi!”, back arching, toes curling.

nagumo takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, bruising against the creamy flesh of your tits. his speed and movement becomes sloppy, rushing to the edge, the echoes of skin slapping against each other. your tearful face and your short winded begging (“cum inside me, yoichi” and “want you to fill me up”) in the midst of your intra-climatic hue are enough to get him to empty out hot inside of you, his eyebrows furrowed and an o-shape taking over the soft shine of his mouth.

you pull yourself up by the hand on the back of his scruff to kiss him wetly, tongue and all and he takes it, moaning and cursing out your name while pushing his seed deep inside you.

it’s quiet except for mingling, heavy breaths and the creak of your bed when nagumo falls on top of you. you squeak in protest, trying to push the lug of a man off.

“get off me you big idiot!” you squeal, and you feel his body shaking while he’s closed in on you.

“you’re nice and warm,” he sighs, “think i could stay like this for a good, couple of hours.”

you scoff. your hand reaches up to pet at his damp hair. nagumo smiles against your clavicle.

“do you think i still have time to go on that date?” you say, all forlorn and nagumo’s head shoots up, in which you laugh at the way his face contorts. he grumbles, and he eases out of you slowly. you hiss, but the grin on your face stays all the same.

“you think you’re so funny,” nagumo dryly contends and you sit up, kissing him on the nose.

“what can i say? learnt from the best,” you reply, just to the point where only he can hear you.

you think he’s so ridiculously easy (you won’t ever tell him that) when he returns your grin, and grabs your face to kiss you, all over you cheeks and lips.

“damn right, baby, damn right.”

EXTRA, EXTRA - read all about it:

“by the way, what did you mean when you said i owed you one?”

nagumo pulls his head from your chest, tv blaring and illuminating his puzzled, adorable expression, a piece of popcorn dangling from his mouth. his face turns blank as he ponders. then it’s like a lightbulb switches on above his head.

“oh, i fed ponyo and let her out onto the balcony but that old man saw me and i convinced him that he was seeing things so he wouldn’t call the cops… you’re welcome!”

“you did WHAT?!”

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian's girlfriend is addicted to sucking him off. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Sloppy blowjob, cum, name-calling 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I'll fix it! 🖤 Taglist: If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

She’s giving him that look again. He can see her out of the corner of his eye as he scrolls Twitter on a phone that nearly disappears in his huge hand. She’s on the opposite end of the couch, knees bent to support the iPad in her lap where he can hear she’s watching Friends for the nine millionth time, though she seems to have no interest in Joey proposing to Rachel.

It’s the gray sweatpants, he knows. The question has never been answered as to what it is exactly about the gray sweatpants that drive women wild, but he couldn’t be less concerned with the why. No, no, he’s much more focused on the results of this phenomenon—results, he guesses, that are quite imminent. On the off chance he’s wrong, he lifts one long leg and places his foot on the coffee table after tugging at the sweatpants near the apex of his thighs to create a bulge he’s openly proud of. Grinning, still watching her through his peripheral, he notices her thighs rubbing together, which knocks the iPad to the floor with a thud.

“Shit,” she whispered, reaching for it.

“Leave it,” he orders, a rumble like thunder in the distance, his eyes sliding to her. She turns back to him, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes are on his for just a moment before they slide to his lips, where she trades the biting of her lip for sucking it into her mouth, a gratuitous act that demands his attention every time. “We both know what you really want.”

She feigns innocence for a nanosecond, and then she is overwhelmed by the need for him, specifically the need for his cock in her mouth. Almost as much as he loves her licking and sucking on his dick, watching her transform from the bubbly, businesswoman girlfriend to the depraved cockwhore he sees before him now is a completely different ballgame. Her eyes are two tiny black holes, ravaged with avidity and lechery, and he feels himself harden in an instant. Abandoning his phone, his chin dips as he curls his finger. Maneuvering herself onto her hands and knees, she crawls the short distance to Damian, stopping, awaiting instructions. Enchanted by her yearning for him and her natural, obedient nature, he presses the pad of his thumb to her lips, watching with a tilted head as she kisses the digit. He sucks in a breath when his finger disappears inside her mouth, her hot, wet tongue sweeping across his skin.

“You want this dick, don’t you?” he growls. She nods, black eyes toeing the line between she-devil and puppy dog, sucking tenderly on his thumb. He pulls it out with a resounding pop, the momentary devastation on her face sending the remainder of the blood in his body straight into his groin, tenting the sweatpants that started the whole thing. “Mi dulce gatita quiere su leche,” he whispers, cradling one side of her head as he works to unleash himself with his other hand. She blushes, and he can feel the heat against the palm of his hand, but she nods just the same, moving her body an inch closer to him. He’s impressed she knows what he said, considering she only recently began learning Spanish, but her thirst for knowledge is insatiable, much like her hunger for him. “Show me where you want it.” Without a thought, her jaw drops and her tongue rolls out like in the old cartoons on Saturday mornings, except this isn’t funny and it isn’t cute—it is outright indecent and pornographic, and could he be any more in love than he already is?

Upon pulling his cock out—a cock perfectly proportioned to his six foot five inch frame, thank you very much—she starts toward the floor. Hand still on her face, he lowers it to gently clutch her jaw, stopping her in her tracks. “Face down,” he instructs, “ass up.”

Grinning, she bends over, heat and wet encompassing the head of his dick, neither of them fans of a slow build up. A groan rips from his chest as he reaches for and palms her ass, smirking and shaking his head to discover she is wearing nothing underneath her leggings. His middle finger slips down the crack of her ass, still over the leggings, quickly encountering a growing wet spot. He begins to massage her pussy, feeling the lips easily separate, bringing his middle finger in contact with her clit. She growls around him, entire body wracked with a shiver, forcing him as deep into her throat as possible, and Damian places his free hand on the back of her head, helping her gain almost another inch. His eyes roll back and his head falls against the couch as she coughs, sputters, and drools around the cock she tells him she dreams about almost on a nightly basis.

“Sí, mi vida,” he whispers, pumping his hips into her mouth. “Just like that. Let me hear how much you love my cock.” His eyes open as her back bows so she can spread her thighs further apart, allowing her to buck against his fingers. He can smell her want, and he can hear her need, and this might be the shortest amount of time he’s lasted before that familiar pressure starts to build at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, your mouth,” he wails, slipping his hand under her leggings, long fingers immediately delving within her soaking folds. 

She throws her head back, her mouth releasing him with a much more filthy version of the pop from earlier. “Fuck,” she whines, holding the obscenity out for as long as there was breath in her lungs. Her hand, seemingly so small around his cock, continues jerking, her wrist flicking every few pumps. He snatches her chin and smashes his lips against hers, their tongues brawling like they’re in the main event of Wrestlemania, and he doesn’t know what it is about tasting himself on her tongue, but he fucking loves it.

“You’re such a whore for this cock,” he rasps, his lips rubbing along her swollen ones.

“Mhmmm,” she beams, nodding, their noses massaging one another, hand still stroking, her entire upper body vibrating with the movement. Her breaths come in short bursts.

Damian nods in unison with her, still gripping her chin. “And where does my whore want me to cum?”

“In my mouth.” The answer is prompt, and the desperation in her murmur is almost enough to make him shoot his load right inside these stupid sweatpants. “Please cum in my mouth,” she begs.

Hand returning to the back of her head, this time gripping the messy bun threatening to come apart, he impales her throat with his cock, sliding in deeper than ever before. Though the last inch or two of his length is still visible, it’s covered in her spit and slobber and hard work, and maybe he won’t train her to take the whole thing. Maybe he’ll simply encourage her to choke more, gag more, and in return, she’ll salivate more. Damn, he’s a genius.

But he’ll have to pat himself on the back later because she’s in the middle of a coughing spell—too much of him all at once—the pulses from her throat trying to dislodge this huge foreign object were like tiny little vibrators all around his cock. She starts to lift her head, cheeks a dark crimson, a few tears falling, and he can’t allow it. He’s too close, and she feels too fucking good. He forces her back down, eyes closing to focus only on the nasty, wet sounds, and the slaps and shoves on his thighs as she tries to get free, as she tries to find oxygen.

“Tómalo,” he commands, holding her in place for a few more seconds, for a few more pumps into her mouth. She gasps for air upon release, squeezing his thighs and pulling him closer to her this time. “Jerk me off,” he breathes. Still sputtering from near asphyxiation, she somehow hears his order, and her hand begins work while the other remains gripping his muscles. “That’s it … Make me cum in that whore mouth.”

She drops her tongue, still fighting for oxygen, a river of saliva sliding from her tongue to the head of his dick. He lets out a roar as one of the more intense orgasms he’s ever had explodes through his body, and he shoots rope after rope of cum onto the eagerly awaiting tongue. She lifts the muscle so as to catch as much as possible in her mouth, but he watches with a smile on his face as one tiny tributary dribbles down her chin.

“Show Papi,” he whispers. She drops her jaw proudly, moving her tongue this way and that to swish the salty cream around. His eyes zero in on this salacious act, and he scoops up the white stream from her chin, placing it in her mouth. Her lips clamp around the digit to suck it clean, and he pulls it out with yet another wicked pop. He takes her throat softly in his hand, his nose touching hers as he says, “Swallow.” His thumb rises and falls as his cum is deposited in her stomach, he hears the gulp, and his dick twitches.

“Gracias, Papi,” she sighs, eyes getting heavy. He imagines she’ll want some attention later on with regard to the absolute mess between her legs and, consequently, the leggings.

Damian grins, using the bottom of his t-shirt to clean up the mess on her face. “De nada, corazón.” They share one more kiss before she lays her head on his thigh, snoring softly within seconds. He caresses her cheekbone for a moment and brushes a few strands of sticky hair from her forehead. He tucks himself back inside his now damp sweatpants, picks up his phone, and resumes scrolling Twitter.

🎀 Mi dulce gatita quiere su leche - My sweet kitten wants her milk 🎀 Sí, mi vida - Yes, my life 🎀 Tómalo - Take it 🎀 Papi - Daddy 🎀 Gracias, Papi - Thank you, Daddy 🎀 De nada, corazón - You’re welcome, sweetheart

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; how would your future spouse act when they're jealous?

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「pile one 」

five of pentacles rv (cb: queen of wands, four of pentacles), king of swords rv (cb: ace of swords, seven of cups rv), nine of pentacles (cb: four of cups, nine of swords)

when your future spouse is jealous, they tend to keep their thoughts to themselves. they view you as the queen of wands - charismatic, bold, charming - overall, a catch. so when others flirt with you, your future spouse gets a bit possessive. still, they seem to recognize that the way others behave towards you is beyond your control, and you cannot be held responsible for whether people flirt with you or not. consequently, they feel like bringing it up would only create unnecessary conflict between you two. however, - in a moment of weakness - this person may act cold and a bit rude toward the person who is flirting with you. this person is normally level-headed, but the thought of you being with someone else really upsets them. i also see them reassuring themselves that you only have eyes for them. they trust you a lot and you actually may be the type to shut down any person who tries to flirt with you - particularly if they're doing so in front of your future spouse.

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「pile two 」

page of pentacles (cb: six of swords rv, three of cups), queen of pentacles rv (cb: ten of cups, four of cups rv), ace of cups rv (cb: four of pentacles rv, knight of pentacles)

i think your future spouse would struggle with acknowledging that they're jealous. they'll make an effort to act like everything is fine, yet it feels more like they're suppressing their genuine emotions. they may be the type to bottle up their true feelings in general. this person could struggle with issues of abandonment/neglect from past relationships, so when situations like this arise, they have to do their best to work through those emotions. instances that trigger their jealousy could be akin to reopening an old wound for them. despite knowing that you're happy together and you're not interested in anyone else, their instinctual response is colored by past feelings. your future spouse might place a high value on material possessions, and their love language may lean towards gift-giving. in light of this situation, they may become more extravagant in their gift-giving, almost as if they're in the courting stage in your relationship again. it's an energy of "no other person can provide for you like i can."

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「pile three 」

five of swords rv (cb: six of wands, king of swords rv), three of pentacles (cb: queen of pentacles, five of cups rv), five of pentacles rv (cb: six of cups, king of pentacles)

out of all the piles, your future spouse is most likely to speak up and tell someone off if they're flirting with you. they seem to perceive the conflict as a form of competition, but it's not true competition because you are already taken by them. it's like your future spouse has this perspective of "try all you want, you can never win them over." still, your person is likely to voice their displeasure and make it clear that they'll never have a chance with you. while you may prioritize harmony, your future spouse exudes an attitude of "i don't care if they like me or not." they are the kind of person who speaks their mind in any situation, even if they're aware you might disapprove. i distinctly heard the words "charity work," so they might use cutting words to convey that the person is not even close to being in your league. this person has a healthy sense of self-esteem and also believes that you share a strong relationship based on trust. although they may get a bit heated initially, i don't think that they'll dwell on the situation.

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tarot deck used in this reading: ostara tarot

[amourdivine]

𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ   PICK A CARD

Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.com! xo ♡

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

how to choose your pile.  take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands

Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.

However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.

how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands

You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.

Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.

These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.

The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands

Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.

It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.

Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.

how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords

Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.

Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?

It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.

You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles

Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.

This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.

This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.

how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles

To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.

That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.

You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.

Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords

Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.

It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.

It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.

Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.

how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups

Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.

Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.

Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.

disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃First Dates with Seventeen❃

I am back from the grave and come bearing delulu gifts. I should have been working on my thesis, but today was rough, so I decided to fantasise about romance instead. It is to make up for my non-existent love life; here is to being perpetually single!

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ This man goes all out for the first date; nothing is too expensive for him as he wants you to feel like a queen at the end. Coups will rent out a theme park for the two of you within a heartbeat the moment you mention that you love roller coasters.

❀ That being said, he strikes me as someone who loves to combine luxury with pampering, doing something that is very relaxing and allows you two to focus on getting to know each other through deep conversations. Coups will probably take you to an expensive and exclusive restaurant, paying a little extra to sit in a more excluded area where no one can interrupt or overhear you.

❀ You two end up talking until the restaurant closes, barely paying attention to the Michelin-star meal that gets served. After you get kicked out, he will not want to let you go just yet, asking you to go on a walk to "digest the food."

❀ He definitely would be the type of member to invite you over to spend the night together, either to continue the conversation or to explore the relationship more physically. However, he would only take the next step if you make the first move or clearly verbalize to him that you want to. Of course, it is because Coups is respectful of your boundaries and it is absolutely not due to him being way too nervous to initiate anything himself.

Jeonghan

❀ Jeonghan strikes me as someone who would take you on a cosy date. Similarly to Coups, he would focus more so on conversation, preferring it over getting to know each other by doing an activity together. Still, as he doesn't want to come over as someone who only invites you over to his place to Netflix and Chill, he does put a lot of effort into the date. 

❀ Jeonghan would probably create an indoor picnic, setting up a bunch of pillows and blankets for you two to comfortably lay on. The dress code: pyjamas; it is all about being super comfortable. It would remind you of the many sleepovers you used to have as a child, but more romantic. You two would play silly games, talk about everything and nothing, do some facemasks together and eat so much good food. It would be such a blast. 

❀ He would not make a move on the first date; he already was quite bold by inviting you over to his place for the first date, and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Unless you decide to kiss him, he will keep a respectful distance from you the entire time. The most he would do is hold your hand to do some pseudo-palm reading he found online. 

Joshua

❀Welcome to the best date of your life. Joshua is the best dater in the world, and nobody can convince me otherwise. This man would walk straight out of a fairy tale book with him in the starring role of Prince Charming. It would not be above him to hire a horse and carriage, snuggling up together as you ride through some magical fairy tale forest, with both of you dressed to the nines. 

❀ Still, Joshua strikes me as someone who would plan a crafting date; he would either take you to a pottery class or take you to make some bracelets. Joshua would suggest that you both make something for the other. It is quite a smart move on his part; you would have to continuously ask the other questions to figure out their design preferences. Plus, at the end of the date, you both will have a keepsake to commemorate the time you spent together.

❀The only thing this gentleman is kissing is your hand as a greeting. There will be no handholding either; he will only accidentally touch your hand when he hands something over to you. You would have to go on at least five dates before he even considers kissing you. He is a good Christian boy (who fears the wrath of God).

Jun

❀ Jun is too socially awkward to have a date that is conversation focussed. He needs something to distract you from his rambling and the painful silences. Instead, to avoid running out of conversation topics, he decides to do something fun together, where he can be in his element. He is taking you to a petting zoo.

❀ Although things are painfully awkward at the beginning of the date, his shyness immediately vanishes when he spots all the rabbits and goats running around the petting zoo. He might (accidentally) forget you are there for a moment as he pets a sheep that keeps sniffing at his shoes. However, he will enthusiastically start introducing you to all his favourite animals upon remembering you are there, too. Turns out, this particular petting zoo is his regular spot. 

❀ He would 1000% compare you to his favourite chicken.

❀ Will this man touch you during or at the end of the date? Absolutely not. He will ramble on and on about all the cute animals once he is comfortable, but if you do as much as graze his arm with yours, he will go back to painfully shy Jun, and you would have to place a guinea pig in his arms to get him talking again.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Although Hoshi becomes the most chaotic person alive once he is comfortable around someone, he would be painfully shy during a first date. He has to do something with you because he can't stand the awkward silences that he will inevitably let fall. Thus, to no one's surprise, he will take you to do something incredibly active. Hoshi spent so much time trying to come up with something unique, but in the end, he settled for something that made him feel comfortable, namely a one-on-one dancing lesson. 

❀ It genuinely would be so much fun. At first, Hoshi is incredibly shy, barely touching you to correct your posture, blushing whenever meets your eyes. As time goes on, he slowly becomes more comfortable and daring, interacting with you and touching you more boldly. The dancing grounds him, reminding him that he's got this and that he is in his element.

❀ Still, Hoshi reverts to being shy when the music ends, now panicking over every single time he has had to put his hand on your waist to steady you. He wouldn't be able to make it through a single sentence without tripping over his words as he gets haunted by flashbacks of the times his bold, performing self touched you. So yeah, he is mortified by his actions. 

❀ Needless to say, he wouldn't be kissing you goodnight.

Wonwoo:

❀ He would be another member mortified at the thought of having to keep a conversation going during a date. Wonwoo took his sweet time with an actual plan for a date; he didn't actually expect to get this far. Thus, he has been bothering Mingyu to help him out with date ideas that would not highlight his introversion. On Mingyu's advice, he decides to do something that he is good at and would enjoy. He takes you to a gaming cafe. 

❀ Whether you are good at gaming or not, he makes sure that he has a list of fun multiplayer games for you two to play that aren’t too complicated. You have fun running a restaurant together in 'PlateUp!' before he convinces you to play 'It Takes Two' together, using the story to create a wholesome and romantic atmosphere. The best part is that the game is too long to finish in one playthrough, making it easier for him to ask you out on a second and third date. It gives you plenty to talk about, too; how can you not discuss the Cutie the Elephant scene? 

❀ It would all go so well, all until he has walked you to your door. He gets so nervous about potentially kissing you goodnight that, instead, he shakes your hand, all businesslike, telling you it was a good one. It takes him a solid five seconds to realize what he is doing and for him to turn bright red. Luckily, you find it funny, agreeing it was a good one. He was ready to drop all contact with you and change his entire identity if you hadn't laughed. 

Woozi

❀ It isn't that Woozi is incredibly nervous about your date; he is actually very much looking forward to it. However, he genuinely does not know what you two can do together, as he literally never leaves his house. The members aren't much help either; they either make fun of him for finally deciding to go outside or tell him to do some wild activity that he really can't imagine doing. They keep reminding him that he can't bring you to the gym or bring you along to the studio as he works. Apparently, that isn't romantic. 

❀ It is Jeonghan who surprisingly helps him out by recommending doing a movie marathon or binge-watching a series together. Jeonghan even helps him decorate the living room with candles, making it all nice and romantic. Not that the atmosphere would be very romantic, though; you decided to put on a Marvel show, and now you are having a lore-heavy discussion trying to connect all the stories. You two even brought out a notebook so you could draw a mind map of the different plot points and storylines. 

❀ Despite all the romantic lyrics that he writes, Woozi wouldn't know what to do when you tell him you have to go. He is overthinking everything as you get up to grab your coat and get ready to leave. Should he walk you home? Should he kiss you? As you are about to close the door behind you, he would muster up the courage to ask you what he should do. Woozi is very embarrassed about it, but he would rather risk looking stupid as he asks you how a date is supposed to end than end up doing the wrong thing. 

❀ Well, answer wisely. 

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is way too excited to be going on a date with you. In fact, he has so many date ideas that he decided to do all of them at once, in one go. It might not be the best idea, but DK is not thinking clearly. He is too distracted by his enthusiasm, only thinking about how he gets to go on a date with you. You should be concerned when he asks you to bring multiple outfits; each outfit fits a different date activity. 

❀ The date starts out fun as he brings you to the zoo. You spent some time laughing at the monkeys and taking pictures together at the animal cut-outs. However, after not even an hour has passed, DK is already dragging you to the next activity he has planned. In one date, you guys visit a waterpark, do a scavenger hunt, go bowling and go ice skating. It is honestly not surprising that when DK leans over to talk to you, he discovers that you have fallen asleep during the movie. He realises that maybe he asked a bit too much of you and guiltily lets you catch up on some sleep. 

❀ DK is genuinely convinced that you never want to see him again, being incredibly quiet as he walks you home. When he voices as much, you surprise him by kissing his cheek and telling him you had fun, though you would prefer maybe not to do five activities during one date. He will not shut up about it during dance practice for weeks. 

Mingyu

❀ A date with Mingyu really depends on who he is taking on a date and what he thinks would fit that person best. He is such a people person that he will come up with a date idea that is fun for the both of you. If he gets to decide, though, I can see him choosing between two widely different date ideas, depending on his mood.

❀ On the one hand, I can see Mingyu opting for something romantic. For instance, I can see him inviting someone over so that he can cook for them. He would have you seated across from where he is cooking, trying his hardest to impress you with his cooking skills. It would be such an intimate setting: just you two, sitting in the quiet kitchen as the evening grows darker, chatting as you sip your glass of wine. The food would be delicious, and the flirting unrivalled. 

❀ On the other hand, Mingyu strikes me as someone who would also love to go on a lighthearted and fun date, focusing on having a good time together. There wouldn't be anything sensual about it; you two would be cracking up the entire time. For some reason, I can see him taking his date to play mini-golf. Not only would it be hilarious every time one of you launches the ball in the wrong direction, but it would also give him an excuse to touch you as he tries to 'help.' 

❀ Mingyu would definitely end the date not so innocently if you give him the okay sign. And, let's be fair, chances are that you would; he is too fine not to and after all that flirting...

The8/Minghao

❀ Minghao would put a lot of thought into the date, even going as far as planning it before he asked you out. Minghao is painfully aware that you make him nervous and that he can't afford to slack on the date activity; at least when there is an awkward silence because he doesn't know what to say, you would have something pretty to look at. Thus, he makes sure to go over his plan at least five times, asking the other members for second opinions that he will ultimately disregard when he goes with his original idea. 

❀ All in all, his first date ideas all have something creative and peaceful. He wants to create an atmosphere that is relaxing and fosters deep conversations. He, for instance, would opt to organize a painting date where he will show off his painting skills, taking you to a scenic nature look-out where you can spend your afternoon eating the food he prepared in a picnic basket, chatting as you try to capture the beautiful forest scene in front of you. 

❀ Another first date that I can see him taking you on is stargazing. Minghao would prepare a ton of cosy blankets and pillows that soften the hard ground you otherwise would have had to lay on. Instead of pointing out existing constellations, you would try to come up with your own. It would be so serene with the silence only broken by your conversation, held in soft, quiet whispers. If the moment is right, he would lean in for a kiss, hiding the redness of his face in the dark of the night. 

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan initially felt so much pressure to organize the best date ever. He has his reputation as 'one of the funniest members of Seventeen' to uphold and wants you to have an amazing time. Similarly to some of the other members, Seungkwan has several different first date ideas that he would choose from depending on his date and mood. Mostly, I can see him doing something very active as it would help him focus less on his nerves and more on being in the moment.

❀ Seungkwan would, for instance, take you on a hike, using it as an excuse to have deep conversations as you enjoy the beautiful, warm summer day. He loves to walk and talk, using the hike to grow closer. You two would bring along some food, stopping at picturesque scenes to enjoy lunch as you share your life stories. 

❀ I can also imagine Seungkwan taking you to see a volleyball match or to play volleyball. He adores the sport and would probably want to share his love for the game with you. Despite being incredible at ball games, he would be incredibly gentle with you, making sure that you don't accidentally injure yourself. Plus, he gets to show off his incredible skills. 

❀ He would be another member who is too shy to initiate anything physical. It would be on his mind constantly, but he wouldn't get past his overthinking thoughts. He will keep a healthy, respectful distance unless you decide to initiate skinship.

Vernon

❀ I can't, for the love of me, imagine Vernon on a serious date. This man's entire vocabulary consists of memes, and I am sure he will get inspired by some wacky internet post to do something weird. Instead of doing something romantic or typical date-like, he would go for something outside the box. Sure, he loves movies and could do a cliche movie date, but where is the fun in that? 

❀ After watching a popular ghost-hunting video, he decides it would be a good idea to go on a ghost-hunting date together. He even bought specialized ghost-hunting tools so that you could communicate with the spirits. It is a bit of a waste of money; he probably will never use them again (unless you are not utterly horrified by the end of it and would want to go on another ghost-hunting date). Most people wouldn't consider an abandoned prison romantic (and neither did you), but at least it is a fun, never-been-done-before first date. 

❀ You now made a new friend, a ghost called Dave, who apparently likes pizza, that the spirit box picked up on the second floor's hallway. Another ghost, who kept repeating the words 'toilet' and 'cereal', decided to briefly join your date when you walked into one of the cellblocks. Overall, you don't have conclusive proof that ghosts exist by the end of it, but the date went well. 

❀ This man is oblivious to date etiquette; when you ask whether he wants to spend the night, he thinks you are asking him whether he wants to spend the night at the abandoned prison. You might be regretting that you asked as you now are terrified, trying to sleep in a sleeping bag next to a knocked-out Vernon on the cold prison floor.

Dino/Chan

❀ Poor Dino does not know what to do with your first date, paralysed from fear at the thought that he will do something stupid. He has been staring at a wall these past few days, racking his brain as he tries to come up with something to impress you. Part of him wants to ask his members for help, but Dino knows that if he did, they would never let him live it down. 

❀ Inspiration, however, strikes him over dinner the day before you are supposed to be going on a date. Dino is running around like a headless chicken, trying to plan whatever he can in time for the big day. Unfortunately, it takes him hours to arrange everything, forcing him to stay up well into the early hours of the next day. Hence, when Dino decides to close his eyes for just a second, he completely sleeps through his alarms. If it hadn't been for his members waking him up, he would have also slept through your entire date. 

❀ The good news is that the members texted you to let you know in advance, and that you are gracious enough to still agree to the date. The bad news is that Dino's hard work has been for nought as the reservations have long passed. He feels incredibly guilty, but you reassure him that things like these happen.

❀ Instead of letting the mishap ruin the date further, you convince him to join you at the local playground. You spend the entire afternoon running around, playing games from your childhood and going down the slide. Your dinner consists of some snacks from a convenience store. It is wonderful.

masterlist

[anyarose011]

Bah, Humbug! {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Realizing you are stuck over winter break in the school your father (with many nicknames such as: Rat Bastard, Colossal Asshole, or the most popular, Walleye) teaches at, you try to make the best of it. Or, at least the best you can make it with five other boys your age

Part 1 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, feminism (abandon all hope ye who enter if this has to be a warning), sarcastic reader, Teddy Kountze, and casual racism (a subsection to Teddy Kountze)

You've heard of "Paul Hunham being a father figure" now I present to you: "Paul Hunham being a girl-dad and an academic rivals to lovers with Angus Tully". I became obsessed with this movie, and decide to add my own spin onto it. It's also my first time writing for Tumblr, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.8k

“You said we were going to Copenhagen this year.”

The first nine words you said to your father after he told you about the predicament the both of you were in.  He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I know.” You haven’t heard him trying to be this understanding since…you couldn’t recall. “I don’t want to be stuck here just as much as you-.”

“-So then just say no.”

He scoffed, yet still smiled. “It’s a stupid lottery, and my name got picked.”

“Bullshit-.”

“-Hey.” He warned.

Sighing, you glanced out your window. Thin specks of snow were falling onto the already pure as white ground, cascading down the roofs of houses. At least it was snowing and would resemble somewhat of a nice Christmas.

“Can we at least do something fun?” You questioned.

“I thought you said men don’t deserve to have fun the same way they think women don’t deserve rights?”

“Do the boys you teach think the same?” You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Not really in my field of work to get to know them.”

“Wonderful.” You rolled your eyes.

Your father squeezed your shoulder. “Yes, we can have little activities that children your age would consider fun. Still, I vow to enhance their intellect and schoolwork, considering that most of them are…lackluster.”

“Does this mean that I’ll get to drag their asses in mythology trivia?”

“In colloquial terms, yes.”

That brought a smile to your face, and you got up from your bed. “I think I’ll make dinner tonight if that’s alright?” You didn’t wait for him to answer as you left the room. “Maybe pie? I know Mary taught me-.”

“-Woah, woah, woah.” He followed you out into the hallway, stopping you. “We’re not eating here.”

You blinked, the only sound forming from your throat being. “Huh?”

He sighed as if going to tell you the worst news in the world (at the time, oh boy, was it). “They’re cutting the power to the faculty housing, so we’re going to be living at the school over winter break.”

Your face drops along with your heart, shock settling in. “Say that again?”

“We’re going to be living at the school-.”

“-No I heard you.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?”

“You’re telling me,” you bring on the drama, raising your voice. “I have to lodge with teenage boys?! The cursed sex?!”

He sighed. “You won’t be sleeping in the same room as them-.”

“-I can’t even look at you right now.” You pushed past him, going back into your room and tossing yourself onto your bed.

“Countess Natalya,” he taunts tiredly, knowing you hope your melodramatic attitude would wear him down. “we don’t have a choice.”

You point at him, not bringing your face up from your pillow. “Don’t you dare bring Natasha into this, she would react the same way!”

He laughed. “You get your stubbornness from your mother.”

“I get it from my father!” That’s what made you turn and bring your head up.

There’s a silence with tenseness lacing it like icing on a cake. Paul Hunham’s sigh of frustration broke it, approaching you. “Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck here. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to endure the attitude of pubescent boys who, I guarantee you, even when their frontal lobes form at twenty-five, will still be inconsiderate, full of themselves, and not know what true hard work is…We don’t get to do things we want all the time, that’s the reality of the situation.”

You still wore the same, spiteful look on your face as he told you this; as if you were a little girl being told, no, you can’t stay up until midnight tonight. Then, once he was finished, the look subsided only a little.

“I hate you.” Was your reply.

He ruffled your hair. “You’re the light of my life too, Jo March.” With that, he stood up with a pleasant smile. “But no worries, I don’t expect you to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone.” He then left the room, and you could hear his voice echo. “Now pack your things; clothes, toiletries, your books above everything, I know.”

He still continued to ramble, but in all honestly, it wasn’t important enough to this day for you to remember. All that was going through your head, was that you were going to spend almost a month in a musty, falling apart, preparatory school, with who knew how many musty teenage boys.

It was then you started planning how exactly you’d fly to Copenhagen by yourself.

That only lasted for about two minutes when you realized that your father had your passport locked in a safe with his, and you weren’t really in the mood to lockpick that day (or learn how to for that matter). So instead, you spent the majority of the time packing your suitcase, and your father was right; your books were the most important ones you’d pack.

You didn’t initially plan on socializing with the boys, so you nearly brought your entire library of books to entertain yourself; the only thing stopping you from bringing all of it was, besides your father, the copious amounts of clothing. You didn’t quite like planning out what outfit you’d wear for each day, so it was better to be safe and bring choices.

Your father had gone ahead of you to help the Boys Left Behind (a title you wouldn’t tell anyone for a few years), settle in. Settle in being him being your father and setting the ground rules whilst running that school like the damn Navy. So, there you were, walking through the ankle-deep snow with your backpack and suitcase that was meant for Copenhagen.

The school only had a few buildings; two dormitories for the boys, a small shack for the maintenance, the chapel, and one large building consisting of all the classrooms, dining hall, infirmary, and whatever else was needed for a rich, all American boy education system.

Perhaps you’d gotten a taste of what the American Revolutionists felt at Valley Forge when you heard a voice call.

“Hey!”

You looked up from where you stood and saw five boys near the courtyard by a pickup truck. Your blood, if not already freezing from the winter snow, ran cold at the sight. The same boy yelled again.

“Do you need help, are you lost?”

You shook your head, pitching our voice up a bit higher and shouting back.

“No, thank you!”

Trying to continue on your way, you looked up again to see one of them running towards you. Cursing to yourself, you tried to keep your head low and pick up the pace, but you got to see him one he was closer to you. His face was boyish, and you first thought he was a sophomore at first. His hair to his shoulders, something you didn’t expect to see for someone attending such a prestigious school. And…damn it all, he was attractive (for a boy your age).

“Hi,” he greeted you warmly with his hand out. “Jason Smith.”

You looked at it for a moment (still a bit blindsided how someone at this school could be so genuine) before shaking and giving him your name. He shook his head, chuckling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

“You’re Hunham’s daughter?”

Oh…perhaps you shouldn’t have told him that. Still, you tried to let it roll off your back and played it cool, laughing along with him. “Yeah, I’m stuck over here with you guys.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t get on your nerves too badly. Do you want me to carry that for you?” He offered.

“Oh.” You looked down at your suitcase and handed it to him. “Go ahead, thank you.”

Jason took it, and the both of you began to make your trek up the small hill with the truck. He was being a gentleman, so you decided to keep the conversation going.

“So, why’re you here?”

He shrugged. “My family usually goes skiing for the holidays, but my old man won’t let me go until I cut my hair.”

“That’s really mean of him.” You stated.

Jason snorted “You should tell him that.”

“I will.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure.” You went ahead of him, turning around and walking backwards up the hill. “Give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

That only made him laugh harder. “You should study to be a lawyer; you make a great case.”

“My father said the same thing once; I just personally have a theory that all parents tell their children they’d be good lawyers because they argue with them. As if it’s not a child’s right to argue.”

“You’re well-spoken too.”

“For a woman?”

You saw panic pale his face. “What?”

A smile couldn’t help but make its way to your mouth. “Only teasing.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Scared me for a moment.”

“Yeah?” You joked, turning back over your shoulder as you felt yourself at the top of the summit. “I usually get that a lot. That’s why my da-.”

Once your eyes drifted up to see the rest of the Boys Left Behind, your words fell silent. The youngest ones, who you assumed to be freshman, you did not recognize but knew immediately they would be kinder than the two whom you already knew.

Teddy ‘I only lost because I went easy on you’ Kountze, and Angus ‘I know more than you’ Tully.

These motherfuckers.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Angus groaned.

Teddy merely blinked, as if he couldn’t believe it. “What’re you doing here?”

“She’s Walleye’s kid, idiot.” Angus pointed out. “Of course she’d be here.”

Jason looked between the three of you. “You know each other?”

With whatever self-control you had (and you barely had any), you kept calm. “They’re just sore losers I met months ago.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Hunham wasn’t proud of us after one test, so he called in her one day, and we had to basically go up against her in some bullshit trivia match.”

“Wait,” Jason looked back at you. “so it was you versus the entire class?”

You stood proudly. “Uh huh.”

“Lost to this dickwad of all people.” Teddy slapped Angus’ back. “We couldn’t believe she met her match; she tore apart almost everyone else in class.”

 “So then why are you acting like you did any better?” You tried your best to sound as if you were joking but were also dead serious.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter if I did; you still lost.”

Rolling your eyes, they soon fell onto the youngest pair, staring up at you as if in study. You smiled, holding out your hand, introducing yourself. “What’re your names?”

The one with glasses and black hair shook yours first. “Ye-Joon.”

Then the boy paler than a lightbulb and cheeks turning red from the cold. “Alex.”

“And what’re you two doing here?”

Ye-Joon spoke first. “My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Teddy snickered.

“What’s a rickshaw?”

You shrugged, despite knowing what it was. “Not sure, I am sure that he’s an idiot though.”

Teddy acted as if you were flirting with him. “Highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“What about you?” Jason questioned. “You’re Hunham’s kid, but do you go to school in town or…?”

“Homeschooled.” You weren’t the one who responded. All eyes went to Agnus Tully, still smoking a cigarette and averting his eyes from everyone. “Which checks out.”

You tilted your head, hiding your growing nerves with a surprised smile. “Aw, look at that; Frankenstein’s Monster does have the capacity to memorize things.”

The only one who laughed was Teddy, and you almost wanted to take it back.

Angus just shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what kind of schtick it is to be the angry girl, but it doesn’t look nice on you.”

“Hey, leave the lady alone.” Jason stepped in.

“Lady?” He said the word as if it was foreign to call you that.

“Yes,” you agreed with Jason despite how much you didn’t want to, but your desire to humble Angus Tully outweighed your morals (a reoccurring theme for the Winter of 1970). “I’m a lady.”

“For how much you start fights, I wouldn’t call you one.”

“Ladies do not start fights, but they can sure as hell finish them.”

He merely rolled his eyes and went back to smoking. Fair enough…him not engaging only made him look like the bigger person. Still, it wasn’t worth it for you to continue beating a tall, dead, dumb, horse with curly hair.

“What’s your story?” Jason asked Alex.

“Oh,” he sounded shocked. “my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?”

Teddy asked before he could respond. “Do you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?”

You turned to Jason and whispered as Alex went into an explanation. “I’m going to slap him into next semester the next time some stupid shit leaves his mouth.”

He tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think any of us would mind, to be honest.”

“Hey,” Teddy interrupted. “what’s with the townies?”

Everyone turned to the chapel and saw two men carrying the Christmas tree out. Agnus yelled. “Excuse me! What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us!” He responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

The other one added. “Yeah, we’re gonna put it back on the lot. Do it every year.”

“This is the most bullshit ever.” Angus shook his head, then looking at you. “Did you know about this?”

You couldn’t even respond right away, the question was so ludicrous. “I had no idea about being stuck here with you idiots until about an hour ago, so I naturally knew the townies would steal your Christmas tree.”

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, putting out the cigarette and heading towards the main building.

The rest of the boys’ gaze drifted to you, and all you said was. “Do you think he’d believe me if I told him they worked for the Grinch?”

You were more than halfway through A Christmas Carol when you were in the room you shared with your father in the infirmary. He was chatting with Mary, the head cook and the closest woman you would have to a mother figure, downstairs, leaving you by yourself.

Not exactly.

In the next room, you knew Alex, Ye-Joon, and Angus shared one, and then Teddy and Jason. They were quiet for the most part, save for Kountze tossing a tennis ball against the wall, but it stopped bothering you after a few minutes.

 You’d read the Charles Dickens’ tale a million times, but you couldn’t help and see how many similarities Angus Tully shared with Ebenezar Scrooge. It would be a lie if anyone were to ever claim you didn’t have hobbies; what would they call you assigning fictional characters to real people?

You found yourself beginning to pace around the room the more you read. Whilst voices raising in the background grew louder, you didn’t know exactly what had been happened until you wandered in on Tully and Kountze having a fight you could only summarize as it being straight out of Lord of the Flies.

You knew how that story ended, so with one look, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Finding a quiet corner outside of the infirmary, you thought you were safe when-.

Your father yelled your name. “Could you come here, please?”

Roling your eyes, you yelled back. “You told me not to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone, so that’s what I’m doing!”

He called for you again, and you groaned, bookmarking where you were and marching back to the infirmary. All five boys and your father stood before you, and you leaned against the doorframe, making it known you wanted to be anywhere but there.

Paul Hunham sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who started this ‘Not fight’ mister Ollerman described to me?”

Your eyes drifted to Tully (for reasons, you had no idea), who simply glared back at you. You could’ve done it…lied about him starting it even though you had no idea; it’s what he deserved for being an ass you to that day, and for winning months ago.

But, where you were a bitch, you were also just.

“No,” you stated. “I don’t know.”

He thinned his lips, turning back to everyone. “All right then, we’ll do it like the Roman Legions. Absent a confession, one man’s sin is every man’s suffering. For every minute the truth is withheld, you will all receive a detention.”

“And I thought all the Nazis were hiding in Argentina.” Angus mumbled.

“Stifle it, Tully.” Your father refuted.

You shrugged (this somehow being the first time you agreed with Angus Tully). “He’s got a point; you’re breaking the Geneva Convention if you do.”

“The what?” Teddy scrunched his nose.

“Well,” Your father sighed as he said your name. “if you want to have an opinion on the matter, you can join them as well.”

“I don’t even go here!”

“Well, you’re standing under the roof right now. Now in the first of said detentions, you will clean the library. Top to bottom. Scraping the underside of the desks, which are caked with snot and gum and all manner of ancient, unspeakable proteins. On your hands and knees, down in the dust, breathing in the dead skin of generations of students and desiccated cockroach assholes.”

“It was Kountze!” Little Alex pointed to him. “Kountze started it!”

While the guilty party in question’s face had dropped, you watched as your father’s brightened. “Bravo, Mister Ollerman. Bravo.”

It must’ve off put Mary how you were smiling in the kitchen when you picked up the pitcher of water and bread as she got the platters of chicken and potatoes and asparagus.

Still, she asked. “How bad of a day was it for you to be smiling as you serve the men at the table?”

“Eh,” you began. “I would rather be on a plane to Copenhagen right now, but being stuck at this hell hole with you makes it tolerable; better, even.

Mary smiled at that. “Feeling’s mutual, Jane Bennett.”

“I’m Lizzie.” You playfully whined.

“And I can’t be bothered to finish that book.” She teased, and the two of you were beginning to make your way to the dining hall.

“Speaking of books, do you have another one I could borrow?” You asked.

“Already?” Mary sounded surprised. “I gave you that book last week.”

“And I finished it in a few days, I just haven’t had the chance to ask you.”

She shook her head as you pushed through the door out into the dining hall, holding it for her. “I’ll recommend the Bible next time to keep you occupied for longer.”

“I think I’ll stick with James Baldwin, if that’s alright.” You jested, then seeing Jason’s lips move as he asked a question, Teddy responded, and then your father spoke quite loudly.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

You and Mary set down the food, and you scrunched your nose in disgust at your father’s ‘fun fact’ while sitting beside Jason and facing Angus. It took everything in your bones not to burst out in laughter to see Teddy Kountze sitting at the edge of the table like a toddler having a silent tantrum.

“Thank you, Mary.” Your father greeted as everyone began to serve themselves. “Would you maybe care to join us?”

Oh, the look of distaste on Teddy’s face nearly made you lose it. Mary took notice immediately, and she offered a meek smile. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

The same moment the door to the kitchen closed when she left was when Teddy turned to all of you, whispering as if it would help. “I mean…I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s being paid to do a job. And she should be doing it well, right?”

If it weren’t for the fact you were chewing on a piece of chicken, and that your father was just two seats away from you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. The glare in your eyes would have to suffice.

Still, he opened his dumb mouth to continue. “But I guess, no matter how bad of a cook she is, they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up?!” Your father hit the table so hard, silverware flew. You’d seen this rage from him before…but it still made you jump. “You have no idea what that woman has been through-!”

His gaze turned to you, and saw the look that could only belong to you in moments like that; where you stiffened yourself and hardened your eyes to look as if you did not know what fear meant. Yet, there was still an undeniable amount of terror even within those eyes you tried to have been the most fearless.

He reigned himself back in. “You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder; shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat.”

The boys obeyed, keeping their heads low. You felt your heart go back to itself, and as you were returning to eating, you heard an irritating voice mumble.

“Not our fault her kid was one of the poor bastards to be drafted.”

It took you three seconds to find Teddy’s foot under the table, and one for you to step on it with all your weight.

He jolted, cursing under his breath before looking at you. “The hell?!”

You feigned innocence, a potato on your fork. “Oh, was that your foot? I’m so sorry.”

Teddy’s eyes tried to burn through your skin as you continued to eat, but you barely felt them. The eyes you did feel on you were soon gone when you looked across from where you sat.

There was Angus Tully, keeping his head down as if he was a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

…Interesting…

What else were you supposed to think?

You finished A Christmas Carol by the time your father forced you to turn out the lights (and then confiscated your flashlight from under your bed…had to think of a better hiding spot). It always took you a while to go to sleep (still does, some nights).

As you laid in darkness, your mind would rush with the worlds you vowed to lose yourself in through the books you read. Frodo had Middle Earth, Emma had Highbury, and you had…Barton, Massachusetts.

Not even Concord like the March Sisters, just plain old Barton.

So, naturally, when your mind had tired itself from living these fantasies, and as you were about to drift off to sleep, your father’s snoring awoke you.

You hadn’t even noticed he came into the room, only when he started snoring to wake the dead. Sighing heavily, you tossed yourself out of bed, and used what moonlight coming in from the windows as your guide. Not long after, you saw that Angus and the freshmen boys drew the short end of the stick in their room choice; there were no curtains to the windows, causing the lamplights to bleed into the room, making it an unfavorable color of piss yellow.

That’s when your eyes drifted to where Jason and Teddy were; a little light peering in from their window facing the moon, and correspondingly, the other bedroom, but still quite dark. Closest to the door…a spare bed.

Yes, it was by Teddy, but your father’s snoring being fainter in that room was enough for you.

But again…it was by Teddy.

So, swallowing your pride, your eyes darted around for a solution, and they landed on Frankenstein’s Monster right behind you. Sighing to yourself, you turned back around into his room, and after thinking of what to say, you shook him awake.

He was somehow relaxed at first when he opened his eyes to see you; but that was just shock, he nearly fell out of bed when his vision adjusted.

“What the hell?!” He gasped, sitting up.

You shushed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I need a favor.”

He blinked, looking around to just double check where he was; nope, it wasn’t a bad dream, yep, he was still at Barton. “You appear like one of the fucking ghosts from A Christmas Carol, what could it possibly be?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Ebenezar Scrooge, my dad snores like he’s trying to be the Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, and I can’t sleep in there. So, I’m gonna go sleep in the other room, and you gotta wake me up or I’m dead.”

Angus Tully stared at you as if your head had grown horns. “I have no idea what you just said right now because you woke me up at,” he turned and looked at his watch. “oh look, 1am.”

Sighing you bit back a response only because you needed something from him. “Look; I want to actually be able to sleep, and I know I won’t at all if I’m stuck in a room with my dad all night. I’ll sleep in the extra bed in the other room, and you wake me up so that none of us will be killed if I oversleep in a room with teenage boys.”

It’s more than obvious he understood, but he then asked. “Why not just ask one of the guys in the room you’re sleeping in?”

“I don’t trust Kountze with anything and Jason…”

Damn your exhaustion for not being able to come up with a good explanation besides-.

“You like him.” Angus’ face lit up with a teasing glee that unnerved you somehow more than Teddy’s entire existence did that day.

“No!” You immediately deny. “I mean, yes, but in a way that of course I like him because he’s the only one of you assholes who are nice to me. So, I don’t like like him.”

You liar.

Angus scoffed, yet his shit eating grin was still on his face. “What are you, twelve?”

“I was about to ask the same thing since you’re so interested.” You rolled your eyes.

“So why me?” He asked. “You like the freshmen, don’t you trust them more?”

“I like them and actually want them to sleep.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Sighing you said. “I’ll give you whatever you want; not whatever you fucking perve but-.”

“-I never even thought of it like-.”

“-Sure, you didn’t.” You interrupted. “But I got a friend in town, so I can always go and get you stuff. What do you want?”

He took his time thinking; so much time you were tempted to wake Mary up and beg her to let you sleep in her room (you knew she would've let you, but you didn't want to disturb her. You also never questioned your father why he didn't initially have you sleep in Mary's room; more than likely just to give her her own space). Finally, he answered.

“Chocolate and cigarettes.” The look you gave him would’ve made you laugh if you could see it. It only made him scrunch his eyes. “What?"

“That’s it?”

“I'm running out of both, big deal." He scoffed. "Am I allowed to change my mind after each time you pay me? Besides, when will you?”

You shrugged. “I can’t go out every day. I’ll see if he’ll let me the day after tomorrow, so I can stock up then. How about…every three days you wake me up, that’s when I give you stuff. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Holding out your hand, you were surprised he shook it right away. You looked him dead in the eyes when you said. “If any of them try to do anything to me while I sleep, I’m using their own pillow to suffocate them; that goes for you too, clear?”

“Crystal.” He drew his hand away. “I won’t say anything either.”

You nodded in thanks, standing up. Before you could tiptoe to the other room, you looked back at him. “Wake me up at six-thirty; he’ll wake you all up at seven.”

When you turned your back again, he asked in an unsettled fashion. “How?”

You knew that he hated the light flooding the room for a different reason now; to see your smile of mischief before you left.

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

 .

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

 .

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Linkrot

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

Here's an underrated cognitive virtue: "object permanence" – that is, remembering how you perceived something previously. As Riley Quinn often reminds us, the left is the ideology of object permanence – to be a leftist is to hate and mistrust the CIA even when they're tormenting Trump for a brief instant, or to remember that it was once possible for a working person to support their family with their wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

The thing is, object permanence is hard. Life comes at you quickly. It's very hard to remember facts, and the order in which those facts arrived – it's even harder to remember how you felt about those facts in the moment.

This is where blogging comes in – for me, at least. Back in 1997, Scott Edelman – editor of Science Fiction Age – asked me to take over the back page of the magazine by writing up ten links of interest for the nascent web. I wrote that column until the spring of 2000, then, in early 2001, Mark Frauenfelder asked me to guest-edit Boing Boing, whereupon the tempo of my web-logging went daily. I kept that up on Boing Boing for more than 19 years, writing about 54,000 posts. In February, 2020, I started Pluralistic.net, my solo project, a kind of blog/newsletter, and in the four-plus years since, I've written about 1,200 editions containing between one and twelve posts each.

This gigantic corpus of everything I ever considered to be noteworthy is immensely valuable to me. The act of taking notes in public is a powerful discipline: rather than jotting cryptic notes to myself in a commonplace book, I publish those notes for strangers. This imposes a rigor on the note-taking that makes those notes far more useful to me in years to come.

Better still: public note-taking is powerfully mnemonic. The things I've taken notes on form a kind of supersaturated solution of story ideas, essay ideas, speech ideas, and more, and periodically two or more of these fragments will glom together, nucleate, and a fully-formed work will crystallize out of the solution.

Then, the fact that all these fragments are also database entries – contained in the back-end of a WordPress installation that I can run complex queries on – comes into play, letting me swiftly and reliably confirm my memories of these long-gone phenomena. Inevitably, these queries turn up material that I've totally forgotten, and these make the result even richer, like adding homemade stock to a stew to bring out a rich and complicated flavor. Better still, many of these posts have been annotated by readers with supplemental materials or vigorous objections.

I call this all "The Memex Method" and it lets me write a lot (I wrote nine books during lockdown, as I used work to distract me from anxiety – something I stumbled into through a lifetime of chronic pain management):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Back in 2013, I started a new daily Boing Boing feature: "This Day In Blogging History," wherein I would look at the archive of posts for that day one, five and ten years previously:

https://boingboing.net/2013/06/24/this-day-in-blogging-history.html

With Pluralistic, I turned this into a daily newsletter feature, now stretching back to twenty, fifteen, ten, five and one year ago. Here's today's:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#retro

This is a tremendous adjunct to the Memex Method. It's a structured way to review everything I've ever thought about, in five-year increments, every single day. I liken this to working dough, where there's stuff at the edges getting dried out and crumbly, and so your fold it all back into the middle. All these old fragments naturally slip out of your thoughts and understanding, but you can revive their centrality by briefly paying attention to them for a few minutes every day.

This structured daily review is a wonderful way to maintain object permanence, reviewing your attitudes and beliefs over time. It's also a way to understand the long-forgotten origins of issues that are central to you today. Yesterday, I was reminded that I started thinking about automotive Right to Repair 15 years ago:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/05/right-repair-law-pro

Given that we're still fighting over this, that's some important perspective, a reminder of the likely timescales involved in more recent issues where I feel like little progress is being made.

Remember when we all got pissed off because the mustache-twirling evil CEO of Warners, David Zaslav, was shredding highly anticipated TV shows and movies prior to their release to get a tax-credit? Turns out that we started getting angry about this stuff twenty years ago, when Michael Eisner did it to Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 911":

https://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/05/us/disney-is-blocking-distribution-of-film-that-criticizes-bush.html

It's not just object permanence: this daily spelunk through my old records is also a way to continuously and methodically sound the web for linkrot: when old links go bad. Over the past five years, I've noticed a very sharp increase in linkrot, and even worse, in the odious practice of spammers taking over my dead friends' former blogs and turning them into AI spam-farms:

https://www.wired.com/story/confessions-of-an-ai-clickbait-kingpin/

The good people at the Pew Research Center have just released a careful, quantitative study of linkrot that confirms – and exceeds – my worst suspicions about the decay of the web:

https://www.pewresearch.org/data-labs/2024/05/17/when-online-content-disappears/

The headline finding from "When Online Content Disappears" is that 38% of the web of 2013 is gone today. Wikipedia references are especially hard-hit, with 23% of news links missing and 21% of government websites gone. The majority of Wikipedia entries have at least one broken link in their reference sections. Twitter is another industrial-scale oubliette: a fifth of English tweets disappear within a matter of months; for Turkish and Arabic tweets, it's 40%.

Thankfully, someone has plugged the web's memory-hole. Since 2001, the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine has allowed web users to see captures of web-pages, tracking their changes over time. I was at the Wayback Machine's launch party, and right away, I could see its value. Today, I make extensive use of Wayback Machine captures for my "This Day In History" posts, and when I find dead links on the web.

The Wayback Machine went public in 2001, but Archive founder Brewster Kahle started scraping the web in 1996. Today's post graphic – a modified Yahoo homepage from October 17, 1996 – is the oldest Yahoo capture on the Wayback Machine:

https://web.archive.org/web/19960501000000*/yahoo.com

Remember that the next time someone tells you that we must stamp out web-scraping for one reason or another. There are plenty of ugly ways to use scraping (looking at you, Clearview AI) that we should ban, but scraping itself is very good:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

And so is the Internet Archive, which makes the legal threats it faces today all the more frightening. Lawsuits brought by the Big Five publishers and Big Three labels will, if successful, snuff out the Internet Archive altogether, and with it, the Wayback Machine – the only record we have of our ephemeral internet:

https://blog.archive.org/2024/04/19/internet-archive-stands-firm-on-library-digital-rights-in-final-brief-of-hachette-v-internet-archive-lawsuit/

Libraries burn. The Internet Archive may seem like a sturdy and eternal repository for our collective object permanence about the internet, but it is very fragile, and could disappear like that.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#pew-pew-pew

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

The Green Prince | Bluebeard!Aemond x Wife!Reader

-Based on the Fairytale 'Bluebeard'- Halloween Special!

Summary: Six wives before her mysteriously disappeared, and someone in Dragonstone calls for her once her new husband entrusts her with his master key | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: dub-con, arranged marriage, victorian england setting, era-typical sexism, murder, uxoricide, blood, toxic behaviour, apparitions/ghosts, manipulation, threats of violence

She's heard only tales of Aemond Targaryen.

The Green Prince of Dragonstone. A wealthy gentleman who often stayed within the confines of his estate.

When she abandoned the frills and wide smiles of girlhood, thrust into the pomp and practice of womanhood, that is when the stories began.

She had never seen him. And she began to believe, that the people around her who spoke of him never had either.

They were of a decent background, her and her family. Not overwhelmingly rich. But well-off is what her father always said.

Enough to employ a small army of servants.

Enough to never have to worry about the troubles of daily life that so often would hinder an everyday individual.

She doubted Aemond Targaryen ever had to worry about that either.

One fact that simply could not be frayed, was that he was royalty.

Only in the sense that he was utterly untouchable.

He had this elegance about him, they would say, a sort of curious exoticisim from the way his long, silver hair would drift down his back, to the way his inhuman purple eyes would glimmer, half lidded and looking straight ahead, as if he were piercing a knife through the individual with his gaze alone.

Though they were technically neighbours, she saw very little life pass through the iron gates of Dragonstone. His estate so vast, that by foot, she would have to commit a whole hour to simply brush by the border of what she deemed was a forbidden land.

There seemed an aura of darkness over it, that she could not quite comprehend. But one that intrigued her all the same.

Last year, at the same time as now, she had been considered a child. No better for company than being banished upstairs to dwindle about her books and writings, out of the way of adults and their serious business affairs.

What had really changed in 12 months, that they now considered her a woman?

She felt age had little to do with it.

She felt that she had been grown in her mind for some time, and had actually changed very little from the age of three and ten.

But now, at the tender age of nine and ten, there was still a girlish nature about her face. A brightness to her eyes, and a plumpness about her cheeks. One that her mother had once commented that men would find appealing in a wife.

And so here she was.

Dressed in her finery, a glass of wine in a crystal glass delicately placed in one hand, she stood beside her eldest brother, who had torn himself rather blatantly from a woman he himself was courting in favour of supporting his sweet, youngest sister.

"Do not, for the love of our mother, allow yourself to be approached by Mr Gardner. He has had five servants in as many months. I am sure you can understand why", her brother mused with a contented chuckle.

She did not know why. Nobody had told her plainly.

Sometimes she wished people would just be honest with her. And not assumed she knew the inner workings of people's minds, after years of being shut away upstairs by her parents and brother alike.

The foyer and adjoining rooms alike were filled with people, all pretending to make pleasantries with each other. And as the night dragged on, several well known bachelor's having tried their hand at impressing her, she found her glass of wine was not as endless as she thought.

When a servant had spotted her, appearing at her side to refill her glass, she had turned her body sideways and locked eyes, finally, with him.

The one people affectionately named, The Green Prince.

Like most of the men tonight, he was dressed in a suit with a long overcoat that covered his dark green waistcoat. So dark were the colours of his outfit, that they almost appeared black, like the rest of it.

His hair was loose, with a few strands falling to the front over his shoulders, and as her eyes trailed up to his pale collar, where a tie was loosely wrapped about his neck, she saw that when she met his gaze, he was already looking at her.

He held his glass in a manner most unbecoming. Hanging at his side, his long fingers grasping the edges so delicately, she was sure for a moment it was floating in his hold.

His finger, she noticed, tapped idly at the side of the room, as if deep in thought as he looked upon her.

She saw his gaze drop to her outfit, one that her mother had chosen for her. A red, almost burnt tea coloured dress, with very little flounce and fancy to it. The collar hung delicately at her shoulders, the bodice tight and the only detail of any colour was in the stitching of her skirt, which he noted was a shimmering gold.

When he lifted his eyes, he took a sip from his glass, still almost filled to the top, his burning lilac gaze hovering over the brim. She sucked in a breath, her own eyes flitting over his face. And to the patch that covered the left eye.

She didn't know why her chest felt tight, and why she hoped suddenly for the appearance of her brother. Or her father perhaps. He was staring at her so unabashedly, that for an unmarried woman such as herself, she would be looked upon with immense judgement if she were found to be staring back at him in the same manner.

Knowing his gaze was burning at the back of her head, perhaps tracing the intricate pattern of braids her hair had been styled in, she decided to ignore him, until he had the decency to approach and introduce himself to her properly.

As any good gentleman would.

She meandered through the menagerie of figures, careful to keep her wine close to her so that she wouldn't repeat the same embarrassment as last year when she spilled the entire glass down Mr Bray, whose wife near lost her voice with incessant shouting.

Her father, ever cheerful, as rich men so often are, materialised at her side, grasping her elbow and tugged his daughter close to him. His breath smelled like red wine as he whispered to her.

"It appears you have captured the special attention of Mr Targaryen, daughter"

Her father chuckled when her wide, terrified and yet curious eyes met his.

How could she have captured his attention, when she had done nothing at all? She thought.

She did not yet know, the charms that the appearance of a female body could offer. And how it could transform a respectable man from a pillar of society, to a hungry, lustful beast at a moment's notice.

"I shall introduce you to him" her father insisted, leading her along at his side, despite her quiet protests.

"But father-"

"Hush now. Remember your manners".

His tone of voice was enough.

She had not experienced it as a mere female. But she had seen first hand what her father did to her brother when he disobeyed. Finding a sort of punishment worthy at the end of his cane as it cracked against her brother's palm.

Her brother still wore gloves often. That was his shield.

She had yet to find her own.

Perhaps hers was in her mind, she thought. That she might be able to protect herself with her ideas and opinions, twisting the minds of men, as her elder sister had said once, to suit the needs of the women they owned.

She often had to remind herself, she was property. And could easily be bought and sold, and kicked to the roadside if she had done something to mar her family name.

She was thrust into a sort of social assassination once again once stood before the famed Mr Targaryen, who nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.

"My Targaryen. What an honour it is to have you here. Please might introduce my daughter"

He bent somewhat at the hip, his hand moving to grasp hers, the skin soft and feminine.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss"

His voice was like the purr of a cat. And though terrifyingly intriguing, she couldn't find it in herself to look away.

"And to you, Sir. Many thanks for the invitation" Aemond turned towards her father, giving another barely existent nod of his head, his expression flat and almost bored.

"It is no problem at all, Mr Targaryen. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your wife"

Late wife?

She felt rude to ask, so said nothing.

Aemond seemed to understand her curiosity, and gave a light smirk in her direction, though she was on his blind side.

"Thank you, Sir. It was a great tragedy indeed"

"Indeed" her father repeated, leaning forward as if to emphasise the size of his empathy for him, "I understand she was quite distressed for some time, was she not?"

She almost passed her father a warning glance. Thinking it rather rude for him to say such things about his late wife. Whether she may have been mad or not.

But Aemond merely nodded.

"Indeed. I am afraid, however, it was an inevitable accident"

Accident.

She of course, remembered hearing the gossip, and hearing her father read the newspaper every morning. An update about the mad Alys Rivers at the top of the page every time.

Alys Rivers, the Lady of Dragonstone, found dead in God's Eye Lake. A wound to the neck spells suicide.

A wound to the neck was a kind description.

Her pale skin was said to be slashed open on one side, everything visible within. And once the water had got to her, she was swollen, pale and blue, completely drained of blood. Almost entirely unrecognisable.

It was just as well she had no family. They would not have wished to see how she met her end.

The article found it necessary to articulate, that her body had been returned to her husband.

Across the room, another gentleman called for her father, and she felt the hot whips of panic at the back of her neck at the thought of being left alone with Aemond.

"Do excuse me" her father said quickly, disappearing into the sea of black and grey.

She herself turned back to Aemond, not wanting to be rude, and tapped her fingernails on the crystal glass nervously.

"I am very sorry to hear about your wife"

Aemond hummed, one of his hands behind his back like he had a secret.

"Thank you, Miss"

There was a long period of silence between them. And for a while, she wondered if she should be the one to break it.

Aemond laughed lowly, leaning down to her face as he caught something interesting in his sights.

"See your brother?" He murmured. And her face turned as well, not realising at first how close their faces were, but she could not very well pull away without offending him.

All the same, he smelled of sandalwood.

Her eyes followed his, to her brother on the other side of the room, where he was thoroughly embarrassing himself by laughing too widely with the woman he had been courting for several months.

"He is awfully close to that woman, is he not?"

She swallowed, raising her chin to appear more confident as she spoke, "She is to be his intended. It is only natural they speak freely with one another" she reasoned.

Aemond did not move away, his shoulder brushing against her side. It made her shudder.

"He is certainly doing something freely" Aemond hummed deep in his chest, a tone which sent a dull ache through her body.

Her brother leaned in close to the woman. And she watched her blush and throw her head back with a demure laugh, her brother leaning close to run his nose along her neck, grinning against her skin.

It felt forbidden to watch them be so close.

And yet he was so brazen about it.

"She seems to be enjoying herself, at least"

She couldn't find it in herself to reply.

For the woman did appear as if she was enjoying herself. And briefly, stood beside Aemond, his breath softly batting against her neck, she wondered herself, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her. Sneaking into her mind like a whisper, as if he were being a locked door, and was peering through the keyhole to uncover her darkest thoughts and desires.

Her brother leaned towards his intended, planting a kiss to the column of her neck. And she felt herself parting her lips as the other woman had, not only at the shameless behaviour of her brother, so consumed in wine that he felt no need to appear reasonable in front of other people, but also because she felt Aemond’s slender fingers at her forearm.

It was not at all like the way her father had pulled her to him, in ownership.

Aemond tugged her towards him in a sort of longing, his nose pressing into the plaits of her hair.

“I am going to ask your father for your hand” he whispered, “and he will say yes. And you shall be mine”.

She listened with her fingers wrapped around the wooden pillars of the staircase as her brother shouted obscenity after obscenity at her father. Every now and then her mother would insert her little, sweet voice that was inevitably crushed by the low boom of the two males in the room.

With her gaze planted firmly in her lap, tracing the patterns of the lace of her nightgown as she listened, she thought with a sort of sadness that the offer of marriage should be a joyous and happy occasion. And now in her household, the prospect of her being tied to the Green Prince himself was so offensive to her brother, that he felt the need to fight on her behalf.

Perhaps knowing his sweet sister had no choice in the matter.

“He is barely half a decade older than her and has had six wives in as many years, father!” he boomed, and she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the furniture that he was pacing and throwing his arms around.

“To give her away to that brute. It is unthinkable!”

“Be quiet!” her father roared back, “the wedding will go ahead as planned. We will not get a better offer than this!”

While she was happy, that her brother was trying to stick up for her, it was no use. He nor her had a choice in the matter.

Her father had said it himself.

We will not get a better offer.

Not she.

She was property. Something to be sold and given in exchange for goods or reputation. What she wanted, was of no consequence.

And she couldn’t help but think of her mother, several decades younger than her father, and how she must have felt at her tender age when confronted with the prospect of marrying a man much older than she.

In a way, she felt connected to her mother in that way. But also in a way that she resented her, for dressing her up, plaiting her hair and pushing her out into the rich man’s world, ripe and ready for the taking.

Passing her the torch of a woman’s anguish.

The wedding felt clinical. More akin to a funeral than a union of two people. 

Her brother stares dagger into the back of her intended for the entire ceremony. All while her mother cried softly into her handkerchief and her father sat, stoic and silent, his chubby fingers caressing the sculpted ornament on the top of his cane.

She remembered his hands as they were bought together and the officiator had placed a sort of sacred cloth over them as he muttered his prayers. Binding them lawfully and before the eyes of God, for their whole lives.

His hands were large, his palms completely dwarfing hers and his long fingers wrapping around hers like tight vines. And at that moment, she had never felt so small in her life.

And noticed that his side of the wedding chapel, where his family members were supposed to sit and witness their union, was completely empty.

Six wives in as many years.

That is what her brother had said.

She knew Aemond had been married multiple times prior to her, but was her brother merely exaggerating?

In contrast to his hands, where the blood swam warmly through his limbs, his lips where the officiant asked them to seal their union with a kiss, were cold, and not forthcoming. As if he had not asked her father for her hand in marriage, but that this entire affair was so useless and merely for looks, that he’d rather be somewhere else.

That said. She could not escape the intensity of his gaze.

He seemed to focus solely on her, much to her discomfort, to the point where it seemed like he was not listening to a single prayer or hymn that was uttered in the chapel all afternoon. And though her eyes were elsewhere, to try and place the feeling that bubbled in her chest somewhere else, she often found his lilac eye drifting to the details of her necklace, to face, and pausing where she wet her lips nervously.

If he hadn’t possessed such a domineering, strong presence, she thought he would be devilishly handsome.

Perhaps a fact he already knew.

It was unlike her family to have celebrations, so they didn’t.

She gave each of the servants, some who she knew for most of her life a final embrace, thanking them for their hospitality and care where she did not receive it from her parents. And as her luggage was packed meaningfully in the back of Mr Targaryen’s carriage, with two large horses at the front, she gave her brother a tight embrace as well. Inhaling and savouring the musty smell of tobacco on his coat.

He looked saddened, but for the sake of appearances, forced a smile onto his face.

“Good luck, dear sister. Remember you may write to me, even though you are a married woman” he smiled, teasing her softly with a nudge to her shoulder.

She gave a softer hug to her mother, who usually was not keen to shower her with affection. But she supposed, she was the youngest daughter, so it was only natural.

Her father, after having busied himself in an idle chattering session with Aemond, merely tipped his hat, and did not shed one bit of emotion as she climbed into the carriage before her husband. Aemond's hand helped her up the step, watching as she disappeared inside.

The smell of his sandalwood perfumes on his coat was stronger as he sat beside her on the cushion, instructing the handsome, olive-skinned driver to move forward and away from her home.

She only waved to her brother. And watched as he had wet eyes, stepping forward a few paces like he was about to break into a run after her.

The carriage was much nicer than anything she'd seen in her young life, and though they were for all intents and purposes, considered neighbours, it was still a half hour ride to his estate.

Dragonstone.

Her skin prickled at the mere thought of it.

She'd never seen it before. Nor had any of her family.

All she knew was that it was often clouded in fog, that when you stood at the front gates you could barely see the arching towards and dark brick in the distance anyway.

All she had heard was what people said.

That it was a frightful, maze of a place. With winding corridors and crooked doorways, and barely any servants.

He was a rich man, why not employ more?

He did not say a word the entire way home. He only sat, cross legged, and fiddle with his fingers like he was nervous. Turning them over in micro-movements.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

As Dragonstone came into view once they crossed the boundary of the iron gates, she felt her breath taken away.

And it was only when Aemond assisted her with a hand as she stepped down from the carriage that she could really appreciate the sheer size of his estate.

It was so big it was beyond comprehension.

She briefly wondered if she would get lost in such a place.

"Cole will bring your things to our room"

Her heart started to flutter, and pitter patter all at the same time.

Our room.

She had almost forgotten her one wifely duty she was to fulfil this evening.

To appease him.

The thought made a sort of tightness in her belly, though she was unsure why. Of course, her elder sister had divulged her own horror story of her wedding night. Though her sister was twenty and she herself only five and ten at the time, the nitty gritty was of great curiosity to her.

"For several hours the poor thing just cried and it rather spoiled the mood. Turned out that he had…pleased himself the morning of the wedding so as not to become too excited when the evening rolled around.

Oh well, no matter. Instead, when he had a rather excited visitor the next morning he crawled atop me and breathed heavily into my neck while he tried to get it inside me. 'Twas over in an instant dear sister and I did not feel a thing".

Though the anecdote was funny, although awkward seeing as she sat next to her brother-in-law the next morning and tried not to giggle, right now, it did little to quell the gnawing inside her.

Aemond did not seem as quiet and unsure of himself as her brother-in-law was. She doubted a man of his standing would have any issue fulfilling his role as a husband.

As he had done, six times before.

Which triggered yet another question.

Why no children? Surely all six of his previous wives could not have been barren?

Did they commit suicide? Ashamed of themselves for failing to fulfil this task? Were they all mere accidents? Or did someone break in at night to steal his plethora of fine jewels and artefacts and run into one of his unfortunate wives along the way?

It seemed entirely impossible.

She watched Aemond walk confidently to the front doors, where a couple of servants stood to greet the new Lady of Dragonstone. His coat fluttered around his thighs as he turned, the ends of his silver hair hung like they were floating.

"Wife. May I introduce you to the staff. Anything you so wish, please do not hesitate to ask them"

The two servants stood, hands clasped, looking entirely scared stiff. One was a middle aged man with an apron dirtied at the edges, and the other a maid, barely five and twenty, who offered her a polite curtsy.

She simply smiled at them, "a pleasure".

They said nothing.

There was something melancholic. Ancient. And crushing about Dragonstone.

She felt the weight on her shoulders the moment she passed those gates. Did they feel it too?

Did Aemond?

This was the only moment he seemed to smile, as miniscule as it was with a darkened gaze, was when he turned to look at his new wife and nodded.

"If you will forgive me, I have some business to attend to. I will see you tonight for supper"

His expression never wavered, even as he bent at the middle to press his lips to her hand, above the ring he had placed on her finger not a few hours before.

The servants quickly scuttled out of her sight and so she thought to amuse herself by exploring her new home. Out of habit, she started upstairs, going straight to her bedroom to inspect.

There was a large four poster bed made of what appeared to be walnut in the middle of the room, with various ornaments strewn about, but very little to suggest that he actually relaxed in here.

There were no mementos, keepsakes, and she thought briefly she couldn't get a grasp on his personality this way either.

She blushed and felt that tightness again at the thought of sharing a bed with him, of what they might have to do.

The rest of the house was indicative of the first room she ventured to. Lacking a certain personality she was sure existed in her new husband but one he refused to show.

The estate was cold and empty, with flagstone floors stretching along the long dark hallways.

There were so many doors it was difficult to know what on earth could be behind all of them. She'd so far discovered the Library, the Dining Room and even happened upon the scullery rather by accident.

And then, one room…

It had a oxblood red door, worn around the edges and the colour faded somewhat. She noted the scuff marks around the handle and the hinges, as well as the stone beneath the door where overtime, footsteps had worn it down.

So she was doubly surprised to find the door locked.

Curious.

Her skin prickled, and she was sure for a moment that she saw her own misty breath. Like that feeling that someone is watching you but you are too afraid to move an inch. The tips of her fingers suddenly felt numb.

She felt it on her neck, an iciness.

But when she turned, her breath stuck in her chest from panic, she could only see nothing but the empty corridor.

And all was silent.

There was a heaviness in her chest which seemed to pass through her like trying to walk through honey, trying to pull your feet up just an inch to step forward.

And as quickly as that feeling came, it was gone and she turned back in panic once she heard soft, careful footsteps behind the oxblood door.

She clenched and unclenched her fists in fear, trying to reason with herself.

Undeniable footsteps, ones that had started at the threshold and we're now walking slowly away from her.

The blood rushed warmly back into her fingertips, and she rubbed them painfully against her navy dress, trying to will a feeling back into them.

Footsteps…

She only heard her own as she hurried down the corridor again, her shoes clocking against the flagstone.

So desperate to get away from that heavy, morbid feeling that she nearly hurtled right into the young maid.

"My Lady!"

"I do apologise" she uttered immediately, her chest pushing against her bodice with her hurried breath, "I was not looking where I was going".

The maid curtsied, as if she'd forgotten to and straightened, "Supper is to be served, my Lady. May I-"

"What is that room? Down the hall?" She asked.

The maid raised her eyebrows, "Which one, my Lady?"

She turned her head down the hallway once again to point to the one she meant, and her words died on her lips.

The door moved.

It was unmistakable.

The shadow where the door was leant ajar quickly disappeared, and the frame was filled once more by the large wooden slat against it.

There was no click of a lock to be heard.

She was so afraid she lost herself for a moment. Going all pale. So much so the maid had to prompt her.

"My Lady?"

She shook her head, looking back to see if the door would move again, and drift open as it had before.

But it never did.

And the thought that as she was running away before, the door was slowly inching open, scared her beyond belief.

"It's nothing, I apologise" she said quickly, "Supper, thank you".

There was nothing of note for the rest of the evening.

Supper was quiet. And the table was so long with husband and wife sat at either end, that they may as well have been in separate rooms while they ate.

It was nice enough food she was grateful for that. A selection of soups and meats, and breads to fill her belly between courses.

He did not speak.

He barely moved any other muscle than his arm to fork the meat into his mouth. She watched him every now and then, over the barely dancing flame of the candelabra, otherwise the room would be completely dark.

So she drank her wine, and stayed silent. Waiting to be spoken to.

The only thing he said was right at the end.

"Shall we retire for bed, wife?"

And she could not very well say no.

She made brief eye contact with the maid as she followed her husband to the grand staircase, each step feeling heavier and more nerve-wracking than the last.

Her husband was tall, broad and she had no doubt be enjoyed the domineering aura he gave off. Judging by the dark colours of his waistcoat and trousers, as well as the leather eyepatch over one eye, he enjoyed inhabiting darkness.

She thought with some amusement that the only bright things about him were his hair and eyes.

Things he could not change.

He was certainly a marvel of a man. And truthfully, she should count herself lucky that he is at least somewhat close to her in age.

Aemond closed the door softly once they were both inside. The curtains were now drawn, and the room was filled with an amber glow from the candles the maid had lit for them.

She needn't ask him for help, for her new husband immediately stood behind her, and began to unlace her dress as if they had been married an age.

His movements were so sure. And she felt with jealousy of some kind that he had done this with six other women before her.

No wonder he was practiced.

There was no room for romance when to him, it was all just a matter of duty.

She stood only in her chemise, having pulled her hair free of her braids, feeling his gaze the entire time.

"Are you intent on remaining silent, wife?" He asked, and she heard him pull off his waistcoat with every pop of his buttons.

"Or might you become more vocal in the marriage bed?"

She felt her cheeks flush and thickness in her throat. Inadvertently pressing her legs together where a sort of excitement was blooming.

"I could not say…" she answered.

And chuckled lowly, pressing his front to her back, dragging his nose up the side of her neck, just as she had seen before.

She felt something hard press against her backside, his hips pushing it against her and moving softly, creating just a tiny bit of friction.

"Tell me" he muttered, his lips tickling her ear, "tell me what a good wife does"

She was suddenly nervous, thinking about what other people had told her.

And it was increasingly difficult to think, with his large hands pulling her chemise off her body.

"A good wife…is loyal to her husband" she recited, her breath coming in short pants, "she is…loving"

He blew air from his nose, like he was amused.

"..and she is obedient"

"That's it"

Aemond peeled the chemise off her, letting it drift to the floor.

"A good wife makes herself available to her husband"

She gasped and he revelled in it, as he pushed her newly naked body onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress and watching as her husband bared himself one button at a time.

"Of course. There a many other wifely duties" he grinned.

His fingers moved to his trousers.

"But for now, I only care about this one".

Being touched all over was strange. There was a dull ache in her core when her husband touched certain areas, a feeling that she didn't recognise.

Her confused and somewhat distressed face at the whole ordeal was endearing to him.

Her young, plump face looked up at him with gleaming eyes and shame arched in her eyebrows.

It hurt. Not as greatly as she thought. But it still did.

"Close your eyes. It will be over soon"

She did as he said, turning her face away. But it was not over soon.

His member throbbed inside her, and she thought she'd never felt more full in her life. Since closing her eyes, she could not see the way his hair began to tangle around him, as his hips chased hers and came against hers with a soft smack.

The pain gave way to another feeling still.

That same ache she felt when he'd touched her.

Aemond smirked when he saw the confused, ashamed expression on her face. At the way she pressed her lips together.

"I think you are enjoying this" he murmured lowly, pushing harder into her like he was intent in piercing her stomach, "if I did not know any better, you would almost be moaning".

She didn't want it to feel good.

Or did she.

It felt wrong.

And yet she couldn't deny when he raised her thighs, his fingers wrapped into her flesh, it did feel good.

"Look at me" he whispered, never stopping, "Look at your husband, who is giving you pleasure"

Some excitement sparked inside him, when she didn't do as he asked, her warm embarrassed face pressed into the sheets as much as she could. Her eyes closed.

He laughed when she refused.

"Yes - you feel it, do you not? No need to act all coy. I can feel your body's response"

Shame crept into her body, her limbs going all tight just as he'd said. Feeling herself hit that irreplaceable point, she simply whimpered and felt his length throb once more before he spilled inside of her, releasing all he had to give.

She thought with lewdness, that his spend was warm inside her.

Aemond seemed to take great pleasure in making his wife shrink into herself with embarrassment and shame every time they coupled. He loved that doe eyed look she gave him, as if he did not have his cock buried between her legs every night he could since the wedding.

He would have her any way. Fully clothed if the moment presented itself.

There was something erotic about taking something that looked so innocent and filling her with his spend. How she would act all coy, with it dripping down her thighs.

He delighted in the fact that he had managed to kidnap this sweet young thing, and use her for himself and his pleasure any moment he was able. And the month that passed since the wedding, he could not think of a time that was sweeter.

So it was with great irritation that he was called to King's Landing. Some business with his brother that apparently couldn't wait.

He did not want to leave her.

He spoke firmly, stood before the oxblood door in his travel wear.

"While I am away, you must not enter this room. Do you understand?"

When she nodded without asking why, he smiled in pride and placed the master key in her small palm. Entrusting that she would do as she had promised in his absence.

He thought he'd reward her when he returned, by fucking her in the comfort of their bed sheets, until she was pink in the faxe and begging him to stop. Just as he liked her to be.

As soon as her husband left, she felt even more that she was being watched. All the little hairs on the back of her neck pointed upwards.

The maid kept clear of her, which was nothing unusual. But it was almost as if she was escaping rooms before she herself knew why. As if she knew what invaded the invisible space within them as soon as her back was turned.

Did she hear the voices too? See the dark figures and closing doors?

Anytime she passed the long dark hallway to the oxblood door, she felt her curiosity grow tenfold. But also a sense of dread, heavy in her gut, tugging her back to this wretched place.

What could be behind the door, that her husband wished not for her to see?

In the Library, the fire crackled comfortably as she turned the faded pages of her book. The maid busied herself collecting the dirtied saucers and teacups beside her, humming to herself gently.

The air suddenly went cold around her neck, and a breeze passed, evident by the dangling of her earrings. It was not only her imagination.

"A golden key. Oxblood door. Give the six souls rest, sweet child"

She looked up at the maid, "I am sorry, did you say something?"

The maid straightened and shook her head quickly, eyebrows arched in confusion, "No, my Lady"

Why did the maid always flee like that? Like someone was chasing her? With their claws at her back like an animal in the forest?

The key was ornate, with winding patterns and several notches at the top. And when she held it in her small palm, it felt hot to the touch like an iron rod.

Aemond would punish her.

How? She did not know.

She slotted the key into the door, without the energy to turn it. And her limbs felt heavy, and her knuckles cold, like someone was pushing on it. Forcing her will.

"That's right. Insert the key into the keyhole, and turn…"

A voice echoed off the stone.

A low, sweet, mature voice.

Click.

The oxblood door gave way to light, torches lit at every corner, illuminating the oxblood colour of the floor before her.

A step down.

The floor rippled like liquid.

"Our souls…"

Her shoe was slick with something oily that clung to the suede. Irreparably staining them.

Her skin prickled. Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat.

Six torch-lit figures reflected in the blood on the flagstone floor.

Hung, wrists bound over their head. White skulls in various stages of deterioration, with strings of what was once luscious hair drifting past their bony shoulders.

She saw with dread, they were still wearing dresses that hung off their ivory skeletons.

She was sure she collapsed with grief, a scream echoing around her that did not feel like her own. The only sound she registered was the clanging of the key as she dropped it in shock, blood of Aemond's ex-wives enveloping the brass.

Her throat felt sore.

She watched their empty eye sockets. The dust over their bound hands and their feet as they dangled inches off the floor.

Breath hot in her lungs like she was clinging to life as she knew it, she scrambled for the key and pulled the door shut behind her with a mighty boom.

Darkness crawled up her skin, now that she knew what was behind it.

Was this her fate?

If she displeased him, would she be their successor?

She was sat, with head in hand, in a state of complete distress with sweat on her brow and neck as Aemond returned.

She had paced the room for hours she felt, wringing her hands, as if to find what she might say to him on his arrival. He'd see it on her face.

He would know she had seen the corpses of his precious wives on her soft, innocent features. Scarred forever by death.

His tall, broad form filled the doorframe. And he dropped his coat onto the bed with a tired huff, but said nothing.

She almost wished he would say something. To spare her this horrible anticipation.

But she watched as he took two careful steps in. His one eye flitting over to the key he'd left her on the bureau.

The blood had not lifted from the brass. She could not wash it. No matter how much time she committed to it, it would not become clean.

Her husband looked back at her like she was something to eat, his eye half open with only half his iris visible.

She sobbed and cried when he advanced and held her to the wall by her neck with ease, slamming her small body against it.

"You thought you would get away without punishment, hm?"

She sobbed like a child, her tears wetting her cheeks and neck, to his fingers. Her own tried to pry his away, feeling that he was hurting her effortlessly with his grip around her throat.

"Please…husband…"

He could have laughed.

"Now is no time for begging. Tell me, how should I punish you, wife?, he grinned widely, his tone low and condescending as he spoke to the small woman before him.

"Please…you may do as you like with me - just first, let me pray-" she begged with a hoarse, tired voice. Never feeling that she could be scared of him in this way.

He pulled his head away, looking down at her past his nose, his lips tight.

She felt his grip loosen, but the places where his fingers had been were sore and red.

"I shall do as I please. But since you asked so nicely to pray. I shall let you"

She felt herself breathing like she was swallowing fire a she stepped out the door, allowing her privacy to pray before he inevitably drove a dagger through her, or something of the like.

She rushed to the master key and locked the door with a quick slam and click, locking her husband out and flinching when his palms pushed with urgency on the other side. Rapping on the wood like an animal who couldn't see their prey.

She had no intention of praying.

"Open this door! Now!"

Her eyes scanned the room anxiously and with urgency. She felt her fingers shaking as he pushed the window open, looking down at the great height she would have to jump to escape him.

A sure death.

She clambered over the bureau, her knees knocking painfully on the wood as she advanced in a panicked state towards the ledge.

Her brother.

If she could just escape to him.

He would save her.

A clang of metal rattled against the floor as her husband, as strong as she was, sent the door flinging off the hinges. His large arms wrapped around her waist as she writhed, fearing her life. Expecting a blade to her neck. Or perhaps to be dragged to the oxblood door, to never return.

"Husband - please - have mercy-"

"It is too late for 'please'. It is time for you to feel the consequence of your actions"

She struggled so much, he tackled her to the floor, holding both her forearms behind her back in one hand, pushing her front to the cold stone floor, her warm cheek moulding to the pattern of it.

"I beg you - have mercy and kill me quickly-"

Her tears wet her face entirely, feeling his body over her back, pressing his hips into her backside, letting her feel his wrath.

"Mercy?" He chuckled darkly, "why would I show the likes of you mercy?"

"You who I have treated with care and respect. You who has disobeyed me"

"My Lady shall learn this lesson now"

His voice was dark and low, and it scared her more than the whisperings of the paranormal and the sight of what was behind the oxblood door.

She panicked with a warm face as he rucked up her skirts to her waist, flinching when she felt two of his thick fingers swipe across her hot centre while he continued to hold her down.

"I do not often take pleasure in teaching my wife a lesson. But, for you, I shall make an exception"

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to anger him with her whimpers and whines as she felt him slide his trousers down and rub his hot, throbbing member, ready and waiting for her, against her cunt, collecting her wetness on his length for ease of entry.

He sighed longingly, his breath tickling her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.

She choked on her breath as he slid into her, his fingers holding her hips desperately to widen her legs to accommodate him deeper inside her.

"None of them were worthy - fucking none of them -" he breathed, his breath hitching with each soft smack of his hips against her, stretching her walls to the shape and size of him and groaning at the way her hot insides parted.

"Do you wish me to give you a child, hm? None of them - fuck - none of them could give me what you do-"

She whimpered, feeling his length fill her repeatedly and bully the end of her, each blow against that rough spot inside increasingly making her shame and despair at his use of her body ebb away into a forbidden and unknown feeling.

"If you do not behave, you will not be allowed that pleasure" he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, his thrusts as well becoming sloppy and unconfident.

Her gut warmed with his length piercing her insides. And she felt as though she was missing something he was telling her in his own way. Eyebrows arched in confusion.

Even now, while he fucked her on the floor, she felt afraid for her life.

"Oh, little one, I am almost disappointed that it took so long for you to realise that I do not intend to kill you.”

Her wet eyes cracked open to turn her head in discomfort to him. Her cheek rubbing against the stone floor as he pulled her hips up to fuck her deeper.

"No. You shall give me children. Many of them if you wish to please me"

She tightened around him completely out of instinct, and Aemond groaned loudly above her, pushing his chest so hard against her back she felt she might break.

And her hands clenched into fists, absentmindedly pushing her hips back to him to chase the remnants of that sweet rapture she was sometimes awarded when coupling with him.

A sweet escape from this prison.

He laughed, when he realised that she was quite resigned to her fate.

That she, compared to his other wives, was finally worthy of giving him children. Of satiating his desire to dominate a woman so easily. How he enjoyed watching the look of shame and pleasure on her face, as she battled with herself to submit to him or not.

He slammed with a wet squelch back into her again, filling her with his warmth with a long, shuddered groan. His grip so hard around her forearm, she was sure blood did not reach her hands.

He continued to move shallowly into her, pushing his spend as deep inside her as it would go. As if, whether she wanted to or not, he would fuck his child into her and watch her grow fat and round.

And then, once she had one, would fuck yet another into her.

Her breath came fast and hot from her swollen lips as she trembled around him, unknowingly prolonging his pleasure inside her.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"No other words before I begin?"

It was difficult with her head pushed against the floor, but she nodded softly in confirmation. Relief flooding her as she saw her husband's smirk rise to his lips, both his hands dropping to her hips to tug her back onto his length.

"Then let us begin"

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( fourth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; smut (?) , dub-con , alcohol consumption , profanity

( flashback; ) Wreaths and holly plants decked the usually barren, white walls of the seventh floor office level, and soft Christmas music looped on the overhead speaker in attempts to induce a jolly spirit. Colleagues conversed, discussing plans for December break over plastic cups of spiked cider. Everyone seemed in high morale; even Gakuganji, who donned a cheaply made Santa suit, still wrinkled from its time being folded in a package. Your first ever office party was about as much as you expected–not the worst time, but certainly not the best time, either. It didn’t help that you were still technically the “newbie” despite having been a member of the company for a few months at that point. Man, it was hard to make friends in an office full of stoic suits.

You remain near a far wall, slumped against the oversized copy machine with a drink in hand. Nobody had even appreciated your dress; a modest crimson thing with white, cottony trims to mimic Old Saint Nick. Figures. You pout into your cup, knocking back a heavy swig.

“Woah-ho, you sure went all out.”

The dialogue was unexpected and you sputter on a swallow of liquor, startled. A preemptive hand pats your back, something like a mother trying to burp a newborn. You swallow your spit at last, recollect yourself, and whip your head up to follow the source of the voice that nearly killed you. There stood a man tall and spindly in his stature with the most beautifully long, goldish hair drawn back into a ponytail. He is dressed down, wearing a simple pair of dark jeans and a sweater in favor of the suits nearly everyone else sported. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on ladies,” comes your meager reply. Your free hand smooths down the skirt of your dress, and you clear your throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The man smiles apologetically. “Ah, I noticed. My bad.”

“It’s okay. Just… just don’t do it again.”

“Roger that.” He has his own drink, and you manage to catch a glimpse of it over the rim of the solo cup. It’s a dark, murky color, much more amberish than the cider that was being served. “I haven’t seen your face around before, it made me curious.”

“I secured a position here during spring.” Now that you think about it, he was unfamiliar to you as well. You would have definitely remembered that ponytail. “Are you–I mean, do you work in this building?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, they got me holed up in the Shibuya location,” he winks, leaning in. “I make it a habit to come to all the office parties, though. I can’t resist a little holiday cheer.” Two bony knuckles move to brush delicately against the trim of your dress. “I’m Haruta Shigemo, and you’re…?”

“Not interested.” 

Shigemo juts his bottom lip out. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I can’t know your name?”

Holding an index finger to your chin, you pretend to think about it. “What will you give me in return?”

A smirk worms its way onto Shigemo’s thin lips. He angles his hip toward you and pulls up the hem of his knitted sweater, gesturing to the uncanny flask half sticking out of his jeans’ pocket. “I brought good stuff,” he sings quietly, away from prying ears, and suddenly you understand the reason for his drink being a couple shades too dark. “And I’m good at sharing.”

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to accept unknown liquor from a virtual stranger, you should’ve really considered all of the possible outcomes to this situation. You’d already had a little over two cups of warmed cider, rotating on the axis between tipsy and full on drunkenness. Your foggy brain didn’t care much to think about how some of this so-called “good stuff” would only lead to an inevitable, total inebriation. Or, a less likely but just as concerning scenario, Shigemo’s flask could be chock full of poison. Either way, you were itching to turn a less-than-okay party experience into a fun one.

“Y/n L/n,” you said finally, and Shigemo looks pleased. Strategically as to not give away the secret, he stood before you and widened his shoulders to create a makeshift cover while he poured a solid few glugs from flask to your cup. Immediately, the booze reeks of something strong like industrial glass cleaner. Your nose wrinkles as the stench singes the hair from your nostrils. “Smells fucking rancid.”

“Maybe you’re just not used to top shelf liquor?” Was that a dig? You’ll show him that you’re plenty accustomed with expensive booze (you’re not. not at all).

So you drank it. The taste of piss mixed with vinegar nearly made you retch, but after your second glass and an assload of determination, it started to taste… good? Maybe this Shigemo guy wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night was a blur of silly dancing to dumb Christmas songs, ugly laughing at the horse calendars pinned to the wall, and… well, the bathroom.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your tone was breathy, a cross between giggly and pure apprehension. There in the men’s restrooms, you were perched up on the sink counter. That festive dress was slipped up around your hips by two slender, greedy hands, and a tiny waist worked between your thighs. Shigemo kissed you into silence.

“Why not?” He kisses you again, fumbling with his belt buckle. He’s nipping down your neck, whispering, “The risk is so fucking hot.”

And oh goodness, was he a man on a mission. Tearing the collar of your dress down beneath your breasts, fingering holes into your sheer stockings, stuffing a fist inside your panties… You were in no state of coherence to stop him.

Had it not been a professional obligation on his part to attend this year’s Christmas party, Nanami finds himself fantasizing about all the ways he’d much rather be spending this brisk winter evening. Probably soaking in his tub, nursing a glass of red wine and working on that book he’d been putting off thanks to the ungodly amount of work on his plate as of late. Then, he’d exercise those cooking skills he seldom had time to use and prepare a meal that had much more to offer than these feeble, sugary snacks at this party. Seriously? Cookies and cake? They were adults for goodness sake.

The floor was stuffy and claustrophobia-inducing. Everywhere he turned, Nanami was accidentally bumping somebody with his shoulder or his elbow or some other limb he lost track of. And the conversations were abysmal. Nanami has always been good with his words—he had to be in a profession like this—but Christ, talking to his zombies-for-coworkers was a worse fate than death itself. They drone on about office assignments, about deadlines and paperwork with no hint of light behind their eyes. Is that what he looks like to others? A worrisome thought, that Nanami was just as much of a slave to the corporate world as they were.

The deep train of thought is cut off before it spirals when red catches his eye. A dress red as rubies sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of blacks and blues and grays of suits. You’re dressed in a silly get up, like those Mrs. Claus actresses in the malls that take pictures with children. Y/n L/n, Nanami recalls your name. He knows you, the newest employee in the office. He’s had very few chances to speak with you, and when he did it mostly consisted of him relaying orders from Mr. Gakuganji. But even in those brief instances, Nanami saw it plain as day: you were different. The first lively fool he’d seen in a while, eyes still glinting with the prospects of optimism and naive hope for the future. Foolish indeed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. You were a breath of fresh air, but Nanami knew that it was only a matter of time before you were beaten and battered into another mindless cog in the corporation's machine.

A strange urge bloomed within the hollows of the man's chest; an urge that told him to initiate communication with you. Perhaps just a "hello" at the very least, seeing as you were his direct subordinate. It was the polite thing to do, right? Or maybe that was just a weak excuse he convinced himself of because Nanami didn't want to admit that you intrigued him in every sense of the word. You would provide an interesting back and forth, something Nanami desperately craved in the throes of this tedious party.

Golden eyes scanned the room. But no matter how long and meticulous he stared into the mass of bodies, Nanami could not locate the shade of red that had incited this search to begin with. There was a muted pit of disappointment the settled heavy in his stomach when he came to the realization that you simply were gone. He didn't doubt the probability that you ditched, no, he'd commend you for doing something he could not. Nanami sighs under his breath, lets his shoulders droop, and takes the last swig of his drink (water of course, the spiked cider was much too sweet for his tastes) before maneuvering through the crowd towards the bathroom. A five minute breather alone in a stall sounded like Heaven on Earth.

He shouldered through the metallic door, eyes closed, fingers tugging the knot of his too-tight tie as he stepped inside the restrooms. Only the sound of a feminine gasp was what pried his heavy eyelids open.

All three bodies froze: Nanami by the entrance with a slack jaw and wide eyes, a man he vaguely recalls from the Shibuya district stood between a pair of opened legs with his jeans tugged down to mid-thigh, and you. You, with your stupidly red dress in disarray, the neckline dipped below your bare breasts and the lower hem bunched up around the curve of your waistline. There you were, sitting up on the sink completely exposed... God, that bastard's hand was still buried down the front of your panties.

As if time suddenly unfroze, said bastard rips his hands away from your most delicate parts in favor of pulling his jeans back up. Nanami blinks once before cocking his head to the side at the unnatural speed of light, focusing on the faux plant in the corner, the uneven tiles beneath his dress shoes, the cracks in the eggshell paint on the wall... anything besides your indecent self.

"Whoops, would ya' look at that?" Shibuya fucker laughs halfheartedly as he fumbles with the button on his jeans, flustered and giggly. "Guess we got a little carried away there, my bad man!" He slinks towards the door, towards Nanami, but pauses. "Hey, you're Nanami Kento, right?"

"Yes." It's a cold response. Nanami doesn't look to the other man, instead he keeps his eyes trained down as to not get another eyeful of you.

"Aha right! Well," Shibuya fucker sweatdrops, clasping a hand over Nanami's shoulder. "Let's keep this a secret from the higher ups?"

The elder grimaces. "Please don't touch me."

The hand is ripped away. Shibuya fucker shows his palms in sort of a defensive stance as more anxious chuckles erupt from his throat. "Good seeing you, then!" And with that, he slips out of the bathroom leaving you high and dry. The prick didn't even bother to stay and help you get recollected.

"I'm decent." You sound meek, a tone Nanami has yet to hear from you thus far. It sounds small. Humiliated. "You... you can look now."

So he does, only to regret it. There you are, hopped off the sink and standing before him in a pitiful display. Your slender neck was tainted with love marks, darkened bruises bit into flesh with little artistry. Your stockings were shredded carelessly, bits of plumpness squishing through the holes. Your hair was mussed, forehead sweaty, lipstick smeared and... why was Nanami so irritated by the sight?

"What..." He starts, trying to find the words. "What is the matter with you?"

You gawk. "Nothing."

"Nothing." Nanami scoffs, hands pressed to his hips. "How careless could you possibly be? Fucking at a work event? I mean, for fuck's sake Y/n."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Your words are clipped. As if you have any right to catch an attitude with him right now.

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that you..." His sentence trails off into a tiny, frustrated growl scratching from the back of his tongue. The man takes his nose bridge between his thumb and forefinger. "The door was unlocked. Anyone could've walked in and saw you like that!" Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable.

"I don't know what else you want to hear other than sorry." Nanami doesn't miss the microscopic vocal crack in the word sorry. You hug yourself tight, forearms crossed over your chest. Your shoulders stutter, and your lips are sucked between your teeth to hide the wobble in them. "I'm... sorry."

You dress strap hangs off your shoulder. Nanami can't peel his gaze away from the strip of fabric. He takes a slow step in, gauging your reaction to it. You don't show any signs of discomfort, so he advances closer. The red strap is dainty against his rough fingers, so he cautions himself to be extra gentle when slipping it back up into place.

"Thanks," you sniffle.

He shushes you. Nanami isn't done yet, far from it. You still look disheveled and sad and weepy and he can't fucking stomach it for some ungodly reason. So he gets to work, first wetting a paper towel in the bathroom sink—the same one you'd been getting groped on a mere few minutes prior—and gingerly swipes away the smeared makeup from your kiss-swollen lips. Then, he's taking it upon himself to straighten out your hair. You let him stroke down your baby hairs without pushback, limply letting him rearrange your appearance as if you were some sort of life sized doll.

Nanami steps back to admire his work. The evidence of foreplay was nearly gone, save for the dreadful state of your stockings and those ugly teeth-shaped indents down the side of your neck. “Take those stockings off before you leave the bathroom,” he utters. “They look…” Slutty is the word that comes to mind first, but he’d never say it aloud. So he leaves it at that.

You’re looking at him with an unreadable expression. If anything, Nanami discerns a little concern in the way your brows turn upwards. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”

He wants to oh so bad. To be the lame tattletale and snitch to Mr. Gakuganji because fraternization is wrong, and fraternization in the workplace is double wrong. “I should report you,” there’s a pregnant pause, “but I won’t.”

Why? He asks himself.

You seemed to have read his thoughts. “Why?”

Nanami doesn’t have an answer to that. Where is this slice of mercy coming from? All he knows for certain is that staring at the trembling woman in front of him any longer will have him blow a fuse. “Go home, Y/n.” It’s the last thing he offers before turning on his heel and walking back out into the Christmas function, swallowing down each and every confusing feeling swirling around his brain.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni

[minarisplaything]

Relaxation ft. TWICE Jihyo

pairing: TWICE jihyo x male reader rating: M summary: After a long day at work you help your girlfriend unwind. tags: oral sex, fingering author's note: technically not a new fic, just new to tumblr. cross-post of an older one-shot from AO3 in honor of Jihyo's solo!

There was nothing easy about being the leader of a group. Especially not when that group was considered a nation’s jewel and international sensation. But such was the life of Park Jihyo. 

A faithful trainee of ten years to her company was finally paid off when she debuted as a member of TWICE. Of course her duties didn’t cease there. As a leader she was held to a higher expectation, to lead by example, even amidst the skyrocketing success the group experienced. 

It wasn’t easy and needless to say stress relief had become a vital part of her routine these days. Which in turn meant that as her boyfriend, you had a vital role to play. 

“Ahhh!” 

The exasperated sound came from Jihyo as she dramatically threw herself on your bed. You couldn’t help but let the corners of your lips quirk in a smile of amusement. 

“A busy day?” 

“A long day” she muttered into the mattress before turning on her side, propping her head up one hand as she looked over at you. “The schedule was only meant to last until the evening and turned into an all-night affair.” 

Your expression shifted, a slight frown forming as she explained. You knew what the general public would say to such complaints, they’d probably crucify her for daring to say such things. But they didn’t see her like you did; when the cameras were off and exhaustion and fatigue were allowed to show through. 

You moved towards her, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a comforting hand through her hair, “Babe, I’m sorry. You should’ve stayed home and got some rest.”

“I know, but I wanted to see you” she responded as she leaned into your touch. “It’s been so long.” 

She wasn’t wrong. If it wasn’t a shooting schedule then she was away on tour or promoting overseas or preparing for a comeback. Not to mention fan events and having to navigate your own nine-to-five work hours. In the end it was a mixture that left the two of you very little time to meet up in person. It made moments like this all the more significant.

“I know,” a sad smile crossed your features before you leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I missed you.” 

Before you could pull away Jihyo’s free hand wrapped around the back of your neck. She pulled you back down, this time her lips initiating a kiss against yours. In contrast to your own however, there was nothing quick about it, it was soft and intimate leaving your head spinning. You were more than happy to indulge the kiss, sliding back further onto the bed for a better angle. Jihyo took advantage of the situation, shifting her own position so that she was sat atop you, your lips never parting in the process. Your hands naturally went to her waist, the kiss between the two of your deepening with a hint of desperation. Truth be told if the two of you didn’t take this moment now you didn’t know when the next chance would come.  

A low moan left you as Jihyo rolled her hips against yours. God, she knew just how to drive you crazy. 

When she pulled back and sat up, her hips still rocking over your clothed hips, you couldn’t help but look at her with adoration. In turn, Jihyo reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one movement. She must have noted the way your eyes immediately drifted to her lace covered breast as she reached down and tilted your chin upwards. 

“My eyes are up here you know” she teased, a knowing smirk on her features.

“I know” you shot back, unashamed to be caught, “I was just appreciating the other aspects of you.” Pushing yourself up with one arm you captured her lips in a quick kiss, “Every part of you is beautiful.” 

In the light you could just barely make out a blushing hue coating your girlfriend’s cheeks. It was a sincere comment, momentarily interrupting the steamy build-up but you couldn’t help yourself. Any chance you could get to remind Jihyo that of how beautiful she was you took it. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere” Jihyo finally responded, pushing you back down to the bed but unable to hide the smile on her features. 

Wearing that same smile she reached behind her, unclasping her bra and shrugged off the straps, exposing her full breast to your adoring gaze. You had no words, however while you were speechless you were certain she could feel your appreciation growing beneath her. 

In that moment it struck you that you truly might be the luckiest man in the world. 

“Like what you see?”

You could practically hear the smirk in her voice but rather than answer her you leaned up again, this time your mouth aiming for her breast instead of her lips. Like a babe your lips encircled one, a moan escaping Jihyo as your tongue swirled around the hardened nipple. Her hands rose, combing through your hair as you continued your foreplay. You could still remember when she used to tease you that you only liked her for her bust. It was a claim you refuted time and time again. However in moments like this you were inclined to show your appreciation and remind her that her breasts were nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Baby…” Jihyo's moan of encouragement echoed in your ears.

As you continued your ministrations the movement of her hips was steadily becoming more erratic. If you weren't careful she'd undo you before you even got your clothes off. 

You pulled back and ceased your actions, earning a disappointing sound from your girlfriend. You couldn't help but chuckle however you didn't linger on it as you snaked an arm around her waist and flipped her over so she was the one on the bed. 

"Just lay back and let me do all the work" you instructed her as you leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "You've earned a break."

A small sigh left her as her eye-lids fluttered closed for a moment. You knew she had two weaknesses, one of them being her neck. Even if you couldn't mark her that didn't mean you couldn't tempt her. "Mm, I could get used to this kind of break."

"Should I start coming by backstage at the music shows?"

You teased her as your hands traveled lower, between her breasts and towards the waistband of her sweatpants. 

"That would be nice...Much better than sitting around waiting."

"You'd have to come up with an explanation to your band members." 

Her breath hitched as your fingers slipped beneath her waistband, wiggling eagerly against your touch. "T-they'd understand."

Truthfully all of TWICE could likely use a good break but Jihyo was your only concern. Surely none of them woulf complain about their cherished leader taking a break? With that in mind you finally ceased your teasing as you slipped one finger inside of her, stretching her for the first time tonight before sliding in another. 

If you couldn't make it to the music shows then tonight would simply have to do.

Jihyo responded with enthusiasm, a moan falling past her lips as one hand gripped your shoulder.  "Please" she breathed, dismayed at your lack of movement. 

On another night you might have teased her further but tonight was about helping her unwind. Her plea was all it took for your wrist to begin moving in steady motions. 

There were many beautiful sights in the world, some natural and others manmade, that would take your breath away. You, however, had yet to find a better sight to gaze upon than your girlfriend when she was being worked towards a blissful orgasm. Her head was tossed back, her short splayed against the mattress. Her chest rose and fell at an increasing rate, tempting you with each passing moment. She was an angel and you were going to do your damndest to make her see heaven. 

“Ah!” 

Your thumb teased her clit as your fingers continued to pump in and out of her earning a rather vocal response. You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling as a certain memory was brought to mind. 

"It's a good thing we don't have to worry about being quiet for your roommates, huh?"

"Don't -- ah -- don't make me laugh!" 

Her attempt a response was interrupted by another moan. One thing you loved about Jihyo was that she was never shy about showing her appreciation. Of course when you had been sneaking around trying not to wake her fellow members in the dorm it became a bit of a challenge, needless to say.

"You're so beautiful" you told her, a kiss pressing to her neck, trailing your lips further down as you said, "And I think I can give you better than two fingers."

"Babe…?" it came out as a whine as you pulled your fingers out. She raised her head to see what you were doing only to see your head now settled between her legs. “Oh.”

You placed a series of lingering kisses along her inner thighs knowing full well what her weak spots were before turning your attention to where she wanted it most. In a matter of moments Jihyo had gone from confusion to resuming her moans, her hand quickly moving to the back of your head. A bit amusing seeing as you didn’t need the extra motivation to continue what you were doing. 

“You’re spoiling me” Jihyo moaned as you went to work. Had your mouth been free you would have told her that it was your pleasure. After all, having the TWICE leader spread naked on your bed was as just as much a blessing for you. 

As you continued your ministrations you felt all the telltale signs that your girlfriend was getting close to her sweet release. Her fingers pulled tightly on your hair, her thighs tightening around your head. It caused you to double your efforts, encouraging her to release all stress she had built up during the day. 

“A-ah! I’m so close, baby” Jihyo muttered, almost incoherent as her orgasm came crashing down on her. 

It was always a sight to behold and had it been possible you would’ve been even more turned on than you already were. A muffled scream left her lips as she tried to cover her mouth - though in truth it had little effect. As Jihyo shuddered you continued to work her through her orgasm with your fingers, riding it out for all it was worth. 

“You’re beautiful when you cum, you know that?” did you look a bit smug? Perhaps. Though you’d say it was due to a sense of accomplishment. 

Jihyo merely poked her foot at you, not having the strength to throw a pillow. “You’re embarrassing when you say those things.”

In response you merely laughed, unashamed of the words. “So are you feeling better now?”

Jihyo hummed, her head tilting to the side but it was her gaze that said it all as it drifted down to the rather noticeable bulge constricted by your pants. She bit her finger, eyeing you expectantly, “Mm, I think I have one or two kinks that need ironing out.”

With a grin you rose to your knees, undoing your buckle. “You know, I think I can help with that.” 

Even if the two of you rarely got these moments together, you had to admit: life was good.

[ahonice]

just friends

nico hischier x fem reader

word count: 10.9k (the longest fic i’ve ever written i’m so sorry)

warnings: unplanned pregnancy and mentions of unprotected sex, cursing, the word climax, a little angsty, if i forgot anything lmk.

note: i started this on september 1st, this actually took forever. ANYWAYS hope y’all enjoy lmk if you love it, if you hate it, any feedback in general is appreciated!! love y’all babes <3

+++

it was an accident.

you and nico had been in a casual friends with benefits relationship for about a year and a half, having known each other for three years in total, when it happened.

you and nico were being stupid one night. after a few too many drinks, and no condoms to be found anywhere in your apartment, you and nico fucked without protection. 

you were on birth control and nico had pulled out, well he did halfway through his climax.

you didn’t think anything when you didn’t get your period the following month or the two months after that, you hadn’t had a period in four years thanks to your birth control. 

for weeks you thought you were just bloated, maybe you had been eating too much lately. you were much hungrier these past couple of weeks, it made sense.

it wasn’t until you threw up eleven times in one week before ten in the morning that you grew suspicious and worried at the possibility of you being pregnant. 

you stopped by the drug store on your way home from work and panic bought nine different pregnancy tests. 

you drank seven things of water during the day and took no bathroom breaks in preparation for this moment, and you had never been so scared to get test results back.

positive. every single one of them.

you felt faint, like the walls of your tiny studio apartment were caving in on you. 

you couldn’t have a baby, you couldn’t be a mother, it just couldn’t happen.

+++

the first thing you had to do was tell nico.

you and nico weren’t exclusive, and while he probably has his fair share of hookups, you did not. he was the only possible candidate for the father. 

nico was currently three days into an eight day road trip, and as much as you wanted to just get it over with, you knew this is not the type of bombshell to be dropped via snapchat or imessage, considering you two only used imessage to play game pigeon and the nature of your saved snaps was not welcome to an “i’m pregnant and you’re the father” chat.

you decided to just text him that you needed to talk when he got back.

to: nico (hookup)

hey lmk when you’re back in newark, we need to talk.

from: nico (hookup)

oh? 

from: nico (hookup)

everything okay?

to: nico (hookup)

not quite sure yet.

+++

five days later you found yourself at nico’s door, nine positive pregnancy tests in a ziploc bag in your purse. you were shaking, you don’t think you had ever been this nervous in your entire life.

nico opened up the door with a wide smile. you didn’t know what face you were making, but it was enough to make nico’s face fall and worry come through his tone of voice.

“y/n? what’s wrong?”

you didn’t even register his words, you just moved past him into his apartment and sat down on his couch.

“y/n?”

“i’m pregnant.”

the words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them.

nico sat there frozen on the loveseat as you pulled the pregnancy tests out of your purse.

around three minutes later you pulled your phone out and opened up some home makeover game, nico was still frozen.

“-oh and you’re the father but you probably already know that.”

+++

it was around four minutes later when nico finally opened up his mouth to speak.

“what are you going to do?”

his question made me a little angry, yes he wasn’t entirely at fault, but he could’ve at least taken

a little responsibility and said “we” instead of “you”.

“i don’t know yet, i have an appointment with an obgyn on saturday. i’ll learn about my options there.”

“what time?” nico asked, opening up his phone calendar.

“10:30.” you knew that nico had practice at that time because it was a game day. “you have practice, i’ll just let you know what i decide to do.”

“this is my child too, i want to be a part of the decision making.”

“well you’re not going to be the one taking care of them, i am.”

“what makes you think that? i mean obviously i will be on the road at times during the season, but when we’re on homestands and since we’ll be married we’ll have the off season together-”

“woah take a girl out to dinner before you propose nico.” you interrupted. “we aren’t getting married…” “we’ve done a whole lot more than just dinner, and yes we are? how are we supposed to raise this baby together if we aren’t together.”

“have you ever heard of co-parenting? -also who says i’m keeping it, i haven’t made my decision yet.” you get up from your spot on his couch. “look i have to go, i’ll tell you about my appointment tomorrow.”

nico let out a heavy sigh. “don’t make any decisions without me.”

+++

“y/n?” 

you looked up at the nurse who was holding the door open with their body and walked up to greet her, your knees slightly wobbling from the nerves running through you.

“please follow me into room two, i’m just gonna get your vitals.”

you stayed silent as she took your blood pressure and checked your reflexes, you had to take a moment to calm yourself down after you saw your weight, you had freaked out before you remembered that there was currently another being inside of you.

“alright your vitals look good.” the nurse spoke before exiting the room. “follow me into this room, you can go ahead and take a seat on the bed in the center of the room. the doctor should be in shortly.”

you nodded and thanked her before she exited and you took a look around the room, taking a few mirror selfies to send to the family group chat. you had told all of your immediate relatives over facetime on your way back from nico’s yesterday, the news was received better than you had planned so you couldn’t say anything about your mom’s comments on being a grandmother, she made it very clear she was on team “keep the baby and be a badass single mom in the city”.

you sat on the bed/chair thing, ripping the paper instantly as you tried to get comfortable.

you took your eyes off your phone as you heard a series of knocks.

“miss y/n?”

“yes, that’s me.”

“hi, i’m dr.swarn i’ll be assisting you today. is this your first ultrasound?” the middle aged woman asked.

“yes it is.”

“and do you know how far along you are?”

“i’m assuming three to four months…i just found out yesterday…”

“well we will find out today.” the doctor began getting the sonograph ready as you attempted to mentally prepare yourself. “-and i have to ask…the father, is he in the picture?”

“he is, but it’s complicated…we aren’t together.”

the doctor simply nodded before asking you to lift up your shirt and warning you that the gel might be cold.

after a few moments, a grainy black and white image showed up on the screen, dr. swarn pointing things out. “-and this is your baby! it is a couple weeks too early to figure out the gender, so i would estimate that you are about four months pregnant.” 

you didn’t really focus on anything she said though, all your attention was on that tiny blob.

“do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

as dr.swarn began to turn up the volume the door swung open.

a very out of breath and sweaty nico stood in the door frame, bent over catching his breath.

“sorry i’m late!” nico walked up towards where you were lying on the table and smiled up at the doctor. “i’m the father.”

dr.swarn smiled at him before speaking. “well you made it just in time, we were just about to listen to the heartbeat.”

she had the screen turned towards her so nico had yet to see the baby. “this is your baby-” dr.swarn turned the screen back towards you and nico. “and this is their heartbeat.”

it was like everything around you had disappeared and all you knew was the image of your baby and the sound of their heartbeat. nico grabbed your hand and effectively pulled you out of the trance you were in.

“would you like me to discuss your options with you?” dr.swarn asked, turning the heartbeat down.

“no, i’m keeping it.”

+++

you got a recording of the heartbeat and got a couple prints of the ultrasound before exiting the doctors office, nico getting the same things as you.

“so you’re actually gonna keep it?” nico asked once he had walked you to your car.

“yes i am, and i don’t expect you to be involved at all if you don’t want to…i can do this on my own.”

“well you won’t have to.” nico started. “move into my apartment.”

you sighed, but nico spoke again before you could. “look we don’t have to get married right away, just move in…we will see how things go from there.”

“nico- i’m not moving in with you, i am perfectly fine living in my apartment and so is the baby.” you didn’t mean for your tone to come off so harsh, well you did a little bit, but you didn’t want nico thinking that you would be getting together just because of your child together. “look nico, i know that you believe that to raise a child the mother and father need to be together but i don’t and i don’t want to be with someone just because people think we have to. i will not be having a shotgun wedding.”

“what is a shotgun wedding?”

“-it does matter. we are not getting together nico.” you got into the driver's seat of your car. “i don’t really know how this co-parenting shit works, and i’m assuming you don’t either so let’s just make sure to be patient with one another, okay?”

nico nodded before you said your goodbyes and drove off in the direction of your apartment.

+++

around two weeks later as you sat in your little cubicle your phone started ringing.

nico (hookup)

you sighed and saved the progress on your current project before picking up the phone.

“hello?”

“hey, are you home right now?”

“no, it’s two in the afternoon on a thursday. i’m at work.”

“oh i didn’t think you would work while pregnant…” “i need to fund this child’s life somehow.”

there was an awkward silence for a few moments before you spoke up again.

“did you need something nico?”

“well i called to ask if you would like to come over for dinner tonight.”

“what are you making? because i don’t mean to sound rude, but this child doesn’t like anything i cook and you’re much worse than me.”

“hey i’m not that bad!” you both chuckle before nico speaks again. “is there anything you’re craving right now?”

“jiggly cheesecake and that gouda mac n cheese with sausage i got when we went to new york two years ago.”

“okay i can’t make any of that.”

“just make whatever you want, i’ll force it down if the baby doesn’t like it. what time should i come over?”

“5:30?”

“okay, i’ll just come straight from work.”

you said your goodbyes before you go back to your work.

+++ 

once the clock struck 4:45 you called it a day and headed out to your car before driving to nico’s apartment.

you knocked on the door, a tad bit confused because you heard multiple voices on the other side of the door, if it wasn’t for the welcome mat on the outside that you had forced nico to get you would’ve thought you were at the wrong door.

“hey.” nico opened the door, the voices only getting louder.

“hey…are other people joining us…?” you asked, looking around his apartment confused.

“yeah i probably should've mentioned-”

nico had begun to speak, but a voice that you knew as nico’s mother. “is y/n here!?” soon you saw her smiling faces coming towards you with open arms. “oh come here, it’s been too long sweetie!”

god bless your work bag that seemed to span to five feet because it was hiding your baby bump that was very noticeable in your blouse.

“hello mrs.hischier, how are you?” you asked politely, but you were really wanting to strangle nico right now.

“i’m great! luca and nina are here too!”

“oh that’s great! i’ll go see them in a second, i just need to talk to nico really quickly.”

you smiled as she walked away before turning to nico and gave him a swift slap on the backside of his head. “are you crazy!? did you just ambush a pregnancy announcement on me!?”

“look, i know this probably wasn’t the best way to approach this, but my family needs to know.”

“i am fully aware of that, but this is something that you plan out, not something you spring on a pregnant woman!”

“i’m sorry! just- let’s go into the living room, nina really misses you.”

you had met nico’s family multiple times before and were especially close with his sister nina, she was the only one who knew of you and nico’s odd relationship and was the number one supporter of you two getting together.

you walked out, your work bag still covering yourself as you greeted luca and nina, the later giving you a look that only made you nervous.

you made small talk with the family before nico announced that dinner was ready. thankfully nico had brought your plate to you, both you and the fetus were happy with the look and smell of the fettuccine alfredo, with sausage, that nico had made. “thank you.”

as much as you didn’t want to, you had to set your work bag that had been used as a bump shield on the floor to eat, you just hoped everyone was too distracted by the food in front of them to notice.

“so what was the news that you had to share? i assume it has to do with y/n?” mrs.hischier spoke excitedly, it was obvious she was hoping that you and nico had started dating.

“y/n is pregnant and i’m the father and we are keeping it, but we are not together.” nico spoke quickly, his head down as if he was a child being scolded.

“oh…” 

it wasn’t the worst reaction that could’ve happened, but it definitely wasn’t the best one, but how good of a reaction could one get after they tell their mother they got their fuck buddy pregnant.

“we’re figuring this all out as we go, but i am very sorry mrs.hischier i understand this isn’t how one would usually want their son to become a father.” you apologized, your head was also down.

“i’m not angry, just shocked and a little bit disappointed in you nico…but everything happens for a reason so i fully support you two.” you and nico let out identical sighs as his mother revealed that she was not going to disown either of us.

+++

the rest of dinner went great, you even made plans for both yours and nico’s family to get together for a small gender reveal brunch before the hischier’s headed back to switzerland.

nina had called dibs on walking you out so you prepared yourself for the question you knew she was going to ask.

“are you absolutely, one hundred percent, serious when you say that you and nico are not together in any way, whatsoever, romantically?” nina asks, using too many synonyms for the word definitely.

“yes i am absolutely, one hundred percent, serious when i say that me and nico are not together in any way, whatsoever, romantically.” you reply, mocking her words.

she doesn’t seem too pleased by your answer and whines. “why? i want a sister and you are the only person i like, in general.”

“that is very sweet nina, but me and nico don’t like each other in that way. we’ve been…boinking for almost two years now. if either of us had feelings, i guarantee they would have been confessed by now and we probably would not be expecting a child out of wedlock in five months.”

nina let out an exaggerated sigh as you neared your car. 

“me and nico are just friends, okay?” you spoke, getting into the driver’s seat. 

“yeah friends who happen to boink on a weekly basis and are now expecting a child together.”

“i’ll see you at brunch on sunday nina.” 

+++

“i’m team boy and girl!”

“mom i already told you we aren’t having twins.” 

the sunday morning activities were supposed to be fun, and they were, but they were causing you a shit load of stress. 

it seemed like everything nico was doing was aggravating you, and when nico and your little brother were in the same room it was a recipe for disaster. plus your mother wasn’t any help, she teamed up with nico’s mother and kept pressuring you to at least move in with nico, who you believe put them up to it.

“okay let’s just get this over with!” you yelled out, just wanting to figure out the gender so you could go home and have some much needed alone time.

nico came up next to you holding the envelope that contained the gender. “you ready mommy?”

“ew, don’t call me that.”

everyone had their phones out and began counting down as nico opened up the envelope.

“it’s a…GIRL!”

everyone’s cheers only furthered your headache, but you gave nico a smile and side hug before going over to your mother who ecstatically hugged you.

“a baby girl! i’m so happy for you y/n, my first grandbaby!”

you quickly said your goodbyes, not bothering to eat any of the food that was made or open any of the gifts that were brought.

were you being a rude, ungrateful, bitch for no reason? yes. but you were too exhausted to care or feel bad about nico’s constant dejected looks on his face throughout the morning.

+++

the second you got home you passed out on the floor of your apartment , god bless the pregnancy pillow your mother had delivered to you because you had a weird thing for sleeping on hardwood floors. 

you woke up at three in the afternoon to a series of knocks at your door. you took a while to get up and once you did you regretted it because you saw nico looking very angry through the peephole. 

you grabbed a sharpie and a sheet of paper towel and wrote the words “GO AWAY” in a very bold font before slipping it under the door.

the knocking silenced for a moment before it got louder, along with a call of your name.

“y/n. open the fucking door.” nico was seething.

you opened up the door. “what? i was sleeping.” you pointed to the pillow and blanket on the floor of your kitchen.

“on the floor?”

“yes- what do you need nico?”

“you left the party so quickly that you didn’t even get to open up your gifts, or acknowledge them.” nico gestured to the large bag of wrapped gifts that sat at his feet. “you actually left the party so early that the food wasn’t even served before you had said your goodbyes, which by the way thanks for not saying goodbye to me and thanks so much for the fake smile and side hug you gave me after we found out the gender of our child. that’s gonna be a real joy to look back on.”

you felt your headache coming back, you were starting to believe the sole cause was nico.

“seriously what was your problem this morning?” nico asked after a few moments of silence.

“my problem was that i didn’t even want this baby in the first place and i know for a fact i’m not going to be a good mother, and you! nico you are my problem, everything you did this morning seemed to piss me off and it’s probably just the pregnancy hormones making me easily irritable, but you were getting on my fucking nerves by breathing this morning.” 

nico kicked the bag of gifts into your apartment in a fit. “well i’ll stop bothering you then.”

you knew you should’ve been a rational adult and went after him, but you weren’t, so you slammed the door and brought all the gifts to the living room so you could open them.

you smiled as you realized that all of the gifts were for you. your favorite candies and snacks, maternity clothes, and some prenatal care items that you probably should’ve started taking the second you found out you were pregnant, with the exception of one gift. it was from nico, you could tell by the poor wrapping job, you had been the one to wrap all of his christmas gifts ever since you met him except your own of course, those he always wrapped himself and they were a nightmare.

once you got his present unwrapped you found a boat load of mini devils gear. bibs, socks, a onesie, even a pair of noise canceling headphones. at the bottom of the box you found a very tiny devil’s jersey with the number thirteen on the back and a big patched “C” on the front. you teared up once you saw the big patched “DADDY” above the thirteen on the back and a matching bow headband with a small note. i’m writing this before the reveal and i know we don’t know the sex yet, but i’m hoping for a girl and i know you are too. i hope the headband is a little good luck charm that baby girl judith is on the way. - nico.

you teared up at the note, especially at nico remembering the name you’ve always wanted to name your first daughter.

you quickly called nico, tears streaming down your face and nose all stuffy.

“hello?”

“come back up…please.”

“on my way.”

+++

you stood by the door waiting for nico to knock and once he did you immediately opened the door and nearly tackled him from the hug you gave him.

“i’m sorry.” you mumbled, still crying.

“i know, it’s okay.”

you walked into your apartment and sat on your couch next to nico. “you remembered my baby names.”

“how could i forget them?” nico stated.

“what would you have done if it was baby boy gannon instead of judith?” you asked, turning your head that was leaned on his shoulder up to look at him.

“turn the headband into a bowtie…?”

you laughed at him before your stomach growled loudly.

“what are you in the mood for?” nico asked immediately.

“canes, but that’s in the city and i don’t wanna make you go to new york.” 

nico stood up after hearing your restaurant of choice. “c’mon, i’ll drive.”

+++

“how is it?”

“this is sex in a chicken tender nico, thank you for taking me here.”

nico laughed at your response before the both of you continued to eat a comfortable silence.

“hey tell your family that i’m sorry for how i was acting this morning, i am super grateful for them helping plan the reveal and to delay their flight to attend.”

“don’t worry, they understand that pregnancy emotions can be a lot, but i will still let them know.” nico said, making a mental note to text the family group chat.

“their gifts were very thoughtful too, how did nina know i like black licorice?”

“oh i let them know all your favorite things, that wasn’t alcohol.” nico shrugged as if it was no big deal.

you took a moment to process his answer, it wasn’t that weird for nico to know all of your favorite snacks and desserts, that’s what friends do…right?

+++

to: nico (hookup)

i have my sixth month checkup tomorrow at 10am, would you like to join?

from: nico (hookup)

yeah, do you wanna meet there or drive together?

to: nico (hookup)

could we drive together? 

from: nico (hookup)

of course, i’ll pick you up at 9:30, we’ll stop by mcdonalds for breakfast. i know you love their sausage muffins.

you hadn’t seen nico since the day of the gender reveal party and when you went into the city together to get canes. of course you stayed in contact, but it was hard with both of your work schedules that often collided. 

the next day nico was knocking on your door right at nine thirty in the morning, and you were still passed out. the pregnancy pillow and weighted blanket combo was not being your friend right now, though it was at 5am when the gremlin in your womb wouldn’t stop kicking. which she did for the first time earlier that day.

after about five minutes of nico knocking on your door with no response he began to fully panic, had you fallen down and couldn’t get up? were you dead in your bed? did you forget he was picking you up? so many things could’ve happened to you.

after a few moments of contemplating, nico decided that his only option was to break the door down. he began backing up a few steps and then running full force into your door, it took about seven tries for the door to fall to the ground.

the sound of the first impact of nico’s body was enough to wake you up. at the second impact you became aware of your surroundings, and at the third you thought someone was trying to break into your apartment.

you grabbed the closet weapon you could find, a meat pounder that you left on your kitchen counter last night, and got in position, ready to attack the person on the other side of the door.

once the door fell to the ground and the body fell on top of it, you got ready to swing.

“y/n!? are you alive!?”

“AHHH- nico!?” you froze your movements, the pounder hanging right above your head. “what are you doing here!?”

nico was still on the ground, also frozen as he tried to catch his breath. “ultrasound.”

you dropped your hands to your side as an ohhh played in your head. “i’m sorry i completely forgot. just give me a few moments and then we can leave.”

you turned around to enter your room before you froze and turned back around.

“i don’t have a front door…”

“i’ll text jack to come over and watch over the place and reattach it while we’re gone, the kid needs something to do this morning anyways.” nico said while pulling out his phone.

“does he know?”

“no, but he will…i’ve been meaning to ask you about telling the team anyways.”

“we can talk about it later , i need to get ready.”

you quickly got dressed, sporting a tight tank top, tight leggings, and a tight zip up. all tight because this baby had you gaining five pounds a minute. you huffed and puffed trying to get the tank top on. eventually you got it over your bump, but it was rising up and you were spilling out of it in too many places. deciding to just embrace the bummy look you threw on uggs, didn’t bother to put your contacts in, and left your hair in the rat's nest bun you’ve been wearing for the past five days since you were told to take a break from work by your boss, of course you had to faint in front of her.

“nico i need to get maternity clothes, i’m pretty sure these tanktop strings will snap if i raise my arm and don’t get me started on these leggings.”

“you’re huge…” 

“thanks nico, you’re really helping out right now.” you joked, but deep down you were upset. you don’t tell a pregnant woman she is huge, especially if it’s your baby. “let’s go, we can’t be late.”

“jack is almost here, babe.” the nickname slipped out before nico could even process what he was saying.

“uhm…”

“yo nico what’s up…where is y/n’s door.” jack said while walking into your apartment.

“you’re standing on it.” you spoke. jack’s eye’s wandered to you and then to your belly, and then they got really wide. “hi jacklyn.”

“oh shit.”

“we can talk about this later, but me and nico really have to go because we’re already running late.”

you and nico quickly walked out, the later telling jack that you had a toolbox under your sink and to “go crazy.” 

“no mcdonalds then huh?” nico asked as you got into his car.

“no, but i’ll be fine.”

+++

you weren’t fine.

you quickly got hangry and so did judith, nico seemed to be your punching for just about everything and even though he said he was fine, you could tell you hit home when you told him he needed to wax his eyebrows.

dr.swarn was completely fine with you guys being ten minutes late because she didn’t have anyone scheduled after you. the appointment went great except judith didn’t want to kick when nico felt your stomach, and of course nico’s hands were all dry and calloused which you hated feeling on your skin, and then after the ultrasound was over you guys rushed to mcdonalds because nico was determined to get you a damn sausage muffin, but of course you were two minutes past the cutoff for lunch and the teenager taking your order wouldn’t budge and you had to pretend like the cheeseburger didn’t come back up the second you got into the restroom. all you wanted to do is go home and be alone…and eat jalapeno poppers…and mozzarella sticks…

nico stopped at target to get what you wanted, and mac n cheese bites because he knew you’d love them.

you were pleasantly surprised when you arrived home to your door back on. luckily it had just separated itself from the hinges when nico tackled it to the ground, so it was an easy fix for jack.

once you stepped inside, nico quickly got to work, placing large portions of everything he bought in your airfryer. nico said it was crazy to buy a twenty size quart size air fryer and that you would never use it, but here he was being proven wrong.

you quickly changed out of the leggings and jacket, leaving the tank top on because you knew it would be just as much of a workout to get it off as it was to get it on and you threw on nico’s heart boxers he swears he wore as a joke, but you knew he picked them out at the store being one hundred percent serious.

“you two kids come sit down.” jack spoke loudly, as if he was your father.

“jack we are both older than you.” nico spoke sitting down in the spot next to you on your couch.

“doesn’t matter. you’re pregnant?”

you both nodded as jack pointed to you.

“-and you’re the father?”

you both nodded as jack pointed to nico.

“and you’re keeping it together as…”

“friends, just friends.”

“friends don’t have babies together.” jack gave you a skeptical look.

“they do now.” you stood up. “goodbye jack.”

+++

“i think it’s best if you two move in together, for both your safety y/n, and the babies.”

dr.swarn spoke before leaving you and nico in the room alone,

you were now seven months pregnant and you were constantly fainting, your boss had stopped allowing you to come into work and told you that you “needed rest” so you met her halfway and you now work from home.

nico was over one night after a game when he walked in on you passed out on the kitchen floor, but this time it wasn’t on purpose. he immediately began staying the night on your couch to make sure you were alright and as soon as you could he got you into dr.swarn’s office.

“i’m taking you home and we’re packing you up. i’ll text jack to come over with luke.” nico said as you exited the obgyn. 

“you know i can help right? judith is fine-”

“-but you’re not fine! you told dr.swarn that you’ve been fainting since even before you got pregnant, and i didn’t know. why didn’t you tell me about all this?” nico interrupted you, obviously upset.

“because it’s not important!” you snapped back. “it doesn’t affect judith in anyway, so i don’t understand you’re so worried.”

“it’s important because it affects you. i am worried about you, and i’m allowed to be. now there is no more arguments, you will be moving in with me and ending your lease at your current place.”

“nico-”

“no, that is final.”

+++

for the rest of the day you sat and watched tv while the two hughes and nico packed up your apartment until they had to pack your tv, which you insisted they did last.

“the truck is all loaded up, we’re gonna drive it over to nico’s and he is going to drive you in your car.” jack spoke as you approached where the truck was parked on the side of the street.

you nodded as nico helped you into the car. you hated admitting it, but you were much larger than you were expecting to be at this time in your pregnancy. 

+++

once you had made it to nico’s apartment you did the same thing you were doing before while the boys unpacked your stuff into the second bedroom, absolutely nothing.

you got up and waddled over to where the guys were all watching luke struggle to get the fitted sheet on your bed.

“can i please do something? anything?” you begged.

“yeah, go out and use my laptop to create a list of things you want as gifts at the baby shower, a registry because i know you want specific things for judith.” nico answered your begging.

“baby shower? i’m having a baby shower?” you had not been informed of this.

“yeah, all the guys on the team and their partners are gonna come, so are your friends and family, mine is coming too.” nico spoke like it was no big deal. 

nico had told the guys about three weeks ago because they saw the ultrasound in his locker. which in response had you getting multiple text messages from some of the girls all sounding very similar to “i thought y’all were just friends?” 

“when is this?” you asked, knowing you would need to get an outfit ready.

“next saturday, we have no game.” nico replied simply

“that’s in a week!” you shrieked, when you went maternity clothes shopping that did not involve any dresses.

“yeah, so you better get working on that list.”

+++

it only took you ten minutes to make the list because all you had to do was transfer it from a google doc, where it was already made but just titled as your shopping list, to a spreadsheet where people could claim a gift to give you, nico, and the baby.

it was a list with the basics. a stroller, breast pump, car seat (preferably one that went with the stroller), bed sheets, clothes, the essentials to keep a newborn alive, but you also had other things like decor for the nursery toys, and this bedside bassinet that your mother had been raving about since she saw it on facebook. you thanked god that your new room had a walk-in closet because that was going to be judith’s room. you weren’t even sure it was a closet because it was completely empty, no shelves or rods to hang anything on, it was more of a very small room, but it worked out better for you so you couldn’t complain.

you quickly went back to where the boys were, silently screaming as they made your bed completely wrong.

“please, oh please for the love of god, let me make my bed.” you begged nico, genuinely astonished that they had managed to put your pillows in the wrong order and put your comforter on inside out.

“i thought i told you to make your list?” nico said.

“i already finished. it was easy.” you said as you began stripping your bed of everything on it. “i just put down everything i already had on my shopping list…and then some because i know my friends are gonna wanna get me multiple things.”

you made sure to stare jack down as you put your comforter on the correct way before you placed your pillows in the correct order as well as the blankets at the end of your bed.

nico was quick to rush you back into the living room, turning on a movie for you to watch. you quickly got bored, which meant you quickly got hungry.

“nico!” you yelled out, needed your baby daddy to come to your rescue.

“yes honey?” nico approached where you were lying down, the two brothers laughing at their captain.

“i’m hungry.” you gave him a hopeful smile. “for taco bell…” “you’re order still the same as it was last time?” nico didn’t even hesitate to grab his shoes and keys. 

“yes, but if they have nacho fries please get those too.” you answered, nico had basically all of your fast food orders memorized by now.

“nico can i get some food too?” jack asked in a girly voice.

“please honey!” luke added.

“fuck off you two, go finish putting her clothes away.

+++

soon enough you had dragged nico out to go shopping for a dress for your baby shower. luke and jack had left shortly after nico arrived back home with your food and once you finished eating you got nico to drive you to the mall.

“ooh what about this one?” you pulled out a simple floral dress.

“it’s nice, but it’s only march. don’t you think it’ll be too cold for a tank top?” nico spoke, reminding you that it was still freezing cold in new jersey.

a few minutes later you approached where nico was sat in a chair with a dress you thought would be more appropriate. 

“what about this? i love the pink.” it was basically a dupe of the skims long sleeve dress, but you didn’t really care. “we’ll have to find a polo that matches the color while we’re out.”

nico approved of the dress so you were quick to go to the checkout and buy the dress, excited about the event that was going to happen, after you pulled nico into the closest department store and found a polo that was close enough to the shade of pink of your dress. 

“how are you gonna tell the media about…this whole thing?” you asked on the way home.

“what whole thing?” nico questioned, not exactly understanding what you meant.

“the fact that you knocked up some chick, who you are now living with to raise the baby, but you aren’t together with said chick.” you deadpanned, thinking of all the reactions you knew you were going to get from the hockey world. you could already see the “baby trapper” and “gold digger” comments and dms you would get.

“i didn’t knock up some chick, i knocked up my…friend?” 

“yeah go with that, it sounded real believable nico.” you said sarcastically.

“look i don’t really know how to tell the world that i got my hook up/best friend pregnant because, as jack as told me multiple times, my pull out game is weak.” you laughed and agreed with jack that nico did in fact have a weak pull out game, the evidence was currently kicking you. 

after a few moments of silence nico spoke up again. “alright what if we don’t mention our relationship at all. we just make an instagram post together of images of the ultrasounds and pics from the baby shower and tell everyone that we are expecting. we definitely won’t post the gender reveal video because you look like you were planning my death in it, but we just make the post and don’t comment on our relationship.”

you had to admit that it was a good idea, but you already knew that this would make everyone assume that you were dating. most people did already, which you understood. you wore playoff jackets with nico’s name and number, you attend team events and parties together, hell you went to the nhl awards with him and his family, and you are super close with his family, so you were never upset that people assumed your relationship status with nico because you did everything that the other girlfriends and wives did.

“i like that idea.”

+++

“alright this gift is from me and jack.” luke spoke as he handed you a gift.

you were a bit overwhelmed with the amount of people looking at you and just simply being in your home, but you knew that these people were here for you and at the end of the day you were getting a shit ton of gifts. 

so far every single thing you had put on your list was gifted to you and now it was just things people thought you or the baby would like.

“oh you guys…i love it!” it was a wood wall decal of judith’s name and it matched the pink polkadot of her sheets.

“there is more under it.” jack spoke up. 

you lifted up the large sign and saw a baby onesie in maize and blue that said “future wolverine.”

you and your friends started laughing at it. 

“you guys do know that i went to ohio state right?”

you were met with a disgusted stare by the brothers, more specifically the youngest, only causing you to laugh harder, not noticing nico’s pissed off expression, the one he had on his face all day.

+++

you continued to open up gifts and thank everyone, nico was one writing duty so he wrote down each gift and who it was from so you could send them thank you cards later in the week.

once presents were done it was photo time. you took lots with your family and nico’s family, as well as some with your friends, and of course you had to keep the tradition going with the girls from the team and took a picture of everyone pointing at your belly.

you only took a couple with nico, as he had been oddly distant all day.

after everyone left you and nico began moving everything into judith’s nursery and setting things up.

“thank you for setting that up, i had a lot of fun.” you spoke up, interrupting the awkward silence that was looming around you two.

nico nodded as he finished building the crib, you were given the simple task of putting all the wipes and diapers in the changing table’s cabinet.

“so once we’re done do you want to make the instagram post? or were you wanting to wait until after judith was born to post?” it was awkward, nico was just sitting there once the crib was all set up. “...nico?”

you were met with silence, nico was staring at you, yet not speaking.

“okay what the hell is up with you today? you’ve been weird all day, the only time you were even interacting with me was during pictures.” you had snapped, getting aggravated by the swiss’ behavior today.

“it’s nothing i just…” nico started speaking, but trailed off quickly.

“are you having second thoughts about all of this?” you whispered, scared to say it too loudly, scared that it is the truth. “second thoughts about judith?”

nico’s head instantly shook. “no, of course not.”

“then what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, i’m just not feeling the greatest and i didn’t want to risk you getting sick so i tried to keep my distance from you…” nico lied.

earlier, when the party was first starting, nico had overheard your conversation with your friends about how you couldn’t wait to give birth so you can start going out on dates and having meaningless hookups, saying that you missed being a twenty two year old who could do twenty two year old things. 

nico understood you had urges, hell he had his urges too. over the course of your pregnancy you and nico had the occasional…hang out, but ever since you moved it was happening once, sometimes twice, a day. he thought it meant something, he thought you guys were finally going somewhere, but it seemed like you just wanted to go back to how things were before, which would probably be impossible, you have a fucking kid togther.

nico had realized a year ago that he had feelings for you. the only reason he didn’t go full legal team on your ass when you told him you were pregnant was because of how desperately he had fallen for you.  

“oh, well you could’ve just told me that earlier, i was worried that i had done something.” you said before an awkward silence settled in the room. “well could you put all the sheets and clothes we got today in the washer? i’m gonna start on thank you notes in the living room.”

you shook off the tension as you exited the small room, nico gathering everything that needed to be washed in a small basket before going into the laundry room.

+++

“i don’t like that, why don’t we just wait to post until she is born to post everything, have the caption just be judith? i think that's better than a three hundred word rant that could be summarized by i knocked up my friend.” 

three weeks until you were due to pop and you and nico still hadn’t gone public with the pregnancy. of course the wag blogs found a way to get a hold of a picture of you and nico from earlier on in the pregnancy where people could only speculate whether or not you were with child or just had a large lunch and somehow it got out that you had moved in with nico, only furthering the rumors that had been going on for years that you and nico are more than just friends. 

“okay. let’s wait until she comes to post, but i don’t like that caption, let’s keep thinking.” nico replied, the devil’s PR team email staring back at him. “they want us to publicize it before someone else does it for us.”

“well it’s a good thing i’m chained to this bed until i go into labor.” you joked, you were so big you could barely sit up let alone walk anywhere. “no one is going to find out, don’t worry. it will all be okay.”

+++

two weeks later you had been having contractions all day, but dr.swarn said to not go to the hospital until your water had broke because these contractions could’ve been directly connected to stress. considering that your pregnancy was exposed three days ago, you would say that you were pretty stressed out.

one of the girls, not even thinking, had posted a photo dump on instagram to celebrate the devil’s season ending and included one from your baby shower. nico, you, and unborn judith right in the center of it all. it was quickly taken down, but the damage had already been done and now all of nico’s and your social medias were being flooded by comments. 

nico was currently at locker cleanout, and the meeting he had to have with the PR team to apologize for not listening to them and to set up a game plan to rescue him from whatever deepshit this was going to get him in was scheduled for right after.

you were laid down on the kitchen floor, your mother was somewhere in the living room timing your contractions. you were having a big contraction, holding onto the nearby chair leg for support, when you felt a gush of liquid puddle under you. 

“MOM!?” you yelled out, your water had just broke.

“sweetie!? what’s going on- OH LORD!” your mother scrambled to get you on your feet as you cried out in pain. “let me get the bag!” you had never seen your mom run so fast, you would’ve laughed at her nearly tripping if it wasn’t for the child threatening the slip out at any moment.

you were assisted into the backseat of your mother’s car as she drove to the hospital.

“if you could step on it, that would be great i’m kinda-” your sarcastic comment was cut off by another contraction. “nico…oh my god nico! i need to call him!”

you fished around the packed bag until you got a grip on your phone, dialing up nico as quickly as possible.

“i’m sorry but the number you reached is not available. please leave a message at the sound of the beep.”

you groaned loudly, speaking into the phone. 

“your child is currently in the process of being born, i’m at the hospital closest to the arena. please hurry.”

+++

you laid in the weirdly comfortable hospital bed, not yet fully dilated. it worked out in your favor because nico had yet to show up. you left a couple text messages and then a few more voicemails.

“i don’t know what the fuck your doing right now, but if judith is born before you get here your last name will not be on the birth certificate.” you said into the microphone, leaving the third voicemail of the day.

nico’s entire family was flying in next week and nico had made sure that he had all of next week off from any media or anything related to hockey so he could be there for the birth, but now judith was coming early and no one but your mother was here.

dr.swarn entered your hospital room again, she had arrived shortly after you because you had paged her the second you got into the car. “how are we doing momma?”

“not good, baby daddy is nowhere to be seen and i’m still not dilated enough to get this monster out of me.” you answered, setting your phone down beside you.

after a few moments dr.swarn smiled. “well i’m sorry about nico’s absence, but judith is ready to come out. you’re ready to push.”

+++

you don’t remember much, the epidural had kicked in. 

you remember holding onto your mom’s hand so hard that she yelped in pain at one point.

you remember cursing nico for not only doing this to you, but not being there for you.

you remember crying, a lot, and you remember judith crying a lot too.

you remember holding judith for the first time. both of your tears stopped for just a moment as you had skin on skin contact.

you whimpered as they took her away for cleaning, but soon she was wrapped up and you were able to hold her again. 

you remember the sound of footsteps and a thick swiss accent begging to be let into the room, continuously yelling that he was the father. your mother was quick to go into the hall and defend nico from the nurses saying he couldn’t go into the room, and as soon as nico saw you holding judith he began crying. 

“y/n i am so so sorry, i was-”

“where the hell were you!? i just had to give birth to our daughter without the father there!” you scolded the man.

“i put my phone at the bottom of my bag during locker cleanout and didn’t even think to take it out before my meeting with management. i got here as fast as i could.” nico had to catch his breath while he spoke.

“i was all alone…” you teared up, all of your emotions catching up to you again.

“i know. i know baby and i’m so sorry.” nico said, coming to your side. “can i hold her?”

you were too distracted by nico calling you baby, well more specifically by the feeling in your stomach, to answer with words. you just nodded and handed judith over. “be careful, and make sure to support her head.”

you smiled at the sight of nico holding judith, tears in his eyes, quickly taking a picture.

“were you serious about my name not being on the birth certificate?”

+++

once everything had settled down and you and nico were finally given some alone time in the hospital room you began making calls.

your mom had already messaged your families group chat, informing them of judith’s birth and sending pictures, so now you just had to call nico’s family. first was his mother, you had wanted to call her before you went into labor but it was around midnight for her and you didn’t want to wake her up.

she was so happy to hear from you, and you had never heard such an excited scream in your life when you turned the camera onto where judith was currently sleeping in your arms, nico having moved to lay behind you in the bed, his chest being your pillow.

“oh you have to call nina next, she has been so excited to become an aunt!”

that’s exactly what you two did.

facetime nina was fun, she gave you some much needed comic relief and she didn’t make any comments on yours and nico’s relationship…while he was in the room.

the second nico stepped out of the room nina was quick to ask when the wedding was.

“never gonna happen. i don’t like nico like that, and he doesn’t like me like that.” you said while putting judith back in that plastic jail they call a crib. “we’re here to talk about my gorgeous daughter who looks a little too much like nico for my liking.”

“ouch.” 

your head whipped around to see nico standing at the door. “your back early.” you were hoping he didn’t hear what you had said earlier. lately nico had been acting insanely weird everytime someone brought up your relationship with one another.

“the nurse was just outside, she’s gonna go finish the final paperwork and we’ll probably be out of here in the next hour.” nico said before turning back around. “i’m gonna go help out with the discharge papers.”

once he left you let out a groan. “nina why is your brother acting so weird?”

“what’s up with him?” she asked, curiously.

“ever since the baby shower he has just been…off. i don’t even know how to explain it.” you  started off, beginning to pace around the room. “he is so distant, and really out of it. i would think it might just be with the upsetting ending of the season, but this has been going on since before the playoffs. he keeps saying that he is sick and doesn’t want to expose me to germs, but i live with him and i haven’t even heard him sneeze from allergies.”

“do you think, and i hate to ask this, that he is having regrets about…everything?” 

you felt tears fill your eyes at her question. “yeah, i do. i asked him, and he denied it, but i can’t think of any other reason why he would distance himself from me and from judith.”

the lack of response from your friend on the phone was enough to make you start crying.

“i have my essentials packed up and my mom has a lawyer on speed dial just in case something happens…” you felt horrible having to admit this, especially to his sister. “i don’t want the lawyers, it’s my moms doing.” you felt guilty for what having a lawyer would be implying. 

“-i’m not judging you. just make sure nico doesn’t find out, i have a feeling he won’t be a fan of you even having a bag packed.” nina cut you off. “look i have to go, just keep me updated.”

you assured her you would before saying your goodbyes.

+++

“hey you just have to sign the discharge papers and the birth certificate, then we can leave.” nico said, entering the hospital room you had been in for the past couple of hours.

it had been around twenty minutes since you said goodbye to nina, deciding to finish phone calls tomorrow and instead spend your time crying while holding your crying newborn, best way to bond right?

“okay.” you sniffled. “could you put judith in her carseat? i’m gonna change.”

bond right?

“okay.” you sniffled. “could you put judith in her carseat? i’m gonna change.”

nico nodded and picked judith up from the hospital’s crib, holding her close to his chest and staring at her in awe. he couldn’t believe that this precious little girl was his.

“i’m always going to love and protect you, no matter what. your mother too. someday we’ll be a happy family, the three of us, hopeful gannon will join us sometime soon…” nico trailed off. “daddy loves you and he loves mommy too, you’re the two most important women in my life now, don’t you ever forget that…your mommy does a lot.” 

nico couldn’t finish his peptalk, or whatever one would call the conversation with his daughter, because you had stepped out of the bathroom changed and ready to go. “are you okay?” it was obvious that you were crying, you don’t know why you were even trying to hid it. 

“i’m fine, just emotional…just gave birth ya know.” you tried to laugh it off.

nico didn’t believe it. “we’ll talk when we get home.” 

+++

“why have you been acting so weird-”

“i overheard what you said-”

you and nico spoke at the same time, nico gesturing for you to go first.

“you overheard!?” you were convinced you were breaking a sweat from how panicked you had become in an instant. “look nico, the lawyer was my mother’s idea a-and i haven’t even actually talked to them yet, my mother just has them on retainer.”

“wait, what!?” nico stared at you with a look that scared you. “i was talking about what you said at your baby shower. you have a lawyer!? do you have all your things packed too so you’re ready to leave me and take judith with you!?” your silence only made nico angrier. “oh my god you do have your shit packed.”

“j-just the essentials…” you stuttered out.

“yeah because that makes a difference.” nico had distanced himself from you. “i cannot believe this.”

“i only did that stuff because for the past month it's seemed like the last thing you wanted was to be in mine and judith’s life!” your loud voices woke judith up, her loud wails only making the room more tense. you picked her up and tried to soothe her as you spoke to nico. “i’m only gonna ask you one more time nico, do you regret being with me and deciding to be in judith’s life?” 

“no. i do not regret it y/n.” nico spoke sternly.

“then why the hell are you treating us this way?” 

“because i am in love with you.”

your eyes widened in shock and you nearly lost your grip on judith from the whiplash that seemed to go through your body.

“you…what!?” 

it was essentially a stare down between the two of you, it was so uncomfortable in the room that even judith shut her mouth. 

“i have for a year now, probably longer, a-and i thought that judith would finally be my way into your heart. i thought that me being there for you, and for our daughter, would make you love me too.” nico’s tone of voice was one of a kicked puppy. 

“what are you doing?” you asked, not pleased with what he was throwing onto you. “why are you telling me this?” 

“i just needed you to know.” nico whispered his response, not expecting that reaction.

“so you’ve been in love with me for a year now?” nico nodded at your question. “so how does that add up to you treating me like some gold digging whore who got pregnant on purpose for the past month?” 

“i’m not-” nico let out a heavy sigh. “at your baby shower you said you couldn’t wait for everything to get back to how it was before the pregnancy.”

“yeah, so?”

“so!? you’ve basically been counting down the days until you’re able to fuck someone else, while i’ve been doing everything in my power to prove myself to you that i am worthy of being more than just the guy you fuck when no one else is available.” nico grew angry, if this was a cartoon steam would be coming out of his ears.

“i didn’t ask for you to do that nico! i was happy with how things were before judith, is it so wrong to want that back?” you were equally as angry. who was he to make you feel guilty about not being in love with him?

“yes it is! you are a mother now y/n, you are not allowed to be irresponsible anymore. you have to take care of two lives now-”

“are you not going to be helping me!?” you interrupted nico.

“when i can, yes i will, but i have a job that keeps me away a lot.” 

you rolled your eyes at his words. “you are not allowed to dictate my love life just because you knocked me up.”

you didn’t know if you should be thankful or agitated that judith decided to start crying at that moment, but either way you started your slight bouncing movements back up to try and settle my daughter, as odd as it was to use that term in a real scenario, and tried to find those parental instincts everyone was always talking about.

“she’s probably hungry.”

“i didn’t ask you…but thank you i will try that.”

+++

the first night with judith was rough. as much as nico wanted to, he couldn’t leave you alone and retreat off to the hughes’, both because if his mother found out, and she would, he might as well get his obituary ready in advance and he just could not handle the torture the brothers would put him through.

it was like your daughter had a sixth sense for when you were just about to fall asleep, choosing those exact moments to cry out for something. you never knew what she wanted, always going through the same order of “milk, diaper change, pacifier, cuddles, burping, scenery change, and clothing change” until one of them worked. 

nico slept on the couch, it was close enough to your room where if judith began to cry he would hear it and wake up. he was going to stay in your room with you and judith, but after the blowup of him confessing his feelings and you borderline rejecting him things it got a bit awkward. still now, almost twenty four hours later you and nico hadn’t had a proper conversation let alone spoken about what had happened. 

you were on the phone with nina for a while, then your mother, then nina and your mother, both of them giving you their advice but following it up with “just listen to your heart.”, so it was all canceled out in your mind. 

you turned to your newborn, who was staring at you from her little bed next to yours. “judith what am i supposed to do? your daddy, the one with the funny voice, is so amazing and sweet. he treats me like a princess, so why am i struggling so much to figure out what i want with him?” 

judith stared at you with those large brown eyes, a small look of adoration on her face. 

“i love you.” you whispered to her. “-and i love your father too.” 

you sat up in bed, eyes widening at your revelation. you love nico. 

“oh judith, thank you for listening to your mommy!”

you hopped out of bed, rushing into the living room. “nico! nico! nico! nic-”

“what!? what's wrong!? is judith alright!?” nico basically jumped off of the couch, worried that something had happened.

“she’s fine, everything is fine…well not everything it’s just.” you took a moment to look at nico, the lighting was horrible yet he still looked amazing. “i love you too nico.”

there was a silence that followed, it wasn’t awkward or filled with tension, just a calm silence. 

you blinked and then suddenly nico’s lips were on yours. 

the sound of judith’s cries separated your lips and caused you both to race to your bedroom.

spoiler alert: nothing was wrong with judith, she was just crying to cry. 

nico’s arms were wrapped around you and were holding you into his chest as you both laughed. 

“so what now? are we dating? getting married?” you asked, leaning your head against nico’s shoulder. 

“as much as i would love to get married right now, we’ll start with dating…so will you be my girlfriend?” nico asked, mumbling against your head and giving light kisses every now and then.

“yes, i will be your girlfriend.”

“yes!” 

you laughed at his response, judith held in both of your arms. “let’s go to bed, she’s finally asleep.”

+++

nicohischeir and y/nonfilm

nicohischier me, my girlfriend, and our beautiful babygirl. welcome to the world judith.

view all 17 comments

jackhughes god father mode activated😎

y/nonfilm …who said you were the god father?

ninahischier best day ever!! i got a niece and a sister 🩷🩷

njdevils baby hischier alert‼️

comments on this post have been limited

+++

note: i 100% HATE this ending (the whole thing actually) it’s so rushed and just bleh, but i have literally been working on this for 71 days. SEVENTY ONE DAYS. college has been kicking my ass lately so i haven’t been very focused on writing anything. but i hope y’all still like this PLEASE DON’T LET IT FLOP i’ll cry. okay love y’all babes BYEEEE!!!

[maxsimagination]

𝗹𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗮 - 𝗮.𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘀

summary: in a world where everyone knows alexia, it’s nice for her to meet someone who doesn’t know alexia

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗘𝗧 for once, a rare wednesday night the one time i didn't have to run around serving drinks in a frenzy.

there was a couple of people, groups at different tables in the building, but very few at the actual bar. i was wiping down the surface and stocking some liquors when someone walked up to the bar. i put the rag down that i was cleaning with and turn to the woman.

"what can i get you, ma'am?" the blonde looks at me, her faded pink strands framing her face. "just a rum and coke, por favor." (please.)

she looks tired, drained. when i slide the drink over to her, she looks up with a small smile on her face. "gracias." (thank you.)

"de nada." (you’re welcome.)

i use the small amount of spanish i know from living in the country for a couple of months. she perks up when i speak in her native tongue. i give a small smile in response and she grins. her smile is beautiful, it makes her face light up.

"do you know much spanish?" the woman speaks again.

"no not much. i've only been here for a couple of months." that seems to surprise her.

"how old are you?"

"twenty, i turn twenty-one in five months."

we keep chatting, the bar stayed quiet as some people filtered in and out and i served a couple drinks. i learned that the women was twenty-nine and she loves women's football. we had that in common, but i watched it a lot less as i had uni during the days and worked the night shifts at the bar.

"when do you clock off?"

"my shift finishes at 12, i'm on close today."

"i can wait for you." i glance up at her, kind of surprised why she'd want to wait until 12 for a stranger to get off work. "just to walk you home?"

she follows up in hopes of not making it awkward. i smile at her eagerness. "i'd like that."

it was a very uneventful three hours of waiting until i could go home, but the woman, whose name i still did not know, stayed with me the whole time. we talked most of the time, and occasionally when i had to serve some customers she would just scroll on her phone.

about an hour out from closing, i started on the tasks that needed to be done before i left.

"i'm going to start cleaning the place before we close." i let the woman know and left the bar to get the mop and other supplies. "bien." (okay.)

after the half hour it took me to mop all the floors, i returned to move all the drinks under the bar into storage.

finally i was done and it was time for me to go home.

"we can go now, i've done everything i need to."

we left the building and i locked the door with the key i had in my bra. it was the only place i knew i wouldn't loose it. we walked in comfortable silence for a bit, when i remember i didn't know her name.

"y'know, you never did tell me your name."

there was a block of silence before she answered.

"ah.., yea. there's a reason for that. i'm, i guess, what you would consider famous. alexia putellas, nice to meet you."

i knew i'd heard that name before, then it clicked; the spanish footballer. "alexia as in barcelona women?" she nodded sheepishly.

"okay."

i didn't mind that she was famous, it didn't change anything. i knew alexia from the conversation we had in the bar, not that fact that she was a famous spanish footballer.

"okay? you don't care that i'm famous?"

"i do, but it's not what i'm basing you off. i got to know the alexia in the bar, not alexia putellas, football legend. i like you for you, not your fame."

alexia flicked her hair away from her face and smiled down at me. "thankyou."

"for what?"

"for not treating me like every other celebrity. for seeing me as an actual person." i almost teared up at how she worded it but smiled at her still. we had been walking for a bit and made it to my street. we walked up to the apartment block and up to where my room was.

"did you want to maybe stay the night? y'know, just because you walked all this way." i unlocked the door with my other key and waited for alexia to answer.

"you haven't told me your name yet." it was not the answer i was expecting but i told her anyway.

"yn. me llamo yn yln." (my name is yn yln.)

"well, yn, i would love to stay the night."

and with that, we both walked into the apartment and i shut and locked the door.

[morganwrites12672]

Normal?

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: She had known Sam growing up. The two had both dreamed of a normal life. Sam had gotten out, she hadn't. One day, she decides to visit him at Stanford.

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: PG-14

A/N: I hope you enjoy this! My requests are open.

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Her life was like a movie.

Not one of the good ones, no. Her life wasn't like a romcom. Her life was like a goddamn horror movie.

After her mother's rather brutal murder committed by a Werewolf, her father had lost his mind. The man had been on a bloody war path to kill anything Supernatural he could get his hands on. She had been dragged down the horrible path with him. Having been only five whenever her mother was killed, her memories of the woman were spotty. Almost everything she remembered from her childhood was shitty.

Cheap motel rooms, killing ghosts, lying to everyone she met, and nightmares. That was it. She didn't have a life that was considered enjoyable. She hunted monsters. She saved people. That was her job. She wasn't the girl who would get the happy ending. No, she was the girl who got to experience most people's nightmares every day of her life. Sure, it sucked. But, it had some not so sucky parts.

One of those parts was every second she spent with Sam Winchester.

She had first met the boy whenever she was twelve. Sam had been thirteen at the time. He had been clumsy with legs far too long and lanky for him to control. He has tripped three times on the walk to the cabin. Her father has bought the stupid cabin shortly after she had turned nine. It was a good place to store extra hunting supplies. It didn't get used much. Her father couldn't sit still for long.

The two had been walking through the woods together. Listening to John and her father talk had grown tiring. And Dean was no better. He was pissed off about something, she hadn't bothered asking Sam what. She was content to let the older Winchester brother sulk while she showed Sam her favorite places in the woods.

As they walked back, she remembered how he suddenly stopped. She had been curious and turned around to see why. His words had come as a surprise.

"Do you ever want to be normal?" He had asked her. She would have thought it was a joke if not for the serious expression on his face.

"I don't think we get to choose," She had replied. She knew they didn't. Both of their fathers had forced this life upon them.

The conversation had ended there. Sam had been more quiet than usual once they were back inside the cabin.

She woke up with a surprising smile. It wasn't often she dreamt of something so pleasant. More often than not her dreams were plagued by literal monsters. Or, people she hadn't been able to save. The later option sent a chill down her spine to think about. Those faces would haunt her forevermore.

It was one of the rare nights she had actually slept. She was used to catching a few hours here and there. No time for sleep whenever she had monsters to kill and people to save. It wasn't like her father had ever let her sleep in whenever she had been a child. Old habits die hard.

As she slid out of bed, her smile widened. She was only a few hours away from Stanford.

In a few measly hours, she would get to see him again. It has been months since her last visit. It wasn't often that she had any downtime. Hunting kept her busy. She had began hunting on her own shortly after she had turned nineteen. Working with her father had been too much for her to handle. She still hadn't been able to shake her father's voice from her head anytime she took even a night off though. His words seemed to be ingrained in her brain.

'If you stop working, people die. I didn't raise you to be a goddamn slacker.'

She didn't waste anymore time. She quickly showered before throwing everything else together. She was in her car, driving towards Stanford within half an hour. The anticipation of seeing Sam had her all jittery. She felt absolutely ridiculous. Almost like some school girl with a stupid highschool crush.

The drive seemed to have taken ages (only three and a half hours). As she finally parked her car in front of the address Sam lived at, she practically flew out of her car. She had wanted to leave immediately after she finished her hunt, but she had been too exhausted. Once she had finished it she had practically passed out. Vampires were tiring to deal with.

She took the stairs two at a time before knocking on the door.

Sam opened the door and greeted her with a smile. She threw her arms around him immediately. It had been months since she had had the time to visit him. She had also been thousands of miles away. Her lifestyle made anything inconvenient. It was worth it though. This time it hadn't been hard. Only a few hours out of her way. Not like last time.

"God, I've missed you."

Sam pulled away from the hug, smiling at her words. They were good friends. Both of them harbored small crushes (not very small anymore). Yet, neither would admit it. They both liked things how they were.

Sure, she wished she could kiss him right now. But she didn't. Their friendship was too perfect to ruin. Neither one of them would ever risk it for something more.

"I'm sorry it's been so long, I haven't been anywhere near California in a while," She explained. She had tried though, several times. But, she would always get drawn away. Always. It pissed her off. She wanted to drop by and check on him more than she did. She knew Dean had part of that covered though. Even if he refused to tell Sam about his visits.

Sam couldn't believe she had made it. For weeks, she's told him she would visit soon. He knew how the hunting lifestyle went. It could have been months before she had enough time to visit him. His heart fluttered at the thought. She was willing to go out of her way just to see him.

"Don't apologize. I know how busy you stay," He said. He didn't even want to think about what she had been doing. Hunting was a dangerous business. He hated that it was the business she was still in. He cared for her, even if he knew they were just friends. He couldn't help but wish for something more.

After she had spoken, Sam invited her in. The two made small talk for a while. Catching up on everything. She asked him about his classes and how he was enjoying college. He asked her about the hunts she had been on. The two exchanged information about those topics for a while. Until, a question Sam asked caught her off guard.

"You don't seem happy hunting anymore," He blurted, and it was true. Whenever she was younger it had been easier to pretend. Now, it got difficult. She got to watch other people her age be normal. It stung. "You don't have to keep doing that. . ."

His words were more true than she was willing to admit. She stayed silent for a minute, considering her reply. She hadn't spoken to her father in months. She didn't even have to tell him that she was quitting. She could still hunt on occasion, only cases close to wherever she chose to live though.

"I. . . I don't know what I would do."

"Anything you want," Sam replied. "Go to college, get a job, have a life. You. . . You could even stay with me for a while at first," he offered.

She considered his words. As she was thinking, her gaze fell to his lips for a brief second. She instantly looked away as a light blush stained her cheeks. Could she stay with him? Could she be normal for once?

As she looked back to answer him, she noticed how close they were. If she took a step forward, she'd be close enough to kiss him. Alarm bells were ringing in her head as she took the step. Living with Sam and keeping her feelings a secret would be impossible.

Sam seemed to notice what she was trying to do. Before she could move any closer, he was all over her. His arms around her waist, his lips mere inches from hers. He gazed down at her. And, she realized something. From the look in his eyes, her feelings were definitely reciprocated.

"Is this okay?" He murmured against her lips.

She threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair, "More than okay."

His lips met hers. The kiss was passionate and messy. Neither one of them had the patience to start slow. Already Sam was deepening the kiss. A soft moan left her lips at the sudden action. She pulled on his hair slightly as he continued kissing her.

"Does this mean you'll stay?" He asked, his hands slipping her shirt over her head. He took in the sight of her wearing a bra in front of him. It took every piece of self control in him not to rip off the rest of her clothes this second.

"I'll stay," She replied, kissing him again. Their lips moved in tandem together as Sam unclasped her bra. In a few more seconds Sams shirt had also been discarded. His hands fondled her bare breasts as she tugged on his hair.

She knew that there would be a lot of obstacles. It wasn't easy to quit being a hunter. It had been her life for so long. But, she would figure it out with Sam.

This was just the beginning of their future together.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a comment and reblog!