#and they take you to court and fine you if you refuse to pay it

[drakonovisny]

just found about about tv licenses, insane concept

[woodle-isbae]

Say Yes

Art.D x Black!Reader

Warnings: love sick! Art , cowgirl , choking, spit play , voyeurism, humiliation, Patrick is a jealous perv , Sub! Art , Dom!reader ,

Kinktober Masterlist! ♡

The IT couple.

When people think of the most Dominating and powerful couple , They'd think of all the relationships Art Donaldson has been in, and you'd easily be the winner.

Being the blondes confident and bold girlfriend was a strong title you held proudly at Stanford. Nobody daring to bother art as you would easily catch word of this , tormenting the rat who so even dared spew your boyfriends name.

That didn't mean he wasn't gonna fight for you. Nearly cutting off his long lasting friendship with Patrick when he spoke about you , trying to see if you'd sleep with him. Luckily a few shoves from Art had him apologizing right in your face and never speaking about you unless brought up.

You two were the best fit , constantly bring seen with eachother in public , him glued to your hip like he was attached to you. People envying the way you had him wrapped around your finger , constantly obeying any request you believed was fit for him to do.

"Artsie , please get my..."

"Art , would you be a dear and..."

"Sorry to bother you darling , but can you..."

He never even objected , going to do what he was asked with a smile and faint blush dancing across his skin. He would often ignore the complains he would get about how he was so submissive , Patrick refusing to belive that Art was actually tapping that with the way he was being so....Art?

"You sure she isn't the one wearing the pants in the relationship?"

"Yes , I'm sure..it's my relationship."

They were discussing over some tennis practice, Patrick comming over to see Tashi..and attend one of the frat parties being hosted.

"I mean...it sure looks like she pegs yo-"

"Patrick!"

Art threw a ball at his head , getting annoyed with the pestering he was faced with and the things the brunette was spewing.

"Sorry!...jeeze , you need to let loose!"

"And what is your idea of letting loose?"

He held a ball in his hand , stopping mid serve to give Patrick a bored stare , one hand on his hip to show how he was getting tired.

Poor guy

Patrick making his way across the court , comming extremely close to his ear as if they weren't the only ones there. Taking in a breath before whispering something and backing up.

"You should say no.."

The moment those words left his lips , you would swear Art saw a Ghost, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"No fucking way dude."

"C'mon man , just for tonight...it's that party ,I'll pay you a hundred bucks too and I doubt she would care."

Patrick persuaded Art into doing it , trying to have their relationship (in his eyes) be normal. The two stood in silence for a while before Art began nodding.

"Okay...fine , just for tonight."

"There ya go!"

He tackled him and lifted him up , swinging him around like a doll until he was placed down. The situation Art was about to place himself in not dawning apon the duo.

"You should take me out for drink ,since I gave you this big idea."

"Uh...No."

"Oh? She doesn't get a No but I do!?"

He huffed and pushed himself away , going to get the tennis balls that sat in diffrent areas of the court before heading out for some lunch.

Time skip 😛

You were currently getting ready for the party , it wasn't anything formal so you wore a simple outfit that wasnt too heavy, expecting it to get warmer with all the dancing. You headed over to arts Dorm to go with him. Making your way in as he was still trying to find a shirt to put on.

"Let me help y-"

"No...uh I just found it!"

You frowned a little but decided to ignore it , heading out to the party with art in your car, instantly being met with the smell of alcohol, weed and Sex.

"Art dear..would you please get us drinks.?"

"Uh...N-No..?"

You were taken aback , never hearing him say No to you. You stared at him for a brief moment, mabye he would change his mind, but when he didn't say anything you huffed and walked off to find the drink bar.

You came back a few minutes later to him with a drink already in hand. When did he get that? Nevertheless, you downed the cup that was ment for him and approached him with only one cup.

He barely even noticed you were here , if it wasn't for him glancing your way. There was definitely something going on and it pissed you off.

The whole night , he kept denying request from you, shrugging and mouthing 'no' whenever you asked even for the simplest things. But he'd be so quick to agree with anyone else? Was there something wrong?? Had you said something that made him fed up.??

You were making your way back from the drink bar, slipping through people until you spotted something you weren't sure were for your eyes.

Patrick slipping Art a twenty.

You waited for the Brunette to walk away so you could approach, tapping art on his back, making him jump up. He turned over and gave you a smile, you copied his actions to make it seem as if you didn't know anything.

The night continued on as usual..but you didn't ask him anything, dancing and drinking with him but never asking him to do a thing. He must've not noticed until he glanced to the side and saw Patrick.

"We should get a room Artsie."

He nearly complied, the use of that nickname had all the blood rushing south. His mouth opening to mutter yes ,until a figure bumped into him. Patrick wrapping his arm around Arts shoulder, looking at you with a smirk.

"Heyy you twoo! I..wanna speak with Art!"

He mumbled the last part , pulling your boyfriend away for a brief moment until the came back , Arts face still flushed and bulge even more prominent.

He nearly lost the bet because of You. You only smiled and gave him a quick peck to the cheek, dissapearing off into the crowd, leaving him a mess.

You were avoiding him for the whole night , knowing he was right after you, and Patrick following suite to try stop him. You slipped into the darker areas of the place , finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom, lit up by only the moon.

You made your way in and stood by the door , shutting it once Art came in.

"Y/n! I..uh-"

He stumbled over his words , all he wanted now was for you to bounce on his swollen cock until he could barely walk straight.

"You need me..hm?"

You whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He eagerly nodded , whimpering a slight bit.

"Words , Art. I need your words."

He sighed, giving in to your request since he knew he could simply lie and say he never said yes ,right?

"Yes..fuck yes please."

That was all you needed to hear , smashing your lips onto his while he lifted you into his arms , laying back onto the neatly done bed behind you two. You straddled his lap , kissing at his while grinding onto him, stopping your movements whenever he began getting loud.

"But-"

"You don't want Pat to find out you broke off a bet?"

He let out a whine , muttering a soft no while you made work of both your clothes , your cunt so slick he could slip in easily. Your hand snaking its way around his throat as you bounced up and down his cock, squeezing softly.

"You really thought you could listen to Patrick? Fucking stupid."

He choked out a whine , getting light headed from to lack of oxygen flow and stimulation down south. You brought your face closer to his , slowing your movements briefly

"What would he say now huh? You can't even keep a fucking bet, cause your so pussy whipped."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head , his fingers dug so deep into your hip, you were sure they'd brush up. You let go of his neck , opening his jaw to spit into it, just as you did that someone barged in and let out a defeated sigh.

"C'mon Art? Not even for a few hours!?"

Patrick stood at the door , arms crossed and shaking his head in dissapointment knowing he would have to take back his money. Although he seemed to be dissapointed, he was purely staring at you two go at it, the moon making a silhouette of your figures moving against eachother.

"F-fuck off Pat-!"

Art managed to speak out , flipping his friend off as he walked out and shut the door.

"Your own friend can't believe you're this weak over me?"

He let out a deep whimper , grabbing your hips to position himself properly, fucking into you like a jack rabbit. Your moans luckily muffled by his mouth and the loud music that played behind the thick walls.

The drive back home was silent, Art passed out in the back seat while you drove and Patrick sitting in the passenger seat next to you.

"Don't ever pull that dumb shit with him ever again."

"What- what do yo-"

"Don't fucking play dumb with me Zweig."

"Yes ma'am."

The silence filling the car back up, if you don't count the blonds soft snores behind you and the cool air of the night flowing through your window.

[dreamsteddie]

WIP Thursday??

I'm in a bit of a writing drought, not for lack of inspiration but for lack of time, so I thought I'd share a little snippet from my WIP for day one of @stmarchmm's March Mating Madness. The prompt is "Courting."

Thank you very much to @popmilky for creating the divider I am using

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 12 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter.

He’s got a courting to plan.

[sleep-i-ness]

Maybe They're Born With It, Maybe It's Trauma

Summary: You make a new friend at rehab.

Content Warning: Drugs, rehab

TUA MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

“I hoped we wouldn’t be seeing you back here so soon.” The dour face of Dr Hartleben greeted you as you waltzed into the rehab centre, a grin splitting your face in two.

“How could I stay away? I simply adore the early morning yoga sessions and going around in a circle after lunch explaining why we’re all so fucked up.”

Dr Hartleben’s pursed lips and sour expression conveyed all she had to say on the matter as you turned sharply on the ball of your foot. She took large strides down the corridor, and you had to jog to catch up, your scruffy trainers squeaking on the shiny linoleum floor. This place was like a second home to you, having been in and out every few months for the past 7 or so years.

You’d tried to hold down a steady job, really, you had. But all you had to show for it was a place as a flautist in the local orchestra, which did not pay, and a spacious but surprisingly cheap apartment in the dodgy part of the city. That you’d bought with money from your past life, when everything had been fine and on track to at least a minimal amount of success. But all in all, you’d decided that there was no point in trying to regain some semblance of normalcy in your life when all you ever did was try to escape the ghosts from your past.

Dr Hartleben pushed open the dull aluminium door with your foot, a shaft of sunlight illuminating the room. Ah, home sweet home. The stale scent of iodoform and sweat wafted out and you breathed deeply. This was the one thing that never changed, no matter what.

“You know your way around, the top bunk on the far left is vacant. I expect to see you adding your name to the duty rosters and coming to group therapy this afternoon,” Dr Hartleben was itching to leave you in the confined patient dormitories, barely even standing on the faded doorstep of the room. “Your stuff will be brought to you as soon as it has all been checked.”

You scoffed. “I’m always a model patient, I’d never jeopardise my spot in this wonderful place by bringing shit in with me.”

“Then why are you back again? I’ll leave you to get settled and make your bed. Your sheets should be on the end of your bunk. The others are in the garden, one of the nurses will be round in 10 minutes to escort you.”

With that, the door swung closed, and you were left standing in the dank and poorly lit room. The frosted windows were too grimy to let much light in and the bulb in the lamp buzzed a faint yellow. At least this time you had a top bunk, which was clearly the superior spot.

That was the problem in having so many drug overdoses on your medical record; every so often you’d be sent back into rehab, with or without a court order to stay. You had forgotten the strict rules that had to be followed and the lack of freedom; you didn’t need a babysitter. At least in rehab you wouldn’t be quite so lonely, you had roommates to keep you company now. And everyone had their own demons to face, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. There was no room for judging.

The crisp sheets smelt of starched linen, over washed and firm to the touch. No more comfy bed sheets, you mourned. The mattress was lumpy and had a suspicious dark stain on the plastic that you straight up refused to touch, choosing to flip it over instead and hope that the other side was less grimy.

“Y/N?” A knock sounded at the door and a nurse popped his head round the door, clutching your overflowing crochet shoulder bag. It was a face you hadn’t seen before, and you quickly plastered on your friendliest grin.

“Hi, yep, that’s me. Is my stuff all okay for me to take?” All there was in the bag was a change of clothes, some toiletries and spare underwear. No point bringing anything too nice, someone was bound to nick it otherwise.

“Yeah, yeah.” The nurse returned your smile, holding out the bag for you to quickly grab and sling over the end of your bed. He was quite young, you would guess late 20s to early 30s. You pitied the poor guy, having to deal with them all the time. Well, he had chosen this.

“Dr Hartleben said that the other patients were all in the garden, can I join them?” You skipped over to the door, your colourfully patterned skirt swishing round your ankles. You hadn’t been quite sure that your outfit was particularly fitting for the centre; it had felt a bit too bohemian but seeing the drab and dreary walls reminded you that a pop of colour would do this place some good.

The garden was a bit of an overstatement really. It was more of a paved courtyard with weeds growing between the cracks in the slabs and a couple of small flowerbeds, one of which had been a vegetable garden the last time you had been here but now appeared to have been taken over by weeds. It was the space for the newest patients, who couldn’t be trusted to go into the slightly more expansive grounds yet. It was depressingly barren, and you eyed the patients morosely milling around with a grimace. How boring.

“What’s growing in the beds at the moment?” You turned to the nurse, whose name you hadn’t learnt yet, with a dazzling smile.

“I don’t think there’s anything particular being grown.”

You pursed your lips. How sad. Any life or nature in this place really was stifled and stamped out in the end.

--

You trudged into the group therapy room, eyes following your feet as they left scuff marks on the shiny floor. You slipped into a spare seat, barely making eye contact with anyone else. If you could get out of this without a single person trying to become your new bosom pal, you’d count it as a win.

“Hi, I’m Ella and today we have someone new joining us, so I’d like everyone to go round in the circle and introduce themselves by saying their name and why they’re here. Louisa, if you wouldn’t mind starting off for us.” The irritatingly cheery voice of the therapist was grating on your nerves, you hated these sessions with a passion. What was the need in sharing the same stories every week?

“I’m Louisa and I’m an alcoholic.”

“I’m Mark and I’m a heroin addict.”

“I’m Susanna and I’m a drug addict.”

“I’m Brent and I’m an alcoholic.”

The droning of voices soon became a wave of background noise that washed over you like a sea of calm, each introduction as monotonously boring as the next. The person to your left spoke and you yawned softly, daintily lifting a hand to cover your mouth. “I’m Y/N and I’m an addict.”

There was something so tiring about rehab. Between the withdrawals and the endless therapy and need to be in touch with emotions, it was draining both physically and mentally. You couldn’t wait to get out; you only had a couple more weeks to go.

“And, our newest member, would you like to introduce yourself?” You could practically hear the beaming grin in Ella’s voice, and you rolled your eyes. Bit much.

“I’m Klaus and I’d like to say I’m a tortured soul-” Your head snapped up to look curiously at the newbie. Heavily eyelinered brown eyes stared back at you, a mischievous twinkle shining in them. “But to stick with the same pattern as everyone else, I’m an addict.”

He lifted a ringed hand to wave to the circle, winking at you. And you felt yourself flush, ducking your head from his intense gaze.

Group therapy had never felt so long as today, not that you could recall anything discussed, not when your eyes kept straying towards Klaus. And boy, did he notice. Every time his eyes met yours, he held the eye contact, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you flushed redder and redder.

How unfair that someone this gorgeous was at rehab; how were you meant to even attempt to recover when he kept looking at you!

It wasn’t until the end of the session, as you all shuffled out, that he properly made his way over to you, a cheeky grin on his face. You glanced at him, turning your head back to the door with a small smile which you tried your hardest to fight back.

“Hello, Y/N,” he murmured, voice so low it felt like a conversation that was only for you. And you bit at the inside of your cheek to squash the blush crawling up inside you.

“Hiya,” you whispered, hoping you didn’t sound quite as excited as you felt.

“Come here often?”

You giggled, hating how much like a schoolgirl you sounded, and finally plucked up the courage to make eye contact with him. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Court mandated as well?”

You nodded, picking at a stray thread on your skirt.

“Well, we’ve got each other now.”

And you chewed at your bottom lip, beaming grin splitting across your face as a heady rush of giddiness filled your chest. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“Want to go see the garden with me?”

You nodded, a little too quickly and eagerly, and he just chuckled at you.

Maybe rehab wouldn’t be as bad this time around.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey, I love your fics. I wanted to request a bat!bro reader who’s 16 where Bruce has split custody with his mum (he grew up with his mum and wanted split) but it turns out his mum was just using him to get money from Bruce and is kind of neglectful? And he always gives it to her bc he’s a mamas boy?

Stay safe and don’t forget to stay hydrated <33

Thanks anon, you stay hydrated too.

Summary: (Y/N) lives with his mom, but it's not going well.

Warnings: Bruce is protective, neglective mom, brothers are worried for (Y/N), Clark is investigating too, emotional (Y/N).

Bruce noticed something about his son (Y/N). He had split custody with his mother because (Y/N) wanted to be with both of his parents equally. Bruce respected that wish and made an effort to work with his mother.

At first, his mom has agreed too and the two of them worked together to make sure that their son is happy. Bruce's other sons were happy with the results and they loved spending a week with the brother.

But now, there is something that has been going on, but Bruce couldn't quite pinpoint it on anything. He noticed that his former fling had much more nicer clothes. Bruce has sent a very hefty sum in child support for (Y/N), knowing that she is a single mom and she is not as rich as he is.

There wasn't anything wrong with buying new clothes for yourself, but he keeps seeing (Y/N) in the same clothes all the time. Bruce has tried to see it in a logical way, but there was a paranoia in his mind.

He knew that there were stories about women using men's child support to pay for themselves, especially if the men are rich and the sums are very hefty.

Just like in Bruce's case.

He didn't want to be paranoid because it would seem like he was crazy, but what if he was right about (Y/N)'s mom? (Y/N) seemed more anxious and more withdrawn. And when he wasn't in that mood, he became clingy, almost like he was deprived of love at home.

He wasn't clingy before and Bruce found it to be suspicious. He thought about involving CPS and other organizations, but he didn't have any official evidence. Just because someone starts being clingy, doesn't have to mean that they are neglected.

However, it is weird.

Bruce made sure to observe what was going on with (Y/N). The others agreed that something was off with their brother. (Y/N) has always been a happy kid, outgoing and loved to hang out with his brothers, dad and unofficial grandfather, but now, (Y/N) has completely changed.

Sure, you could argue that teenagers change and it was true. But not this quickly and not this drastic.

Bruce has officially decided to get involved, deciding to ask Clark for help. Clark is an investigative journalist and he would be able to do this unnoticed. And Clark would do anything do help his nephew.

He just adored (Y/N) and would do anything to make sure that he is okay. So, he has decided to see what (Y/N)'s mom is doing. All of this looked like a case of neglect and Clark could only hope at this point.

Hopes dies last.

But he knew that the chances are slim of that. He made sure that he followed his mom without her noticing. At first, everything was fine. Until he saw that she was rarely home. She spent her days shopping, hanging out with her friends, spending nights with random men...

And amidst all of that, (Y/N) was all alone. He had become an adult. He had to make himself meals, he had to do everything in the house. Not to mention that he had to pay the bills himself.

And recently the heating got cut off because the mom didn't pay it. Now, that was something that Clark couldn't take. His nephew doesn't deserve this.

He told Bruce that and Bruce has called CPS. Those sums are for (Y/N) and not for her. He got a lawyer too and now he had to wait. Now, she refused Bruce to see his own son.

And now she has messed up.

Bruce quickly filed for full custody, not allowing her to use his son as a weapon. Not going to happen. Absolutely not. The court hearings and preceding's were quick and efficient and Bruce was happy that (Y/N) was finally in his custody.

And it was discovered that his mom committed financial crimes and FBI was looking into her. (Y/N) didn't need to know that and he didn't need to be involved in that.

He really didn't need to be involved in that. But the one thing that makes Bruce mad every time he thought about it was the fact that she used his love and manipulated it.

(Y/N) has always been a mama's boy and she used it as a weapon against her own son. And despite (Y/N) being happy that he left that home behind, but there was this... Weird feeling.

He felt guilty and happy at the same time. He shouldn't be happy that his mother is going to jail soon, but at the same time he shouldn't feel guilty that he is now going to have a better life.

But she wasn't a bad mother at first. She was a great mom, but he knew that money has changed her. Those hefty sums were for him and yet, he gave her the amount every month.

He knows he shouldn't blame himself for it, but in the end he does. How he didn't see the manipulation of his love and adoration for her? How could he have been so blind?

So stupid too?

Bruce knew that he had to talk with (Y/N) about the situation. He started living with them full time a little over two weeks ago. It has not been easy for (Y/N), knowing that his mother was a criminal now and completely changing the way he lived.

He was still withdrawn and Bruce knew that he had to talk to (Y/N). He needed to make sure that (Y/N) knows that he is not at fault. Not happening.

He went to his room where (Y/N) was reading and Bruce gave him a smile as he entered the room sitting next to him. (Y/N) marked the page and put the book down.

It has been silent and (Y/N) couldn't really look at Bruce. And what does Bruce does? He brings (Y/N) into his lap, allowing him to finally find some comfort. (Y/N) didn't want to be clingy anymore, but he wanted comfort.

" Now, I want you to just listen and not talk, okay? " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.

" None of this is on you. She didn't take good care of you and none of this is on you. Whatever you might see in the media, is not true. You don't have to, no you shouldn't feel guilty. " Bruce has started, gently rocking his son.

He loved to rock him, even when he was a baby he rocked him. (Y/N) loved it a lot and it would always calm him down.

" Now, you mother made her own choices and now she has to answer for them. I know that you feel guilty and once again, you shouldn't feel guilty. You are going to have at least 3 warm meals with us, you won't have to do any chores anymore, you won't worry about bills and more importantly, " Bruce paused, glancing down at his son who was softly shaking while sobbing.

" Now, if you ever need something, do not hesitate. We are all here for you. All of us. From Damian to Alfred. All of us. " Bruce has said, giving him a soft kiss to the side of his head. He nodded to his sons who were waiting outside of the room.

They have entered and hugged their brother tightly, making sure to let him know that he is not at fault. Damian was the one who was the most vocal about it.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed with emotions, but was happy to have so much support in his life. He didn't really have that support with his mom and all of this has made his head spin. All of it.

But he was happy none the less.

" Thanks guys. Love you all. " (Y/N) said so quietly and Dick openly cooed at (Y/N). Everyone felt their heart bursting from the sheer happiness.

Now they had their brother back. With a little bit more time, he is going to be his old self.

[blueicequeen19]

Charter ch. 3

Warnings: banter, toxicity, oral, protected sex, dirty talk, age gap, talk of drug use & addiction

Why did I always fucking do this? Why did I always get involved with the girls with the big fucking mouths? Sure she had a heart of gold and a laugh that had me dying to hear it at any moment and her body.. fuck. Plus she’s my employee and five years fucking younger than me.

I remember how stupid I was at her age. How I got someone pregnant from a one night stand. How she led me to believe it wasn’t mine even after the baby came out looking just fucking like me.

My gut churned at the thought of the worst nine months of my life. The not knowing. How I let her mother use me for money over and over again only to find out that she was doing drugs. It took months in the NICU on the mainland before Summer got to come home and another year to prove that her mother was unfit. Court systems tend to do everything they can to keep children with their mothers even with plenty of evidence against them.

How was I supposed to let someone else into Summer’s life when her own mother failed her? I refused to let it happen again. That’s why I didn’t date. That’s why my father didn’t know her. I knew a thing or two about absent parents and I wasn’t about to let it hurt my daughter the way it had me. She deserved happiness and that was all I was going to give her.

The Charter is closed on Sundays and Mondays so that gave me two full days with my girl. Those are always my favorite days. We spend it at the beach, at the Chateau, at the Wreck, and wherever else we can get into. All while singing every Disney song she’s ever heard.

When Tuesday rolled around, I was anxious. I wanted to see Y/N again but I couldn’t let it be known that there was anything between us to anyone else. People will take anything and run with it and I didn’t need Summer’s mother finding any ammunition against me. But seeing Y/N bent over at the counter, flipping through our supply magazine had me stiffening in my shorts. I wanted to take her right then and there.

Her eyes darted up at the sound of the bell from the door being opened but she quickly glanced away when she realized it was just me. I did a quick scan of the shelves to make sure no one else was in the store before stopping in front of her. She didn’t look up as she flipped the page.

“Do I pay you to read on the clock?”

“Yep. And you fuck me on it too.”

She didn’t look up at me and I was glad because I had to wipe the stupid grin off my face. I hated how hot she was when she was mad.

“Would you rather me make you clock out?”

“For thirty seconds? It wouldn’t be worth it.” She didn’t miss a fucking beat and I didn’t bother to stifle my laughter.

“It’s at least forty-five seconds.”

Silence.

Fine.

“Truck came today.” I change the subject to work and she nods.

“Yep and I put 90% of it away already. The rest is too heavy for me to put on the racks.” Which was fine. I did that part anyway.

“Have we been busy?”

“Check the register.”

“Y/N.”

“JJ.”

I sighed, pulling out my phone and going to my pictures. I turned my phone to face her, letting her see the picture I’d taken of Summer and I yesterday. Her blonde curls hung around her face in a happy smile, looking every bit my twin. She was in her pink princess dress and I was in my pink shirt. Her favorite shirt that I had to wear so we matched. Y/N’s eyes darted to my phone and she couldn’t fight off her beaming smile. Seconds passed before she straightened and took my phone. I let her flip through the pictures, mostly all Summer and me.

“She looks just like you.” Y/N cooed, pinching her fingers as she zoomed in. I wasn’t sure how far back she’d gotten in the albums but I could probably guess when her face fell.

“She was so tiny.” She whispered, no doubt looking at the picture of Summer in the NICU hooked up to wires and machines.

“She was nine weeks early.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding out my hand for my phone back. Her glassy eyes met mine and I knew she was fighting back tears as she handed me my phone back.

“What’s her name?”

“Summer Rain Maybank.”

The shop bell went off and the conversation ended. Back to work we went.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off her tonight. Usually she was the one always watching me. My blood always ran hotter knowing she couldn’t take her eyes off me. Why did she think I wore these cutoffs everyday? I liked that she was constantly checking out my body and I wanted her to. Now she could hardly stand to glance in my direction. If this was a game of hard to get, she was fucking winning.

“I brought extra shrimp and grits if you want some.” I called around break time and she just waved me off.

“You can go ahead and head out if you want. I can close up.” I offered, thinking maybe she’d want to get home an hour or two earlier but she just shrugged and continued stocking shelves.

“How’s your dog?” I asked at one point and she grumbled a “fine” in response. I’d just about fucking had it when the sun was setting and we were going through our closing routine. I not so gently put the cash drawer down and stalked towards her as she made her way to the work bench. She didn’t see me coming, wasn’t even paying attention, until I fisted her shirt and yanked her against me. Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before they narrowed to a glare.

“Out with it. You want me to apologize? Fine. I’m sorry. You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk to show you how sorry I am? Fine. But you will acknowledge me. You will look at me. You will say more than two words to me.” I bit out, my body shaking with something I didn’t quite recognize. My cock was so hard I could hardly breathe as those defiant eyes stared back up at me. She pressed her tits against my chest, her fingers hooking in my belt loops as she leaned in, her breath hitting my mouth.

“Or. What.”

I tore her shirt down the middle making her gasp in surprise before shoving her back against the work bench and ducking my head to suck her pierced nipple in my mouth.

“Oh god.” She moaned, yanking on my hair as she bowed over the work bench. I grabbed her ass with both hands after ripping her bra off next and throwing it behind me, her nipples at my mercy. When she was trembling and crying out, I pulled away and flipped her so she was face down on the work bench. I slapped her ass hard before yanking her shorts and panties down.

“You fucking caveman.” She bit out, arching her ass out for me anyway as I kneeled behind her.

“It’s your fault.” I snapped before burying my face in her dripping pussy. She cried out, lifting one leg up onto the work bench to give me better access. I licked and sucked like my life depended on it. She was moaning like crazy and trembling, her hand reached back to fist my hair. When I plunged my tongue deep inside her she all but screamed as she came on my tongue. I didn’t stop until she was whimpering and as I rose to my feet, she spun around and pushed me to sit at the desk chair.

I nearly came right there just from the pure hunger in her eyes as she tore open my shorts and freed my cock. I dug a condom from my pocket and she ripped it open with her teeth before rolling it on.

“I’m still mad at you.” She bit out, straddling my waist and positioning me at her entrance.

“That doesn’t go away.” I start to smirk but she sinks down on my cock and I throw my head back with a groan, her hands fisting my shirt as she starts to ride me.

My hands find her hips as I thrust up into her, hitting so deep our eyes nearly cross.

“God, it’s too deep.” She whines breathlessly, her lashes fluttering with every bounce of her hips.

“I can get deeper.” I taunt, lifting her in my arms and putting her back on the desk. Her legs find my shoulders then I’m fucking her like my life depends on it. My hips keep hitting the desk but I’m too fucking close to care. Her cries pierce my ears as she grips her own tits, pinching the piercing nipples as I tighten my grip on her waist. I move one hand to her stomach and push down, her entire body tightening as she bows off the desk with a choked scream.

I came right along with her, filling up the condom until I’m wrung dry and panting. I have to carefully pull out so she doesn’t rip the condom off inside her with the way she’s still clamped down. I can’t take my eyes off the way her body is shuddering as she comes down. Her flushed body and her raspy breathing. Her hard nipples begging for my mouth again. This girl was going to get me in trouble.

“I need more.” She whispers, finally opening her eyes to look at me. I smirk after throwing away the condom and fixing my shorts. I run my hands up her thighs and she shakes harder, her eyes pleading.

“Greedy.” My fingers glide over her glistening swollen clit making her jerk and whimper with need.

“That’s what happens when you piss me off. I need a way to release that pent up aggression.” She breathes, her hips bucking with every feather like touch to her clit.

“So I take it you don’t want me to be gentle when I finger fuck you?” My voice is lower and hungry as I tease her entrance with my finger. She growls in warning.

“No. Never.” She breathes, palming her gorgeous tits again.

“You don’t want me to ease in slowly as I fill you?” I murmur as I do just that, sliding two fingers inside her desperate cunt and she moans low and long.

“No.” She pants. I smirk as I start to pump my fingers slowly, too slowly for my own liking. I curl my fingers to find her G-spot and her eyes pop open, her hand reaching for me.

“Oh god.”

“You don’t like when I do that?” She only whimpers. I chuckle darkly as I give her what she wants. We don’t leave until she’s dripping on the floor and I’ve fucked her again.

We walk out together as usual, only she’s wearing a shirt from the shop instead of her own, a small smile on her face as she twirls her keys around her fingers. It’s not until we’re half way across the street that I stop dead in my tracks as I take in who’s leaning against my truck.

“How’s my daughter, JJ?” She calls, my good mood instantly fucking gone.

[twistedbyfate]

haikyuu boys: how you met <3

this includes hinata, kageyama, sawamura, sugawara, kuroo, tsukishima, and kenma. let me know if you want any more added and i'll do a part two! this is also going up on my wattpad under the same username ^^

shoyo hinata

you were a distance runner on the karasuno track team. when the gym had a leak, coach ukai told the volleyball club to take a beach trip and play beach volleyball instead as a fun activity. when the team reached the beach, they realized the track team was having a bit of a beach hangout to celebrate their successful season. at first you weren't with the group, out jogging on the shoreline. after a few minutes you came back, having ran to the pier and turned around.

while tobio spiked a ball to him, shoyo had been put off by the sand in his shoes and missed the ball. chasing after it, he grabbed it... only to realize the ball had rolled right to your feet.

"oh, sorry!" he apologized for getting in your personal space. you assured him it was fine and told him that he was good at volleyball. "why don't you watch me for a bit?" and so you did, tanning on your beach towel and listening to spotify while you watched a ginger play volleyball.

tobio kageyama

tobio wasn't the most studious guy. he struggled in school, particularly in english. it wasn't his native language, so why was he required to learn it? "kageyama. if you don't stop failing your exams, you're not going to pass the first year." his counsellor warned. tobio's eyes widened. not passing first year would mean he would be cut from the volleyball team. he opened his mouth to say something before his counsellor interrupted him.

"i know volleyball is important to you, so i've gotten you a tutor so she can help you on your days off. she's the top in your year." damn, he had to have a tutor and it's a girl? how much worse could this get?

he soon found out that it could get much worse.

"yeah, but why are they spelled the same if they mean different things?" he groaned, staring up at you. you sighed. he was quite stubborn, and refused to listen to a word you say.

"look," you started, "my goal is to get you to pass english. try and work with me here."

he glared at you. this would be the start of quite the entertaining relationship.

daichi sawamura

it started one day when you ran into the gym to talk to kiyoko, the manager. you were rosy-cheeked, with pom-poms shoved under one arm and a glittery bow in your hair. you had a cheer uniform on, identifiable by the short skirt and tight top.

daichi didn't pay much attention to you at first, but when he glanced over to see what the giggling was about, he dropped the volleyball.

"who's that?" he asked koshi sugawara, his co-captain.

koshi smiled. "that's (y/n). she's the captain of the cheer team. kiyoko-san is her best friend." he said politely.

"oh." was all daichi had to say. he was starstruck by the cheerful look on your face and the way you laughed. he hated to admit it, but he was disappointed when you dashed back out of the gym.

koshi sugawara

koshi and you had been friends ever since he moved next to you in kindergarten. you had a treehouse in your backyard, and once you became friends you had your parents attach a second ladder that dropped down into koshi's backyard so he could climb up.

"(y/n), i brought snacks from my kitchen!" koshi would exclaim every time you guys hung out after school. he loved the way your face would brighten up when he brought snacks or a game to play.

"let's play knights and princesses, (y/n)." he suggests one day.

"who's gonna be the dragon?" you questioned, seeing as that was how that game worked.

"uhh... i could get my little brother to be the dragon." koshi replied, looking at the knight helmet he had brought up from his room.

"okay!" you agreed, and put on a plastic tiara.

from then on, you were his princess.

tetsuro kuroo

stuck-up on the court and friendly on the streets, tetsuro wasn't the type to even go looking for a girl. he'd rather let them chase after him, which they had all been doing.

except for you, of course. you didn't even spare him so much as a glance. he stared into the back of your head in class, asked your friends about you, with no response.

it was getting annoying how you wouldn't pay attention to him, and frustrating how much he wanted it. it was starting to affect his schoolwork, even.

his eye twitched as you laughed and talked with your friends, careless about the volleyball captain's feelings.

"hey, (y/n)." tetsuro called out, giving up and just asking for attention. "did you do the notes?" he asked after, coming up with a reason to talk to you.

"oh, yeah." you said calmly.

"can i copy them?" he asked. he had already done his own notes, but...

"sure." you handed him your notebook. "bring it back to me tomorrow, k?" then you skipped off with your friends, ignoring when they teased you about him wanting your attention.

he opened the notebook and stared at the handwriting on the page. it was neat and bubbly, with doodles on the edges and all through the paper. dang it, even your notes were cute.

kei tsukishima

it was absolutely stupid how the second you walked through the door all eyes were on you. it was dumb how every guy thought about how cute you were all the damn time. it was definitely ridiculous how rosy your cheeks were and how you always seemed to trip over stuff. how short you were. how you always skipped through the halls. how you always gave that closed-eye smile when you were happy. it was all stupid.

kei hated that he wanted to talk to you so badly. he never thought he'd ever be interested in a girl, let alone one as popular and extroverted as you.

"do you have a pencil i can borrow?" his thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice. (y/n).

"uh, yeah." he handed her a pencil, slightly flustered that you had asked him of all people for a pencil.

"it's just a pencil. don't freak out." kei muttered to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. this was so dumb.

after class, you walked up to return the pencil to him. "thanks for letting me borrow it. hey, your name is tsukishima-kun, right?" you said with a warm smile.

damn it.

kenma kosuke

in reality, he thought you were annoying. always talking, always laughing and smiling. what a bother.

[hey] he typed out in a message to an online friend he had met. this person was quite interesting and had a sense of humor, even though her username was ridiculous. it was something like theOGbackyardigans or whatever.

[hey beautiful roblox boyfriend <3 ] she typed back, adding hearts at the end. kenma snorted to himself. dumbass.

[whats up minecraft girlfriend] he hit send, before shutting off his phone and heading to practice. this girl he met on a video game was the only person he'd ever had that much fun talking to.

hey y'all thanks for popping in! send in some requests if you want <3 i'd love to make themmm

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Ben Cohen

When histories of the war in the Gaza Strip are written—a war triggered by the Hamas pogrom in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023—the name of Alice Nderitu probably won’t garner more than a footnote at best. That’s an enormous shame because Nderitu’s courage in confronting the institutionalized obsession of the United Nations with the Palestinians takes us to the heart of the great issues wrapped up in this conflict—its purpose, the manner in which it has been fought and the manner in which it has been presented to the outside world.

The story of Nderitu’s ordeal as the U.N.’s Special Advisor for the Prevention of Genocide was the subject of an engaging piece by Johanna Berkman published last week by the online magazine Air Mail. Nderitu took over the unpaid position during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. She lasted for nearly four years in the post before U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres decided against renewing her commission last November following a sustained and often abusive campaign directed at Nderitu—a storied human-rights advocate from Kenya—for her refusal to label the fighting in Gaza as a “genocide.”

At the time, Guterres’s decision to effectively sever Nderitu was the subject of a scathing Wall Street Journal editorial that accused the international organization of a “new low” in its efforts to tarnish Israel as the worst offender among its member states, which include such human-rights luminaries as Russia, China and North Korea. But by and large, the scandal passed unnoticed among the chattering classes, despite their tendency to dip their toes into the Israeli-Palestinian conflict with agonized appeals on behalf of the “people of Gaza” from time to time. The same was true for the Air Mail piece profiling her; while the Free Press republished it, everyone else pretty much ignored it.

One key reason why was identified by Nderitu herself in her interview with Berkman. For nearly three of the four years of her U.N. tenure, she was incredibly busy but also mostly unnoticed. Her work took her to refugee camps in Bangladesh and Iraq, to the Brazilian interior to monitor the fates of indigenous tribes, and to Chad, where she saw firsthand the impact of the burgeoning ethnic slaughter that has raged, largely outside the media’s view, in neighboring Sudan. “For these other situations,” she said, “nobody seems to bother with what I say.”

The core point that emerges from the profile of Nderitu is that she desperately wants to make these forgotten conflicts a central topic of discussion and action. Reading her comments, I felt a distinct mix of disgust and shame when she related being told by Sudanese refugees: “Right now, nobody is paying attention to our country. If there is ever peace and the cameras go in, you will face the most shocking thing of the century, a genocide that was completely ignored.” That observation is unarguable.

But after the slaughter on Oct. 7, suddenly everyone wanted a piece of Alice Nderitu. They did so not to beseech her to call the Hamas atrocities, which she condemned, a “genocide,” but to compel her to apply the “genocide” determination to Israel, even before the Israel Defense Forces launched its campaign to destroy the Hamas rape squads in Gaza.

This is a good juncture to note that Nderitu is not an advocate of Israel’s side in this war. Nor is she, as far as I am aware, a supporter of Israel more generally. And that’s fine because as a consummate professional, she understands that her personal leanings are not relevant to her work as a genocide prevention expert. As she says, a genocide determination can only be made by a court of law, and no court—despite the efforts of South Africa; Ireland; Karim Khan, the prosecutor of the International Criminal Court in The Hague; and sundry others—has done so thus far.

But in the eyes of those for whom Gaza is all-consuming, Nderitu’s determination to stick to the correct procedure was an unmistakable sign of collusion with the hated “Zionist entity.”

“Filthy zionist rat, you will burn in hell forever,” read one of the more unhinged emails that arrived in her inbox. Her other detractors essentially said the same, albeit in politer language.

These institutions are the concrete expression of a strategy that relies on maintaining the status of the Palestinians as victims by not integrating them into the Arab countries where most of them live—in marked contrast to Israel’s integration of thousands of Mizrachi Jews ethnically cleansed from the Islamic world—and by keeping alive the preposterous and morally reprehensible notion that they will one day “return home” and displace their “colonizers.”

That is why, despite many potential flaws on a practical level, U.S. President Donald Trump’s proposal to offer the mass of Gazans voluntary, assisted resettlement in other countries while the coastal enclave is rebuilt should be seen as another attempt to break this mold. Because for as long as the Palestinian question is understood as a purely Israeli creation—one for which the Jewish state alone must atone and pay the price, and one that the world must prioritize at the expense of everything and everybody else—there will never be peace. At best, we will have troughs and peaks of mostly containable conflict, as has been the case for the last century.

Many years ago, I read an interview with the Kurdish leader Abdullah Ocalan, who remains imprisoned in Turkey, in which he expressed hope for a resolution of the Palestinian issue since that would allow other issues that receive less attention, like Kurdish self-determination, to enter the spotlight. Neither the Kurds nor anyone else should be forced to wait in line anymore.

If Trump’s proposal compels a shift in how the conflict between Palestinians and Israelis is conceptualized and presented, along with the realization that the peace of the world doesn’t hinge upon it, then it will have been worth it for that reason alone.

[nahisummerhold]

Heard it on the Grapevine

Daily Writing Challenge February 2025 Day Four - Salty

The solicitor’s office was neat as a pin, books lined the built-in shelves, knots in the wood making for a more decorative look over standard milled lumber, the cabinets that held their files were burnished and warm, blown glass vases and bowls in blues and green decorated surfaces around the office. Ornate carpets in the same shades as the displayed artwork covered the floors. The office was opulence reined in to dance a fine line on being too showy for such a serious business.   

The woman that walked in was wearing a tailored black knee length pinstriped skirt that hugged the curves of her hips and legs perfectly, a testament to the skill of her tailor. A long sleeve yellow-gold silk blouse exposed a vee of mahogany skin and a simple necklace in gold with a teardrop blue topaz. The one nod to her sometimes flashy nature were muted gold stilettos with ankle straps. She was in the colors of House Summerhold, a reminder that she was the heiress to the noble house, no matter that it was not much more than a mansion and some lovely lands with rolling hills, and just enough income to cover expenses. Smiling, Nahivli reached out to shake the hands of the woman and man that were waiting for her.

“You asked us to let you know if any odd charges came across the estate expenses,” a regal woman said as she led Nahilvi into the boardroom, gesturing for her to take a seat. “There have been unusual activity that need some attention, I hope you got our note that your uncle would be joining us as well?”

It was why Nahi had dressed as she did, even professional attire could be armor if used correctly, “I did, it will be interesting to hear what the estate manager has been doing since I last saw him and acquired his agreement in how the legalities of the estate were arranged.” She had actually blindsided him and his children who assumed she and her mother had died with her father when Kael’thas’ forced were defeated in Tempest Keep. Having walked in with a number of legal documents, she arranged for her mother and step-father to have a little house that overlooked the ocean, an formal agreement for her family to remain on the estate as long as they left her mother in peace and a reminder to them that they were not truly in charge of the estate, just managing it for as long as she would allow. 

Really, she wasn’t sure she wanted the estate and title, but she also did not want to give up control of the home where her mother and stepfather were living and her uncle was untrustworthy at best. He had not been the author of the worst of her emotional torment when she was young, but he certainly had not helped with his insinuations that Nahilvi was not Mianos, her father’s, child, combined with picking at her when the chances arose. So, maybe she was a little petty, but everyone had their moments in that, right?

“What are these expenses?” She asked and before the woman could answer the door opened and her uncle Hoovanil and cousin Hamdil entered. 

Her cousin walked over and kissed her cheek, “Nahi, you should come and visit, I would love to introduce you to my children.” 

A pang of guilt hit her for a moment but her expression never changed, “I will have to see what I can do.” Then she turned her attention to her uncle, refusing to get up out of her seat, a small power play in making him come to her like a person having to pay respects in a court. 

“Niece,” Hoovanil said as he walked into the room and taking a seat opposite her, “what is this about? I thought that all the arrangements were handled the last time you visited.” Hamdil took a seat next to his father, but didn’t look pleased to have to choose a side. 

With an almost imperious nod to the solicitors, she wordlessly asked them to explain, “We are here because in the agreements that you all have signed, there was a level of oversight allowed to our office to make sure the estate was being handled in the manner that it had been in the past and recently we have noticed some large expenditures.”

Nahi tipped her head, and her jaw tightened, “What kind of expenditures are we talking about?”

“It seems that there are new agricultural changes being made,” the other solicitor said and flipped through some pages then turning them so Nahi could look at them, but her eyes had gone to her uncle and cousin. Hamdil, in turn also looked to the older man,

A smooth tone flowed with Nahi’s next words, her eyes narrowing, “Agricultural changes?” 

Hoovanil sat up straighter with a glare and a small sneer, “I am trying to make the estate successful again like it was when my grandfather took possession of it.”

“What is your plan?” She was trying to be polite and calm, but even Hamdil was looking surprised at his father, so it was tough to allow her uncle to speak. 

“A winery,” Hoovanil said simply, not saying anything else.

Hamdil sighed, “Dad…”

With a wave of his hand the elder Summerhold dismissed his son, which made Nahi tense. Hamdil had been her protector through much of her youth and to see him waved aside did nit earn her uncle any brownie points.

“We looked into the viability of your investments,” the first solicitor said. “It takes at least three years to grow vines to a stage where you can even consider bottling. Then it takes aging of the wine before you can consider marketing it.” 

Hamdil continued to look at his dad then stood, “What the fuck are you thinking? Those hills can’t be planted, you know that.” 

“It is a good plan, all the land on the hills is going without use.” Hoovanil replied just as angrily, “And if she…” he waved his hand at Nahi, “Isn’t going to support us, then I have to do something. Banictusia thinks it is a good idea too.”

“My wife?” “His wife?” Hamdil and Nahi said at the exact time.

Bringing her fingers up to press in front of her ears. “So, we now have the starting of a vineyard that the estate can’t support financially, so you and Hamdil’s wife can get back at me, for not just giving you money?” It was so difficult to get her the modulated, thank goodness for her voice lessons, Nahi could begin to feel actual rage starting to seep through, oddly enough that only seemed to happen when dealing with her family. Turning to look at the solicitors with a practiced smile, “How much did this drain the accounts?”

They looked at one another, “Nothing, when the charges came through we called this meeting and locked the purchases until we could get your clearance, Lady Summerhold.” 

And this… this is why she paid them, even if her finances were tighter than she ever wanted them to be. “Thank you both.” Turning back to her uncle and her cousin, “Uncle Hoovanil, you are no longer the estate manager for the Summerhold property. Hamdil, are you willing to take on the responsibility?” 

Running a hand through his hair, “I can’t Nahi.”

The three words stung, in the past three months now had two men she cared about say about the same thing to her. “Alright. If one of the family can not manage the estate, I will find an outside source.” She nodded to the solicitors and they returned it, Nahi really didn’t have the money for this but she would make it work somehow. 

Turning to look at her relatives, she tipped her head to the side, “I need the two of you to understand something, I am on the edge of asking for you to leave the property, but I do not want to hurt you, or make a decision in haste.”

“You are not even our blood!” Hoovanil screamed, standing and knocking back his chair. 

Hamdil stood too, placing a hand on his father’s chest, “Sorry Nahi.” 

Continuing to sit still, with her feet planted on the ground feeling she needed that support. It is not like it was the first time she heard those venomous words. 

“I will sue you, have the estate ripped from your hands,” he continued to yell at her. 

Looking to the solicitors, “Can you make sure that the staff remains paid, but absolutely no financial support goes to my family?”

They looked at one another, it was a big ask and probably they couldn’t do it, but she needed to keep her head and think of things that had to be handled, but her money was limited. “We will see what we can do.”

Maybe what she saved on not paying her family would cover some of the costs. Looking back at her family, her face expressionless, “Hamdil, you know I love you, but your father and wife are out of control. This needs to be handled quietly, if it is not then I will have to ask you to move off the property, you understand that, right? You really need to understand that.”

The look her cousin gave her almost broke her heart, he couldn’t choose who his father was, but she was glad of it as she truly loved him. He nodded, “When you hire someone I will work with them Nahi. You are not in this alone.” 

The logic part of her understood, so she nodded, “Thank you.”

His choice started her uncle in a new round of hysterics so she stood, completely ignoring him and smiled at her solicitors, “I will be in touch so we can go over the arrangements.” Smoothing her skirt she walked by her cousin and touched his shoulder, then walked out of the office, Summerhold colors on full display.h

@daily-writing-challenge

[evita-shelby]

Strings of Fate

Thanks @justrainandcoffee for having the dream that inspired Forbidden and this happier au and happy birthday 🎂 🥳

Cw: smut, infertility, Tommy’s canon fertility issues, cheating

Rose Coldwell needed a husband to escape Lawerence Evertt and the Shelbys could use someone to help Polly and Ada with Finn and John’s now motherless children.

His marriage was one of convenience and no matter what they did, it just didn’t work.

“I cannot have children,” his wife had admitted when they held Ada’s baby and Tommy wondered if they could try and have some happiness of their own.

The Romani Gangster had never held that against her, he was fond of her and cared for her like he cares for all his family, and when he realized the place Alfie Solomons had in her heart, Tom supposed it was a blessing in disguise.

He didn’t stop her; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t resumed his visits to Lizzie nor dallied with Grace in hopes of filling that hollowness in his chest. The least he could do for her is to ignore her visits to Camden Town and believe her lies.

Once business is done, he will broach the topic of a divorce. Tommy would use his own affairs to place the blame squarely on his shoulders and make sure her reputation remains spotless.

He needs Camden Town, Alfie Solomons would have no choice but to ally with him and help him take London or he’d never set her free. It is the only reason he is taking on Sabini now that both Kimber and Evertt are dead and gone.

Alfie’s no fool, his own wife was a Smith whose grandmother lived in Small Heath. If Tommy wanted, he could hurt her, but he wouldn’t. He’s not like that.

She’s a beauty, he’s seen her in the neighborhood enough times to know Mr. Solomons is a lucky man. She’s friends with Ada, on good terms with Polly and Finn adores her. Had he met her sooner perhaps, Eva Solomons would be Eva Shelby.

“If my husband were a jealous man, you would be pushing daisies, Mr. Shelby.” The witch says in Rromani as she looks at the wares in the shop that makes his suits.

“Something you must thank my wife for, I suppose.” His words hit their mark as she stills for a moment before regaining composure. They speak of the matter in their shared tongue, and no one here would report anything but mere speculation to his aunt, Chester Campbell and Sabini.

She and Rose are friends, even if dear Rosie thinks Eva isn’t aware of her relationship with her husband. What her reasons are for feigning ignorance about their affair is something Tommy intends to find out.

“He goes his way, I go mine.” The woman answered his unspoken question and refuses to turn and look at him. “Same agreement you have with Rose.”

“Can’t fill the emptiness either, Mrs. Solomons.” Even the name feels wrong, just as Rose Shelby does.

Tommy looks at a bolt of fine black lace and suggests it to her with a calculated look on his face to sell the lie. As far as Polly will know, he is merely convincing Eva Solomons to convince her husband to free Arthur and claim Billy Kitchen’s death as his doing.

“If you wish to seduce me, Shelby, you should try harder. I like to be wooed.” The witch dismissed his words and before she could ring up the shopkeeper to buy it, he orders the man at the counter to put in on his tab.

He pays for his suits now. Never leaves a debt unpaid and tips generously, he even vets his whores after Grace took advantage of his weakness in the name of the Law.

Tommy Shelby should remember how that hurt him and his family as he courts the Witch of Camden Town.

But he cannot help it, there is something pulling him to her that he hasn’t felt since Greta. Like an invisible string connecting his rotten soul to hers.

“Your cousin, Wag, said your husband refused your tickets to Chaplin's party after what he did to my brother and my men at his Seder.” The Gangster wanted revenge, he had an ace up his sleeve to get Alfie Solomons to have the police sergeant in his pocket release Arthur and his men.

This was more than just a play against Eva’s husband and Rose’s lover, this was Tommy Shelby being led by his stupid broken heart to see where that string of fate leads him to. Not his cock this time, though the woman beside him ignited all sorts of want with that feel of magic about her.

“I want you to wear that lace for me and after that, we will go to my sister’s place in London, and we will fuck until we forget what our spouses are doing in that property they think we don’t know about.” He comes close enough to breathe in the soft rose water and vanilla and that touch of myrrh and frankincense left over from incense to enhance her supernatural abilities.

Tommy Shelby doesn’t know what he’ll do is she says no.

“Tell Ada to leave the lights on and the front door unlocked, I will be arriving there before you to keep Sabini off my tail.” Eva turns and looks at him over her shoulder with an enigmatic smile.

She doesn’t wear black lace.

She wears a jet beaded dress with a satin slip underneath with her dark hair curled and lips painted with the lipstick Rose will find on his collar tomorrow.

He shouldn’t want her, her husband could kill his brother for this, but Tommy Shelby cannot help himself.

He hardly remembers the party as the heady smell of witchcraft and roses stirred a fire within him he hasn’t felt in almost a decade. Grace had been there with her husband, but he had paid her no mind as he came to know the bewitching woman on his arm.

“You behave as if you were a man starved for love.” Her eyes are dark with want and her quiet laugh betrays how mutual this burning he feels is.

“As starved as you are, love.” Tommy cannot even bother to check the coast was clear as he kisses her hungrily at Ada’s doorstep.

Despite the need to sate the hunger they feel, they take their time, stumbling to the couch where they don’t bother removing their clothes. Any attempt to strip her of her fine clothes is met with a wicked grin, as he ran is hands up her silky skin and felt the lace he had paid for as she sank down on his hand.

“You said I had to wear the lace, you never said how.” The witch said against his mouth before kissing like a high-end whore.

“I need you.” He groans against the column of her neck as he kisses every freckle Solomons takes for granted and matches the slow pace she’s set. “Evie, I need you.”

Sex with Rose was good, a bit tame, but enough to scratch the itch. This was different, as if he’d known the witch before, as if he hadn’t been meant for anyone else except her.

“You don’t even know me, Tommy.” She pulled him back to her mouth as she rid him of his vest, gun holster and every item between her long black nails and his bare chest.

She could tear out his heart from his chest and he’d let her, just to fill that hollowness inside him.

They don’t stay in the couch, neither wanted the night to end and in silence decided they’d greet the dawn clad only in sin. The bed would be where they fuck in earnest, where he will take advantage of his own lack of fertility to ensure Solomons stays none the wiser.

Tommy takes his time peeling off the lingerie she wore only for him, kissing every inch of her and letting the sense of déjà vu guide and reward him with sounds he bets Alfie cannot string from her.

God was always cruel to him, to give him a soulmate and give her to a man who doesn’t worship her like she deserves. He tells her so when after feasts on her cunt like a man starved.

“Then show your goddess how a true believer should worship her.” She pulled him up and tasted herself in his tongue as he made love to her until she wept from the ecstasy.

Dawn paints her skin golden, and her eyes turn the color of his favorite whiskey, he wished he could wake every morning like this.

“Who knew Mr. Shelby was a poet?” the witch reads his thoughts and hears him use poetry to describe the naked goddess he's still inside of.

“Who knew soulmates were real?” their hands interlock as they lay together basking in the afterglow, pretending they don’t have cages to return to.

Tommy Shelby knows he must make her part of the deal: he will set Rose free only if Alfie does the same with Eva.

He can’t let her go, even if he’s only known her for a day or two, he knows he can’t live without her.

They all return home; Rose smells of Alfie and he smells of Eva. It is the first of many, they know it when Rose takes Ada’s old bedroom and Tommy’s in his own bed and both dream of their lovers.

Neither feel hurt as they did before when the guilt ate at Rose even if he’s never been loyal to her, the callous too thick to let them feel their sins burning against their conscious and damning them to hell once more.

“I hadn’t planned to tell you this until the Derby ended, but I will set you free. Our deal has been honored and you no longer need my protection in the form of a wedding ring and my last name.” It sounds cold and cruel to everyone but them.

Rose cries in relief and joy as she hugs him in gratitude. He’s set up the date with their lawyer, paid extra to have it done faster and even sought the Rabbi in Rose’s Temple to ask whether he needs a Get so his soon-to-be ex-wife can marry his lover’s husband.

Even if he does die today, he will die as Eva’s fiancé and not Rose’s husband.

“Rose and I declared our marriage over, and unless you do the same, I will blow your fine establishment up to marry your wife. The choice is yours, Solomons.” The gangster fears death and yet fears nothing today, but he trusts his witch. His witch who told him the grave he will dig is meant to show him how expendable he is to his new master.

Everything would fall into place and all would be right in the world…for them at least.

That night, still reeking of graveyard dirt and a man’s blood, he spends it in Eva’s arms in the sprawling house she will rule over as its rightful queen.

“How soon can we marry?” she holds on tightly to him as if they may wake up from this dream any moment.

“Before you start showing, I hope.” Tommy answers guessing why she’d even ask in the first place.

And so, they marry, in the last days of summer with a special license as their former spouses do the same in Margate.

Whether Charles Absalom Shelby is named for his uncle or Charlie Chaplin, is something only the new couple will know.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi, its me again 😀 I hope you be feeling well during and after your hiatus. Anyway I would like to request Letters A,E,J,K and L for Yandere Nami.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Nami is a quality time kind of girl. She enjoys having you in the room with her while she maps out sea charts, relaxing under the shade of her tangerine trees together, or having a shopping date. She loves picking out outfits and accessories for you. Don't worry about paying for any of it. She'll cover it and add it to your ever growing tab with her. She's very possessive of your time and monopolizes it. Her presence will feel suffocating because of how rare it is for you to not be in it.

She isn't the most touchy person, even with her darling. Her touches tend to be light and more casual, like holding hands while out shopping or leaning against you when relaxing. She's fine with giving you your own space most of the time, but she'll get very upset if you refuse her when she's trying to be affectionate.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Not very. Nami is a very private woman. What happened in the past, stays in the past. She doesn't like talking about what's happened in her life, and it could be years before she starts to open up. The most that you'll get early on is her reminiscing about Bellemere on the anniversary of her death, or the occasional childhood story about her and Nojiko. Nami isn't a very open person, and a darling that's resistant will only make her more tight-lipped.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

She has horrible jealousy issues. As mentioned in A, she doesn't like other people taking up your time because she feels like it should belong to only her. The best case scenario is that she'll just drag you away from them and bring you somewhere private. If it's someone that she genuinely dislikes, she'll whip out her clima-tact and use that on them.

Someone openly flirting with you really pisses her off. Does that moron not see the necklace with her name on it around your neck? She won't hesitate to use her weapon on them, and she'll spend the rest of the night bitching about the audacity of that person with you. You need to go along with it and shit talk them, too, or else she'll lash out at you next for being interested in the other person.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Her lack of affection can make it seem like you two are just friends when you're out in public, but she gets extremely irritated when people make that mistake. She fully believes that it's obvious that you two are a couple. You have a necklace with her name on it, and she has one with yours. That's clearly a couple's thing!

Outside of that, she treats you like her confidant. She'll gossip with you and rant about how over budget the Straw Hats are. Sometimes she'll ask for your input on something, but only if you're actually competent on it. She'll just roll her eyes and tell you to shut up if you don't know what you're talking about or give her bad advice. She largely tries to act as if there's nothing abnormal about your relationship and will pointedly ignore anything that says otherwise.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

First thing she'll do once she starts to get interested is try to recruit you into the Straw Hats. Luffy cares about her input, so it won't be hard for her to convince him that you'll make a good addition. Now that she feels like she has some time to assess her feelings, she starts trying to get close to you by insisting that you come shopping with her next time they dock somewhere. She does this partially for the sake of having one on one time with you, but mostly because she wants to get you in debt as soon as possible so that you're trapped financially. After she feels like you can't leave, she feels much more emboldened and declares that you two would make a cute couple. She won't accept anything less than an enthusiastic agreement as an answer.

[roguerambles]

By the Fire

The Witcher Fic - Geralt of Rivia x Male Reader

Warnings - 18+ Only. Some mild NSFW. Brief description of monster violence.

So, fun fact about me, the Witcher 3 is one of my favourite games ever and Geralt of Rivia is kinda sorta my ultimate weakness. Look at him. JUST LOOK AT HIM--

Toussaint is one of my favourite areas in the game, and I figured Anarietta could use a court mage to fall in love with the local witcher, oops--

-

Perhaps hiring the Witcher had been unnecessary.

The Duchess had been quite insistent, however, that her newly appointed Court Mage not go wandering the Marcescent Forest unaccompanied. Several of the Ducal Guard had volunteered to accompany you, but oddly enough it was Captain de la Tour who recommended hiring Geralt of Rivia.

“All manner of beasts stalk the region.” He had gruffly told you, ignoring the surprised expression Her Grace had given him. “A witcher would be a prudent choice for a travelling companion.”

You could not critique his reasoning, although you liked to think your magic could handle a few beasts. But your research could take hours, and a man familiar with killing monsters watching over you was reassurance enough to Her Grace.

You had heard of Geralt of Rivia, of course – you doubted there were many in Toussaint who hadn’t  – but you had not met the man in person since his arrival to the region. When you had arrived at Corvo Bianco, dressed in your finest travelling cloak and a large pouch of coin attached to your hip, you had been somewhat embarrassed at the almost boyish excitement you felt as the majordomo – Barnabas – welcomed you to the estate and led you into the vineyard.

“Master Geralt, the Court Mage has come to see you.”

“Barnabas, you need to stop calling me that.”

Geralt of Rivia – the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken – stood amongst the rows of vines, heavy with grapes, white hair tied back loosely, his chest bare, a fine sheen of sweat coating his skin from the blazing warmth of the summer sun. Your gaze was drawn to the patchwork of heavy scars decorating his skin, the toned musculature of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the handsome jawline dusted with silver. He moved with the easy grace of a warrior and it took you a moment to realise you had not spoken at all, even as he rose from where he had been kneeling and approached you.

“Damien de la Tour sent word. Apparently you need a Witcher.”

His voice was deep and pleasant to your ears, and found your tongue was refusing to form words in your mouth. You were staring like you had never seen a man with his tunic off before, and you saw the corners of Geralt’s lips twitch, his brows arching slightly upwards. You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you cleared your throat loudly, hastily reaching for your coin pouch and fumblingly explaining the terms of your contract.

“It’s only a few hours…and I can pay your handsomely. I mean, you are handsome. I mean, pay handsomely!”

You contemplated fleeing back to Beauclair on the spot. Geralt simply looked bemused, while Barnabas remained cooly neutral as you made a fool of yourself.

But the Witcher accepted your coin, and within the hour you were both riding towards the forest, the sun grazing the tops of the trees. You focused on examining the local flora, and tried to ignore how striking the Witcher looked in armour. You eventually settled into a companionable quiet, with Geralt occasionally asking about what exactly you were doing. You initially thought he was just being polite, but he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. He even answered a few of your own questions about the various potions you’d spotted attached to his belt.

Even if he was only humouring you, it did little to quell the pleased flutter of butterflies in your stomach every time you coaxed a small smile or a thoughtful “hmmmm” from the man.

“It’ll be dark soon.” Geralt spoke up the nearby tree he leaned against, watching you work. “We shouldn’t be out much longer.”

You had been searching for a few hours, and while you had collected a few interesting specimens, none of them had been what you had been looking for. And aside from the occasional curious deer, no creatures had made their presence known. You sighed and brushed your hands against your cloak, smiling apologetically. “I am sorry. This must be rather dull for you.”

Geralt barked out a short laugh, shaking his head with faint amusement. “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes flickered over your shoulder. “I’m sorry you haven’t found what you were looking for.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Either that or your excited reaction is very understated.”

You laughed, prompting a subtle smile from Geralt that made your pulse quicken. You dipped your head slightly, turning back to gather your materials, when Geralt suddenly went still. Then he darted towards you, his hand reaching for his silver sword. “Move—!”

You startled in alarm, the earth shifting under your feet. Something screeched underneath you, high and shrill, and you stumbled backwards, claws long and sharp slicing at the air where you had been standing. Dirt and stone flew in every direction as something tore through the ground, and all you could see clearly rows of needle-like teeth snapping inches from your face.

You threw out your arms, panic burning fierce and bright in your chest as Geralt shouldered past you, a ripple of magic spilling from his open balm. The monster screamed as your magic clashed with his, sending it hurtling through the air and into the trees with a loud crack. Wood splintered as the creature writhed and wailed, blood spewing from a wound in its underbelly. Geralt swore loudly, before swinging his blade and thrusting it into the creature’s exposed stomach.

The ground continued to crack under your feet, soil and earth spilling into a deepening crevice. “Geralt—!” You willed your feet to move, but the crumbling earth was faster, and you found yourself being rapidly yanked downwards into cold, open air. “Geralt….!”

The Witcher dove after you, his large hands grasping your arms as you both tumbled over the edge. His arms circled around you, pulling you sharply against the metal of his armour so hard your teeth rattled, but you barely had time to register the dull burst of pain before plunging in the overwhelming chill of the river below.

-

You were curled under a blanket near the campfire, and you were hoping that if you prayed very, very hard, the gods would show mercy and simply kill you now.

After Geralt had dragged you out of the river like a bag of soaked vegetables, he had dove back in to fish out you and he’s scattered belongings before they were washed away. Your ankle throbbed painfully, somehow injured in the fall, and you had been forced to watch from the side-lines as Geralt set up your little makeshift camp, set up traps to ward off potential beasts, and cooked the fish he’d caught for you both over the fire.

You could not recall a time you had felt so thoroughly useless. You were a sorcerer, a bloody good one, but portals had never been your strong suit, and with how wrong everything had gone today you didn’t want to risk sending you and the Witcher halfway across the Continent into some carnivorous creature’s jaws. He probably already thought you were hopeless enough.

The sun was dipping lower and lower, but the Witcher insisted travelling through the forest at night was asking for trouble, particularly since you were struggling to walk. He had said this while stripping out of his dripping wet clothes, tossing them aside to dry, and encouraged you to do the same, and you had been far too flustered to muster much protest.

So there you sat, shivering under your blanket, guiltily watching as Geralt did everything, his leggings hanging distractingly low on his hips, the fading sun casting a warm, appealing glow against the glistening musculature of his scarred back and shoulders.

It was impolite to stare, but you could not help it.

You settled eventually, your clothes still to soaked to wear, and Geralt sat on the other side of the fire, seemingly quite at ease as you tried and failed to not follow a particular scar that trailed from his side and disappeared into his waistline—

“Bruxa.”

You startled, your eyes snapping upwards to meet his knowing expression. You flushed and stammered – gods you dealt with nobles and your fellow sorcerers with skilled eloquence, yet the Witcher reduced you to a clumsy wreck without even trying – as Geralt chuckled slightly, lifting his arm and gesturing at his side.

“This scar is from a Bruxa. In case you were wondering.”

He had clearly noticed your staring and you were seriously considering getting up and tossing yourself back into the river. You averted your eyes, your tongue useless in your mouth. “I did not mean to stare.”

Geralt peered at you thoughtfully. “They bother you? A witcher’s path is a dangerous one. War wounds are inevitable.”

“Bother me?” You nearly laughed. You had been counting every scar, wondering how they’d feel under your tongue; when you weren’t distracted with the strong, firm muscle of the Witcher’s body on such tantalising display. “No…not at all.”

“…hmm.” You could have sworn you saw Geralt’s lips twitch into a smirk for a moment, and began to fear that there was something to the rumours of Witcher’s reading minds. “You’re still shivering?”

Grateful for the shift in topic away from dangerous territory, you tugged your blanket tighter around your shoulders, smiling a little weakly. “I’m sure it will pass. I just need to stay near the fire.”

Geralt stared at you thoughtfully a moment, before shaking his head. “You’ve been sitting there a while. We need to warm you up.” He stood and began making his way towards you, and your heartbeat quickened.

“Oh! I…that isn’t necessary—”

Geralt shook his head again. “I doubt the Lady Duchess will be pleased if her Court Mage gets sick under my watch.” He sat down beside you, and patted his lap. “Come here. We’ll share body heat a while.”

For a few seconds, you completely forgot how to breathe. You stared at Geralt mutely, and his expression remained perfectly serious. You opened and closed your mouth several times, before finally finding the power of speech once more. “I…can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I’m offering.”

You swallowed thickly, offering a quick prayer to whatever god was listening that you weren’t about to make a complete fool out of yourself. You shuffled into Geralt’s lap, his thighs sturdy and strong underneath you, and he pulled your blanket around him, your back pressed flush against his chest. He felt hot and solid and strong, his toned, powerful arms sliding around you and sweet merciful gods you were growing hard—

“Better?” Geralt asked, his voice low and warm as honey and you squirmed, hoping he didn’t notice your reaction.

“Y-yes.” You choked out, your face burning. “T-thank you. Sir Geralt.”

“Hmm.” You could not look up at his face, but you swore you could hear a smile. “Don’t mention it.”

You sat in silence a while, Geralt’s warmth bleeding into you, the sounds of the forest humming all around. It was almost a pleasant atmosphere, but you found it hard to truly relax, considering how you had ended up in this situation in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You murmured.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting. “For what?”

“For…well this.” You gestured vaguely around you. “It’s not what you signed up for.”

“You didn’t plan for this to happen, as far as I’m aware. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Still, I am sorry.” You mumbled softly. “This can’t be how you envisioned your day ending.”

Geralt was quiet for a moment, before responding in a soft murmur in your ear that made you shiver for reasons other than the cold. “Hmmm….A warm fire, and a pretty, almost naked man in my lap.” Geralt hummed, the sound vibrating deep in his chest and against your back. “That’s better than I hoped.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, your pulse quickening as though it had been jolted with lightning. You went rigid in Geralt’s arms, and he chuckled lowly, his tone turning apologetic.

“…I’m sorry. Too forward?”

“What?” You twisted around to face him, which was a mistake, because suddenly his face was directly in front of yours, and you fumbled as his strong jaw and striking eyes were right there. “No, I…I mean…” You stumbled over your words as Geralt laughed softly, looking terribly pleased with himself. “I-I just…pretty--?”

You wanted to combust.

Geralt chuckled, his voice a maddeningly delicious mix of rough and smooth as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes seeming to glow molten gold in the firelight. “Yes.” He murmured, lips quirking into a small smirk that somehow made him even more unreasonably attractive. “Pretty.”

He had lovely lips, you noticed, before you leaned forward and pressed your own against them. Geralt made a low, pleased sound in his throat, his large, rough palm sliding over your hip and pressing against your lower back, leaving a trail of tingling warm in its wake.

This was hardly behaviour appropriate of a member of the Duchess’s Court, you realised distantly as you twisted in Geralt’s lap, slinging you thigh over his waist as you pressed your hips together, enticing a groan from the Witcher that set your blood aflame. His tongue slid into your eager mouth, his free hand slowly roaming over your bare thigh appreciatively as he tugged you closer, your chest flush with his. Your hand stroked over the thick swell of his bicep, fingers fascinated by the feeling of smooth skin and scar tissue, his beard rubbing against your skin in way that made you wonder how it would feel rubbing elsewhere.

The blanket fell from your shoulders, but the chill of the night air was chased away by Geralt’s hands, stroking and roaming and grasping, and you heard yourself moan needily as you ground your hips against his, your flesh rubbing against his through the thin material of your undergarments. You wanted to feel the rest of him, and you stroked down his sides, reaching for his waistband.

Geralt grabbed your wrists, tearing his lips from yours with a reluctant hiss. “Wait.” He leaned back, his expression mournful as his gaze trailed over you, lust bright and gold in his eyes.

You felt dizzy and flushed and breathless and you wanted Geralt to keep kissing you. You rubbed your hips against his and the Witcher groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he grasped your waist to still you. “Not here.” He forced out, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We shouldn’t make too much noise.”

Your face felt hot at the implication of his words, and as you took a moment to catch your breath you remembered you were in the middle of the forest. “Of…of course.” You inhaled deeply, struggling to keep eye contact as Geralt leaned back slightly, the muscles of his abdomen contracting distractingly under your palms. “We…I should…”

You tried to move, but Geralt’s hands cupped your waist, holding you in position. “Hold on.” He smirked up at you, eyes trailing slowly over your body. “I want to look at you a little longer.”

You flushed and cleared your throat loudly, ignoring his mouth and his eyes and his hands and everything else about him that made your stomach feel tight and hot. “You can look at me all you want back at Corvo Bianco.”

Geralt’s eyebrow arched. “Oh?” He leaned towards you again, lips tugging into a small grin. “Is that a promise?”

You shoved him and he laughed, deep and throaty, and you realised his laugh was yet another thing you could add to the list of things you liked about Geralt of Rivia.

Morning came eventually, and you both made your way to Corvo Bianco without further incident. You ankle still ached, but Geralt very gallantly carried you the last stretch of the journey, smirking as you flushed in his arms.

You sent word to the Duchess that you would be taking a few days to recuperate, and if anyone noticed that you spent the entirety of your recovery in the Witcher’s bedroom, they were polite enough not to say anything about it.

[fiannalover]

OCKissWeek - First

“Hiyaaaaaa~! Madeliiiiiine~!” Her favorite blond called out to her, standing right in front of her house while carrying a bag filled to the brim with stuff.

Why was he here, exactly? Well-

—

I’ll pick you up!

what? no! we’ll meet up there, neither of us has a car

It will be fast! Come ooooon I wanna walk our way there with you

mom and dad will be home at that time!

Great, I’ll get to greet them!

you know that is the problem!

—

That argument was one she lost.

Madeline stepped out of her house, wearing a short-sleeved yellow sundress that was frillyly layered around the chest and light-brown sandals, alongside a couple bracelets and the usual hair pins keeping her hair in place. The clothes were comfortably breezy, suiting her in a way that generated no anxiety. Looking back to her mother, she said. “I’m going now, mom. See you soon.”

Madison, however, kept glaring at the boy that had invited her daughter out. “Have fun, sweetie. And you. Take care of her. If a single thing happens, you’ll wish it happened to you.”

“Yes, ma’am! I promise to protect her with my life and get her home at the scheduled time!” Damian answered, bowling over any animosity directed at him.

“M-mom, please….”

“I know. Don’t keep him waiting.” Madison conceded, letting her daughter go ahead.

“Yaaaaaay!” Damian cheered as his friend approached him, and Madeline could feel her worries fade away for a second. Then, he reached out and grabbed her hand, ready to run. “Come on! We have a lot to see!”

“Alri- W-wait!”

—

By now, the two had grown used to traversing through the city. Not quite to the point one would think they had lived there since forever, but enough to get around with no problems. And so, they went on skipping ahead with next to nary a worry.

That was not to say they were directionless, though. Oh no. They had a clear destination in mind.

“We’re here! What do you think?” Damian asked.

The city’s main park was bursting at the seams with people, every which way one could look at being filled with kids, adults and pets a plenty. Kites and bubbles floated in the air, while sports, games and picnics of all types covered the ground. With the school semester over, the park and the places in its surrounding buzzed to offer special workshops and events, all resulting in the landscape of joy that was spread in front of them.

Madeline honestly felt a bit overwhelmed looking at all that, but in a good way. Was her dress alright? It was, right? Yup, all fine. “I-It’s a lot. But I think I’ll have fun with you to guide me. Did you already know it was going to be like this?”

“Kinda! I came here with my dads a couple days back! Which means I know everything that is going on and I'm ready to give you the most absolutely perfect day ever!” He boasted. “Are you ready, Madeline?”

She giggled. “Yes. I am!”

He smiled, and the two began their run anew.

—

The two took in a little bit of everything that the event had to offer. First, a visit to the municipal aquarium, which they were lucky to get into just as one of the guides was going to begin a tour. That being done, they joined a little origami workshop that was happening at the grassy hills of the park, their unstable dexterity making the experience interesting even if not immediately rewarding.

Some more walking was done before they arrived at a farmer’s market and food court of sorts that was set up on a corner of the place, showcasing many types of food, arts and crafts, while a band played live music nearby. Damian spent quite some time fawning over and talking to a carpenter that had done some wooden sculptures, so much so that Madeline found herself invested enough to buy a little basswood dog from the vendor.

Her partner insisted on paying for it and, when he refused to back down, she went and got a matching cat for him. Their impromptu little gift exchange was sealed.

“So? Have you had fun so far?” He asked, sitting cross legged with one of his hands propping up his chin.

By then, they had broken out of the food court that was set up alongside the stalls and went off to a quieter place to set their little picnic. Damian extended the blanket on a sufficiently flat portion of the ground, and the two set about organizing the snacks they had brought, as well as some drinks they just bought. All that done, their shared meal began to be enjoyed.

Their figurines stood side-by-side between them, keeping guard over the feast.

Madeline finished swallowing the tuna sandwich Damian made for the two of them, savoring the way fish, cheese and salad all went together, the delightfully salty combination nourishing her after hours of walking. “Yes, I have. Thanks for inviting me.”

The boy’s hair swung in the wind as he chuckled, happy with the answer. “I’m glad! There is nothing I wanted to hear more than that.”

Absolute devotion came out of his voice as he said that, making pink rush to the girl’s cheeks. “C-come now. You don’t need to say that. Not like there is any reason for you to care that much about me.”

“Eeeeeh!? What do you mean? Of course there is!” He said, earnestness coating his every action, to the point that, for her, it felt like his words and the background music floating around the park were one and the same. “You’re my friend, aren’t you? We promised to be friends and help each other with everything here. Everything I did today, with you and for you… it was because I like spending time with you, Madeline! And because I like you, you know.”

Like. That was a dangerous word. But she liked him too.

It was funny. She wasn’t sure when she realized this. But it was the truth, was it not? 

She kept looking at the boy in front of her, and his blond hair that was long enough to be about over half his body height. It wasn’t like that height was much. She was somewhat short herself, and she still got quite a bit above him, after all. Even so, it looked amazing, she thought as she accompanied it going down. That day, the boy matched his natural looks with an oversized, grayish blue jacket that went past his hips. From there, his lower body was covered in tights, hugging the strong, muscular legs while making sure most of his scars were purposefully hidden from view, all tied together with similarly gray sneakers that reinforced the casual charm of the outfit.

He was beautiful. So completely, uniquely so. She couldn’t believe it took her this long to recognize that, and to understand she could think that without giving up on herself.

“Uh, Madeliiiiine? Hey? Are you okay?” He asked. “Did I say something wrong? W-was this too much? If so, I-”

Carefully avoiding the objects between them, Madeline leaned forwards, her hands touching the blanket in order to let her cross the halfway point, and let her lips meet his.

The contact happened for a fair bit longer than a second. When she pulled back, Damian was still processing what happened.

Then, his face went so red it matched her hair color.

She misread, didn’t she? “I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t-”

“Aaaaaaah, no way! I-I was gonna kiss you first!!!” Damian finally burst out.

She blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah! I had it all planned down to the perfect moment! I was gonna walk you back home talking about something or another and then I would change the topic like ‘we had a great day, didn’t we? Well, I want to give you one last perfect gift’ and then I’d kiss you before we got to your house so your mom wouldn’t wanna kill me or anyth- B-B-BUT I REALLY LIKED THIS! I’m not complaining! A-after all I really wanted to do this and kiss you because you’re so nice and so pretty and- I-I shouldn’t be saying this, should I- I-I me-”

His rambling was cut as the girl began laughing so joyfully, so delightedly, he could consider the date a successful one even if she completely shut him down. Luckily, that wasn’t the case. “You- you were planning all that, to that extent? I can’t- I can’t believe it! Damian, what are you, a romance character? I’m, oh my gosh, I-” Struggling to get the words out through her laughter, she just accepted her fate, the resulting sound coming across as a perfect symphony.

Looking at her with a smile, he said. “Yeah. Of course I did. Because I lik- no, love you so much, I want to give you the very best always.” Leaning forwards, he took her hands in his. “You already took our and my first kiss, so I might as well take the lead here. Madeline. Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. 

Words could not describe how much she wanted that.

“Yes! Yes, I do!”

She moved towards him for a hug, the two of them falling to the ground behind the picnic blanket as a result, giggling as the grass tickled their bodies and warmth did the same to their hearts.

And then, still shily, awkwardly stumbling about, they kissed each other, again, and again and again. Each time as perfect as the first.

---

"Are you ready for the show?"

[theoasiswinds]

Hi my darlings quick update regarding that payment my husband finally got paid from the company that was refusing to pay him!!!!

So we opened the case and obviously they have to mail the case information to the previous employer and to avoid any more problems the best solution is to just upfront pay the employee.

And that is exactly what happened they may have taken away $1,000 so we expect $3,000 and some change he only got $2,000 and something but we can keep fighting it, or we can just be happy cuz either way he has a new job now and he's already been paid his paycheck, and the funny thing is we waited over a month for this payment and it finally got here!

We honestly thought we were going to be taking this to court and fighting it for longer but since they already have issues with OSHA since we reported this company for not taking care of their employees and they're definitely being fined for that and also now they're all going to be fine for not paying on time we're going to be a little nicer and just continue with life.

It sounds crazy but $1,000 is not worth going to court and fighting for a few more months, specially since we don't have time for that my husband has his new job that would mean he would have to take the days off work and we would lose more money over a thousand so it's better to count our losses and be happy.

They will suffer the consequences of being bad employers and a bad company!

If there's anything else that I want to say because it's a hopefully the last post I have to ever do about this company this horrible experience is that there's still a lot of good people in this world we had so much support from the online Tumblr community it sounds crazy but it's true!!!

I got so much work from commission's and tips you name it and even gifted help to pay our bills!

I don't have the words to describe how grateful I am for all of you, for helping us because thanks to you, all of you who helped us out, we were able to pay our bills and basic necessities.

We never went hungry we still had water we had heating and cooling air in our home and the things we needed to survive that really annoying bump on the road.

Never in a million years did I think that my little side job would ever be able to do that sort of thing but it was because of all of the support you guys did for all of us!

Thank you honestly thank you so much to all of you!

[bloodyshadow1]

there are a lot of ways you could describe the bad kids, chaotic, violent, but I think the best way to describe them is hard working. There's a saying, 'there will always be people who do things the easy way, that shouldn't stop you from doing things the right way,' or that gist. I've heard it a lot of places, but the last I can remember is from the teen titans episode the quest. And it fits the Bad Kids to a tee.

It's shown a lot throughout the series that there will be people who take short cuts and cheats to gain power and go through life. It's shown the best in Junior year since the bad kids have the rat grinders as foils, but it's always been the case. In Sophomore year Kalina had Riz pinned down and constantly offered the Bad Kids deals; for them to go away and give up on the quest and other stuff. but they refused because they know the quest meant more than their grades, as dangerous as it is, as scared as they are, they keep soldiering on. It's the Abernants taking the easy way into the Forest of the Nightmare King while the Bad Kids do things the right way. Yeah they had to face their fears, they had to endure their nightmares big and small, but they came out stronger and wiser.

The Rat Grinders, Jace, and Porter, they took the easy way out. They lie and cheat because they think what matters is the short term gains. The Rat Grinders are fine with the way Porter and Jace power leveled them because it meant that they had access to stuff more powerful adventurers had. But they don't have the hp or the ability to maintain their powerful magic or class features. They are not adventurers, they are powerful people, but they're not strong

But the Bad Kids never take the easy way out. If they did, this year would have been simpler for them. Fig could have just kept being a bard, she could pass the class in her sleep. Instead, she chose to take a path that was harder and became a paladin because she loves her friends and she wants to be a protector, not just an artist. Because of that she is stronger than ever, a real paladin and the reason they were able to find Ankarna and be on the road to redeeming her. Gorgug could have just stayed as a barbarian, he was naturally good at, but he didn't want that. He took on 4 times the class load despite the stress and pain it caused him and became the first Barbificer to exist in Spire. Adaine could have swallowed her pride and talked to Jawbone about money, she could have taken the diamonds from Oisin in the first week of school, but she didn't. She went to Fallinell, to the Court of Stars, the highest form of government in the land and demanded that they treat her like she deserved or leave her alone. Fabian could have been the big man on campus in so many ways, he could have doubled down in romancing Ivy because it would have been easier than forming a real bond. He is the most popular kid in school because he created a place where everyone is welcome and is on his way to a real romance with Mazey instead of just flirtation and lust as he has in the past. Riz could have so many opportunities, he could have been in the society of shadows or taken so many short cuts, but he didn't. He loves his friends, he wants to be with them so he worked hard, took stress tokens for them, and ran Kristen's campaign to keep them all together. Kristen could have pissed off and found any other god and been one of their most powerful clerics. She felt bad for how she treated Cassandra and wanted to be her prophet, not just a prophet or cleric. She stuck by her goddess and who knows if it's going to pay off in the long run, but she has her spells and abilities back even if Cassandra might not be alive

Because the easy way isn't the right way, getting what you want isn't the same thing as working for what you need.

[viperwhispered]

Ngl I'm a sucker for postive characters development. So here's technically a bonus hcs for this ask: Jamil picks up skills that make it impossible for him to overwork.

During his 3rd year, he became the housewarden and FINALLY learned to delegate tasks. Because he's a paranoid king he still prefers do things himself, but now he can identify capable people and put them to work in accordance to their skills. He'll die before admitting, but its something he picked up from Azul.

With Vil he learned how to keep up appearences without letting his boundaries get stomped all over. No, he won't let show how much he despises someone but at least now he can at least properly maintain his own demands without officially offending anyone.

With Riddle he learned the noble art of letting someone know exactly what you think of them with just a look and certain way of sipping tea.

During his travels post-grad and post-freedem, he stops by Briar Valley. Malleus, always happy for the chance to play host, invites him to stay at the castle. While in Malleus' court, he learns how to properly organize all responsibilities within a reasonable time frame of 9 to 6 with a 1 hour lunch break. Any overtime is reserved strictly for emergencies (based on this).

At the end of his travels, Jamil gets convinced to join Leona on his campaign to reform the slums. Because Leona is still one lazy son of a bitch he somehow manages to develop a work/organization system that is so effective that all Leona has to do is occasionally wake up for paperwork and meetings. Said system also includes enough personnel for every type of situation, benefits + good pay for everybody, a 24-hour work schedule with constant rotations to prevent exhaustion, etc. Jamil is in the background taking notes on every little detail of this system.

Skip ahead, Jamil is now working as Kalim's vizier after grueling negotiations of his work contract so that he isn't treated like corporate slave (Kalim is fine with it, its the rest of the nobles who need shutting up).

Jamil proceeds to reorganize the staff according to a modified version of Leona's system and productivity goes up. Helps that he modified their employment contracts so that the staff are treated like staff and not slaves. He also bans child labor and any poison testers are experienced in identification, treatment, and have practiced mithridism. Jamil's absolute refusal to do overtime unless absolutely necessary along with being the only one to bluntly keep Kalim from doing whatever he wants pisses off a lot of higher ups but they can't argue because he's by far the best vizier they could ask for.

Cut to Kalim, who the nobles believe will punish Jamil for daring to "act above his station". Instead Kalim adopts the 9 to 6 schedule himself and orders a mass reorganization of work policies. Why? Because Kalim loves his bestie, wants to help people, and also likes having time to spend with his family. Previous Asim heads would just pass on their extra work to advisors and viziers which caused them to be constantly stressed andoverworked. Kalim is determined to break this cycle.

Ironically, this causes an unintentional employment rights movement all over the country. Staff are demanding contract modifications, better employment benefits, legal reforms to protect their workers rights & their children, etc. Workers unions are popping up all over and the nobles are getting their asses kicked. There are so many protests that the government has no choice but to accept in order to prevent a full-on revolution. Again this was all unintentional, but that doesn't stop Kalim from jumping in as a major supporter with a fondly exhasperated Jamil following behind.

A quibble at first: now I'm far from a Leona expert, but I'm inclined to believe the folks who talk about his supposed laziness as being more of a defense mechanism or a depression symptom. Because why put in the effort it doesn't pay off, anyway?

On the other hand, I love it how I pretty much knew which post you were gonna link for Malleus before even clicking it.

This makes me wonder tho. Jamil is indeed the sort to pay attention to others and what they do. I do wonder if we’ve seen any in-game examples of him picking up “tips” or habits from others in a manner similar to this. 🤔 Can’t think of anything off the top of my head, at least, but it doesn't seem like it would be out of the question.

“He'll die before admitting, but it's something he picked up from Azul.” Yeah definitely. What, the shady man who ruined his plans in book 4 might actually have the right idea for once, to the extent that Jamil would adopt it? Yeah definitely not something he’s gonna broadcast, at the very least.

I mean Azul and Jamil can be such a well-oiled machine when they want to be, and Jamil’s practical enough to recognize that when their plans align (as we’ve seen in events I believe), but… yeah.

Considering this rant of mine, tho… Yes, I'm all in for the workers’ revolution. 

(Tho now I'm also thinking of Jamil going all “chaos is a ladder” about it. Definitely not as a public face or anything, but attempting to capitalize on the situation nonetheless.)