#and now i can’t make a single mistake or say anything without hearing the ‘oH yOuRe bLiNd UoUr OpInIoN iS iNvAlId”

[stardust-sunset]

current mood

[hamsterclaw]

Bloom

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 2 - read the rest here.

In a post-nuclear war world, all you have is your son Jiwon. You'd do anything to keep him safe, including putting your trust in your new neighbour Kim Namjoon. You hope you haven't made the biggest mistake of your life.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Dystopian future AU, smut, single mother reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, violence

Word count: 7.5k

With thanks to @vyduan for helping me work out the kinks (heh) in this story. Love you, Vy.

Author note: Written in response to an ask I got early in the year - a story I've kept chipping away at and now it's finally finished. Anon, I think about you often and I hope you and your kids are doing well. I hope you've had time to heal and no longer think of yourself as a heartbroken single mom, because you are and have always been more than that.

Your breath comes out in puffs of white as you carry an armful of logs to the furnace powering your greenhouse.

Inside, the air is humid, warm, perfect for the vegetables you’re carefully cultivating. Outside, the cold of a perennial winter’s seeped into your bones.

Nothing grows outside, not since the Great War. 

You wonder why they call it ‘great’ when everything is worse now than it was before the war.

You’re emerging from the greenhouse, wiping your hands on a soiled rag, when you hear your new neighbour singing softly.

He’s got a melodious voice with a gorgeous husky tone. You smile to yourself as he sings a tune you know.

Suddenly he stops. ‘Oh shit!’

There’s a clatter of metal against worksurface, the unmistakeable sound of breakage.

You walk up to the wire fence and call out. ‘Need a hand?’

There’s another clatter, then the door to the greenhouse opens and you meet your new neighbour face to face for the first time.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, with a face that makes you wish you’d bothered to comb your hair before you stepped outside this morning.

‘I — uh— heard the noises and just thought I’d check if you were ok,’ you explain.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. ‘Do you have a spare pot? I’ll get you a replacement today, but right now my chilli plant is all over my worktable.’

‘Oh,’ you say, quickly turning. You enter your own greenhouse and emerge with one of your own pots.

‘Here,’ you say, holding it out to him. Your fingertips brush as he takes the pot from you, and you hope you don’t look too flustered.

You say, waving a hand, ‘Don’t worry about a replacement.’

‘My chillies and I thank you,’ he says, so solemnly you laugh.

He smiles warmly at you, and dimples appear in his cheeks.

The juxtaposition of his large frame and his delicately pretty dimples is doing something odd to your fickle heart.

You clear your throat. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you say, suddenly feeling shy. 

‘Namjoon,’ he replies. 

You turn as your son Jiwon approaches, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

You pull off your coat and wrap it around him. 

‘Come on, let’s go inside before you get too cold, ok?’

Jiwon, wrapped in your coat, looks curiously at Namjoon.

‘This is my son, Jiwon. Jiwon, this is our new neighbour Namjoon,’ you say.

You put your arm around Jiwon and lead him back to the house.

‘It was nice to meet you,’ you call over your shoulder.

When you look back, Namjoon’s still standing by the fence, looking at you. 

He waves, once, then turns to go back inside.

***

Jiwon regards you over the porridge bowl you’ve made for his breakfast. 

His eyes are serious, too serious considering he’s barely eight. 

You wish there was a way to protect him from the world.

Instead you make sure he eats, and drinks, and wears his warm coat, because the world may be fucked up but your son isn’t going to go without, not on your watch anyway.

You wonder where Jiwon’s father is now but can’t muster up any emotion about it. The burning desire to watch him suffer faded long ago, leaving nothing in its place.

A blank where your perfect life used to be.

You clear away the plates and pull on your coat. 

‘Ready?’

You walk Jiwon to the single room, little more than a shed, where the makeshift school now is, and as you kiss him goodbye and promise him you’ll pick him up later, you wonder whether things will ever change.

It’s been five years since nuclear warfare destroyed the world, four since Jiwon’s father left, and you’re still waiting for life to get better.

Lost in your thoughts, you nearly bump into a uniformed guard.

You bow and apologise profusely.

You can’t see any of the guards’ faces, but you know they make liberal use of their steel batons. 

The pain of a physical beating, though, would pale in comparison to being detained by the intention readers.

You could recover from a beating, but not from being thoughtwiped.

You shiver and resolve to be more careful as you walk the rest of the way to the community gardenhouse to start your work.

***

You glance at your watch and pick up the pace. You’re late to pick up Jiwon. There had been a raid at the gardenhouse just before you were due to leave, and you and the other gardeners had been searched for contraband.

You arrive at the schoolhouse just in time to see Jiwon being questioned by a guard.

Your heart stops, and you hurry forward, already apologising to the three guards standing over your son.

He’s slight, small for his age, and he looks even smaller surrounded by guards.

You step in front of Jiwon, putting your arm out to keep him behind you.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, bowing low.

The cold steel of a baton nudges under your chin, hard enough to lift your head.

Terror slices through you as the guard stares down at you, but you try your best to keep still.

The other guard says, ‘Hey, Jaebeom. The General wants us back. Let’s go.’

The baton stills, then the guard withdraws it and holsters it.

He turns away without another look at you.

You grasp Jiwon’s hand, and you don’t let go until you’re safely home.

***

The thin light of dawn’s cutting into the horizon when you emerge from your front door.

Snow’s been falling all night, is still falling now, piled up on your short garden path. You lift the shovel off the hook by your door and get to work clearing the path.

This early, the snow’s still icy and hard to shovel away.

You’re breathing hard by the time you get to the gate, arms aching, face damp with sweat.

Your neighbour Namjoon’s front gate swings open and he walks out, wrapped up warm.

He slows down when he sees you but doesn’t stop. 

You give a small smile which he returns before walking off.

You watch him go and wonder what he does to be leaving so early. 

You see Jiwon’s light come on and hurry inside to make breakfast.

***

There’s blood in the snow when you arrive back home with Jiwon at the end of the day, drops of red splattered in a trail to your neighbour’s door.

You herd Jiwon safely inside and your conscience gets the better of you.

You walk next door and knock.

It’s a while before Namjoon answers, but as soon as he does you know you’ve done the right thing coming over.

He looks terrible, pale and wincing in pain. There’s a wound in his shoulder, his chest is bare.

You say, ‘let me help,’ and then he’s stepping back, sitting heavily down on a chair. 

He’s so tall you barely have to lean down to look at his shoulder.

‘Can you stitch?’ he asks, voice tight, body taut.

‘I’ll patch you up,’ you tell him.

You worked in a field hospital during the War.

Namjoon grits his teeth, pale and tense, whilst you patch his wound.

By the time you’ve dressed it, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You don’t like how pale he is.

‘I have to get back to Jiwon,’ you tell him.

He nods.

Something about the way he slumps back in his seat, quiet and exhausted, makes you say, ‘I can stay overnight to watch you, if you have a spare bed for Jiwon to sleep in?’

Namjoon stares at you for so long you make the decision for him.

‘Come on, let me get you to bed,’ you say.

He staggers as he stands, and automatically you slip an arm around his waist.

He leans heavily on you as you take him to his bedroom and help him onto the bed.

He lays down, eyes already closed. 

You wait until his breathing eases and then you go to get Jiwon.

By the time you get back, Jiwon in tow, Namjoon’s dead asleep.

You make Jiwon comfortable in the adjoining room, hoping Namjoon won’t mind, and set your alarm to check on him periodically.

He sleeps most of the night, waking up once to stumble to the bathroom.

You get up to check on him. ‘Are you all right, Namjoon?’

Thankfully your presence doesn’t seem to alarm him. 

‘I’m fine,’ he says, but you can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.

You fetch a glass of water and some pain meds from his kitchen. He’s still awake when you knock on his door.

He gulps the water and swallows down the medicine gratefully and lays back. 

There’s something about the irregular rhythm of his breathing that makes you offer your hand.

‘The meds will kick in soon,’ you promise him. You squeeze his hand gently. 

He murmurs a thank you. When his breathing evens out and the grip of his hand eases, you pull the blanket over his chest and make your way back to the other room where Jiwon is.

It’s sometime just before dawn when you wake. Namjoon’s extra bedroom has a pretty view of his backyard, his greenhouse. The rolling hills in the distance are bare in the winter cold, starkly beautiful.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder where Jiwon’s father is, how he’s doing. If he ever thinks of Jiwon, or you. Beside you, Jiwon stirs. 

‘Mama?’ 

‘Yes, baby?’

‘I’m not a baby,’ Jiwon says indignantly.

‘Ssssh, you’ll wake Namjoon up. Are you hungry?’

Jiwon yawns a little. People have always said he doesn’t look like you or his dad, but in moments like this you can see yourself in him.

‘Come on. Let’s go home and I’ll make breakfast, ok?’

You check on Namjoon as you pass his room, only to find he’s already dressed.

He stands when he sees you, and you’re reminded of the height difference between you.

You step back. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to make sure —‘

As though he’s aware of how his height and size intimidate you, he stops where he is.

‘I want to thank you for looking after me last night,’ he says. ‘Will you have breakfast with me?’

Jiwon marvels so openly at the sugary cereal Namjoon produces from a cupboard you can’t help but smile.

Single parenthood in a post nuclear war world has been challenging, and you’re scared about how many E numbers it’s taken to produce a cereal this unnaturally bright, but Jiwon’s so excited it’s worth it. 

Namjoon offers you some, and you accept with a smile. He smiles back at you so warmly that you drop your eyes.

Even injured and tired, your neighbour is the kind of handsome man you don’t think would look twice at you normally.

You cover your skittishness by staring down into your cereal as if fascinated.

By the time you gather the courage to look up, Jiwon’s finished his food. 

You’re about to get up to take him home when Namjoon puts out a hand to stop you. ‘Finish your breakfast,’ he says quietly. 

He gets up. ‘Come on, Jiwon, I hurt my shoulder yesterday, can you help me in the greenhouse until your mum finishes her food?’

Jiwon falls into step beside Namjoon so naturally you have no qualms about letting them go together. There’s a funny lump in your throat as you watch them walking together through the kitchen window. 

You tell yourself sternly to keep it together and not to assign a romantic narrative to your handsome neighbour who’s clearly just repaying your kindness from yesterday. 

By the time Namjoon and Jiwon get back, you’ve finished your breakfast and washed up. The kitchen looks like you and Jiwon were never there.

‘Thank you,’ Namjoon says. ‘For looking after me yesterday.’

‘It was no bother at all,’ you tell him, sincerely. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’

You nod to his chest. ‘You should get the wound checked out at the clinic today.’

‘I will,’ Namjoon promises. He waves goodbye to Jiwon and you, standing on his doorstep until you’ve rounded the fence to your side.

***

You’re walking with Jiwon back from school when you realise there’s someone waiting at your door. You can’t see clearly in the evening light, and you tuck Jiwon closer into your side as you approach.

You call a greeting, and a moment later the person steps into the light and you realise it’s Namjoon.

‘Hi,’ you say, unable to hide your relief.

‘Hi,’ he replies, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just by the river and I passed a cart selling these and I thought Jiwon might like them.’

He holds out a paper wrapped bundle of bungeoppang, still warm despite the cold.

Jiwon’s reached out, already thanking him, and you look up at Namjoon.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you, they’re his favourite.’

‘There’s enough for both of you,’ Namjoon says.

He’s stepping away, halfway down your yard when he stops. 

‘Your gate lock’s broken,’ he says. ‘I can help you fix it if you want.’

‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ you say hastily. The lock’s been broken for a while, you’d meant to fix it but it’s been a busy month at the communal greenhouse.

‘It’s not safe,’ he says gently. ‘Not with both of you in the house.’

His words, though gently spoken, send a flush of shame through you.

He must think you’re such a mess, incapable of even keeping yourself and your son safe. 

He doesn’t give you time to answer. ‘I have tools. I’ll come over tomorrow and fix it, ok?’

‘Thank you,’ you say. There’s a quiver in your voice, you hope he doesn’t know you well enough to hear it. 

You open your door and usher Jiwon in from the cold.

***

You’re clearing your garden path the next morning, shovelling snow, when Namjoon comes to fix the gate. 

He nods politely at you, then gets to work. He doesn’t seem to want to chat, particularly, but that’s fine with you as you’re out of breath from clearing the path anyway. 

Namjoon disappears briefly once the lock’s fixed, comes back with a bag of grit over his shoulder. 

‘Let me grit your path,’ he offers, and you let him as he’s already brought the damn stuff over.

You invite him in as you prepare Jiwon’s breakfast.

He sits at your table, looking big in your small kitchen but not out of place.

There’s a picture on the wall of you and Jiwon’s father, from the Christmas that Jiwon turned two.

You can see him looking at it as you pass him a mug.

Namjoon asks, ‘Is that Jiwon’s father?’

You look at the photo. In it, you’re holding Jiwon up, and Hiro, Jiwon’s father, is laid on the floor, tickling his feet. There are the trappings of what Christmas was like before the war scattered all around you.

Luxuries that weren’t until everything else was taken away. 

‘Yes,’ you say. You lean against the kitchen sink, hold up your own mug. ‘He left after the war.’

‘I’m sorry.’ 

He looks like he means it. 

‘It’s ok,’ you tell him, honestly. ‘We’re doing ok, and Jiwon doesn’t remember much of him.’

There’s a moment of silence, then you hear Jiwon’s footsteps coming down the stairs. 

He greets Namjoon with a total lack of surprise at seeing him at the breakfast table. You’re amused at the nonchalant way Jiwon greets Namjoon, and then you realise it might be because of Namjoon’s calm, gentle manner.

For all his size, you find it difficult to envision Namjoon ever hurting anyone or anything. 

***

The guards come for you a few weeks later, late at night when Jiwon’s asleep. You’re putting away the washing up when there’s a knocking at the door.

Impatient, demanding.

You crack the door open only to have to step back quickly as the door is pushed inward, towards you.

The two guards who enter have epaulets on their shoulders signifying them as of a low rank. 

Any rank can detain a civilian for thoughtwiping, though.

The chill in your spine is only partially environmental.

‘Are you the wife of Hiro Kwon?’ 

You keep your tone calm, steady. ‘We’re estranged. I haven’t seen him in years.’

‘We have reason to believe he stole a very important pre-war relic from General Dei.’

You know where this is going.

‘My son is sleeping upstairs, can I take him into the greenhouse whilst you search my house?’

The guard closest to you gives you a hard stare. 

‘He has nightmares,’ you say, pleading. 

You fetch Jiwon, get him dressed and take him outside whilst the guards search your house. He leans against you, quiet. You hate that events like this are a part of his life.

Next door, Namjoon’s light is on. 

When the guards come out to tell you that you can re-enter your own house, you hear Namjoon’s door opening.

He walks up to the fence, and your heart stops.

He’s wearing full guard uniform, with epaulets that show he outranks the guards questioning you.

Sweet, gentle Namjoon from next door is a high-ranking official in the guard.

And you? You’re the biggest fool alive.

He’s looking at you and Jiwon, face impassive, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he takes you in.

Beside you, Jiwon’s shivering, and automatically, you slip your coat off to wrap around him.

You turn back to the guards. You’re still struggling with the weight of recent revelations but you need to get Jiwon back inside.

‘May we go?’ 

The guard stops you, drawing his baton, and you freeze.

‘He can go. We have more questions for you.’

You can’t look at Namjoon.

‘Of course. Let me take him up to bed and I’ll answer any questions you have.’

The walk back downstairs after you put Jiwon to bed feels like your feet are too heavy for your body.

You cast an eye at the mirror in your hallway. Your expression is a perfect blank, unreadable. You already know the lengths you’ll go to, to keep Jiwon safe.

The questions start innocently enough.

When did you last see your husband?

When did he last try to contact you?

You’re asked differently worded versions of the same questions repeatedly.

Your answers get shorter as the questioning goes on, and then the baton comes out even though you haven’t moved.

It raps on the table next to your hand, and you can’t help it, you startle badly at the sound.

There’s a knock at the door, then.

You look to the guards, and the younger one gets up to answer.

He returns with Namjoon. 

Namjoon’s face is impassive. He gives you a once over, then nods to the two guards. 

‘Leave us, I’ll handle this.’ 

The tension in the room ramps up as the guards leave, and by the time the door closes behind them, it’s taking all your strength to stay still. 

Namjoon, as though sensing your turmoil, takes a step back, away from you. 

His voice is low, quiet, but you have no difficulty hearing him. 

‘Did they hurt you?’ he asks. 

You look up at him, trying to read his expression. ‘No, they didn’t,’ you answer. 

He lets out a breath that sounds relieved.

‘Have you heard from your husband?’ he asks.

‘I told you, we’re estranged,’ you reply.

You can hear Jiwon moving upstairs. You turn back to Namjoon.

‘Can I go to him? I’ll come back down, I just want to make sure he’s ok —-‘

Namjoon’s expression changes. He looks stunned. 

‘Of course, I wouldn’t stop you.’

When you come back down Namjoon’s still standing where you left him.

‘It’s late, you should go to bed,’ he says. His eyes search yours.

You look back at him, at the epaulets adorning his broad shoulders.

He must have earned them somehow. 

The thought makes you avert your eyes, set your chin.

‘I will,’ you say, neutral, cool. 

Namjoon waits like he’s got more to say, but when you look up, he’s headed to your kitchen door, letting himself out.

You lock the door behind him and breathe out, fully, for the first time in hours.

***

You wake the next morning to sounds outside your window.

There’s a man in your garden, and you’d be alarmed if Jiwon didn’t have a similar profile.

It’s Hiro.

You open the back door and gesture him in.

He looks older, thinner, but he still has the spark in his eye that drew you to him. You’re surprised to find you don’t feel anything about his sudden appearance apart from the faintest pleasure of seeing someone who was once dear to you.

You moved on out of necessity, and there’s no going back.

‘The guards are looking for you,’ you say, once you’ve made him a drink.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘I need somewhere to stay. Do you have any money?’

‘Not much,’ you tell him. ‘I can spare some.’

Hiro touches your hand, on the table in between you, and you pull back, startled.

You get up, gather the banknotes you’ve saved, and give him what you can.

‘Can I see him?’ Hiro asks.

You don’t have it in your heart to say no. ‘Don’t wake him.’

You take him upstairs to Jiwon’s room, let him peer through the crack in the door.

When Hiro turns back to you, there are tears in his eyes.

You have nothing left to say.

***

The raid on the communal greenhouse today was unexpected, and you weren’t quite quick enough to get out of the way of a wayward baton strike.

Your wrist throbs dully, your fingers are swollen, and the painkillers you dry-swallowed are only just about taking the edge off. 

You’ve sent Jiwon to bed and are trying to dislodge the sack of fertiliser from the top shelf of your greenhouse one-handed, panting at the effort, when Namjoon’s porch light comes on.

Startled, you lose your balance and fall off the crate you’re balancing on, just about managing to protect your wrist as you land.

The noise you’ve made draws Namjoon to the fence.

Thankfully, he’s not wearing his guard uniform.

When he sees you on the ground he disappears, appearing a moment later on your side of the fence, breathing hard from rushing over.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks, helping you up.

You’re about to answer when his face darkens. ‘What happened to your hand?’

Your hiss of pain when he reaches for you makes him flinch.

‘Here,’ he says. 

He cups a hand under your elbow gently, helping you back into your kitchen.

He frowns even more when he sees how swollen your wrist is.

‘We need to get you to a clinic,’ he says.

‘I can’t leave Jiwon, I’ll go in the morning,’ you tell him.

‘You can’t leave this overnight,’ Namjoon insists. 

He runs a hand over his face. ‘I’ll call my friend.’

‘I’m fine —‘

‘You aren’t,’ Namjoon says, the shortest he’s ever been with you. ‘I have a friend who’s a nurse, I’ll call him.’

You sit quietly in your kitchen as he makes the call. 

‘Jimin will be here soon,’ he tells you when he returns.

You’re too on edge to ask about Jimin.

You want to tell him that you’re fine, but when you open your mouth, you say, ‘Hiro, my ex husband, came here yesterday asking for money.’

Namjoon considers this in silence.

‘If the guards find out —-‘

‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell them,’ Namjoon says, sharp. ‘And neither should you.’

‘You’re a guard,’ you point out. 

‘And you told me because you know I’m not like them,’ Namjoon says. His voice is neutral, without inflection. 

‘I told you because I don’t want you to get into trouble because of your association with me. Especially after they came looking for Hiro,’ you argue. 

You get up. ‘And yes, because you aren’t like them.’ 

As soon as you say the words you realise they’re true. 

On some level you know, from the sides of him he’s shown to you, that Namjoon isn’t like the guards you’ve seen. 

Namjoon rubs his eyes. He looks tired. 

‘My father was a commander in the first generation of guards,’ he tells you. There’s a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘That didn’t save me from being thoughtwiped.’ 

You stare at him in shock. 

‘I have all the right decorations,’ Namjoon continues, gesturing to his shoulders. 

He meets your gaze. ‘I can’t excuse the things I’ve done in the past to earn them. I was young, eager to please my father, eager to keep my mother safe, and there’s nothing safer than being a guard.’

There’s bitterness in his voice now.

‘I had my limit though, as warped as I was, and I protested against an order I was commanded to carry out.’ He pauses. ‘I couldn’t do it.’

‘Your past is a fog once you’ve been thoughtwiped, but it comes back slowly, in flashes. Like a puzzle that’s incomplete.’

You’re so caught up in Namjoon’s story you’ve forgotten about the pain in your wrist.

‘This isn’t about me but I told you this because I want you to trust me,’ Namjoon says. He touches your arm, gentle. ‘There’s no threat to you, from me.’

You believe him.

You’re about to say so when there’s a knock at your door.

Namjoon gets up and returns with a man with kind eyes who introduces himself as Jimin.

He tends to your wrist with a gentleness that almost brings you to tears, binding it and placing it in a brace that eases the pain a little.

‘It’s probably broken,’ Jimin tells you, ‘but this is the best I can do until you can get to the clinic.’

You thank him gratefully. 

‘Namjoon says you have a son. If you bring him to my clinic I’ll do a health check for free,’ Jimin offers.

You can’t thank him enough for his kindness.

After he leaves, Namjoon says, ‘Do you have a spare room? Or I can sleep on the couch.’

You stare at him, overwhelmed. ‘I don’t have a spare room —-‘

‘The couch it is,’ Namjoon says. 

‘You don’t have to —‘

‘You did it for me when I was injured,’ Namjoon points out. He dimples at you. ‘Don’t let me miss my chance to play nursemaid….’

You can’t imagine anyone who looks less like a nursemaid than your tall, broad, handsome neighbour.

‘You can take my bed,’ you offer.

There’s a beat of silence, and you realise how it must have sounded to him.

Oh no.

You splutter in your haste to explain. ‘Oh my god, I meant you can take my bed, for you, alone. I can take the couch.’

Namjoon looks like he’s holding back a smile.

‘I’ll take the couch,’ he says, very gently. ‘Now you should go to bed, you look very tired.’

You take yourself off to bed before your mouth betrays you again.

***

You wake to familiar scraping outside. You get up, hissing at the dull flare of pain in your injured wrist, and head for your bedroom window.

It’s Namjoon, clearing your garden path. He pauses to wipe a hand over his forehead, breath coming out in white puffs.

You pull on a robe and head down to the kitchen, open the back door.

‘Hey,’ you call.

He turns immediately, face creasing in concern. ‘How’s your wrist?’

‘Still broken,’ you say cheerfully.

A dimple flashes in his cheek.

‘Go sit down, I’ll finish this and make us breakfast.’

Despite Namjoon’s instructions, you start on breakfast anyway, you’re used to looking after you and Jiwon.

‘I’ll walk Jiwon to school so you can go straight to the clinic,’ Namjoon says.

You look at Jiwon.

Jiwon’s bright smile is all the answer you need.

***

You wake in the dead of night, heart thumping, blood rushing in your ears.

You’re up and out of bed before you’re fully awake, hand on Jiwon’s door, when you hear it again.

The same noise that woke you up.

The creak of your front gate.

You hear footsteps to your front door, then the knocking starts.

You wake Jiwon, wrap him in his coat, wishing you’d remembered your own.

‘Open the door, by the order of the guard,’ shouts a male voice, making you stumble in fear, making your adrenaline surge.

You glimpse the grandfather clock on your landing as you hurry through to the kitchen with Jiwon.

It’s 2am.

You doubt this is a routine interrogation.

It feels more like a raid.

You grab Jiwon’s face, make him look at you.

‘If we get separated, run through the gate and into Namjoon’s greenhouse. Don’t wait for me.’

Your voice is calm, your eyes serious, and Jiwon, with the wisdom of a much older child, nods.

You pull his coat closed, and take a breath, gathering your wits about you before you pull open the back door.

There’s no one there. The guards are still at the front of the house.

You hold Jiwon’s hand, tight, and step into the night.

***

You make it into Namjoon’s greenhouse just as your kitchen lights come on.

Your heart pounds like drums in your chest, insistent, so loud you’re worried anyone within a half mile could hear it.

You tuck Jiwon into a corner between sacks of fertiliser, stacked up, and listen intently.

There’s shouting, the sounds of doors slamming.

You hope it’s snowing hard enough to cover the tracks you and Jiwon made.

There’s nothing you can do about it now.

You wait, Jiwon tucked as far back as you could put him, hands gripping the shovel you grabbed from the back of the door. 

Beams of light bounce over the glass wall, freezing you into position. You close your eyes.

The door creaks open, and you stop breathing.

Steps, then in your terror it takes you a while to recognise Namjoon’s face.

Your eyes meet.

Namjoon holds up a hand, the barest of movements, then he shouts, loud and clear, ‘They’re not in here.’

Your heart pumps, and you start to breathe again. 

***

It’s hours before Namjoon returns to the greenhouse, face drawn and tired.

He says, ‘We need to go.’

‘Where?’ you ask, when you’re really thinking, ‘We?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

Namjoon scoops Jiwon into his arms like he weighs nothing, and you follow.

Your limbs are stiff from the cold and the tension of waiting to be caught, but you make them bend to your will, keeping up with Namjoon’s longer strides.

‘I’ve got a car, a mile from here, can you walk?’ Namjoon asks, terse.

You notice the backpack he has slung onto his shoulders. 

‘I can carry something,’ you say, ‘Give me the pack.’

Namjoon’s tense expression softens, just enough to be perceived, as he glances at you.

‘Keep pace with me,’ he says.

It takes you a quarter of an hour to reach the car, parked alongside a warehouse. 

Namjoon places Jiwon in the backseat, tucks a blanket over him, unlocks the trunk to place the backpack inside.

You climb into the front passenger seat, watch as he starts the engine. His hand curls around the gear shaft, and you put your hand over his. 

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ you ask.

There’s no going back from this. It’s one thing to not report you to the Guard, it’s completely another to help you get away.

Namjoon looks at your hand on his for a moment.

‘I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in a while,’ he says.

He looks up at you. ‘This is the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.’

He puts his other hand on top of yours briefly, then pulls away to start the engine.

He drives.

***

Dawn’s breaking by the time you reach your destination, a cabin deep in the mountains that you access via a narrow road buffeted with snow drifts.

Namjoon cuts the engine, sits back, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired.

‘Are you ok?’ you ask, tentative. 

‘Better now,’ he says, some of the tension leaving his expression. ‘Better now that we’re here.’

Jiwon’s stirring now that you’ve stopped, looking at you and Namjoon with a quiet resignation.

You hate that he’s grown to accept his world constantly being turned upside down as his due.

Namjoon turns back to look at him, a dimple popping in his cheek as he smiles.

‘Hey, are you hungry, Jiwon? I have some cereal in the cabin.’

Your heart teeters at Namjoon’s easy kindness towards your son, about to fall.

You’re about to fall for this man who you owe so much to, fool that you are.

You put your hand on Namjoon’s arm, eyes alight with gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ you tell him.

Namjoon glances at you, hesitates. 

‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he tells you. ‘I — I wanted to help.’

You think about his words as you help Jiwon out of the car and you head for the cabin together.

***

Jiwon’s asleep, you make sure he’s tucked in warm before you go into the main part of the cabin. 

Namjoon’s standing by the window, his large frame taking up almost all of it, face tilted up, like he’s looking at the sky. 

He turns when he sees you. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll get the generator working tomorrow.’ 

There’s a fire in the hearth, not quite enough to light up the whole cabin but it’s warm enough. 

‘Don’t apologise,’ you tell him. 

You can’t see all of his face in the shadows, so you step forward. 

‘Jiwon and I wouldn’t be safe, here, if it weren’t for you.’ 

‘It was a woman and her son,’ he says, a change of subject so abrupt he’s lost you for a second before he continues. 

‘They wanted me to thoughtwipe her because of something her son did. Something stupid, meaningless.’ 

He turns to look out the window again. ‘I refused.’ 

‘That’s when they thoughtwiped you,’ you say. It’s not a question. 

He laughs, short, harsh. ‘And then they thoughtwiped her anyway. Last I heard she and her son were separated, sent to different sectors.’ 

You step forward again, wanting to see his face. 

‘You’re a good man, Namjoon,’ you tell him. ‘You can’t be responsible for everything.’ 

‘I should have done more,’ he says, flat. 

‘You’ve done a lot for us,’ you point out. 

You still can’t see his face, but you can see the sadness in the line of his shoulders, poignant and beautiful. 

You take another step forward, cup his cheek. His skin’s warm, and there’s the faintest pressure against your palm as he leans into your touch. 

You shiver a little, more from the feel of him than from the cold, but he’s quick to react, slipping the fleece off his broad shoulders and placing it over yours. 

For a moment his arms are around you, and you’re within a breath of turning away, would have turned away if you hadn’t felt the shift in his weight.

He’s leaning on you.

You curl your hand around his neck, and he leans down with the faintest pressure from your fingertips.

A thrill races through you as his lips brush yours, blooming into a pulse, heady and throbbing as you tilt your head to kiss him again.

He’s slow, so gentle it takes you a while to realise that his kisses are robbing you of your breath.

The tip of his tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, a question you answer by parting them.

Letting him in.

His hand travels down your side to land on your hip, tentative.

Another question.

This time you slide your arms around his waist, under his top. The warm skin of his back is smooth under your hands.

He grunts softly as you pull him closer, comes willingly. 

He kisses you again, firmer this time, and you melt into him. 

Gradually, in stages, closer and closer until you’re so close you don’t know where he ends and you begin. 

He cups the back of your head, pulls away just enough to say, ‘The couch.’ 

You follow him to the couch, and he tilts his head for another kiss. 

You put a hand flat on his chest to steady yourself, and he puts his own hand over yours, covering it completely, anchoring you to him. 

‘I haven’t done this in a while,’ you tell him. 

‘Me either,’ he says. 

His dimple flashes. ‘We can remind each other.’ 

Namjoon’s a patient man, you knew this about him already. 

You hadn’t expected him to be quite this patient though, not pushing you even though you can feel how hard he is under you.

‘Do you want to keep going?’ you ask.

‘So badly,’ he tells you, huffing out a breath, tilting his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, hard.

You lick a stripe along his neck, and he shivers, gripping your shoulder. 

‘Do it again,’ he says, voice dropped low. ‘Can I touch you?’

‘Please,’ you say, and to your delight, his hands drop to the front lapels of your (his) shirt.

‘You look good in my clothes,’ he murmurs. He kisses down your chest, slow, open-mouthed, and by the time he gets to your breasts you’re vibrating with need.

He takes the tip of your breast into his mouth, sucking delicately at first, then more strongly when you moan his name.

Every pull of his mouth makes you pulse and tighten, and you don’t realise you’re grinding against him until his big hand grips your hip.

‘Stop, or I’ll come,’ he warns, voice thick, gravelly now.

‘Take your clothes off,’ you say.

He undoes the fly of his jeans, and the damp patch you see where his cock’s tenting his boxer briefs makes your mouth water.

He stops you with your hands on your own sweatpants, says, ‘Let me.’

Before you realise quite what he’s doing, he’s slid onto his knees on the floor, has tugged your sweatpants down to reveal your thighs, the hot stickiness between your legs.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. Poises himself, open mouthed over your core.

Looks to you once, eyes hooded, and whatever he sees in your face makes him bend down and put his mouth to you.

You cry out, muffled behind your own hand, and he stops instantly. 

‘Is this ok?’ he asks.

‘Yes, yes, please,’ you tell him.

He watches you as he slides his tongue over your slit, eyes hooded and hot.

He’s good with his tongue, you realise dimly in the back of your mind as he laps at you. He swallows audibly, and your hips dance under his mouth.

‘Joon,’ you moan, and he hums, deep voice vibrating against your skin.

‘Joon,’ you moan again. His hand splays on the curve of your hip, fingers tightening on your flesh.

This time, he moans in response, and you cry out, throaty and hoarse, as he sucks at your clit with renewed fervour, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

‘Joon!’

He pushes a finger into you, and you come with a gush of wet, walls tightening around him, your entire body tensing for a glorious instant before giving way to waves of pleasure.

Namjoon groans, deep in his chest, and you reach out and grip his hips, guiding him between your legs.

‘Wait,’ he says, touching your face, gentle though you can feel him hard as steel at your entrance, the blunt fullness of his cockhead nudging, seeking. ‘Are you sure you want this?’

‘Yes,’ you say, ‘yes.’

Namjoon groans again, pressing into you, filling you so well your body arches like a bow against his.

‘Feel so good,’ he utters, jaw tight, voice raspy.

He moves strongly within you, taking control with a confidence that thrills you to your toes.

He says your name as he moves, guttural and wanting, the slide of him into you making sparks bloom behind your eyelids.

He grasps your hand, fingers knitting with yours, as you writhe and moan underneath him. 

‘Sound so pretty,’ Namjoon groans. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t —‘

You grip his shoulder. ‘I want you to come, Joon,’ you breathe, mouth by his ear.

He groans again then, circles his hips, and then thrusts deep, spilling his warmth inside you. 

He’s still for a moment, breathing hard against your ear. 

You turn your head to kiss him. 

You’re still holding his hand, and it’s a while before either of you let go. 

***

You pour out a mug of coffee from the pot Namjoon’s brewed, go out to where you can hear Namjoon chopping wood outside. 

He’s concentrating, splitting chunks of wood with a careful precision. 

He looks up as you approach, and his smile warms you. 

‘Hey,’ he says. 

You’d ended up sleeping tangled up with Namjoon. Some time during the night you’d woken to find him pushing your hair back from your face. 

You’d pulled him down on top of you, taken him in again, slow, languid, bodies moving together until you’d gasped and come, muffled against his chest. 

‘Hey,’ you reply. 

‘Jiwon still asleep?’ he asks. 

‘He’s exhausted,’ you say. 

‘Glad we didn’t wake him,’ Namjoon says. 

‘He’s a pretty good sleeper.’ 

Namjoon glances at you, and you flush. 

‘I didn’t mean —’ 

He laughs at how flustered you are. 

‘Good to know he sleeps well,’ Namjoon says. There’s a spark in his eyes now, dimples flashing in his cheeks. 

For all his size and height and seriousness, your handsome neighbour looks like a little boy trying to get a rise out of you when he’s like this. 

He watches, amusement in his face, as you sip the coffee to try to hide your discomfiture. 

When you look back at him, he’s gathering up an armful of wood. 

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘When Jiwon wakes up I need to talk to both of you.’ 

***

The sun’s high in the gloomy sky by the time Jiwon wakes, lured by the smells of breakfast and the warmth of the fire in the fireplace. 

After breakfast, Namjoon clears the table, and then sits you all down. 

‘We can’t stay here for long,’ he says, seriously. ‘The guards don’t know about this place, but it’s not safe, and they’ll still be looking for you.’ 

‘There’s a place close to the border where there’s a new community, away from the guarded sectors.’

You’re looking at Namjoon, carefully, and he’s looking right back at you.

‘We could go there. It’ll be hard, probably, at the beginning.’

You turn to Jiwon.

Hard? 

Harder than the life you have now? 

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you need to find a better future, for Jiwon. 

Stability. 

You ask the question you asked in your head when you left home with Namjoon.

‘We?’

‘Yes,’ Namjoon says. ‘I’d like to go with you. If that’s ok.’

You’re looking at Jiwon again. 

The hopeful expression on his face makes the decision for you.

***

Ten years later

You’re waiting at the train station for Jiwon.

There’s a chill in the air still, it’s cold for spring but warmer than it has been in recent years.

A lot’s changed in the last ten years.

You, Namjoon and Jiwon had moved to the new community at just the right time.

It had been hard at first, but nothing compared to the constant fear of being detained by the guards.

The world’s been rebuilding itself after the War.

With your experience as a communal gardener, you’d been able to set up your own hydroponic greenhouse, and demand built up for your produce, to the point where you’ve been able to hire your own crew of gardeners and expand.

Jiwon had thrived in the new community, and when universities re-opened, he’d been accepted as part of the first few cohorts of students. 

His university was a few hours away, but the redevelopment of public transport meant there was a regular train linking his campus and your home.

The home you built with Namjoon.

In recent years, you’ve seen more and more of the light-hearted, humorous Namjoon and less of the troubled, serious Namjoon you first met.

Your love for him has only grown.

He approaches you now, a little older, but still as heartbreakingly handsome as the day you met him.

You think the best decision you ever made for you and Jiwon was to let him in. 

And now Jiwon’s on his way back for Christmas, and your heart is full.

Namjoon hands you the coffee he bought you from the cafe, and when you tilt your face up to his he leans down.

It’s a learned response from years of adjusting his height so you can reach to kiss him.

You press a kiss onto his cheek, over his dimple, and his arm slides around you to hold you tight to him.

The train pulls into the station, and Namjoon grasps your hand as it stops.

The carriage doors open, and your beautiful son steps out.

Physically, he looks like you, but the confidence in his bearing, the kindness in his face, the roguish twinkle in his eyes?

That’s you, and Namjoon.  

©hamsterclaw 2023

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daugther

Chapter XII

The sun stands high as we all line up at the entrance to the vale to walk between the dragon’s formation. Garrick just gave us our instructions and so far, we are (mostly) ready to go in. But there are still some … questionable people who have to make our lives harder.

“Can I ask a question?” Luca says in front of us. Have you ever met the human version of a headache? “Oh, this is going to be good” I whisper annoyed while pinching the bridge of my nose.

Garrick nods, but the ticking of his jaw shows how annoyed he really is. Me too, buddy.

“Third Squad, Tail Section of Fourth Wing already made it through, and I talked to some of them …” “That’s not a damn question” I hiss out.

This is already nerve wrecking without her yapping … why can’t she just shut up? Garrick’s eyes find mine, amusement obvious in them before he turns back to Luca.

“It’s just … some of them said there is a feathertail.” Oh?!

“A f-feathertail?” Tynan shrieks. “Who the hell would want to bond such a thing?”

Amari, please help me survive these idiots. Rhiannon shakes her head in disappointment, but Sawyer looks intrigued. “Professor Kaori didn’t say something about a feathertail” he says. “I have every dragon memorized he showed us, and I didn’t see a feathertail.”

“Nerd” I whisper with a teasing grin. He just shoves my shoulder while smiling. “As if you don’t have everything remembered” he grins back.

“Look. Feathertails don’t bond, so relax. If there is really one, then it is probably just curious. When you are up, stay on the damn path. You don’t walk alone but in your squad. It doesn’t get any easier so whatever you do, not following the rules and instructions for example, you deserve whatever happens to you, kids.”

Well damn, thank you for that. But his “pep-talk” did the job, because everyone is finally quiet. Even Luca, who looks like she is about to shit her pants.

A woman I’ve seen a few times around steps forward and ushers us to stand in one line. I am at the very back, Ridoc in front of me. “Talk” she orders.

“Nice day for presentation” Ridoc jokes. I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, the air is nicely fresh with a lingering smell of death” He joins my snickering.

Sawyer in front of Ridoc shakes his head in disbelief.

“You two need to be studied because how the fuck can you two always be so …” he struggles to find the right word. “Unhinged” Garrick.

“Yes right. So fucking unhinged in the wrong situations?”

We look at each other, then back at our curly haired friend. We shrug. “Amari, give me patience” Garrick mutters while stepping away, shaking his head in disbelief just like Sawyer did moments prior.

“See you after the stroll” the senior wingleader says and steps to the side, revealing the dirt path leading through the vale. Let’s go into the dragon’s den.

The first dragons we pass after a few minutes are red ones, three of them. They’re incredible huge but nothing beats the black beast.

“I can’t see their tails” Tynan shouts from the front. Is he dumb? “Yeah, let’s go, scream into their faces. I am sure they’ll like that” I murmur sarcastically, loud enough for Ridoc to hear me. He snorts but doesn’t turn around.

“I need to figure out which one I am going to approach during Threshing” he shouts again. Amari, give him brain please.

“There is not a single reason why he should bond a dragon. He would get us all killed before he figures out how to get on top of one” Ridoc snaps. I try to surpass a laugh but don’t say anything against it, because he is right.

While Ridoc and Sawyer are talking about who they’d like to bond I let my gaze wander around, accidentally making eye contact with an orange one. Bowing my head, I turn away.

“What the hell?” Tynan, again. “What now fucker?” I hiss to myself.

Violet and Tynan are bickering in the front while everyone stares to the right. What-Oh.

At the end of the line is a tiny yellowish, no – golden, dragon. That must be the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen. “Maybe it’s a mistake” I hear Sawyer say. “Maybe it’s a baby orange.”

Suddenly he lunges at Tynan, grabbing his collar while he hisses something in his face.

“What the fuck is going on up there” I ask Ridoc. “I think Tynan said something to Violet about her being weak and that she should bond the little dragon. Matching her weakness.” he whispers.

Oh gods, he really has no shame.

“Someone should kill it before it bonds” Tynan chokes out, not noticing the feathertail swinging it’s head into his direction. Is it glaring at him? Cute. “Someone should kill you for being disrespectful in front of dragon’s” I hiss at him.

We get back into formation and start walking again. Aaand … Luca is complaining again. Or more like insulting the dragons. And hasn't even been five minutes. Violet and her talk about folklore and about wyvern.

“You don’t know what a wyvern is?” Rhiannon asks with a dumbfounded face. Lucas face is beet red when I catch sight of her, obviously embarrassed.

“Don`t be ashamed of yourself Luca. That`s your parents’ job” I call in her direction, making her gasp, offended. The two boys in front of me can’t hold their laughter.

We are walking near a set of reds who kind of look annoyed. Shit, time to shut up if I want to live. One of them steps a foot forward and open its mouth.

“Fuck” I curse as fire streams through the air into Rhiannon’s direction. Ridoc gasps audibly. The scent of sulfur and … death fills the air as everyone holds their breath.

‘Please don’t be Rhiannon. Please don’t be Rhiannon’ I beg quietly in my mind.

The red one steps back to his prior place and I look to the side, hoping it wasn’t- “You okay, Rhi?” Violet calls forward. “Yes, but Pryor…” she answers with a shaking voice. Thank god, it wasn’t her who got incinerated.

“Oh my god, the smell” Luca complains again which makes Violet turn around furiously. “Do you even have a sense of decency?” she spits, not noticing the two greens stepping in her direction.

“Violet” Ridoc whispers horrified. The girl immediately turns around and comes face to face with the dragons. She bows her head, and I can see her lips moving, talking to them when they start sniffing her. Oh… The armor! Teines scales! I could kiss Mira right now.

They sniff some more while Violet still talks to them and then they are retreating. Before I can ask her if she is okay, I feel something … different.

It’s like a lingering presence at the entrance of my mind. I subtly let my eyes scan over the dragons and the path but can’t notice anything different. The presence still there.

When I make eye contact with the red one from before it looks interested. A loud grumble interrupts us, and I think I see its eyes widening for a second but that could be my mind playing tricks on me.

I didn’t even notice another squad member being torched, only when we are out of the vale I notice Luca missing. Sawyer confirms my suspicions.

“She got … incinerated.”

“Thank god, finally” I breathe out in relief but snort the next second and slap my hand over my mouth as my squad members (minus Tynan) break out in loud laughter. Garrick looks at me in disbelief, again.

I shrug. What a day.

[v3nusxsky]

for the smut prompts number 3 pls i’ll love you forever🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Wildest dreams 18+

*Authors note~ happy Halloween guys! I would like to thank you all for following along with my first ever Kinktober! Enjoy guys, also @prettybuckybaby you should love me forever bc I added Bucky :)*

Trigger warnings~ Mistress kink daddy kink mommy kink sir kink? Oral sex sex toys Bucky x r, Larissa x r, lesso x r, Natasha x r, lesso x Wanda (punishment only) bondage blindfolds humiliation? Praise kink degrading kink Voyeurism, r getting shared around um smut ? Idk if it’s in need of anymore warnings

Prompt~ see ask

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Leo! I’m sorry” you whined as the fiery red head continued to fix your bindings and place the extra thick blindfold over your eyes. “I simply don’t care Kitten, you earned this so you’ll shut up and take it like a pretty Kitty for your Mistress, or I’ll just cancel your surprise” she threatened making sure to attach the little vibe to your aching clit. “I’m sorry please, Leo I’ll be a good girl” you promised, but you both knew that it was an empty promise. When you get bored you tend to become bratty, and that was something Lesso loved. Putting her pretty Kitten back in her place was great stress relief. However, it being Halloween the Dean had a surprise lined up, but you’d have to take the punishment first.

Flicking the vibe on Lesso just watched as you thrashed against the bindings, “oh dear! I must have set it to high, my mistake” she taunted watching how your body was forced to be still. Your pleas and empty promises flowing from your mouth like a river had the red head desperately dipping a hand into her underwear to tease herself. “Quiet kitten, or you’ll not get to hear how turned on your Mistress is for you” was all that was needed to have you biting your lower lip to try and silence yourself. Being rewarded with her whimpers and groans of pleasure had your poor core practically leaking with need.

Leonora must have took pity on you as she turned the vibe off throwing it somewhere around the room before straddling your thigh. “You don’t mind if Mistress uses you kitten do you? You’ve got me awfully turned on, and it’s only right you fix it isn’t it? You wanna make me feel good right?” Her words we murmured right down your ear as you immediately agreed begging her to use you and take what she wants. Anything for her pleasure. “I just want to be a good Kitten for you, please let me help” you whined as the redhead began to rut her hips against your thigh, her panties adding the extra stimulation, aiding her to get to that edge faster, after all she is on a time crunch.

“I wanna hear your beg, beg for your Mistress to cover you in my cum, beg for me sweet girl” she groaned coming closer to the edge, but wanting to hear you say how badly you need her to cum. And that you did, like a good kitten you begged and pleaded until her warm cum was spread over your thigh. Moving off your thigh the red head informed you your guests of honour had arrived. “Leo? Guests? What’s happening Leo?” You whimpered only to be silenced with a kiss. “Ahh sweet girl, I read your book, and decided as a special treat to find these people. You took your punishment now here’s the next part. Let’s great them shall we?”

You lost count of how many people had now joined the room but by the gasps of want and desire you could tell this would be interesting. Your body bound and littered in your lovers marks was on full display now leaving your curiosity to run absolutely wild. “She’s a free slut for you all, nothing is off limits apart from her cumming. Her safe words is the traffic light system and a fist if she can’t freely talk, have fun” the red head command before growling “You however know what to do.”

Lesso had found your note book of pure porn without plot, a book featuring a variety of people that you knew didn’t even know of your existence. It was flattering really, you included her in every single story you wrote and she just knew she had to treat you to this. Something not even your wildest dreams would comprehend. After all it wasn’t hard to locate the Realms of these people.

Larissa was first, The schools for Goof and Evil having worked together recently meant she was already familiar with Lesso’s pet and was more than happy to play along, she found you rather adorable and well fuckable. Lesso explained your stories and Larissa immediately recognised what her students were calling “fanficton” that she had confiscated from some of the older students of Nevermore.

It was decided Larissa would play with you first, after all she has Nevermore to run. So it was no surprise to anyone really that Larissa crawled up your body to litter it with kisses of her own, praises flowing freely as she took in your body. “Such a pretty girl, mommy wants to sit on your face darling” she murmured before nipping at your neck. “Mistress?” You whimpered looking for the okay only to be treated with a harsh smack to your thigh, “do as your told kitten, don’t keep mommy waiting little slut.”

Larissa’s pillow like thighs settled either side of your head as she lowered her now exposed cunt to your awaiting tongue. “Oh good girl, such a good little girl” Larissa murmured as she began to grind her hips down against your mouth. “Pretty girl, they are all watching your pretty pussy flutter around nothing, you’re so good darling” Larissa mewled as you sucked on her clit forcing her to her orgasm quicker than she would’ve liked. “Fuck! Good fucking girl, right there Y/n. Oh fuck Leo she’s so perfect” Larissa complimented as she drenched your face in her juices. You carefully brought the woman back down so she could climb off your face and steal a kiss. She immediately took control and forced her tongue into your mouth effectively tasting herself on your tongue. “Mm so fucking sweet pretty girl, until the next time” she murmured leaving a kiss on your cheek before finding her original spot.

“Mistress, thank you-“ you whimpered but were cut off by the bed dipping by your bound foot. “Gonna be good doll?” A male voice sounded the room and you instantly knew who it was. “B-buck?” You whimpered causing Leonora to laugh, “oh kitten, you weren’t this shy in your stories, go ahead Bucky, fuck her.” See there was no need to get you ready, Larissa and lesso had done a good enough job of that and well, Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t been lazily stroking her hard cock to the sight of you being a whore. It was a massive turn on. Making quick work of applying a condom he settled himself between your spread legs. “Ready for me dolly?”

Lining himself up with your awaiting core he immediately slipped in, you letting out whimpers, a mix of pain and pleasure, at the stretch. “God Dolly you’re so tight! Does Mistress not fuck you well enough? Hmm?” He taunted setting a slow and steady rhythm. “You just needed Sir’s cock hmm? Lesso, look how cock dumb she is for me, might want to be carful or I’ll take the slut back with me.”

“Watch it Barnes” lesso growled, she was all for it, watching you be shared around, but you are hers. And that was clear. “Mistress is best- fuck oh god I - at fucking me” you attempted to get out amongst the moans he was pulling from you, the bulbous head of his dick bumping against your cervix, “Mistress, close please! Can I” you whimpered hoping she would take pity on you. “Pull out Bucky, she isn’t to cum” Lesso damned only to be met with a disgruntled noise from Bucky as he did as he was asked. There he stripped the rubber from his painful hard dick before crawling up the bed.

From there he got a good look at you, desperate and pouting at the denial. The feeling of his cock rubbing at your lips had you gasping in shock, just before he thrusted himself down your throat. “Suck on it dolly” he demanded as he fucked your face, forcing you to swallow every last drop of cum. Tears now leaked from the blindfold as you coughed and spluttered around his pulsating member. “Fucking whore likes choking on cock, I wonder” he panted pulling out from your swollen lips to place his large hands around your throat, “you look so much better with my hands around your throat doll.”

Bucky soon left the room leaving you so fucking desperate and yet no clue what would happen to you now. That’s when you heard the Russian accent. “Oh she’s so pretty, wands what are you doing” the Russian spat causing Wanda to whimper, fuck she’d been caught. Although they were here to play with you she was still very much Natasha’s submissive and this was her reward. One that she’d just lost. “Leonora, could you deal with that needy bitch of mine while I fuck this sweetheart to high heaven?” Oh fuck no, you struggled to free yourself from the bindings, Leonora is yours and you couldn’t get to her, Wanda being free and touchable had lesso agreeing knowing she was setting off your jealous rage.

Natasha’s black widow skills came in use as she skilfully undid the bindings to reposition you and quickly tied you back up. This time the blind fold was removed and you had full access to watch Wanda being caned by your lover as Natasha slotted herself underneath you and quickly entered you with one swift thrust of her faux cock. “Oh Dekta you’re still so tight even after all of that? Oh you poor girl, must wanna cum for daddy hmm?” The redheads taunting combined with the speed her thrusts and the hits Wanda was receiving was dizzying, you could see the other avenger beg for mercy and you knew how that would fall on deaf ears. “Daddy” Wanda sobbed causing Leonora to growl, “daddy is busy, it’s Mistress you should be focused on or are you that much of a slut all you can think about is daddy fucking my Kitten over there” lesso was never one to mince her words and it was clear that she was getting just as much power from punishing Wanda as Natasha was from punishing you. “Mistress. I’m close please please let me cum” you whimpered taking Natasha’s brutal thrusts. “So sensitive no more please.”

“Oh you’ll fucking take what daddy gives you my precious girl” she grunted giving you one harsh thrust before pulling you off her strap and calling over Wanda, “come here pup, she made a mess of my cock.” Wanda immediately crawling over to her lover and taking the strap deep in her throat moaning at the taste of your slick that was covering it. You were too far gone into your sub space to even register the rest, the need to have an orgasm being painfully obvious now.

Somehow, somewhere Natasha and Wanda left, Lesso informing you everyone but Larissa was staying over at the school for Evil tonight, but you weren’t leaving this room, they’d had their fun and she had hers, that was all that mattered. Undoing you from the bindings, the red head laid you on to the bed and subtly grabbed the small vibe from earlier and attached it to your overly sensitive clit. From there she decided to change her plan, the tears stained on your face were enough of a punishment so she situated herself so that she too could rut against the small vibrating toy.

“Mistress please please i need” you whined in coherently only to be silenced by a deep hungry kiss and the command to cum over her cunt. And that’s exactly what you did. You’d never came so hard in your life, drenching Lesso in cum as you squirted so hard you passed out from the pure pleasure. Seeing that had Lesso over the edge, she was now sensitive from teasing her self while the others fucked you, and truly she could see you all being friends. Maybe a repeat in the near future but for now she settled on cleaning you up and magically changing the sheets before bringing your unconscious body to lay on her chest.

Hands trailing through your hair as she cooed words of love and praise waiting for you to come back to her. “Come on sweet girl, come back to me my love.” You whimpered as the first thing you registered was your overstimulated pussy and the second being Leo. “Mmm did okay?” You mumbled, she knew the ways you were after a particularly fun night so she had everything ready. “So good sweetheart, come on have some water and then we can cuddle okay? You did so good and I’m so proud of how you handled your treat.” Drinking your water with simple encouragement and lots of praise you soon found yourself snuggled into your lover and sleepily mumbling, “m sorry you found the book and tonight but im only yours. I love you Leo” before promptly slipping back into the land of slumber

Word count 2252

Tag list

[littlesniggy]

Predator & Prey - Shanks x female Reader

Hi so I've really been into vampires lately so I decided to write a vampire AU story where Shanks is a vampire and the ready a semi successful hunter with some money problems. And since vampires don't care about money how can she repay him for lending her money? Blood.

Warnings: extortion, money problems, manipulation, dub-con but no smut!, Shanks has both his arms!, blood

Pairings: Vampire! Shanks x Hunter! female reader

Word count: 4.2k

“I thought you never wanted to come back?“ His voice sounds amused and taunting but you ignore it, simply clenching your fists to swallow some snarky retort. The tall man in front of you studies your face curiously, his head slightly cocked to he side. 

Your feel ashamed and disgusted about yourself; you have gone over this scenario in your head over and over again, have come up with so many different excuses you could tell him and yet you can’t utter one single of those lies in his presence. You know he would look right through you and any word that isn’t the truth would’ve been for naught anyways. So, you choose to keep your mouth shut. He knows the answer anyways. 

“Come, take a seat.” He offers you, pointing to the seat in front of his desk. Hesitantly, your legs start to move, setting one foot in front of the other until they reach their goal. You sink into the soft cushion and make yourself instinctively smaller even though you had planned to look him in the eye confidently and proudly. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” he offers but you shake your head. The red-haired man shrugs and pours himself a scotch, downing it in one go. 

“How’s your colleague doing?” he asks innocently, studying his empty glass without looking at you. You glare at him, sending all the hate you’re feeling his way – which simply bounces off him. He doesn’t care. You’re not a threat. 

“He died.” You press out, making him look up in surprise. “Oh, sad to hear that. Must’ve been hard to lose someone so close.” He muses. Your nails dig into your palms, trying really hard to prevent yourself from snapping right here and now. And whose fault is it, huh?! You want to scream at him but bite your tongue. 

“Have you found a replacement for him yet?” now, you can see genuine interest in his eyes and you know exactly why. You alone are no threat to him. You’re a semi-successful hunter with nothing much to offer to him. But there are some very capable colleagues of yours out there and he needs to be careful. If you spill some tea and become a liability he would need to get rid of you. Can’t have you walking around and telling your colleagues some secrets. Even though you would compromise yourself too. 

“No, not yet.” You reply, swallowing hard. Shanks raises an eyebrow, not quite believing you but he smiles regardless. You avert your eyes, feeling a slight tingling in your stomach. This damn smile which gives you a false sense of security until he shows you his true self.  The same smile which had lured you to him in the first place, which made you trust him for some odd reason.

“Well, hope you can find a new partner soon, Y/n.” he says and finally puts the empty glass down. 

“So, shall we get to business?” he asks and you all of a sudden you kind of wish he would keep talking about anything else. You peer over to him, unconsciously biting you bottom lip. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.” You manage to say and Shanks nods in agreement. 

“How much do you need this time?” This question is makes you feel ashamed all over again, reminding you of all the mistakes you have made in the past that have led to your predicament. 

“Well….50.000….” you admit, closing your eyes as you tell him the sum. Shanks whistles and then chuckles in surprise and shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of money. Maybe you should consider a change of carrier.” He taunts you, knowing exactly why you have some many money-related problems. Of course, he does. He just loves teasing you. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your problem.” You murmur silently. You watch as he looks at you intently while his hand reaches for the drawer of his desk and blindly pulls out the all too familiar check-book. He flips it open, grabs a pen and scribbles a number on it before signing it without another comment. 

He slides the piece of paper over the desk towards you, his eyes again trained on yours. You see a glistering in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like he is looking right through and exploring the deepest depth of your soul, discovering things you don’t even know about yourself. These are the eyes of the world’s most dangerous predator. 

Unable to hold his intense stare you avert your eyes and reach for the check. For a second your fingers touch and you reflexively draw back, the touch electrifying your entire body. Shanks smiles at your reaction and leans back in his chair. You hesitantly reach for the check again and hastily pull it towards yourself before stuffing it in your purse. 

“Now, darling, let’s get to the payment.” He starts, resting his head on his fist, his arms on the armrest. 

“50.000 would be twice a week for five months.” You swallow at his words. That’s a lot of blood, you think to yourself. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to give so much blood and still keep up with work but you somehow have to manage. 

“You might need to take some vacation days. Wouldn’t want you to get fired because of poor work.” He says deliberating as if he was really worried about you. 

“I’ll think about it.” You simply say, glad that it is over for now. You’re about to thank him and get up and out when he starts scratching his beard as if he is thinking about something that just crossed his mind. 

“You know what I just had to think about?” he starts and you freeze in your place. This couldn’t be good, right? You stay silent and just wait for him to speak. Your eyes watch this dangerous man get up from his seat and slowly round the desk until he is standing behind you. Your body tenses and your heart stops for a moment when you feel his fingers brush against your exposed neck. 

“Would you be interested in slightly reducing the months?” his question has you confused and you turn around to look at him. Bad mistake. You are met with a pair of hungry eyes that tell you exactly what he is thinking about. Fear strikes and you feel cornered and exposed. 

“You’ve been so good with your last payments for the previous money I gave you that I wanted to be a bit more accommodating.” He continues. His fingers now caress the thin skin on your neck in circles right over your pulse which is hammering under his touch. 

“Wha-….what do you mean?” your throat feels dry and you swallow hard without actually swallowing anything. This has caught you completely off guard and you don’t know how to react. This is new. He never shows interest in actually drinking himself. You just have to go to some shady place, get your blood drawn and go back home. To whom he sells the blood to in the end is none of your concern but you know how much blood can get you on the black market.

He smiles his warm smile and removes his hand, waving at you as if this was just a joke. “You don’t have to. It’s just an offer.” He says before slowly returning to his seat.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and the small gears in your brain are working at top speed, trying to weigh the pros and cons of his offer. 

“How many months are we talking about?” you manage to ask, earning you a slightly surprised raise of his eyebrow. Instead of sitting down in his chair he leans against his wooden desk and looks down at you, making you feel even more uncomfortable. His intense eyes are basically already devouring you (or rather the sweet, sweet red liquid that flows inside your body and which keeps you alive). Shanks licks his lips unconsciously, pondering over his reply. 

“Let’s say either twice a week for two and a half months or once a week for five months.” He suggests, a winning smile in his lips. You swallow. He’s basically cutting your payment in half! You’d be a fool not to accept….

His winning smile turns slightly sinister. “Or we keep the original payment plan…it’s up to you, Y/n.” 

You hate making big decisions. Especially under pressure. Now, that you think about it, maybe not the best personality trait for a vampire hunter. Maybe that’s the reason you’re just not making any progress in your career. 

And then there is this other thought that has been swirling the back of your head ever since he’s made his offer. You’ve never actually been bitten by a vampire before! Getting your blood drawn from your arm in some shady abandoned factory building by some even shadier men (you presume they were humans judging by the way they acted) was one thing but having a pair of long fangs stuck in your neck, sucking you dry – just the thought of it makes you feel dizzy. What kind of sounds would blood sucking even make right next to your ear? 

“Okay.” You hear yourself say and your eyes look up at him. The vampire cocks his head to the side, fake confusion on his features. “Okay what?” he insists, making you say it out loud what you want. 

“I’ll take the reduced payment.” A happy smile forms on his lips. “Great! You’re a wonderful business woman. What an excellent decision.” You don’t need to be particularly smart to know that he, at this point, is simply mocking you and your stupidity. Regret forms in the pit of your stomach and you want to vomit at the prospect of what’s about to come. 

“I will send a car tonight to pick you up.” He announces and finally sits down on his chair again. Obvious confusion is plastered all over your face and Shanks answers the question that is about to spill from your lips. 

“Do you really think I would just drink you dry here and now until you’re barely alive and begging for me to either kill you or save you?” the mental image of you being pressed on top of the desk, his mouth sucking the blood out of your body, the feeling of you becoming weaker and weaker until you feel your mind slowly turn black, all strength leaving your body. You try to push him off of you but it’s simply impossible. He taunts you, taunts your weakness and your helplessness. You beg him to please let you go but you simply can’t move. Hope slowly becomes nothing but a distant memory and you submit to your inevitable fate. Your lips form silent words that beg him to please help you out of your misery, begging him to make the pain go away...

"Kinda..." you admit and charm a genuine laugh from his throat.  “I have other plans.” He admits before taking out an old phone, probably a burner phone. “Be ready at 9 p.m. Oh and….maybe take a shower. I can smell your sweat from miles away. Not very appealing.”

.

.

.

The man sitting in the driver’s seat is silent. You see how his hands basically cramp around the steering wheel, his whole posture is tense and on edge. It’s probably not all day that he’s driving a hunter around the city. He’s not stupid enough to think you wouldn’t take some of your weapons with you so he’s is constantly prepared to defend himself. 

The cold metal of the gin in your purse gives you some sort of comfort but deep down you know Shanks would just laugh at you if you pointed it at him. Still, you need it. 

The car rounds a corner and your eyes grow wide; he couldn’t have chosen a more public place, could he? The gigantic skyscraper with its glowing lights is blinding you for a moment. Your mouth is agape in awe at the sight of the most luxurious hotel in the entire country; and this vampire could just walk in and out as he pleases? Maybe he has connections because usually vampires are not very welcome in any establishments, let alone luxurious hotels. 

The car stops and immediately the door is opened by an employee, offering you a hand to get out of the car. Suddenly, you are aware of your outfit and how inappropriate and underdressed you are for a place like this. The man doesn’t comment on your choice of clothes however you notice the slight disdain in his face though you’re not sure if it’s because of your outfit or because of the fact that you’re about to meet up with one of the most dangerous and most notorious vampires out there. Either way, you can’t blame him. 

The elevator door opens and you are led towards the only door on this floor. The bellhop knocks on the wooden door, announcing his and your arrival. You can see how he probably would love to just turn around and leave but he’s been trained not to. There is a thin sheen of sweat gathering at the back of his neck. 

The door opens and both you and the bellhop tense up at the sight of the red haired vampire in front of you. 

“S-sir, your guest has arrived.” The bellhop stutters terrified. Shanks nods and hands him some money before he dismisses him with a hand wave. You envy the young man who can leave the situation but you, on the other hand, have to stay here. Granted, it’s because of your own stupidity and your own decision but still. You want to run away and never come back!

“Come in, Y/n.” he invites you in, opening the door a little wider but you still have to make yourself smaller in order not to touch him when entering. You feel his eyes on you as you pass by him. The silent click when he closes the door behind you feels like you fate has been sealed entirely. You’re trapped in this penthouse hotel suite with someone who has every intention of hurting you sooner or later. 

“Would you care for a drink?” he asks, brushing against your shoulder as he walks past you towards the mini bar. “No, thank you.” You press out, all senses on high alert. Shanks looks at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question.  “Are you sure? They have a very fine wine I’ve been dying to try all night.” He says, pulling out a bottle of red wine. 

“I didn’t know vampires care about wine.” You mumble absentmindedly. Shanks chuckles and grabs two wine glasses before filling both with the red liquor. “We don’t.” he simply replies without giving any further explanation and you don’t bother asking. Shanks comes back and offers you one of the glasses. “Thank you.” You say and stare at the liquid, your stomach turning at the sweet smell of the alcohol. You do not feel like drinking but you know he expects it from you regardless. It’s some sort of power play. 

“Cheers.” He says and raises his glass. You look up and mimic him before you set the cool glass against your lips and take a small sip. Shanks takes a sip as well, contemplating if he likes the taste or not. 

“As expected. Tastes like garbage.” He chuckles to himself and puts the glass down on a table and not giving it another thought. 

“Come on, I’ll take that coat off you. It’s pretty warm in here, isn’t it?” you nod even though you feel cold and would really like to keep your coat on but you don’t object. You put down your glass as well as Shanks rounds you and comes to a halt right behind of you. You slowly unzip the zipper and Shanks puts both hands on the collar of your coat, ready to pull it off. His hands graze your neck and you inch away instinctively, pulling your shoulders up in defense. 

“Easy there, Y/n. I’m just taking your coat.” He muses, his hands on your coat again, this time taking it off. He hangs it on the coat hanger before he comes back, stopping behind you once again. His hands find your shoulders and the weight is almost crushing. The red-haired man’s face comes closer and you feel the tip of his nose brush against the shell of your ear. 

“Loosen up, Y/n.” He whispers as his hands start gently massaging your shoulders. Why is he taking so long? Why does he torture you by delaying the inevitable? You grab your purse tighter, feeling the gun hidden inside precisely. It gives you some kind of reassurance back but still not nearly enough. 

“You know, I’d feel more comfortable if you put down that purse of yours….” He mumbles against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine. Of course, he knows you have a gun with you. Why are you even surprised? But you hesitate to follow his “order”. 

“Really, Y/n? Not even complying a little by taking that gun of yours out? You can have it back once we’re done but I would feel much safer if you didn’t have it on you.” Shanks admits playfully, one hand slowly wandering down your arm towards your hand that’s still clutching your purse. Your grip turns even tighter when you feel his big hand covering yours, gently but firmly loosening your grip around it.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, you wake up from your mindless state. You push his hand away and stumble forward, away from the man behind you. With trembling hands you fumble with your purse but manage to pull out the gun. You point it at the vampire in a fruitless attempt to look threatening. 

Shanks just looks at you sadly, the corners of his mouth turned downwards in a visual show of displeasure. “Are you really pointing a gun at me, Y/n?” he asks, slowly taking a step forward. 

“Stay where you are!” you warn him, your finger around the trigger, ready to shoot. But Shanks is not impressed and takes another step forward, and another, until he is standing right in front of you, the gun pointing directly at his heart, pressing against his body. 

“If you point a gun at someone you should better be ready to pull the trigger, Y/n.” he taunts you, coaxing you even further backwards only with his presence until you bump against a table. You’re trapped. For your own reassurance you try pushing him away with your gun, looking back and forth between your gun pressed against his chest and his face which turns more and more predatory with every passing second.

Shanks leans forward, not bothered by the weapon pressed against his chest, threatening his life, and watches how you in return lean backwards to keep the distance until your back is lying flat on the table.

“Stay away!” your voice is weak and the vampire sees how scared you are. He has noticed the growing fire inside his stomach; a very good indication at how thirsty he really is. He is a master of self-control but with the prospect of getting a meal very soon slightly clouds his mind. 

With one swift motion he grabs your wrists with an iron grip, almost crushing it between his fingers. You let out a surprised and painful scream. You want to pull the trigger but his harsh grip wouldn’t let you move one muscle so you have to just watch as he pushes your hand holding the gun away until he is pinning your wrist down above your head on the table. With his other hand he easily takes the weapon away from you and carelessly throws it into a corner. 

Shanks presses his upper body against yours, his left hand grabs your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at his now red glowing eyes. In the light of the room you can see his fangs in his mouth, ready to sink into your soft flesh. 

“S-stop! I changed my mind!” you plead but Shanks simply shakes his head. “I don’t care. You made your decision, so deal with it.” He reprimands you heartlessly. His body wiggles a little, trying to press himself between your legs and eventually succeeding. His crotch is pressed against yours and his free hand is holding your hip in place with an equally iron grip like before. 

The hand on your chin turns your face to the side, exposing your most vulnerable part to the hungry vampire above you. You press your eyes shut, holding your breath as Shanks’ lips gently caress your skin. His tongue darts out between his lips and follows the aorta, eliciting an audible gasp from you. As petrified as you are, you can’t deny that the feeling of his mouth against your neck right now is not unpleasant. 

Shanks stops for a moment, his hot breath ghosting your damp skin. He turns your head back to face him, his own merely inches away from yours. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide and the dark red equally enticing and terrifying. You are caught in an invisible web you can’t seem nor want to break free from. Your body relaxes and you unconsciously widen your legs a little bit. 

The deepest depths of your mind are screaming for you to not give in; you know it’s a tactic; you know he is making your body willing. It is all part of his predatory nature before he strikes and kills his prey. But your body ignores your mind’s warning. 

“Weak little human.” Shanks mumbles, examining your willing body for a moment before his attention is back on your neck. “Don’t take this personal.” Is his last warning. 

You willingly turn your head to the side again. Out of the corner of your eyes you see his read hear disappear out of your sight. Instead, you feel the stubbles of his beard against your skin. Your body is hot and on edge, anticipating the moment his fangs enter your body. You barely heat his words and you don’t care what he just said…

…that is until an enormous amount of pain surges through your neck and explodes. You want to kick, you want to scream, you want to turn your head to deny him any more access to your neck but Shanks is a seasoned vampire. His lower body which is pressing against yours is preventing you from kicking him, his right hand grabs both of your wrists and pins them against the tabletop and his left hand holds your head in place. In other words: he is completely restricting any movement. 

It feels like someone just stabbed you with a knife in the neck. Your blood is rushing in your ears and you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or Shanks sucking. Either way it is deafening and you have the feeling of losing consciousness any moment. Has he already sucked you dry? Are you dying?

The steady sound of Shanks swallowing your blood has you sobbing soon. The kicking and struggling has turned into fear and acceptance. Tears stream down your face and onto the surface of the table; your chest is heaving with every sob, the tears blurring your vision. 

Shanks notices how your resistance slowly stops and he smiles against your neck. Now he has you. Now, you’re completely his. Now, he can do with you whatever he wants. You’re scared to death; you fear for your life and you know he can end your life with one single bite and there is nothing you can do about it. 

He slowly pulls his teeth back out before his tongue licks at the two small holes where your blood is dripping out. His grip around your wrists and on your face eases until he lets go and stand back up, his now normal eyes looking down at you. His lips are red from your blood as well as his tongue which licks the rest of It from his lips. 

“Thank you for the meal, Y/n. It was much appreciated.” He thanks you but you can’t hear him. Only out of the corners of your eyes you watch him take a few steps back until he disappears from your sight. 

From what seems like far away you hear his voice. “Stay like this for as long as you like. But I believe you’re all too familiar with blood loss, right, Y/n?” referring to your previous payments to him from various loans. You stay silent. You can’t talk, you can’t move, you can’t think. Right now, you’re just a body which is lying on the table, still trying to fathom what just happened. 

The only thing you are entirely sure about is that you are in even deeper trouble than you were before. 

[sharararararara]

Nga yawne lu oer... ( Tsu’tey x Omaticaya reader) (angst but turns into fluff)

You had always loved Tsu’tey, but he did not like you back..

No matter how much you try, he still won’t like you.

He just sees you as a normal Omaticaya girl who talks to much and is annoying.

He tries to ignore you every time you talk to him, but you can’t stop.You loved him to much.

Day by day he grew tired of you, you keep on teasing and talking about random stuff. 

It was obvious on how much you like him but did he care?Nope, in fact he hated you.

You keep on giving him gifts everyday like necklaces or  bracelets but he never wears them, but did that stop you giving gifts to him? Nope, instead you keep on giving him gifts everyday.

Tsu’tey was annoyed on how you can’t take the hint. Can’t you see how he hates you? 

He always tries to not shout at you, but today he couldn't take it anymore.

You were walking to Tsu’tey, you had made him a necklace. It took you so long to finish it but it’s worth it...right? 

Hey Tsu’tey! you called out to him, you were excited so see him, but when he turned to you, he looked...annoyed. Maybe he's in a bad mood today?

Tsu’tey i have something for you-

(Your name) Please leave me alone I’m not in the mood to hear you talk right now.

What he said hurt you, did you do something wrong?

Oh..ok, but I have something to give you first, I worked hard on it...

You pulled out the necklace and showed it to him, It took me the whole night to Finnish it and I-

Stupid, stupid girl...

What?...

You're nothing to me (your name). You hear me? Your nothing!

Does words hurt your poor heart, you try to hold back your tears but it hurts to much...

Tsu’tey just left you alone, he did not care about you...Well that's what he thought.

You wiped away your tears, he was right ,you were stupid for thinking that someone like him will love someone like you. You were just a talkative omaticaya girl and there is nothing special about you. Your not good at hunting, fighting, singing or anything! Why would he ever like you?..

The next day you ignored Tsu’tey, it was like you guys never met before.. But you still couldn't help but look at him from afar. You just loved him to much.

After a few weeks Tsu’tey felt like something, or perhaps someone is missing. He felt that his day won't be complete without you talking away about Eywa knows what.

He felt something in his heart that he could not explain. Was it because he misses you? no, no, no...It can’t be, he hated you for a long time, he can't have missed you...right?

He tried so hard to not feel this way but he just can’t.

He always thought that he hated you, but no, He loves you. He always did, this whole time he loved you but now he made a mistake because he was so stupid. But now..He shall make it right.

(Your name) I need to talk to you! 

Please Tsu’tey just go away!

 I need to talk to you! I need to make it right!

Please stop Tsu’tey...

(Your name) Please! Nga yawne lu oer!

You paused, did he just say...

You looked at him with shock written all over your face. Those were the words you have been waiting for such a long time.But.. those words came in the wrong time..

Tsu’tey please..Please forget about me I’m not good for you..

(Your name) Im sorry! I did the wrong thing and I feel bad about it! I thought I hated you but no, I love you! you hear me (Your name)? I love you! And I regret every single word I said about you before! You're not stupid you're not nothing! You're the most prefect girl I could imagine! So just please forgive me (Your name) pleas-

He was caught off by you kissing him. Your soft lips felt good on his own, he felt something in his heart, it felt good, is this what love feels like? 

Tsu’tey smiled into the kiss and caressed your face, he finally has you in his arms. Where you belong.

You pulled away from the kiss and looked at him and said the words that you always wanted to say.

 I see you Tsu’tey.

I see you (Your name).

(Guys if your confused Nga yawne lu oer means I love you in Na’vi.

I hope you like this fanfic, it took me a long time but it’s worth it.

You can request any charters I can write about. 

Anyways have a good day!)

[merlwybs-wife]

A little drabble that takes place after an RP I did today.

It wouldn’t be until the sun began to set did Josie finally pry herself from the gazebo to meander back inside. Much to her surprise, the sound of clapping paired with her entrance. When she looked up, she spies Louis advancing her with an apparent standing ovation. “I’ve been waiting almost two bells for you to come back inside so I could do this, you realize,” he laughs, “how dare you make your older brother wait. *Two bells*, Jo.”

“I assure you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” though, the nervous laughter she speaks through is certain to incriminate her.

“Oh?” He stops his advance, folding his arms over his chest. “Did you want me to say it so everyone could hear?” He adds, his voice a crescendo that creeps louder and louder still.

“Shhh!” Josephine panics, scurrying up to her brother, “shh! Shh!” She gives him a gentle shove. “Oh, you are a *menace*, Louis!” she whispers.

He simply smiles, and holds his arm out to her.

Josephine pauses to regard his offer, ultimately releasing a huff of a sigh and accepting. He immediately pulls her into a stroll to wander aimlessly through the house. “I showed very good restraint today,” he says simply.

“I suppose you want me to ask why?” She sighs.

“Not necessary,” he dismisses, going right in ahead: “I almost opened the window to applaud when I happened by and saw you two.”

This pulls an open laugh from Josie, so abrupt in nature it has her snort before she’s able to hush herself. “Would you believe, I actually told him that’s what you would do if you saw.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” he can’t help the amused sort of chuckle that rolls from his chest. “You know me better than I know myself, sometimes,” he relents.

“That *certainly* isn’t true,” she insists.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he gives a bit of a flippant frown, and a wave of his hand. Then, he turns to escort her down a hallway to guide her deeper into the west wing of the house. “Anyways, I’m sure you must be wondering why I called you into my office.” This just earns another chuckle from Josie, who rolls her eyes. “Father let me read his letter. We discussed it before he wrote back.”

This has her dragging him to a stop. “He **what?** And I suppose that’s, what, because you batted your eyes and said pretty please?” Certainly not.

“Hey now, Jo— Josie, let me speak,” he returns without missing a beat. “I will have you know that he used to always consult me when it came to which men to nudge your way.” Before she can interject, however, he’s giving her a smug smile. “You remember the lord that had Mother quit serving fresh tea? That was one he did *not* consult me on, and he was sure never to repeat that mistake.”

Josie only presses her lips together. “Get to the point, Louis,” she huffs.

With a small pat to her arm, he resumes their aimless walk, now wandering their way into a drawing room. “Well… what did he talk to you about? When he arrived?”

Josie suddenly knows precisely where this is going. “The issue concerning Dzemael,” she returns.

“Oh, thank the Fury,” he sighs in obvious relief, as his free arm lifts so that he might rub at his face. “He asked Father not to tell you, but **I** am not Father— so it was going to be a *hells* of an endeavor to wait and see if he made the right call.”

With another huff, Josie rolls her eyes once more. “Is there anything else, Louis? Can I be released from your… *office*, was it?” A single note of laughter.

“Does he hunt?” He asks.

“What?” Her brows only furrow.

“I think I’d like to ask him to a hunt with myself and Laurent,” he pauses to look at his sister, who now offers a bewildered look. “He’d be welcome to bring a sibling or two of his own.”

“I thought you *hated* hunts,” she murmurs, with no small amount of skepticism.

“We want to *meet* the man, Jo!” He returns in an all too emphatic nature.

“I do not know if he hunts, Louis,” she returns wearily.

“That’s not a no, so I’ll take it,” he returns, giving her an abrupt kiss on the top of her head, before even more hastily relinquishing her and departing.

“Louis!” She calls, scrambling after him. “That was not a *yes*, either!”

“But it *will* be, if you want me to keep my mouth shut about your little dalliance in the yard!” He calls, voice already growing distant.

When he says that, Josie finds herself back in the hall once more, and halts immediately to look around cautiously. She’s still for a few beats, before a sigh. Good. It seemed her mother was otherwise preoccupied. For now.

[bloodiedmedic]

You sound like you dislike Batman. Could that have anything to do with your situation of getting kidnapped and kept captive for so many years with no Dark Knight coming to save you?

Taking a long slow breath Alexis reached into their coat, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one Alexis didn’t speak until after taking a drag off of it. “That’s part of it sure. He’s supposed to be there to help people, and solve crimes, and everything. Even if I put aside my ego you would still think that he would go after Sugiyama Takumi’s group considering that among their various crimes is quite literally organ theft and selling. They aren’t as big as Two-face’s gang or whoever else, but they do some very bad things. However that’s not all of it.” Rolling their cigarette between their fingers for a moment Alexis shook their head.

“I went through medical school all the way to the point I could do my residency. Which yes that means I have my MD, but without completing a residency I don’t have the license to practice medicine freely. That’s not the point though. The point is that I was in the middle of doing my residency when I was abducted. Batman started his work before my residency mind you. Now tell me have you ever been there to see a mother, or father’s reaction to hearing that their teenager or child wont be sleeping for the next three days because of a bad reaction to Fear Toxin unless they are given the right medication? The sounds of the teenager, or child screaming in the next room because they are so lost in the delusions Scarecrow forced on them? What about fifteen people carted through the hospital to the morgue with grins on their faces because Joker thought it’d be funny to dump joker toxin into a soda machine? How about… oh this is a good one. A man who got gut shot, and will never digest his food normally again because when someone who wasn’t even two-face but was inspired by two-face flipped a coin and the man guessed how it’d land wrong?”

Taking a pull at their cigarette there was another deep breath as their lips tightened. “I could go on. Children, teens, adults, elderly. Killed, tortured, traumatized, so on and so forth. It comes, and goes in waves sure but it never improves permanently. There’s just cycles is all. Now you tell me why I should hold anything at all for Batman except disdain at best? He’s the one who has created the dominant ideology for the vigilantes in this town as far as anyone can tell. So he’s why these monsters still walk around using Gotham as a playground. Every single time I look up, and I see the bat signal in the sky it’s not a sign of hope. It’s a sign that nothing has changed, and that nothing will change. After all if it wasn’t for people being afraid of the big bad bat I’m sure a few police officers would have had “accidental discharges” right into the Jokers head and probably a couple other of the rogues. Make no mistake. I hate the police as well. Bunch of corrupt bastards. As the saying goes, ACAB, and that’s that. However Batman is a particular kind of hypocrisy I despise. I’d love to see him do a few rounds on an emergency room floor and see how long he keeps that no killing rule. I don’t care why he refuses to kill. He does more harm than good by ensuring the continuation of the monsters returning to the playground. Some of us monsters can’t be fixed, and some of us should just be put down.”

[1-deadgirlwalking-1]

4/30/2024

(entry i forgot to post) oh goodness, i keep meaning to write and then not writing, and way more time has passed without me making a single entry than i thought. anyway it’s gotten easier every day to do simple tasks like dishes and cleaning and whatnot. but i’m still not doing good in terms of school, and personal hygiene, and cleaning my own room.

i feel like the second i started documenting my daily life i magically got way better and i’m like “dang this defeats the whole purpose of me documenting, because you can’t see most of the change and recovery. it’s already happened. i should’ve started writing when i was crazy and way more psychotic!” but that’s a silly thing to think.

most recent event, i went and saw my friends play! they were doing Shakespeare’s, As You Like It (adapted to be more modern, though i still didn’t understand half of what they were saying.) and i met their aunt they’ve told me a lot about! i found out she’s also in a band that sings covers of older music like 40’s-70’s, she’s even cooler than i was told. then afterwards we went to a restaurant and i got a cheeseburger called the “Freedom Burger” (eagle caws in the distance) it was extremely delicious but also 15 bucks. for a normal sized burger. c’mon now… i don’t care that much about the price anymore cause it was the best burger i’ve ever eaten and i wasn’t the one paying for it. but not much competition because all the burgers i’ve eaten have ranged from bad/subpar fast food to cooked on the grill on our back porch. except for that one burger i used to eat at the mexican restaurant in my hometown. that one was really good. also, A THING OF FRIES WAS 4 DOLLARS?? WHAT? insanity, truly.

anyway, my mental has actually gotten steadily worse throughout this month. i’ve been having more sad days and my delusions are getting the best of me. the other day i was going crazy, like “there’s people watching me through my eyes !!! they can read my mind and i cannot escape, ever !!” and the only way i was able to sooth myself was to just daydream and imagine hurt/comfort scenarios about me hurting myself. i haven’t gotten relapse urges in a long time but i still daydream about it sometimes.

also i still cannot sleep without headphones on because even if i don’t hear a noise that makes me go “THERES SOMETHING OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, DEMONS DEMONS DEMONS. NOW I’M THINKING ABOUT THE DEMONS AND IT’S ATTRACTING THE DEMONS. AAAHHHH.” i’m anxious and can’t relax because i’m waiting to hear a noise.

sigh, i’m censoring a crap ton of this as well because i feel like my mom is going to find it and then confront me about everything i’ve written. maybe it’s just cause i’m sitting next to her right at this very moment. i think that’s it. her presence is making me very reluctant to write about anything super personal. i feel way too exposed right now. i’ll just go back and edit some of this later. (i did not do that.)

anyway, i have a therapy appointment tomorrow. my old therapist quit the profession entirely which is probably a good thing because i already have oversharing issues, having someone who’s entire job is to listen to my problems and who legally can’t tell anyone 99.99% of the shit i say because they could literally get fired if they do, gives me way too much power. i just start telling them shit just because i can, and then they continuously bring it up in other sessions and i’m like “um hahaha, what?? stop trying to bring up my personal issues that i regret telling you, i’m trying to tell you about the plot of my favorite tv show and all of petty drama i have fake arguments about in the shower...?”

going to a therapist willingly rather than because i’m legally required is great because once i make enough mistakes that i’m embarrassed to exist every time i see them and constantly thinking about all the things i’ve said wrong during our sessions. i can just leave. and then never come back. and then once i get bad enough mentally that i’m like “hey maybe i need to start seeing a therapist again.” my old therapist has already quit or moved away or i’m not qualified to see them anymore. yippee.

actually that’s a bad thing because i hate starting over and i hate being abandoned. like. my therapists constantly leaving me is not helping. i always leave them first anyway, but not intentionally, i’ll be having a good time and then my parents will forget to book me appointments more and more until i just stop going because i hate asking them to. i feel like i’m going “HEY MOM HEY DAD, REMEMBER HOW I’M SO SUPER CRAZY THAT I NEED TO GO SEE A DOCTOR SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW DEPRESSED AND SAD AND CRAZY I AM FOR AN ENTIRE HOUR. PLEASE MAKE ME AN ANOTHER APPOINTMENT BECAUSE I NEED IT, IM SO MENTALLY ILL.” like. ugh... ew. no.

anyway while writing this i’m currently procrastinating on doing my 11 late assignments and studying for my permit test i need to take within this week. cries.

[marischimmer]

Vignar - Introduction

Up the bridge, down the fence, across the stream. That was the quickest way to reach their playground, right in the forest. She had met a girl there once, and they had been friends ever since. They called it the queendom, a place where adults weren’t allowed and they ruled as princesses. Her friend had been there every single day, adding more and more things to their castle or making the village bigger and greater. She was never mad at her when she couldn’t go; no, she wasn’t like the other kids, demanding and arrogant.

Down the fence, across the stream. She put special effort in keeping her dress and shoes spotlessly clean. They got angry at her if she didn’t get home exactly as she left. Her long, black braids were starting to get messy, but she could fix that later. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Across the stream. Be careful with the stones, don’t fall into the water, don’t wet the shoes. She had arrived home soaked once, and, man, were they mad. Just a bit more, and she could meet her friend.

Her golden eyes got bigger trying to see in the forest darkness. She was really close, so close she could hear her humming. She smiled when she finally saw the brown, curly mess on her friend’s head and the stained hoodie. For being a princess, she was quite unsophisticated. And she liked her all the same.

– …Hi –

– Oh, ey! Princess Lisette! You here! You maked it! – her friend greeted, wide smile and shiny, chestnut eyes. Even with her broken English, they could perfectly understand each other. Games don’t need proper language. She chuckled.

– It wasn’t easy, but I really wanted to play with you… –

– Heh, thanks! Come, I finded somethin’ nice for da queendom! – she called, pulling her hand and going right to the opposite side of the huge rock that played as the queendom walls. There, over a sunny field, laid a lot of tiny buildings made of sticks, leaves, flowers and anything they would find, and in the middle of all that, a huge, broken playhouse: the castle.

– Oh, the graveyard got bigger since the last time I’ve been here… –

– Sí, I finded some… em… nut’s animals…? –

– Do you mean squirrels? –

– Sí! Squirrels. I taked them here. Now they can sleep, no? – 

– Yeah… What did you want to show me anyways? –

– Ah, sí! – her eyes shone again as she made her way to the castle and let a flower curtain fall over the door frame – Ta-tan! See! We have door now! –

– Woah, fantastic! Shaiel, this looks amazing! – she gasped, hugging her and making her chuckle.

– You sayed you want door, and da princess wishs are orders, no? I make windows tomorrow! But come! I seeed some rocks today! You like it! – she said, making so many mistakes her friend laughed.

– Shy, you don’t say “seeed”, it’s saw! Or seen! Seeds are for plants, not for watching! –

– Ah. Well, I seen some nice rocks, and I want you see they! –

– Pfft- Ok, ok, let’s see them! – she agreed, realizing teaching her would take more than just correcting her every now and then. Her friend grabbed her hand again and she led the way to a small waterfall, all the stream covered with rocks and little, shiny stones.

– See! Nice rocks! – she smiled, getting to the water without even taking off her trainers.

– Wait! Won’t your parents ground you when they see your clothes? – she stopped her, worried. Her friend looked at her stained hoodie and wet trainers. One of the sleeves was ripped, and the shoelaces were covered with mud.

– No? Why? – she asked, confused, staring at her and realizing her clothes were too perfect for that dirty forest – Ah. Well, if I use that clothes I get ground! I use my bad clothes! You can’t use that clothes here, Lise, it’s forest! –

– Well… Yeah… I know, but… –

– Princess use shorts, Lise. See me! I’m princess, no? I use shorts! – she said very seriously, trying to convince her.

– Fine… I’ll bring shorts tomorrow… –

– You here tomorrow? Yay! –

– I’ll try to! But it’s getting dark, I have to go, Shy –

– Oh, ok… See ya tomorrow, Princess Lisette –

– See you tomorrow, Princess Shaiel! –

Across the stream, down the fence, up the bridge.

Up the bridge, down the fence, across the stream. Her friend was right, shorts and trainers were way better; now she could run and jump without fearing wounds.

Down the fence, across the stream. Actually, no, screw that, climb the fence! And swim in the stream! No more worrying about that; if she got stained, she could wash herself in the water, and if she got wet, she would dry up with the field’s sun.

Swim through the stream. She could get some stones, even, to surprise her. Her friend would be so glad to see her working on the queendom too, they would work together from now on!

She ran all the way from the waterfall to the sunny field, her arms full of shiny stones.

– Princess Shaiel, I’m here! – she called, trying to settle her breathing. Weird. She didn’t answer – Princess Shaiel? Shy? Are you here? – she called out loud, dropping the rocks without noticing. Clearly there was nobody there. But she wouldn’t get mad at her, no, she had never gotten angry at her when she couldn’t go, she wouldn’t do that to her only friend – Well, maybe she got sick from the wet trainers… – she tried to convince herself. Yes, that should be it. But then again, there was no point in staying there if her friend wasn’t with her.

Across the stream, down the fence, up the bridge. She would come back tomorrow to play.

And yet, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she wouldn’t see her again.

…No?

Many years later…

And there it was, the last time they would hear the ring bell that week. Now they were free to do whatever they wanted until Monday came. Well, while respecting the school rules, that is.

– May I retain your attention for one last minute? – asked the teacher, and everyone froze in their seats. Would she give them more homework? They already had a bunch of her Math’s book pages to solve, she wouldn’t give them more as the tutor, would she? Those self reflection questionnaires were even worse.

– Listen. This weekend, a new student will arrive. She’s really delicate and she will be in this class specifically because of your kindness. There’s one warning: whatever you do, do not touch her. She’s haphephobic, she really can’t stand it. If you get in trouble because you touched her, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Please, be nice to her. And don’t forget to do your homework. You are free to leave now – she finally said, and immediately everybody started talking as they made their way out of the classroom. A haphephobic who needed an extra amount of kindness? That was kinda rare there.

You can bet everyone forgot about that Math’s homework right away.

[senseitive-o]

Letters i will never send you

Do i miss you?

does it hurt?

no it doesn’t

it’s just i can’t breathe right now

there is this weight on my chest

someone is pushing me down

there is this pain

i feel sick to my core

but i am ok.

i am happy,i just completed another kdrama

but all i could think about is how i never sent you that recommendation list.

nvm i am happy

i went through my tiktoks only to stop at ones i made for you but never sent them

should i have?

but would it have changed anything.

It doesn’t matter.

We have both moved on.

Its just i still can’t watch Big Bang Theory

because you said we will binge them together.

We shouldn’t have planned anything.

i loved imagining my future

now i don’t even think about next year.

nothing remains the same so why we thought we will.

but its ok

we are grown ups now.

it is ok for a 20 year old to ask AI to tel her yjhd dialogues

it’s completely fine for her to want to recreate with someone and shutting everything down in an instant

because she cant bear someone else saying the same words.

just realised its not the words that matter but the one saying them.

but its ok,

i stopped finding comfort in words.

i mean i did wait the entire day till 12 for your wish to pop on my screen,

opened your account one too many times.

It’s ok now,

the day passed without like the countless other moments when i had you but you weren’t here.

It’s not the major things that break my heart

i can live without the three words

but the small gestures

they all mattered

the way you said goodnight,stayed on call till 5,texted me the tiniest detail,the mischief in your voice and the smile in the eye,all those loved names,listening to repeated tales.

Oh the barely noticeable things were worth dying for.

i should have recorded your laugh.

oh i should have loved you

more.

I don’t feel anything rn

but this unimaginable hatred for myself

why did i not love fully?

i knew love was a choice,

so why didn’t i choose us that time

i should have said what i needed to say

then a little more

i should have listened and cherished more

remembered those lowkey i love yous you said

how did i thought i would be okay losing you

but wait a second

you were?

you were ok losing me?

ik i am not the most loveable person

but you should have loved me in my madness

you shouldn’t have made me fight me for the breadcrumbs of your love.

Did we both fall in love with the idea of love?

not knowing what it really was.

we should have looked before we fell.

All in the past though,

we were broken so we broke up

its just how my life has been intertwined with yours so casually that i don’t even need to think about you.

your name appears on my search bar everything single time

You are my muscle memory.

nvm i am again making a mistake

breaking my heart again

begging that there is still a chance

when its time to let go.

You know whats the weird part

i realised i will always be a villain

or maybe i am just human

a selfish human.

I sit down often and think about you

“are you suffering?”

do you also suddenly miss me?

in weird periods of time

when you suddenly see something

does it remind you of me?

Do i linger in your head,

pull some tugs of your heart?

When you hear my name,

how do you feel?

Damn you

Damn you

for making me bear all the weight.

[a-very-pleasant-view]

Lothario : Round 0

On the eve of his wedding to Cassandra, Don decides he needs to blow off some steam. Is he really getting married tomorrow? Don Lothario, a married man? Yeah, he definitely needs a distraction. He decides to go Downtown with Nina, away from the prying eyes of Pleasantview. 

While on their date at the diner, they run into Daniel Pleasant, dining alone. Rumors have started to circulate through the small town of Pleasantview that Daniel and Mary-Sue Pleasant’s “perfect” marriage may not be going so perfectly after all. Him eating alone in the middle of the night at a diner outside of town doesn’t do much to disprove those rumors. 

Don doesn’t notice Daniel come in at first, but as soon as he does he quickly pulls his hand away from Nina’s. Don looks at Nina and nods over in Daniel’s direction. 

Daniel notices Don and Nina staring at him and greets them. He’s acquaintances with Don because Mary-Sue and Cassandra are best friends. Nina, being newer to town, he doesn’t recognize so he introduces himself.  

Daniel: “Hey Don, who’s your lovely friend here?” 

Nina: “Nina. I don’t believe we’ve met yet, I just moved to Pleasantview not too long ago.” 

Daniel: “Well welcome to Pleasantview. Hopefully you can find something to do around here to keep you from getting bored to death.” 

Nina: “Oh, I think I’ll find plenty of things to keep me entertained” she says, winking at Daniel. She flirtatiously twirls a strand of hair around her finger and rubs her foot playfully against Don’s.

Don shoots Nina a look, and she quickly stops and tucks her hair behind her ear sheepishly. Daniel pretends not to notice.

Daniel: “So Don, I hear you and Cassandra are finally tying the knot. Mary-Sue told me we’re invited to your wedding tomorrow evening.”

Don: “Yeah tomorrow evening, that’s right.” 

Daniel: “Well from one married man to another, good luck..” 

Daniel smiles and winks at Don and Nina, then goes back to his meal. Don lets out a sigh of relief.

Nina: “He seems awfully lonely huh?

Don: “Yeah, I guess so..” 

Nina: “Maybe we should ask him to join us? If you catch my drift..” 

Don: “We can’t Nina, he might mention seeing us here to Mary-Sue, and if that gets back to Cassandra...” 

Nina: “Then you wouldn’t be making the biggest mistake of your life tomorrow? Right. I couldn’t think of anything more tragic.” she says sarcastically. “Come on, let’s get out of here before he starts getting suspicious.” 

As they’re getting ready to head back to town, Nina needs to make a stop at the restroom. Daniel takes this opportunity to approach Don. 

Daniel: “So is she single?”

Don: “Huh?”

Daniel: “Your friend. If that’s all she is?” 

Don: “Yeah of course, just a good friend. Um.. yeah she’s single, why?

Daniel: “Would you mind giving me her number?”

Don: “Aren’t you married?” 

Daniel: “Oh come on, you’re about to tell me you’re a faithful family man?” 

Don starts fidgeting nervously.

Daniel: “Relax, I’m not going to say anything about this to Mary-Sue or Cassandra. Hell, I just asked you for another woman’s number, I’d be getting myself in trouble if I said anything.”

Don: “Thanks, I guess you’ve got a point there. She seemed into you, hand me your phone and I’ll add her number for you.” 

Back at the house, Don and Nina get into bed. 

Don: “I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Daniel your number. He asked for it, and I didn’t know how to say no without making it look like we were together.”

Nina: “I don’t mind at all, he’s cute. I’m going need something, or someone, to do while you’re off pretending to be a family man after all.”

Don: “Ugh can we talk about something else, I’m stressed enough about tomorrow as it is.” 

Nina: “Are you gonna forget about me?”

Don: “I could never forget about you, you’ve been my first everything. First kiss, first woohoo, that’s never going to go away.” 

Nina: “I know, it’s just things are going to be so different now. It’s always been us. Well, us and our other hook-ups, but I always just thought we’d live together and just be together in an open relationship you know. I never pictured you’d be getting married, let alone to a prude like Cassandra Goth. Are you sure you’re not making a mistake?” 

Don: “I don’t know Nina, honestly. Can we just do something to get my mind off of all this wedding drama?” 

Nina: “I thought you’d never ask.”

[ichayalovesyou]

El Hotel De Los Secretos Ep.10 Reaction

@seismologically-silly

Oh boy, Isabel missing from dinner and Teresa and Diego are noticing. What Is Gonna Be In La Casa de Pascual amigos?

Ugh! And they got me! After seeing that the houses is absolutely stricken and trashed compared to his room at the grand hotel. Someone had already been here.

That was WEIRD, Andrés just said “don’t worry, I’ll help you” to a client in English and like, I’ve been listening/watching Carlos Rivera’s work for a while and let me just say it was JARRING to hear him say anything at all in my native language. I wonder if the client was/is American or something?

Oh boy, here comes Belén with her “your mom is so mean to meeeeee she’s talking shit around the other maids even though her concerns are 100% valid and even if you’re willing to glaze over it she’s not because if it turns out my baby daddy is a dangerous man (HE IS) she wants to be able to protect you. Waaaaaah” UGH I hate you so MUCH girl!

Diego and Belén have noticed Isabel’s unusual absence from her room now, I’m worried about the consequences for her.

Okay, first of all, I find the fact Andrés snores incredibly endearing. Second of all, gotta love his frickin “somebody is upset” spidey sense. I straight up have no idea what Julio would do without Andrés putting up with and taking care of his constant deuteragonist-in-distress ass.

You know what? I’m starting to think as much as they bicker Ángela and Lupe are actually quite fond of each other when the chips are down. They’re both single parents to sons who are foolish in love. They’re both in positions of authority that still suffer under the boot of rich assholes. I wonder how this relationship is gonna evolve 👀

Jeez here we go again with Teresa basically telling Diego to abuse Isabel to keep her from asking questions jfc. Teresa where the hell did you get all these nasty oppressive attitudes toward your own gender?? Certainly not from your husband, judging by his attitude from Isabel’s memories of him.

Time #24354 that Andrés has either been hurt or accidentally hurt himself because of Julio’s crazy bullshit. I’m sensing a pattern (I’m wondering if he and Felipe were like that as kids, difference being Julio gives a shit). Wait what?! The BARKEEP owed Cristina money?!

“Mr. Clock won’t give you a break twice” 😂is that an Andrés-ism or is that like an actual saying?? I can’t find it. Sounds like something similar to “a broken clock is right twice a day” but not quite the same meaning. “You’re gonna get fired!… he’s gonna get fired :(“ TE AMO ANDRÉS! 💕 gotta be up there with “I can’t talk I’m a pole.” ❤️

I think we got introduced to a new main character and I love her. Her name is Mercedes, she REALLY likes the food at the Grand Hotel. She keeps using unhinged war/music metaphors for the food, while Andrés looks like he’s screaming internally. Talk about a great impression! 🤣 Andrés has escaped third wheeling this bizarre monologue unscathed!

Poor Alfredo is worried about hurting Sofia since she’s clearly still unwell after the surgery. Julio is in trouble for being missing again big surprise. More poorly hidden Sofia miscarriage drama ensues as Felipe starts making eyes at Mercedes, I pity that girl already. Damn Elisa (NOT Luisa my mistake) really doesn’t want Alfredo staying around the Alarcóns.

Julio and Isabel’s meetings are getting riskier and riskier as Diego closes in. Julio needs a permission off of work to go to the bar (thank god he didn’t go THAT morning, I was worried Benjamin was gonna fire him again!) Still I feel like something like that is gonna tip Montejo off and we know how violent he can be. I’m scared for her. Ew, now he’s telling Jacinto she’s not allowed to take the car anywhere without his permission.

Mercedes is a military girl, I’m starting to wonder if she just might be exactly what Felipe needs to get a reality check. Something tells me she won’t put up with his usual bullshit like his shitty mom abuses him for or the prostitutes are paid to tolerate. O SHIT she made the move before Felipe did 😂 she’s insane and I love her.

The confrontation with the barkeep did NOT go well. Poor Julio needs to seriously develop more skills than punching people and things, there’s only so much you can do with that amigo. Jacinto kept Isabel from getting involved. We leave our stupid (affectionate) scrappy deuteragonist with barkeep having a gun pointed directly at his head.

[kuroosweakness]

domestic things the haikyuu boys do to show that they care

 ↳ it all seems too good to be true. that’s because they’re not real :’ 

━ sakusa kiyoomi 

- always let you shower first so you can get all the warm water. (but don’t too long, don’t leave him without any hot water at all :’) (or i guess u guys can shower together ... ) 

- puts your towel in the dryer before your shower. he has many, many reasons for this: 

your towel will be nice and cozy when you walk out the shower 🥺 

he’ll have to hand the towel to you, meaning he’ll have a reason to go inside the warm, steamy bathroom 

he’ll be able to wrap you tightly with the towel the moment you step out. sakusa can’t leave you abandoned with just a towel, so naturally, he’ll sit you on the bathroom counter (even with you sitting on the counter, he’s still taller <3) and dry your hair, comb your hair, pat your body dry, lotion your body, blow-dry your hair, and all the other steps of your skin-care routine 

imagine standing next to each other, staring into the mirror as you both brush your teeth, him softly side-butting you, you side-butting him back (except he moved to the side and now you just awkwardly side-butted the air ... there goes his satisfactory smirk 🙄<3) 

(just before drying your hair, he’ll rub strands of your hair between his palms to make it stick up, and stand back to admire the view. you’re adorable) 

(oh to be pampered by sakusa :’)) how does it feel to have won life?) 

(it hurts knowing we’ve never seen animated sakusa smile) 

━ kita shinsuke 

- he always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk when the two of you are walking side by side to keep you safe from the road. it’s a small, subtle gesture, but a gesture that doesn’t go overseen. this also means his left hand will always be holding your right hand 

- picks things up for you. on his way home, he’ll always call and ask if you want anything. if you have a delivery package you need to pick up, he’ll do it for you. if you want a cup of coffee from your favorite cafe, he’ll buy one for you :)

- he loves and cares for your family like his own. this goes a long way. it truly shows how important you are to him

(to those who doesn’t have a very ... good family or a family that wouldn’t be interested in caring for your partner, i’m sorry to hear about that babes :’( i can relate, we’re in this together!)

━ oikawa tōru 

- always talks in terms of “we” instead of “i”, “me”, and “you”. he always includes you in conversations so you never feel left out! whenever you are, he wants you to feel acknowledged and included. 

- defends you in every conversation. if someone were to talk badly or make unwanted remarks about you, oikawa will be right there to drag them down.  oikawa may talk a lot but it’s gotten him the advantage to be really good with his words. try winning an argument with him, you can’t (unless ur iwaizumi lol)   

- anyone that stares at you for too long, he’ll give his harshest glare. oikawa’s one of those people who can just sense bad vibes from people. he tells you all about his instincts so no “bad guys” can get to you

- relationship with oikawa = lots of pillowtalk 

━ miya atsumu 

- if you carry purses/bags around, he always offers to hold onto your purse/bag when you go to the bathroom. he’ll casually sling it over his shoulder like it’s his own, no awkwardness here! he’s proud to be your boyfriend and it shows. 

(guys who carries purses for their partners with confidence > other guys)

- if the two of you walk out of a store into pouring rain without an umbrella, atsumu will tell you to wait inside the store while he goes to start the car. he’ll drive to the front of the store so you won’t have to get wet from the rain 

(i just know atsumu’s one of those guys who looks so hot while driving without even trying- darn him <3) 

━ akaashi keiji 

- beings extra everything around for you. band-aids, hair-ties, gum, cash, an extra jacket in his trunk, a cup in case of stomach-emergencies, and even a pair of socks in case the rain seeps through your shoes. he has it all. feeling safe is one of the many good feelings you feel around akaashi 

- when you share a small umbrella, akaashi always makes sure it completely covers you, even if it means water is dripping down his shoulder. 

- when he comes across a good book, a good movie, good song, he’ll have that spark in his beautiful eyes when he tells you all about them. he wants you to also enjoy the good in his life :) (he also tells you about his past mistakes/incidents to warn you about the bad) 

━ bokuto kōtarō

- goes to bed before you, lying on your spot of the bed to warm it up. when you walk into the bedroom, you’ll see bo’s head sticking out of the covers with a huge grin. he’s so cute without even trying djkfldj 

- adores massaging you. he’ll regularly massage you, run his hand across your tummy, sit you in his lap, squeeze you with his biceps, play with your thighs, yeah it’s quite obvious how much he loves you. 

rough day? regular day? be prepared to lay on your tummy so bokuto can give you a massage :) don’t be too surprised when he attempts new massage moves that “our professional massager did on us! (msby)” 

you know what else he loves? when you massage him! he loves coming home with sore muscles to a home-made massage by the person who never fails to make him smile. not the best massage in the world, but you’re trying and he loves it more than explainable. 

- brings you the remote without complaint. puts your plate back to the kitchen without complaint. puts your clothes in the laundry basket without complaint. 

━ miya osamu 

- always offers to carry the grocery bags. even if he can barely see past the pile of bags in his arms, he’ll insist on carrying them. his competitive side comes out during times like these; he’ll try to impress you by carrying more and more each time. even with how heavy the groceries may be, he hasn’t dropped/broken anything ...yet! 

- leaves the last bit of food for you. last slice of pizza? yours. last bit of milk left? for your cereal. last piece of cake? yours. he never eats the last piece without checking with you first, no matter how hungry he is. eating food without leaving you any is like betrayal. 

- blocks the sunlight out of your eyes with his arm/hand. especially in the morning when the sunlight glares through the window. 

━ suna rintarō 

- charges your phone for you. sometimes, he’ll tap on your lockscreen to check your battery percentage when you go to sleep and charge it when the battery bar is low. you don’t have to worry about forgetting to charge your phone with suna around. 

- turns off his phone when you talk to him so you can have his full attention

- untangles your mess of cords. he always glares and heavily sighs whenever he sees tangled cords. no one knows how, but suna’s exceptionally good with untangling stuff 

━ kuroo tetsurō

- cleans the hair from your shower for you. he really doesn’t like it, but he knows you hate it more, which is why he does it for you. even though it’s not a favorite activity of his, he doesn’t really mind, it’s natural. 

- he’ll talk to the people/call the people you don’t want to. if you don’t want to say your drive-thru order, he’ll do it for you. if you want to know the price of a shirt but there isn’t a tag, he’ll talk to a store-worker for you. instead of being annoyed at you for “not being to do simple things”, he’ll help you out without a single word of complaint. there’ll be some teasing, but no harm done. he’s very understanding and patient

(my bias is showing. he’s my comfort person, what can i do :’) 

- he made up a code with you. four tugs on the hem of his shirt means you’re not feeling well/uncomfortable. (there are also many other signals and code words)

this is especially helpful when you’re out at parties, big events, malls, etc etc. as soon as he feels your tugs, he’ll whip around and study your face, leading you to a quieter place to ask how you’re feeling. if you want to go home, then home it is. 

[genuinelyjustjd]

DO NOT GET THE SIMS 4 FREE RELEASE

For those of you who do not play the sims 4, there’s a massive scandal hiding under EA’s belt.

The company has been lying to all the active players in the game.

To say it simply, the game has been officially broken for a long time now. There’s reports of many game-breaking bugs, many disgusting items, and far too many cash grabs. 

They have been releasing new content left and right without even bothering to fix the broken content. You know who is fixing this content? Sims’ unpaid modding community.

These amazing individuals are doing all this work, for free, because they love the game. At this point, I wouldn’t imagine playing the game unmodded. These brilliant creators pour in time to fix things that the own developers haven’t even addressed. They are the best of the community, ESPECIALLY those who offer their services for free.

But EA? Maxis? They’re full of shit right now. There’s threats of a “battle pass” being added to a game. What do I mean, “Battle Pass”? You know, that thing in mobile games that won’t let you access the whole game unless you’ve paid money for it. THE SIMS 4 IS CONSIDERING PUTTING IT INTO THE GAME. Though you’ll be able to get the base game packs, chances are, there will be MORE locked in game that you can only get through money. Expansion packs cost 40$. And yet, MOST OF THEM ARE STILL BROKEN. They will not bother to fix their mistakes and instead keep offering cash grab after cash grab to boost money.

You don’t hear from outside the community how dangerously this game has broken. You all remember the legend of No Man’s Sky? That one supposedly amazing game that got rushed and ended up failing miserably because of bugs an the like? Imagine that, but on a bigger scale in an already established community. Base game is broken. You can see your toddlers morph into disgusting creatures before your eyes, with no semblance of continuity. Your game can take forever to load, up to five minutes to get into Create a Sim. Your sim will sometimes actively ignore you. These are the minor things. 

Other things that can happen in game is a whole shutdown of the game if it doesn’t like an action you made your sim do. It can and will corrupt your save. That cute family you spent 3 months grinding on? All gone.

Now, the company behind the game has made it a typical money grabber. They do not hire playtesters anymore, making content creators and us, the players, being the ones to say, “Hey! This is broken!” And they take weeks to fix it, if they ever do.

A good voice of complaint comes from Pixelade’s channel on youtube, as he has been very, VERY vocal in letting the community know that the sims 4 doesn’t care much about the players anymore. A comment under his video “MANIPULATION TACTICS?!...”, by user “You like Krabby Patties, don’t you, Squidward,” has brought a lot of weight into a true perspective into this argument. 

> “ oh i absolutely agree that this is just a publicity stunt and distraction tactic. if they cared, they'd address the elephant in the room, which at this point isn't even us complaining about the bugged-to-hell, barely-playable-if-playable-AT-ALL mess of a game TS4 has become: it's literally just asking for any kind of acknowledgement of our problems. if a company won't give you something that should not only be the bare minimum, but is the single most important part of ANY company - transparency - then you know you can't trust them even the tiniest bit. this was just the last straw for me. i didn't trust them before. now, no matter what they do, they can never earn that trust back. 6+ weeks of some players unable to play the game at all, a game they could have paid hundreds or even over a thousand dollars for (and not even as a result of DLC they chose to purchase but from a free basegame patch!!) and SILENCE from EA...it's unacceptable. and if they think a free kit is going to make up for that (free basegame doesn't count for anything, because simmers experiencing problems with the game clearly already own that. this is them trying to dupe new players into thinking "wow, the basegame for free AND a free kit! what a great company!") then they're sorely fucking mistaken. and then, the cherry on top - some can't even download the free kit! “ 

I truly think that this game, something built with love in the beginning, has turned into a flaming pile of dogshit. They do not care about the players, anymore. The shareholders are the only thing keeping the game going. They have lied to us, bribed us, and to make matters worse, hurt a whole community whose main monetary source comes from making this game better. If I had knew this would be the fate of this game, I never would’ve bought it. Never. Please, those of you considering to get this free version, please reconsider. Look into the problems. If you decide that you can live with them, no fault to you. But do not expect the game it was back in 2018. Do not expect transparency. Let these companies, EA and Maxis, finally understand how they’ve fucked up. And if they don’t change it?

Let them burn.

[acollectionofficsandshit]

Chapter 4: Three Of Us

Max Verstappen x Reader (Single Dad AU)

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3

Chapters: 4/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 5,690 Words

Masterlist

I’d like to thank @lightsovermonaco​ for being my beta and for more importantly keeping me sane because without her influence it’s anyone’s guess where I’d be. I also owe @sassybatflowerpaper​ an enormous thank you, not only for being my friend but because this story, at it’s very core, is our love child. 

Sunday, September 2nd, 2018- Monza, Italy

Italian Grand Prix, the Autodromo Nazionale di Monza

At first you weren’t entirely sure what it was that had woken you from the dead sleep you’d just been in but as you prop yourself up on one elbow, rubbing blearily at your face with one hand and peering around the room, blinking repeatedly until the shadowed details of the darkened hotel room came into focus, you nearly jumped out of your skin when the culprit of your rude awakening made itself well known.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you’re entirely aware of that whoever it is that’s pounding on your door like it’s committed some grave, personal wrong absolutely can’t hear you but that’s not your problem. They might not have any reservations about being this fucking loud at 2 in the morning, but you most certainly do. 

“Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with-” the last word dies where it was, half formed in the back of your throat, as surprise momentarily takes the heat out of the furious, exhaustion fueled tirade you’d been gearing up for, rendering you suddenly speechless. 

You’d been half expecting to find Daniel in the hallway, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been stupid enough to get drunk on a Saturday and be too trashed to find his hotel room unassisted, but more than anything, you’d expected for whoever it was that had been pounding on your door like they planned to kick it down if you didn’t answer immediately to be lost, their presence outside your room a mistake or a front desk mix up.

Somehow this was the last thing you’d been expecting when you’d tumbled half-awake from your bed.

“You should let us in before one of us starts crying again because I can’t make any promises that it won’t be me,” Max informs you, unashamed and barefooted in the hallway. 

His arms are wrapped around what had, at first glance appeared to be the duvet from his bed balled up but was in fact just a blanket wrapped Kaia, bundled up like a toddler sized burrito with only her face exposed, blinking up at you dazedly from her spot pinned against her father’s front, her back pressed to his chest. 

“Decide whether or not you’re going to help us now, please, because this is the longest we’ve gone all night without any tears and the inevitable will happen.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you tell him honestly, still trying to process what the hell it was you’d just walked into.

“You don’t have to say anything, you just need to move and let us in,” Max looks like he’s reaching the end of his tether, and horrifyingly, you sudden realize you truly believe what he’d said earlier, he really does look like he might start crying if you don’t agree to help him and tell him to come in in the next minute and a half.

“Does she- um,” You ask him, stepping out back into your room, scooting over to one side of the hallway, holding the door ajar and clearing the path forward as best you can in the narrow space. “Does she like being all wrapped up like that?”

“Loves it,” he answers dryly and shoves Kaia, burrito bundle and all, into your arms, before you’ve even had the chance to register you’ve been handed a child, the door is swinging shut behind your back and Max has already made himself right at home in your room. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you’re so distracted by the way Max groans the words and then moans in delight, the sound now permanently etched in your brain, that you don’t even tell him off for cussing, as he surveys your hotel room, blundering on and entirely unaware of your sudden discomfort. 

“I’ve been praying all night, promising God I’d do all sorts of ridiculous things if he’d make sure you had a double queen bed and here it is,” he gestures to the untouched bed, the one closest to the window as he turns to you grinning from ear to ear, “jokes on him though,” Max flings himself backwards onto the bed, “because I don’t believe in God.”

“Hey, do you want to cool it so that we can maybe not get smited down tonight?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Max grins savagely, laying on his back with his arms flung wide, just staring up at the ceiling with his eyes glazed over, “what’s the fun in life without a death wish?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you should see a therapist?”

“Yeah, you,” he laughs, just a hint of bitterness tainting the otherwise cheerful, warm sound, bleeding through around the edges, “more then, but less now,” neither one of you electing to further allude to when then was, because doing so would be unnecessary, you both know exactly when it was.

Then was before. Then was prior to the events of today, prior to Kaia, prior to this season, to this year.

Then was when there had been more of everything- more time, more risk, more reward, more good. 

But then is gone and there’s no going back, so there’s no point in ruminating on what could have been.

You give the room a quick once over, grateful that it's still relatively tidy with most of the mess relegated to your overflowing suitcase, knowing that if it hadn’t been for the hotel’s reservation error, which had forced you to relocate from the single you’d slept in from Wednesday night, when the team had arrived in Italy, through last night, then at present, your belongings would be littered across every available surface in the space.

“I stand by what I said,” you say absent-mindedly, paying more attention to scanning the suite a final time, entirely unprepared for when, a few seconds later, your eyes snag on the lace lingerie, a balconette style bra and matching thong, which you’d left laying over the back of the desk chair. 

You can hardly believe you’d forgotten about it, let alone managed to overlook it in the first place, since the particular shade of scarlet red is hard to miss and impossible to forget, especially in comparison to the clothing it’s draped over, which just so happens to be your team uniform, ready and waiting for you to put on in the morning. 

Silently cursing your initiative and regretting ever developing the habit, you shift Kaia in your arms as casually as you can, not wanting to draw Max’s attention if it can be avoided. You sneak a peek in his direction, trying to ascertain whether or not he’s still gazing up at the ceiling tiles, but when all you can see out of the corner of your eye is the fuzzy outline of his body, still sprawled out on his back, you throw caution to the wind and lunge for the items.

“Don’t bother, already saw them,” you whip your head around, your face instantly heating and color blooming high on your cheeks as you turn to face him. 

Max, now lounging in a reclined position, his upper body propped slightly up as he leans back on both elbows, has, up until presently, had the significant advantage of being able to watch you without any concern, without any restraint, since you’d yet to even realize that he was no longer staring off aimlessly at nothing, and he had instead been scrutinizing you closely, taking note of every detail, down to the last iota, for quite some time now.

Smirking, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself, he arches one brow and asks placidly, like it's the only conclusion that anyone could come to, “do I know him?” 

He then amends, as if on second thought, with a note of annoyance at the oversight discernible in his voice, Max adds, “or her?” 

“How should I know?” you take a swing at selling the performance, at keeping up the pretense of mystery, hoping that if you get the tone just right and maintain your lofty expression, Max will actually end up believing whatever fabrication it is that you end up deciding to peddle to him. “I don’t keep track of who you do and don’t know. Should I start?”

“Maybe you should,” he concedes, meticulous in his consideration of your features, your body language, and the closed off angles of your facial expression as you sit down on the edge of your bed with Kaia perched on one knee.

“Maybe I will,” you reply succinctly, meeting his gaze, resolutely refusing to be the one to break eye contact first.

“But really, do I know them?” Max has no such reservations, purposefully averting his eyes for the space of time it takes to check in on Kaia. 

His attention flickers back and forth between your face and his daughter’s, who is currently cuddled up with you, her little cherub’s face is the only portion of her that is readily visible at the moment, since the remainder of her body is bundled away beneath the layers of the duvet he’d borrowed from his room’s king sized bed.

“Tell me this,” Max tips his head back, his hair ruffled slightly, falling over his brow roguishly, “hear me out,” the sudden, overwhelming urge to run your fingers through the tawny strands is nearly overpowering, “it’s not like we’ll have any use for secrets soon enough, since come next Monday, we’ll be roommates-”

“Which is every reason why we should at least attempt to maintain some semblance of privacy, of personal boundaries-” you find yourself feeling doubly appreciative for Kaia’s weight in your arms, which in addition to keeping your hands busy, also precludes you from giving in to temptation to reach out and fix Max’s disheveled hair that you might have otherwise been incapable of resisting.

“Just humor me, I’m serious,” he seems quite intent on not letting this go lightly, “I have just one question and then I’ll drop it, I promise.”

“Fine, then,” you narrow your eyes, “one question- just the one.”

“Does all of it, all of your undergarments- underwear-?” Max pauses, evidently struggling to decide which word to use, though whether it’s a matter of grammatical correctness or personal preference you can’t really tell. Eventually he settles on the former, the latter repeated for a final time with disgust, “do they all look like that?”

“This isn’t helping get your daughter to sleep-”

“Good thing that’s already been handled then, isn’t it?” He gestures at Kaia proudly, her chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, her eyes closed and lashes fluttering softly against plump, rosy cheeks, sound asleep without another tear shed.

“Would you look at that,” you marvel, giving Max a cheeky grin, “this parenting thing isn’t quite as hard as you cracked it up to be, showing up at my door in the middle of the night, talking about ‘let me in, I can’t make any promises that it won’t be me crying’.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he says dismissively, and you can tell he’s tempted to take it further than that, only refraining out of fear of waking up the sleeping toddler still cuddled up against you, “you got lucky that’s all.”

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,” you slowly start to disentangle Kaia from the duvet she’d been all entombed in by her father, though how he’d managed to discover that near mummification in hotel bed linens was a crucial component in getting her to sleep, you didn’t particularly want to know.

“Whatever.”

“I take it you’re staying?” 

“Is this the part where I ask you if you mind us crashing here for the night and pretend like if you were to say no, that I’d pack my daughter up and go?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Great,” Max says brightly and folds down the sheets of the bed he’d claimed for himself seconds after he’d shown up, unannounced at your door, barged in the room and promptly flung himself down on it, “I won’t be doing any of that.”

“No, because why would you?” You reply absentmindedly as you struggle with the duvet, fighting a losing battle to find a way to get in bed without putting Kaia down because every time you tried to she started to fuss, already back at the edge of waking if you let go of her for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Max sighs heavily, standing up and pushing you gently but quite firmly out of his way, “I hope you get better at asking for help because if you don’t, the next few months are going to be a fucking nightmare.”

“Right back at you, partner,” there’s no stopping how snarky your retort comes out, you’re powerless in the face of such shamelessly hypocritical commentary, “let me know you learn how to do that, because I’ll throw you a fucking party if you manage to ever accomplish such a feat.”

“I don’t have all night,” he ignores your barb about the hypocrisy, preferring instead to wave a hand towards your bed, the exaggerated sweeping gesture putting you almost instantaneously in mind of Vanna White presenting a new vowel on the Wheel of Fortune, “come on because in ten seconds I’m getting back in my bed and I’m turning the light out. And don’t call me partner.”

It’s like Max needs to compensate for his softer moments by either catching an attitude or being a dickhead but you decide that just for the night you’re going to refrain from commenting on his compulsive coping mechanism. 

Instead, you let him wear himself out with sarcasm and snippy remarks because, to be quite frank, you’re absolutely fucking exhausted and it’s nice to let someone else take care of you for a change. Plus, the way you see it, Max and you have countless nights like this ahead of you and now is as good a time as any to start figuring out how to handle them.

“Come on then,” it takes every mature bone in your body to resist the temptation to tease Max as he offers you his hand, which you take after half a second of hesitation, letting him help you get in bed, easily slipping between the sheets that his other hand has raised up in the air, keeping them neatly out of your way, “there we go.”

“Look at that, she didn’t even stir,” you hadn’t been prepared to feel this much pride about so small of a success but you weren’t about to let that keep you down, “I think we might just survive this yet, Verstappen.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Max remarks, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with you as he releases the top sheet and duvet he’d been holding up until this point, letting it settle over you and Kaia with a soft whoosh of air. 

Then, much to your surprise, and to his own if the look on his face is anything to go by, Max starts fussing over the two of you, pulling the covers up to just below his daughter’s chin, before tucking you both in, paying particular attention to any exposed limbs, ensuring that everything, save your heads are neatly covered so as to ward off the chill of the room’s overactive thermostat. 

When he’s finished, evidently satisfied with his work, Max hesitates like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself now. His eyes settle on Kaia’s face for the umpteenth time today, and it’s plain to see that he can’t just quite seem to get enough of the sight, his usually guarded features softening and the tension in his body goes slack, like just looking at his daughter takes the edge off. 

“Isn’t she just the greatest thing ever?” Max asks, his tone as near to starstruck as you’ve ever heard it.

“Yeah, she definitely is,” you agree wholeheartedly, tugging her a little closer as you speak.

“Thanks for this,” he still doesn’t glance at you but you don’t expect him to.

“It’s nothing,” you mean that too, because there had never been a single moment between when you’d opened your door to find the two of them in the hallway and now, that you’d ever even considered doing anything other than helping.

“It’s not nothing,” Max corrects you deftly, “but, uh- good night.”

You can tell he has to tear himself away, forcing himself to move away and get in his bed. The light clicks off before you have a chance to reply, so you say your goodnight in the dark, your eyes closed as you speak. 

“Good night,” you pause, before opening your mouth again, “oh, and Max?”

“Yeah?” He sounds more suspicious than you’d been expecting him to. 

“Just in the interest of keeping you out of my panty drawer, they do all look like that.”

“What? Oh. Oh,” you tell when it clicks for him because his voice stumbles, caught entirely off guard. 

“You know, I didn’t know that until now,” you try and fail to suppress the laughter that bubbles up out of you without warning.

“You didn’t know what?” 

“That if I do a good enough job, I can actually hear you blushing.”

“Fuck you,” Max doesn’t particularly sound like he finds any of this quite as funny as you do but that doesn’t put a damper on things for you in slightest. “Go to sleep.”

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

Despite the fact that he’d been the one to tell you to sleep, you’re not surprised in the slightest when after a few quiet moments have passed, he’s the one to break the silence.

“If I tell you something, you need to promise me you won’t laugh,” Max’s words are only just detectable, his voice floating to you through the pitch dark of the room.

“Alright,” you’re barely still clinging to consciousness, the heavy drag of sleep already well on its way to pulling you under, “I won’t laugh.”

“I’ve been trying to think of nicknames for her, for Kaia, all day, from the very moment I found out,” he sounds exhausted but somewhere, buried under all that fatigue, a vulnerability lingers.

“Why?”

“I don’t know why,” Max replies softly.

“I don’t believe you,” you mumble back, pulling Kaia tighter against you and snuggling down around her.

“I know why,” finally reaches you from somewhere off your right where his bed is, just an arm’s length away, where Max lies, stretched out on his back. 

“I believe you,” you smile as you speak, imagining what he’d look like right now if you were to turn the light on, if you were only to dare to turn your head to the right and let yourself look, “you going to tell me why?”

“Eventually,” he replies solemnly, somehow managing to make the solitary word feel like a promise.

“Eventually.”

“I call her vlinder, butterfly,” Max offers the nickname up with a tenderness you don’t think you’ll ever be accustomed to hearing from him. 

“Butterfly, mariposa,” you test the name out, rolling the different variations around in your mouth to get a feel for them, “it’s a good one, befitting of a girl like her.”

“Yeah?” He sounds dazed but pleasantly so.

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head in agreement even though he can’t see you.

“Yeah…” the sigh that escapes his lips is so heavy, so deep that it’s like you can feel it echoing in your lungs, the relief that follows it borders on bliss.

You can’t keep yourself from wondering if he feels the same thing, if he’s ever in his entire life felt anything akin to the yearning, to the tug of longing that’s anchored to a point in the center of your chest, that hurts, aching all because he’s here, laying close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you dared to. 

It seems safe to assume that Max has, at some moment in his nearly 21 years of life, known the emotion you fear you’ll have no choice but to become accustomed to in the coming months, now that living in close proximity and close quarters with the Dutchman and his daughter have become part of your job description, but that doesn’t mean you can take advantage of the situation, even on a fleeting fancy, and allow yourself to play with an impossibility, the improbability of requited anything. 

“Stop thinking so loudly and go the fuck to sleep,” you can hear the smile in Max’s voice, the curve of his lips somehow making itself audible.

“Tomorrow we’re gonna start working on your swearing, get you a swear jar or something,” you’re on the cusp of sleep, which as it turns out, isn’t a place that’s particularly cooperative with filtering your thoughts prior to speaking.

“Yeah? You gonna whip me into shape?” Max seems to be in much the same place you are which is somehow more comforting than you’d expected.

“Don’t make me put you in timeout,” there’s a million other replies on the tip of your tongue but you refuse to let even one slip, “now, go to sleep before that mouth of yours gets you in any more trouble.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.”

You don’t really know what motivates you ask him but once it’s out, it’s not like there’s much you can do about it, so you just do your best to not overthink it, focusing instead on what he says back, rather than wasting energy on such pointless endeavors as divining the why.

“Since it looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a while... Can I have a nickname?” 

“I-” It easy to tell that whatever Max had been expecting you to say, it hadn’t been that, but he takes it in stride, laughing it off as he replies, “well since you’ve made such a compelling argument...” he ignores the way you snort at him, “sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Thank youuuu!” You’re so taken aback by how quickly he’d agreed that your words of gratitude come out a little louder than you’d intended, “I’ve never had a nickname before.”

There’s a pause, like Max is considering what you’d said, solemnly complementing what to say next, almost as if the topic of conversation is a far weightier subject than it actually is, one that needs to be carefully navigated so as to avoid making any untoward happen. 

“Everyone should have a nickname,” Max comments, voice softened at the edges, “I’ll come up with one, but I’ll need some time to think about it. Deal?”

“Deal, Maxy,” you agree cheerfully, even as you slip closer and closer to slumber, “you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Great,” he replies flatly, his tone muted, like he’s trying to prevent some additional emotion from reaching you through the apathetic facade he’s put in place, though what it is, or what it could be, is beyond you. 

“If you see me in your dreams-” fully aware of how the suggestion sounds, you only manage to get out half the statement before being cut off.

“That won’t happen,” Max says snidely.

“Well, if it does…” you start, slowly trailing off, waiting for the correction you know is coming.

“Which it won’t,” the certainty with which he speaks somehow means absolutely nothing at all to either one of you.

“Let’s say it does… it’s probably the universe’s way of telling you what my nickname should be,” you’re not making much sense at all but at this point, you’ve already made the decision to see whatever this is through.

“If I see you when I go to sleep, I’ll probably ask you fuck off because there should be at least one part of my life that you aren’t involved in.”

“See I get what you're trying to say, but all I’m really hearing is that you’ll probably see me again in a few minutes?” 

“Yeah… that’s what I'm expecting too.”

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

As far as rational thought was concerned, and that was before even considering what mathematical or scientific thought might have to contribute to the matter, it really shouldn’t have been possible to any extent for such a tiny person to take up this much space and yet, here Kaia was. 

It was almost as if she’d slowly melted over the surface of the bed in the two hours since she’d fell asleep, her little body radiating more heat than two adults would have been capable of, and she slept like the dead, her limbs stretched out in all directions to lay spread eagle in the center of the mattress. 

You’d slept on and off for a few hours, waking up at regular intervals to rearrange Kaia and to find a way to fit yourself into the space that was left, fueled entirely by a resolute determination to make things work, to adapt to the situation and do the best with what you had. 

And yet, after nothing but tossing and turning for an eternity, trying valiantly to find a way, you’d learned that regardless of all else, there’s only so many toddler kicks that the human body can handle before reaching breaking point. 

The current time on the face of the digital clock seemed to mock you, the neon numbers searingly bright in the pitch black of the room, the only light refusing to let you forget that at the moment, it was 4:02 in the morning and there was no sign of Kaia’s nocturnal movement slowing down at any point soon.

Keeping your movements as gradual and even as possible, you slowly prop yourself up in bed, not wanting to do anything at all that might disturb Kaia but finally desperate enough to be able to justify running that risk. 

It’s painstaking work, extracting yourself from the tangle of sheets and the grubby clutches of a two-year-old, who’d twisted herself around you, evidently incapable of sleep unless the vast majority of her body was touching yours, but infinitely worth it in the end as you at long last stand up, raising your arms above your head and stretching, relishing the brush of the cold air against your skin. 

Before you can think better of it, before your brain can get so much as a chance to warn you off, you tiptoe across the carpet, skirting the foot of your bed, where Kaia now sleeps alone, and coming to a halt at Max’s bedside. Standing where you are, in the small gulf between the queen beds, and, thanks in large part to the eye-watering, phosphorescent clock face on the table separating the two, the scene in front of you starts to come into focus, slowly taking shape as your gaze adjusts to the darkness, and bringing the details into sharper relief. 

“Seriously?” You mutter to yourself, agitation flaring in your chest when you find that, much to your disappointment, Max is lying in the dead center of his bed, which infinitely complicates matters, “like father, like daughter, huh?” 

He bears a striking resemblance to Kaia like this, his features softened by sleep, Max looks even more alike to his daughter than he does when awake, which, in and of itself, is no small feat, not when, all things considered, they share more by way of appearance than you’d thought possible. 

“Fuck it,” you peel the blankets back, and, doing your best to not jostle Max, climb into bed with him, slipping in as control as possible. 

“Hm?” Without any warning, he starts mumbling, stirring slightly, lifting his head from the pillows to peer up at you, “what’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” you tell him quickly, resuming your former efforts to slip between the sheets. 

“Whatever,” Max doesn’t seem to be entirely awake, his words slightly slurred, his movements lacking the purpose inherent of conscious thought, “come on then.”

“What?” There’s hardly time for you to process what he’d said before Max is lifting the duvet with one hand and reaching out lazily with the other, somehow managing to encircle your waist before hauling you bodily back towards him.

Max tucks you neatly against his side, with your back pressed taut to his front and his right arm snug around your bare stomach, which his unanticipated motions have left newly exposed. Since the oversized t-shirt you’d worn to bed presently twisted around your middle, the fabric pushed out of the way and now sitting all bunched up just below the full swell of your chest, leaving you skin to skin with Max, with nowhere else to go. 

“I-” you’re so surprised that, momentarily, words fail you entirely.

“Are you gonna shut up now?” 

“I- um, yes?” 

“Fucking great news,” Max mutters, “sleep, now.”

“Fine,” lacking any ideas of what else to say, you elect to do as instructed.

The minutes inch by, moving at such a mind numbingly slow pace that you lose count after only a few have elapsed, as you stubbornly try and repeatedly fail- again and again and again- to sufficiently tune out the feeling of Max’s body against your own, the warmth of his breath on every exhalation, spilling out over your skin and unfurling along the curve of your neck, for long enough to actually drift off to sleep.

It’s nearly impossible to know for certain, though the signs all seem to point to the contrary, whether Max is still just as much awake as you are because there is only so much that you can actually glean from what your limited senses have managed to take note of. 

So, after spending longer than you care to admit working up your nerve, you whisper into the dark, “Max? Are you awake?”

“No,” comes his murmured reply, “I’m not. Neither are you.”

“That’s not really how that works,” you point out, knowing it’s not really of any particular worth but saying it regardless. 

“Close your eyes. Shut your mouth. Go to sleep.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“You’re worse than the toddler, honestly,” Max is doing his very best to come across like he’s quite cross with you but you can hear the smile playing at the corners of his lips, since every word that comes out his mouth, rolls right off his tongue to graze the shell of your ear. 

“You’re lucky I have more self-control than a two-year-old because-”

 “Are you coming on to me?” Max asks drily, his tone sounding quite neutral about the line of questioning while remaining genuinely curious about the answer. 

“Ew, God, no,” you’re not quite sure how you’ve just managed to scrape together that little performance but somehow you had, and done a good enough job to hold water.

“I’m about two seconds away from pushing you off the bed.”

“I mean I was gonna say I would have said the first thing that came to mind and things might have gotten strained there a bit but thanks, you’ve succeeded in making things sufficiently awkward for the both of us.”

“What? More awkward than they already are?”

“Yeah, exactly,” you shrug, forgetting momentarily just how close quarters are, catching Max in the jaw in the process.

“You’re done- you’re done. Bed. Now. Sleep.”

“Yes sir,” you retort without thinking.

“No, don't do that, none of that from you, not tonight.”

“Not tonight?” You can’t resist, though you know you probably should.

“Oh fuck off,” Max huffs out, his pitch made low and slow by exhausted frustration, the three words rumbling up from deep in his chest, like the llast few letters of the sentence are dragging their feet, the vibrations echoing through you and sending a chill rolling down your spine.

“I’d love to but I can’t,” you retort.

“Oh- sorry about that,” he lets go of you, his arm unfurling from around your middle slowly, as if to ensure you can’t miss the featherlight brush of his fingertips across the bare skin of  your stomach, his touch unbroken until his fingers meet the curve of your waist, and only then relenting.

“It’s fine, really,” you miss his warmth against your back but you don’t say a thing, wishing he wouldn’t go but not having a reason to ask him to say, you remain silent as he rolls over to the far side of the bed, careful to leave a degree of separation between your body and his.

“Well, good night then.”

“Night.”

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

When you wake in the morning, the sun leaking in at the edge of the blacked out windows, and find that at some point in the intervening hours, Max had found his way back across the mattress, his arm reclaiming its place around your waist, you don’t get up. 

No, you stay exactly where you are, soaking in his warmth and letting yourself savor the small comfort of being held this, in the peaceful, unbroken quiet of this still fairly early hour, knowing that moments like this, like whatever this is, are fated to be rare and fleeting. 

So, when you feel Max finally stir awake behind you, you pretend to still be asleep, and perhaps he does too, because you remain like this for a little while longer, until reality comes rudely traipsing into your room in the form of Daniel Ricciardo, who’d you’d promised you’d go for a run with this morning and had forgotten about entirely, until now. 

“See, I knew you’d sleep through your alarm, this is why I insisted you have them make a spare keycard-” you hear his voice before you see him, which only gives you the space of a second to realize what was happening before it happened.

“This way you can’t just stand me up, like you always do-” Daniel chokes out mid-sentence, whatever he'd be about to say forgotten in the blink of an eye, as he stares in absolute bewilderment at the sight that greets him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Max asks dazedly, still half asleep and bleary eyes, his body still curled around yours.

“Now, I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?”

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

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