#but he's made a lot of progress. he's come up against a lot of his biases that don't line up with his actual beliefs.

[advantage-zweig]

thinking about artrick at a party playing never have i ever. . .

cw: explicit topics and underage drinking (no smut but still preferably mdni)!

enjoy, pretty people! XOXO

so i think we can all agree that patrick likely had a bit of a. . . reputation back at the academy. let's say, as a manwhore, perhaps.

he seems like he would've been pretty vocal about all his conquests, you know? like he's the kind of guy to hook up with girls at parties every weekend, keep a list of names in the back of his one notebook that he uses for every subject, and tell all his friends exactly who he's gonna go for next. he's always just been that guy.

by the time they hit senior year, there probably wasn't a single soul in their graduating class who didn't know that patrick zweig was the only cocky asshole to ever have earned the attitude. he was good at tennis and he was good at sex, and as much as they may have wanted to, no one was ever able to prove that wrong.

which is why it came as no surprise to anyone present that when the school party group sat down with a full bottle of vodka to play 'never have i ever,' that patrick drank at least a quarter of it all by himself.

what did turn out to be a bit of a shock, though, was that his supposedly innocent roommate/sidekick was meeting him almost shot-for-shot.

art, who everyone assumed had been dragged to that party against his will, who was a straight a/b student, and who still opened the door for girls and helped old ladies cross the street, was getting absolutely hammered in the raunchiest drinking game they had literally ever played.

art, who had teachers and parents alike praying he'd be a good influence on his best friend, was taking shots after prompts like:

"never have i ever stolen a lighter from a convenience store,"

"never have i ever dropped acid,"

"never have i ever hit it raw,"

and, "never have i ever made a girl finish."

at first, everyone was laughing and cheering him on, excited that he wasn't as innocent as he looked. art was actually enjoying being the center of attention for once, and patrick was watching him with an expression that seemed oddly proud. they were having the most fun they'd ever had at a friday-night dorm party.

but still, despite all the encouragement, it was obvious that the whole circle expected him to tap out pretty soon. there was just no way he had actually done enough wild shit to keep up with the rest of them. unfortunately for their egos, they were very quickly proven wrong when he kept drinking as the game progressed into questions like:

"never have i ever eaten a girl out under the bleachers,"

"never have i ever gotten head in the locker room,"

"never have i ever had a threesome,"

and, what was apparently the most surprising of all, "never have i ever hooked up with someone in the academy pool."

"no way! there's no fucking way you did that," some guy named brandon finally said when art and patrick were the only two to drink for that one. "i thought patrick was, like, the only guy in player history to ever pull that off."

"well, I helped him out a little," patrick admitted, laughing at everyone's shocked expressions. "come on, guys. you assholes didn't really think i'd let my best friend graduate a virgin, did you?"

everyone in the circle just glanced around awkwardly, not making eye contact with either of them.

"you guys thought i was a virgin?" art asked, frowning while patrick tried not to start laughing like a madman next to him. "all of you?" he asked again when no one responded.

"huh."

poor art was way too shitfaced to even process how that revelation made him feel. he may have been a slut, but he was also still quite the lightweight.

"you just seem so. . . sweet," one girl pointed out, giggling nervously from the alcohol.

"he is sweet," patrick butted in, more sober than art but still hammered enough that his words were beginning to step on each other's tails. "he's a very gentle lover, and a lot of girls know it. they just don't talk about it much because he's too pure to be gossipped about the way girls talk about me. they all think they're, like, his first or something."

art nodded solemnly, remembering all the times he'd been called 'a natural,' in a sexual context. oh, if only they'd known.

"how are we just finding out about this now? is he, like, as bad as you are, pat?" another girl asked, looking art up and down with an unreadable expression.

"well, considering he's only fucked one of the girls in this circle, i'm gonna say no. speaking of which, hailey, you for sure thought you were his first, right?" patrick asked, grinning.

hailey looked like a deer caught in headlights, opening and closing her mouth like a fish until she conceded with a guilty, "yeah."

"and there you have it, ladies and gents. the donaldson charm," patrick cheered, ruffling art's hair excitedly. "i've been getting this kid laid for years. he's like my very own slutty apprentice."

truthfully, art wouldn't really need much help if he decided to go off and find himself a hookup partner on his own. but, there was no doubt that when patrick felt like taking control of his sex life, it got significantly more. . . fruitful.

sometimes art wondered why pat took getting him laid so seriously, but when they were side-by-side on his bed, jacking off together while he told him all about it and tried not to stare at his best friend's dick, he found that he didn't really care that much anymore.

anyway, patrick's joke got a laugh from the group, and it seemed like everyone was starting to warm up to the thought of art being some sort of sex ninja they'd never caught. and that's exactly when the teasing started.

"so what else have you done?" hailey asked him, her embarrassment subsiding.

"hold that thought," patrick interjected, standing up slowly to not lose his balance. "if we're gonna keep playing, i'm grabbing him a gatorade, 'cause i do not feel like carrying his ass back to our dorm."

as soon as art's shotglass was full of his favorite color gatorade, and patrick's was split fifty-fifty, that's when the prompts really started flying.

"never have i ever had sex while high."

they both drank.

"never have i ever had sex while getting high."

they both drank again.

"never have i ever. . . watched two people get it on from the corner."

they both drank again.

naturally, that meant they had watched each other with a girl on seperate nights, each pretending to be more into her than the boy beside the bed. thankfully, their partners seemed content enough with the level of interest they recieved.

"never have i ever. . . had someone put a finger up my ass during a blowjob," one guy suggested later in the game, sipping his shot idly since he hadn't taken one in a while.

art was getting tired, the attention and the alcohol making him feel pretty out of it. no amount of electrolytes could even begin to counteract how much vodka he'd already downed.

that's probably why he didn't even hesitate to take his "shot" as soon as he registered the question. patrick took his too, confident as ever, but he definitely got a few raised eyebrows for that one.

"i'll try anything once," he said with a shrug, pulling art closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. "and apparently, art'll try anything four times."

art squirmed away, grumbling, "you're such an asshole," under his breath. it was nothing patrick hadn't heard a hundred times before.

"i don't know how i've been with so many girls who are into that," he said, hiding his blush with forced nonchalance.

patrick scoffed, staring at him in disbelief.

"dude, don't act like you weren't fucking begging for it," he teased, messing up his hair again. "i have watched you jerk off enough times to know-"

"you've what?" brandon asked, horrified.

"doesn't matter. the point is, those girls just wanna make you feel good, so they do it because you look like you'd be into it, and they're absolutely correct," patrick explained, gesturing loosely as if he were giving an important, drunken lecture.

"are you saying i look gay?" art asked, pouting as he slumped sideways onto patrick's shoulder. "that's not very nice."

patrick helped him sit up straight again, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"no, i'm saying you look like if you were gay, you'd be. . . a reciever."

"oh," art responded, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. "is that worse? i feel like somehow that's worse."

"hey, man, as long as you're having fun-"

"moving on," another guy across the circle ordered, and the game continued.

eventually, the master did end up out-drinking the student, and when the group played three rounds in a row where patrick was the only one to take a shot,

("never have i ever been called daddy unironically,"

"never have i ever put it in all three holes in the same night,"

and, "never have i ever slept with a girl and her sister in the same week."),

they decided to play one more round before calling it quits for the night. the girl who's turn it was thought for a minute before settling on what she believed to be the perfect game finale.

"never have i ever had a 'no-homo' makeout sesh," she announced, smirking proudly.

most of the girls laughed excitedly before taking their shots. that wasn't really surprising since it was considered more of a fun, feminine boarding school pastime to them than anything even remotely gay.

however, the group did seem a bit taken aback by art and patrick also discreetly taking their shots amidst the excitement.

it didn't take a genius to know that if one person has made out with someone of the same gender before, and so has their best friend and roommate, that there's really only one thing that could've possibly happened.

"wait. . . seriously?" brandon asked them, looking more intrigued than disgusted, thankfully.

patrick shrugged again, taking one more non-gatorade-infused shot for good measure before standing up and helping art to his feet.

"art's a needy drunk," he replied in lieu of an explanation, and without further ado, they headed for the door.

the last thing the group heard from them before they were fully out of sight was art groaning uncomfortably and whining, "I gotta piss so bad, pat."

patrick snorted, wrapping his arm around art's waist so he wouldn't trip and bust his head open.

"i bet you do, you fuckin' whore."

so anyway, that's about it! i'd love to hear your thoughts, questions, concerns if you've got any. and if you want more of these two in this specific au, then my inbox is always open!

XOXO 💋✨️

[socgf]

chapter 4 - confessions in the thunderbird in which ... dally's got his own way of apologizing to rosie.

dallas winston x curtis sister ! oc

wc: 956

warnings: none.. maybe a very tame 💋

you really got me: masterlist

as the night goes on and buck's gets progressively more empty, i'm reluctantly face to face with dally again, who's leaning against the bar and nursing a rum and coke.

i don't expect him to acknowledge it. it's kinda par for the course for him to pick a fight when he's drunk and angry. no matter how pissy he is, though, he's never going to let me walk home alone. certainly not from buck's part of town.

his eyes meet mine reluctantly, a bit brighter and more focused this time, and he sighs.

“c’mon, let me drive you home.”

and though soda’s right in the next room and dallas is still far from sober and his words are a fresh wound replaying in my head, it’s like instinct as i nod and follow him into the thunderbird.

the drive to my house is silent. dally keeps the radio off, a minor gesture of guilt given we don’t share the same music taste in the slightest and he usually doesn’t care. when he pulls into the front and kills the gas, he turns to me wordlessly, searching for my gaze. i know that look too well, the ‘i fucked up and don’t know how to apologize’ look, but i stay silent. stubbornly.

“listen, doll… ” he speaks first, his tone unsteady.

“don’t ever bring up my parents like that again. i mean it.” my voice is soft, but unwavering.

he purses his lips. “yeah, okay. i didn't… it came out wrong, rosie, you know i’d never mean it like that. not ‘bout mrs. curtis.”

his eyes flicker onto mine, looking for reassurance, but he knows he needs to give more.

“listen, i know i’m a dick, alright? but i hate seeing you like this and…in a place like that. you don’t belong there. not cause of what you’ve got on, i mean. i ain’t saying you’re pretending. you just… don’t.” he’s rambling now.

“it’s okay.” i murmur, though he can see how i’m still holding myself back, guarding something from slipping out.

“anyway, i… don’t really know which parts of me are real and pretend.”

he hesitates before reaching across the center console to move a stray hair off of the shoulder of my dress. i didn’t know he had it in him to handle something with care, like it’s made of glass. then he’s looking back at me.

“you’re beautiful, alright? you do know that, don’t you?”

it comes out so matter-of-factly that it catches me off guard a bit. i look up to meet his eyes and know he’s trying to ask a lot of things at once.

“you don’t have to do that.”

i’m faltering, hating how it feels like i’m laying everything bare for him to see.

then something in his gaze shifts, like he’s debating for a moment, before he reaches out his hand to cup my cheek, letting his thumb run mindlessly over my cheekbone. his eyes search mine for a sign, for permission, and the way i lean slightly into his hand tells him everything he needs to know.

i know he’s about to do it, and i mutter a soft “dal” without even knowing what i’m asking.

he doesn’t answer. his lips press onto mine, hesitantly at first before beginning to move in his signature, confident rhythm. though, when i kiss back, it doesn’t feel like that time we were practicing, aggressive and heated and biting each others’ lips like we were trying to prove something to each other. he’s savoring the feeling, placing a second hand gently on the other side of my jaw to pull me in closer.

he holds onto me like i’m something delicate, like i’m the only person that exists, and the sinking feeling in my chest that i can’t handle is back again. i pull back only enough to break the kiss, but close enough that i can still smell the liquor on his breath.

now i’m the one babbling. “this isn’t.. i can’t-”

“i’m just kissin’ you, sweetheart. ain’t a big deal.” he cuts me off, his voice returning to that cocky drawl. though i notice his eyes keep searching mine, trying to figure me out. yeah, not at all.

“right, yeah. yeah. uh.. shit. darry’s probably up waiting for me.” i’m running my fingers along my bottom lip when i remember that i’m about to come home in a little black dress, smelling like vodka and dally’s cologne, and am supposed to have just finished a late shift. but dally’s already putting the pieces together.

“i’ll handle it.”

i think he’s messing with me for a moment before i glance over at his earnest expression.

“how?”

“tell him it’s my fault.” he pulls out a pack from his jacket pocket, lighting one up nonchalantly. “say i showed up at the diner all drunk and causin’ trouble and you had no choice but to help get me home.”

he pauses to take a drag, a smirk growing on his lips. “ain’t like it’s the first time i’ve taken the fall for you.”

that might actually work. “god dal, what would i do without you?” i mutter almost to myself, and he rolls his eyes.

"probably be a lot better off."

i can't resist letting out a little laugh at that, because he's certainly not wrong.

“so, i uh.. figure i can’t go back in wearing this.” i think for a moment before perking up. “i did bring my uniform here, didn’t i?”

“in the backseat. go ahead. i won’t look.” he adds, “‘less you want me to, that is.”

and once again he can’t resist reminding me that he’s dallas fucking winston.

a.n. they're rlly cute :( i'm so awkward writing like.. physical affection of any kind so this was hard for me lol. but hopefully you like!

taglist:

@mrsdillonx @hailpacino @magefelixir @jujuheartz13 @coastershells @r0seb100d @awsomeemochick @mattdillonlvr69

[neverendingford]

.

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part II

Summary: Joel just can't leave you alone, and you hate it. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, mentions of guns/violence, smoking, explicit language, sexual tension, brat taming, mild dubious elements, spanking, slapping, choking, rough unprotected piv sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, facial/cum eating, joel doesn't really take no for an answer, lots of angst A/N: I just couldn't get enough of these two. all my love to @lotusbxtch and @mermaidgirl30 for squealing over the filth every single day with me. ride that cowboy girlies, it's worth it ;) Part I

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Your fingers were wet from the condensation rolling off your glass of sweet tea, the steady stream of droplets splattering against your bare thighs. The day had been exhausting; the cattle were abnormally restless and decided to drift too far out in the fields. Hours riding Mac left your legs sore, and honestly, you just wanted to smoke your Marlboros and sip on your tea. With your boots kicked up on the porch railing and a cigarette between your lips, you were blissfully content. 

That is, until your peace and quiet were shattered.

Dirt kicked up in the distance, and the steady rhythmic hum of an engine grew louder as it drifted closer to your house. You groaned in frustration, already knowing who to expect. Dear God, was Joel Miller relentless. You reached behind your porch chair, fingers curling around the shotgun propped up against the wood. You warned him. 

His beat-up Red Chevy stopped beside your home, and you tracked his movements as he opened the door. Lifting the gun to your eye level, you aimed the barrel toward his truck. Your finger hovered over the trigger, steady and calm. Joel stepped out of the driver's seat, adjusting his belt buckle against his stomach. You wouldn’t kill him; you weren’t that mean, although it was tempting. 

One quick pull of the trigger and you sent a warning shot into the side door of his truck, rupturing the metal with a resounding bang. Joel ducked down, letting out a startled grunt before turning his head to inspect the damage. Whipping head toward you, Joel stared you down with narrowed eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he huffed. “That how y’welcome all your visitors?”

“Only the ones who piss me off!” You shouted.

Joel ran a hand down his scruff, swaying in place as if deciding whether to approach you. Do it, you thought. He made one cautious step, and you rewarded him with another cock of your shotgun, the barrel loaded and ready to fire. 

“Take it easy, darlin’. I only wanted to come talk,” Joel cautioned, his hands raised in defeat.

“S’nothin’ to fuckin’ talk about, Miller,” you said, your eye squinting down the barrel line.

Each step of his cowboy boots crunched the earth below, slow steps progressing forward. Joel walked to the edge of the porch; his shoulders hiked to his ears and arms still raised as if he were approaching a wild bull. Serves him right to be scared of you. You may have let him get the best of you the first time around, but you wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Can y’put the damn gun down, darlin’?” He barked.

“Can y’take your ass back to your side of the pasture?” You tossed back.

The closer he got, the clearer his features became; the scruffy graying beard with small bare patches against his jawline, the worry lines deeply etched into his tan skin, and those damn brown eyes that plagued your thoughts night and day. You still thought about how soft they were when he looked at you before he left the stables, a kindness that flickered through the amber specks and filtered out that rage. It was truly unfair that such an insufferable man could be so damn handsome. 

Joel’s boots knocked against the first step of the stairs, and your grip tightened around the shotgun. His eyes tracked your fingers as they flexed around the metal, your knuckles tense.

“I ain’t take you for the murderin’ type,” he said cooley.

“Reckon you don’t know much ‘bout me to be assumin’ that. Who knows, maybe I got myself a pile of bodies lyin’ in the grass behind my house.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he advanced another step, still testing the waters with you. You rocked back in your chair, propping the heel of your boot on the railing for stability. 

“Wanna show me all them dead bodies then, darlin’? Prove that you’re not all bark and no bite?” He smirked.

You angled the shotgun past the side of his head and sent a shot flying out into the yard. Joel flinched hard enough to knock himself into the stair railing, his weight jostling the porch. With a coy grin, you lowered the gun an inch and shrugged your shoulders.

“Can’t show ya’ if you’re dead,” you grinned.

Joel lunged at you, ripping the gun from your hand and tossing it feet away from you. He gripped the back of your chair and drew his face closer, his pupils dilating the longer he glared at you. Rolling your tongue across your teeth, you raised your hand to his neck, drifting it up the scruff under his jaw. A shallow breath exhaled from his lips, and he stared at you in anticipation. Oh, he thought you were going to kiss him? Cute.

With a quick snap of your wrist, you smacked your hand across his cheek before shoving him out of your face. Joel barely moved an inch, your hands smacking into solid muscle that wouldn’t budge. All that softness in his eyes was displaced with an unmistakable sense of rage, his friendliness shattering away as his cheek flushed from the impact. 

“Now y’done pissed me off, you fuckin’ brat,” Joel snarled.

His hand shot out to your throat, yanking you from your porch chair and to your feet. His grip was hardly as tight as last time but still forceful enough to render you powerless. Your eyes flickered toward the gun across the porch, so far out of reach and unattainable. You should have shot him when you had the chance. 

“Be a good girl and invite me in,” Joel ordered, nodding toward your front door. 

You wagged your head back and forth, your lips curled up and ready to spew venom. Joel only brought your face closer, his upper lip twitching under his mustache. 

“Do it. Now. Or I swear to God, I’ll make last time look like a goddamn walk in the park.”

“Surprised y’got any sex drive left in you, old man,” you gasped, his fingers tightening around your neck. 

“Christ, you fuckin’ infuriate me,” Joel grumbled.

He used his grip on your neck to propel your feet backward, guiding you toward your front door and over the threshold. The heel of your boot snagged on the lip of the door, sending you flailing back, only for him to grab you by the waist and yank you forward into his sturdy frame.

Even with his hand wrapped around your throat, Joel had never looked more gorgeous than he did at that moment. Swimming through the rage inside his eyes was a hint of worry, as if he genuinely thought you’d stumble to the ground. The reaction time of his arm circling your waist and the small exhale of breath off his lips, a quiet I got you in his own way. 

The moment dwindled as fast as it came, a flickering flame extinguished somewhere between the threshold and the entryway of your tiny farm home. Joel reverted to his aggressive tendencies, manhandling you onto your worn-down floral sofa. The springs beneath the cushions squeaked under the weight of your bodies as he pinned you down, his face a breath apart from yours. 

“You ready to play nice, darlin’? Or am I gonna have to ruin that pussy again just to shut you up?” He questioned. 

Your hands grazed over his torso, tracing the outline of his soft stomach and over the buttons traveling up toward the collar of his shirt. You watched Joel’s eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment, only to fly wide open as you sunk your nails into the hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged hard on his salt and pepper hair, enough so that his neck strained back. 

“Get the fuck off me, Joel,” you seethed, the words snarling out between your teeth. 

“We both know that ain’t fuckin’ happenin’.”

Joel wrangled you over and onto your stomach, his hand still firmly clasped around your throat. He quickly caged your legs in between his muscular thighs, molding your body into the sofa cushions. Half your face was smothered into the dingy couch, your hair tossed in streaks over your eyes and clouding your vision. With his free hand, Joel cupped the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh that peaked out beneath the cut-off of the denim. 

“Y’still got my handprints branded into your ass, darlin?” Joel asked.

He didn’t care to know the answer as he smacked his hand down, the bite of his skin against the fabric sending electric jolts of pain up your spine. Truth was, the bruises he left were still there—yellow, horrid welts that were a ceaseless reminder of last time. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but sometimes you found yourself in the mirror tracing the outline of his fingerprints, fantasizing about his hands on your body. 

“Answer me,” Joel commanded.

“Fuck you,” you said, your voice muffled into the couch.

“Always gotta have an attitude, don’t you?”

Joel’s hand connected with your ass again, this time hard enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips. You could deny it all you wanted, but it was making you unbearably wet. You squirmed under his grip, finding some sort of relief within the friction of your shorts. Joel caught onto your movements and chuckled at your lost efforts.

“Got you all riled up, huh? This sweet lil’ pussy need takin’ care of?”

He cupped your sex through your jeans, the roughness of his hand spurring you on even more—stupid body for responding the way it did to this man. Joel pressed his fingers against the seam of the denim, finding your swollen clit hidden beneath. You exhaled loudly, your body sagging further into the cushions as he rubbed rough circles over the aching bundle of nerves.

“Right there, darlin’? That feel good for you?” Joel taunted. 

“Mhmm,” you whined.

“You wanna cum for me?” 

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back the plea for release. Joel knew what he was doing; he knew you wouldn’t beg. You were too stubborn and too defiant to ever beg for it. At least, not again. But his fingers worked faster—harder—keeping you on the edge of ecstasy the longer you stayed silent.

“C’mon,” he urged. “Ask nicely, and I’ll let you cum.”

You turned your head into the sofa, burying your face into the cushions as you let out a frustrated cry. Fuck this man. Fuck his ability to turn you pliant and easy. Your body bucked against his hand as he worked at you in tantalizing movements, the friction of his palm against your sex becoming dizzying. 

“Please,” you muttered, your voice muffled and quiet.

Joel’s hand unwound from your neck, taking its place within the tresses of your hair. A swift tug back, and your eyes strained to meet his as he loomed over you. 

“I didn’t hear you,” he growled.

You swallowed thickly, trying to form another plea, but you couldn’t make a sound. Joel tugged on your hair harder, enough to make you cry at the pain. Your nails dug into the couch, and you managed a small please through a strangled moan.

“Too bad, darlin’. Bratty lil sluts don’t get to cum. I just wanted to hear y’beg for it.”

He released his grip on your head, shoving you back down. You groaned in frustration as his hand vanished from between your legs. The couch shifted beneath you as Joel rose to his feet, wandering around your living room and into your kitchen. 

“Where’s your smokes?” He asked, rifling through the drawers as if he owned the place.

You lifted yourself, stretching your neck and detangling your hair with your fingers. Your clit painfully throbbed against your panties, your core still fluttering from the phantom orgasm that never came. Joel continued his search, slamming drawers shut and opening cupboards without a care in the world as if he didn’t just have you pinned down and begging for release. The temptation to run out and grab your gun was thrumming inside your veins; just one shot and you’d be free of him. Joel glanced up at the exact moment you shot to your feet, gunning for the door. 

“Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” Joel warned.

“You expect me to let you roam ‘round my house uninvited?” You questioned. 

“I expect you to be a good host and find me a damn cigarette,” he snapped. 

“Well, they’re on my porch. So, if you’ll let me leave for a damn second, I can bring you one.”

Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, considering you with eyes narrowed. You folded your arms over your chest and stared at him, both of you in a silent showdown. With a lift of his chin, he motioned for you to go ahead and retrieve them. Disappearing out onto the porch, you scooped up your pack of reds and lighter, lingering an extra moment as you considered the gun lying on the ground.

“I’m waitin’!” He called from inside.

“Christ, I fuckin’ hate you,” you said, walking back into the house.

Joel had made himself all too comfortable on your couch, his legs spread open and arm lazily draped over the back cushion. You immediately noticed the bulge in his jeans, a telltale sign that he was just as worked up as you were. Tough fucking luck. If he wouldn’t get you off, you wouldn’t help him either. 

“Y’ hate me, huh?” Joel asked, his lips curving into a smug grin.

You didn’t respond as you smacked the bottom of the cigarette carton against your palm. Joel flicked his fingers, urging you closer, yet you stayed planted to the ground. 

“Gonna give me one of those, darlin’?”

“Why should I?” You huffed. “Y’come into my home uninvited and act like you own the damn place. Actin’ all demandin’ and rude.”

Joel let out a low whistle, rolling his neck back and forth. You continued smacking the carton, your lips set in a firm line.

“What’s rude is tryna kill someone who only came to talk. So, come here and sit.”

“And if I don’t wanna?”

“For one goddamn minute, can y’just not be so fuckin’ stubborn?” Joel huffed.

“Fine.”

You strode toward the couch, aiming to sit beside Joel, only to have him wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his lap. Your thighs pressed against his as you settled into his body, the rugged muscles of his legs flexing beneath you. You were too close to him, too aware of the way his eyes sparkled with rich amber flecks in this nearness. Joel studied you without an ounce of anger as if none of what had happened between you ever existed. It made it terribly hard to continue hating him when he looked at you that way.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and give me a smoke now?” Joel asked.

Rolling your eyes, you removed a cigarette from the carton, offering it to him. Joel only shrugged, parting his lips ever so slightly to invite it into his awaiting mouth. Your fingers brushed against the scruff of his jaw as you placed it between his lips, his mouth quirked up in satisfaction. 

“You trust me with a light?” You questioned.

Joel squeezed your waist softly, his other arm still thrown across the couch. You twirled the lighter between your fingers, your thumb rolling over the sparkwheel haphazardly. One good flick of the lighter, and you could send him up in flames—burn your whole house down with him inside, and you’d finally be at peace. He was a ceaseless man with little regard for you or your damn peace, and you were growing tired of entertaining him.

“Light it,” he ordered, the cigarette hanging between his teeth.

You sparked the flame, letting the heat of it ripple over your skin as you brought it to the butt of the cig. The tip ignited with a flicker of embers, the cherry end burning bright as Joel took a long drag. He lifted his hand from the couch—still keeping one firm on your body��and situated the cigarette between two fingers.

“Wanna tell me where y’learned to shoot like that?” He asked, his head tilted to the side.

“My parents. They taught me everything I know,” you admitted.

“Everythin’ aside from manners,” Joel countered.

“Shut up,” you snapped. “I ain’t gonna sit here and let you speak of my parents like that.”

You didn’t like talking about them; the reminder of their absence was sometimes too much to bear. You had so many responsibilities thrown onto your shoulders when they died, and although you took those responsibilities willingly, it didn’t quell the grief still lingering. You didn’t have your parents anymore, but you had their land to care for and their wishes to uphold. 

Joel took a sharp inhale from the cigarette, letting the smoke plume between your faces. The stench of smoke was something comforting to you, always had been, but coming from his mouth, it pissed you off. 

“Hey, now,” he said softly. “Was only kiddin’, darlin’. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”

“Your entire presence strikes a fuckin’ nerve, Joel. Why are y’even here?”

“Like I said, I came here to talk.”

You pulled the cigarette from his lips, taking it to your own and inhaling a long drag. Joel arched a brow, watching as you hollowed your cheeks around it, the flicker of the butt burning brightly in his face. 

“Then talk,” you hissed, tilting your head to exhale the smoke.

You leaned back, discarding some of the ashes against the tray on your coffee table. Joel’s hand urged you back to his chest, pinning you closer than you wished to be. You adjusted yourself on his lap, absentmindedly, shifting your body over his hardened cock. Joel choked on a breath, his fingers digging into your waist. Oh. Funny how you had all the power now. 

“Talk,” you repeated, grinding your body down against his again.

“I know what you’re doin’,” Joel grumbled.

“Y’gonna talk or what, Miller? I’m waitin’.”

Joel cursed under his breath, grabbing the cigarette from your fingers and returning it to his lips. His eyes never left yours as he drew in a breath, letting the smoke linger inside his mouth a second too long before exhaling. The smoke billowed around your face, and you scrunched your nose in annoyance. 

“I wanna negotiate,” Joel offered.

“No.”

It was a quick response, one without a second thought. You wouldn’t even entertain the idea of negotiations. Why? Because there was nothing to fucking negotiate. This land was yours, passed down through generations, and would remain that way. No amount of bitching and moaning from Joel would make you reconsider. 

“Y’didn’t even let me finish,” Joel remarked. 

“I don’t need to listen to you. I ain’t negotiating my land.”

You reached for the cigarette again, yet Joel suspended it in the air and out of reach. You glared at him, trying to grab his hand to drag it toward you. Joel’s strength outweighed yours, and he had you beat every time you tried aiming for it again. Shoving at his chest, you moved to swing a leg over his lap and climb off, but he dragged you right back to his chest. His hand roamed up your side, curving along your hip and over the swell of your breast. Cupping your face with one large hang, Joel squeezed your cheeks together and forced your lips to part. 

You struggled against his grip, your eyes full of rage as you watched him take another drag of the cigarette. With your mouth partially open, he leaned close and blew the smoke over your lips and into your mouth. The fragrant odor of the smoke licked up your nose as you inhaled, your lips inches away from his. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want him close. Joel’s eyes bounced between your eyes and lips, the temptation of drawing you closer palpable in his body language. The nicotine buzzed inside your head, and you pulled away from his face right at the same moment he leaned closer. 

“Don’t,” you warned, smoke exhaling from your lips. 

Joel dropped his hand from your face, a clear shift in his mood arising as you watched his eyes flicker with disappointment. It was all over his face: the furrow between his brows, the downturn of his lips… He wanted to kiss you. You wouldn’t let him, though; that was too much. If he wanted to manhandle you and fuck you however he pleased, that was fine. You welcomed it, actually, because you knew one taste of his mouth, and you’d be ruined. You didn’t want intimacy with Joel, not when your family’s land was hanging in the balance. He’d reel you in with false pretenses and have you aching for more, only to tear it all away.

He cursed under his breath as he pressed his body to yours, leaning forward to discard the cigarette into the ashtray. The bulge beneath his jeans prodded your sex at this angle, eliciting a ripple of pleasure up your spine. A small gasp bubbled out of you as Joel readjusted himself beneath you. 

“You don’t wanna talk?” Joel asked, raising his voice. “Fine. Better not say a damn word unless it’s my name while I fuck you.”

In a millisecond, Joel had you pinned down to the couch again, your hair splayed around you and your breath whooshing from your lungs. His fingers worked at the zipper of your jeans, yanking them down your legs and discarding them over his shoulder. Propping a knee onto the couch, Joel undid his belt buckle and freed his cock from the confines of his jeans. Precum glistened on the tip, and he stroked himself slowly as he pulled your legs apart, molding you into the position he desired. 

“Only wanna hear y’scream my name. Y’understand that?” He growled. 

Joel coated the head of his cock with the slick covering your folds, pushing himself in with one deep thrust. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your body adjusted to his size. This angle was so much different than last time, and you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your fluttering walls. You focused on your breathing while he plunged deeper, breaking you open and fucking into you with hard thrusts. 

Caressing the back of your knee, Joel drew your leg up and over his shoulder, bending you in half until he was spearing into your core. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. 

You shook your head, whimpering at the sensation of his cock splitting you in half. Searing pain bloomed across your face as Joel’s hand connected with your cheek. Your eyes shot open, tears welling on your waterline, the sting of the pain churning into a wave of pleasure through your core. You forgot how addictive his touch could be when he was angry. His pupils swallowed the entirety of his eyes, a dark, endless abyss staring straight back at you.

“Do. You. Understand?” He grunted between thrusts.

You didn’t respond, a tear slipping down your cheek. The phantom touch of his fingers on your skin lingered still, and your clit throbbed with a sudden flurry of arousal. Joel’s hand wrapped around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He leaned down, pressing his weight into you as his face neared yours. A trail of spit fell off his tongue and crashed into the back of your throat, and you flinched away from Joel as he pressed harder. 

“Swallow, brat.”

You struggled to swallow it; your throat constricted as his grip around your jaw tightened. He plowed into you, drilling your core with violent strokes until a gargled wail left your mouth. His spit slid down your throat, and he hummed in approval. 

“Good girl.”

He stretched your other leg up and over his shoulder, your ass lifting off the couch. You wanted to beg him to stop, yet nothing would leave your lips. Not even a sound as the noise of his hips slapping against yours filled the air. The thrum of your heartbeat vibrated through your chest, the pressure inside your stomach growing stronger as you propelled closer to the edge of your orgasm. Every muscle in your body grew taut, your clit aching to be touched…aching for relief from the violent flames lapping at your spine. So close. It was so close you craved for more. 

Maybe you didn’t want him to stop. 

“If you ain’t gonna listen to me in a normal conversation, then you’re gonna listen now,” he gritted. 

You flexed your jaw under his hand, trying to shy away from his piercing stare. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to listen… didn’t want anything but the opportunity to seek release. You could handle the pain—you welcomed it. The harder he fucked you, the less you had to think. And if you kept thinking, you’d drown in the consequences of your doubt. Keep him angry, you thought. Keep him the enemy. You couldn’t let him be anything more. 

“I don’t want your land,” Joel punched out through clenched teeth. “Keep it. I don’t give a shit.”

The buzzing inside your skin dulled out at his words. It was so hard to focus on what he was saying when your mind was melting from the inside out, his cock driving into you with brutal speed. He didn’t want…

“What?” You choked out.

Joel’s hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling your words as he bottomed out and kept himself seated inside you. The rhythm of his thrusts stopped, and he let his hips press into yours as he stared down at your tearful face. You were so fucking full of him you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen,” he snapped. 

You muffled out his name, the sound slipping through the space between his fingers. He only pressed harder, your body folded in half beneath his weight. You clenched around his cock, rocking your hips slightly to quell the need curling inside your stomach.

“I ain’t gonna take your land from you, ‘kay? All I’m askin’ for is permission to come ‘round without you tryna kill me.”

No. The word was lost inside the palm of his hand. You wanted your land, and you wanted Joel gone. You didn’t trust him when he said he didn’t want your land. How could you trust him when he had you pinned to the sofa? 

“This is what’s gonna happen,” Joel offered, snaking a free hand down between your legs. “You’re gonna agree with me and let me come and go as I please. Then maybe I’ll let you cum.” 

Calloused fingers circled your clit, forcing a cry from your mouth. Tantalizing, slow draws over your sensitive bud pulled desperate sounds out of you, each one of them stifled against his warm hand. Joel worked himself into shallow thrusts, pulling out to the tip and driving right back into you. You couldn’t fend off the orgasm bubbling under the surface, the nerves inside you lighting on fire. 

“Please!” You screamed between his fingers.

Joel’s lips twisted into a sneer, beads of sweat rolling down his temples as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit. Your eyes glossed over with fresh tears as you fought off the impending release rolling through your body.

“Say it.”

Your back arched off the couch as you chased the strokes of Joel’s fingers. Circling and circling… You were so close to the threshold of ecstasy, and you knew he’d tear it away from you if you didn’t relent. 

Joel ripped his hand from your mouth, tangling in the hair at the crown of your head. He forced your eyes down to where your bodies connected, your focus on his cock as it disappeared inside you. 

“Y’wanna cum on my cock, darlin’?” Joel taunted. 

“Fuck! Please, Joel!” You gasped.

With your chin tucked into your chest, your legs dangling over his shoulders, and his cock spearing into your core… you couldn’t hold back your orgasm any longer. 

“Say it!” Joel commanded.

“Okay!” You sobbed. “Just let me cum, Joel! Please!”

Joel assaulted you with a repetition of thrusts, each stronger than the last, until your orgasm exploded through your body. His name tore from your lips as your back curved off the couch and your legs squeezed around his neck. He kept his thumb circling your clit, your orgasm never ceasing to end as the inferno burned inside your core. Wet, hot arousal gushed out of you, splattering onto Joel’s navel and staining his denim shirt. His eyes flicked up to yours, a wicked grin splitting his face. 

“Look at the mess you’re makin’. Just drenchin’ my fuckin’ cock.”

“Joel!” You whined, squirming against his hand.

“Nuh uh, darlin’. Wanna see how messy y’can get. Keep goin’.”

He released his grip on your hair, forcing your head to fall against the arm of the sofa. Shuffling his knees forward, Joel continued his brutal thrusts until your arousal sprayed around his cock and dripped down the seam of your ass. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs as you alternated between screaming his name and begging him to stop. 

“Since y’wanted to cum so goddamn bad, you’re gonna keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock ‘til you ruin this damn couch,” Joel grunted. 

You were crying… hard. Your mind was on the precipice of hysteria as waves of your orgasm bolted through your veins. Lewd sounds of his body slapping against your wetness echoed through the room, the cushion beneath you soaked from your arousal. You attempted to claw yourself backward and away from Joel, but his grip was violent, and he only yanked you closer. 

“I can’t—I can’t anymore!” you sobbed. “Please, Joel…please.”

“Gimmie one more,” he demanded. 

You shook your head in protest, your sobs hiccuping inside your chest. Your core was too fucked out, your clit was painfully sensitive, and you were sitting in a pool of your arousal. How did Joel manage to turn the events of the day around in his favor? You had control at the start—you had the gun— but now he had you folded in half and strewn out in a heap of tears. 

“I can’t!” You wailed. “Too much—too much…”

“Poor thing,” Joel taunted. “Always beggin’ for it but can’t take it.”

You writhed beneath him, your body twisting and bending to alleviate the painful sensations rolling through your nerve endings. This was it; this was how you died. Drunk on pleasure and torn apart by the man you wanted to hate. 

Another orgasm tore through your body, consuming you from the inside out. Your scream pierced through the air, and you collapsed into the cushions, soaked with sweat and tears. Joel made a strangled noise above you as your sex clamped down around his cock, no doubt pulsating harder than it had the last several orgasms. His cock slipped from inside you, leaving you hollow and aching to be filled again. Your body craved the fullness, yet you sagged with relief knowing he stopped.

“C’mere,” Joel grunted. 

He slung your legs off his shoulders and yanked you down the couch by your ankle. Positioned over your face, Joel stroked his cock above you, his fingers glistening from the arousal that stuck to his velvety skin. 

“Open that fuckin’ mouth, darlin',” Joel urged. 

Your head was so hazy you hardly registered his words. Parting your lips, you whined softly and stared at him…waiting. Joel’s eyes connected with yours, that deep furrow in his brow more prominent than before. Rage still sparked behind his eyes, but in your delirium, you saw more. You saw right past his facade, just as he saw right past yours. Whatever terror etched itself into your features, it caught his attention, but he was painting your lips and face with his release before he could decipher it. Hot ropes of cum spattered against your lips, the salty taste covering your tongue as it trailed into your mouth. Remnants of his release coated your chin and neck, warm reminders of his futile efforts at staking his claim.

He hadn’t claimed you, no matter how hard he fucked you. You wouldn’t let him claim you. And you most certainly wouldn’t let him claim your land. 

Joel slid his finger through the mess along your neck, scooping his cum onto the pad of his finger and dragging it across your lips. 

“So fuckin’ pretty all covered in my cum,” he praised.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, though your words meant shit, as you rolled your tongue over your bottom lip.

Joel gave you a soft grin, smoothing down your hair and cleaning the mess off your face with one hand. The same hand that had inflicted pain just moments ago, the hand that brought you to release more times than you could physically endure. 

But now the touch was soft—caring, even. And that frightened you more than the violence he showed when he was provoked. It was this side of Joel that made you scared, and you wanted to run as far from it as you could. 

“Let’s get you up, darlin’,” Joel said, hoisting you by the shoulders until you sat under his shadow. 

He massaged your legs as you swung them over the couch, attempting to relieve the tension within your muscles. You shrunk away, standing on unbalanced limbs, and distanced yourself from his wandering hands.

“I need a shower,” you decided. “Y’can see yourself out.”

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you.”

“Well, I’m done fuckin’ talking!” You argued. 

You spun on your heel, your hands clenched at your sides. Joel’s eyes stayed focused on you as he worked at stuffing his cock back into his jeans. Half-naked before him, you felt a million times smaller than you had when he arrived. 

“Why are you so hateful?” He questioned, rising to his feet.

Your lips curled up, a slew of spiteful words dancing on the tip of your tongue. But Joel wasn’t finished. 

“This is your land,” he said, stepping closer. “I ain’t gonna argue that anymore ‘cause it’s a lost cause. And I ain’t tryna steal it from you. I can promise you that.” Another step closer. “So, why do y’hate the idea of me comin’ around?”

“Because I hate you,” you responded. 

“You hate me, huh? Is that how y’feel ‘bout me when I’m pullin’ orgasms from your body? ‘Cause I think you fuckin’ love it. You love bein’ fucked by me. You get me all riled up ‘cause y’know what’s comin’ for you.”

“I hate you,” you repeated.

Joel lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with a featherlike touch. You wanted to shy away, but you were too tired to move.

“I don’t think y’hate me at all, darlin’,” he whispered. 

He leaned closer, placing a kiss on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding off another round of tears brimming over the surface. Pushing your hands against his chest, you shoved Joel away, your body staggering back with the force of your action.

“Get the hell outta my house,” you cried, no longer keeping the tears at bay. 

Joel stared at you with a pained expression, his eyes searching through your glassy eyes for the falter within your words. He didn’t budge; he didn’t move an inch. You shoved at his chest again, but it was no use as he wrangled you into his arms and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“When are you gonna quit fightin’ me?” He asked softly. 

It was a sincere question; you saw it swimming behind the rich chocolate of his irises. Pleading. Begging. He wanted the truth, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t.

“I’ll quit fightin’ when y’learn to leave me alone.”

“What if I don’t wanna?”

He was a breath away from your lips, the rich scent of farmland wafting off his skin as it mixed with the smell of sex. It was intoxicating being this close—close enough to wonder what his lips would feel like on yours. While your body ached for him in one way, your heart ached differently. It was an ache you wanted to keep fighting because the moment you lost that battle, you’d lose everything. 

“I don’t want you comin’ here anymore, Joel.”

“Why?” he pressed. 

Silence blanketed over you, weighing down the words lodged in your throat. The rapid beating of your heart matched his as he kept you tight to his chest. You were suffocated by the emotions you couldn’t say, and you were slowly sinking further down. 

You struggled against the arm that bound around your waist, helplessly trying to break free of his hold. He finally relented in defeat, letting you shuffle back until there was a healthy gap between your bodies. Running a hand down the scruff on his chin, Joel gave you a simple nod and retreated toward the front door. 

“Until you can give me a reason, I’m gonna keep comin’ back.”

He left without a glance over his shoulder, the room around you shrinking in size without his presence looming over you. Searching for your shorts, you quickly dressed and hid behind the window curtains as you watched his truck rumble to life and speed down the dirt roads. There was no goodbye between you, and you knew there wouldn’t be. Joel wasn’t giving up, no matter how hard you pushed him away, and eventually, he’d win. 

And you hated knowing the truth. 

**

Behind the billowing dirt trail of his truck, Joel watched as your house faded from view. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel as he thought about the way he left. He was doing this for fun; at least, that’s what it felt like at the start. Getting on your nerves, pissing you off, seeing you completely unraveled underneath his hands, Joel loved it. He loved the thrill of having you tamed down and quiet, compliant to anything he asked and did. 

Then he had you pinned underneath him, and he saw the fear in your eyes. You weren’t scared of him. You were scared of the emotions electrifying between the both of you. Then you pulled away from him, denying him any affection, and he fucking hated it. 

He couldn’t understand why you got under his skin the way you did, nor why he cared so much. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way, yet Joel wanted to keep tearing down your walls. He wanted to hear you tell him the truth.

He wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

[superbat-lmao]

When Batman “abducts” Jason, he offers him a deal. Since Jason is concerned about staying with Bruce Wayne, and to show that he’s not abandoning the child to be trafficked, he agrees to a “wellness check” once a week, for an hour.

Anything that Bruce Wayne does that makes Jason uncomfortable, he can report to Batman. And if he does any of the things Jason’s worried about, Batman gives him a panic button.

At the first welfare visit, Batman asks about how Jason is acclimating to the manor.

It takes a lot of prodding for Jason to admit that he wants a lock on his door and that he likes Alfred. That he can’t tell what Bruce is thinking a lot of the time and he doesn’t like the ominous silences.

What’s truly crazy, is that after the meeting, Alfred asks him to help install a lock on his door that only works from the inside. And the next day, when he sees Bruce at breakfast, the man starts recounting come of his day at work, regardless of if Jason joins in. He lays out his plans for the day and his reasoning. Just, talks about innocuous things.

He asks Batman what he shared with Bruce at the next meeting. Batman tells him that he spoke with Alfred about the lock but with Bruce about voicing his thoughts more. He asks if it helped.

Jason says yes, but he’s confused as to why Bruce would want to change at all. Or why Batman told him about those sorts of things. After all, they weren’t that big of a deal.

And Batman tries to explain that Jason shouldn’t be uncomfortable. That is goal is to make sure he’s not just safe, but happy.

Slowly, over the course of a few months, Jason opens up to Batman about different things. Everything he confesses is fixed, whether it be people he knew on the streets being arrested or helped out or even just small things about Bruce, like how he doesn’t make any noise when he walks and keeps startling him.

Jason feels himself relaxing around Batman of all people. He even looks forward to their weekly welfare checks so he can ask about the people he knew in Crime Alley.

He’s also making progress on the Alfred front since he’s allowing him to wash up his own dishes and teaching him to cook.

But Bruce remains a problem.

He doesn’t know what it is. He’s really trying to trust the guy, he’s done everything Jason has asked of him through Batman. Everything, no matter how stupid Jason felt asking for it.

So he asks Batman what’s wrong with him. He tells him he wants to like Bruce, he really does, there’s nothing wrong with the guy. Batman was right. He’s just some awkward lonely dude in a giant house. So why won’t his mind let Jason trust him?

Batman tells him that trauma doesn’t work like that. That Jason may never fully trust Bruce, and that isn’t either of their faults. He’s trying, and that’s more than enough.

It all comes to a head when Alfred takes Jason shopping and their errands run pretty long. Jason just needs so much stuff, apparently.

It’s just starting to get dark out and he’s helping Alfred with the shopping by putting the cart away while he closes the trunk when he feels hands around his mouth.

He bites down as hard as he can against the gloves but it doesn’t help. There are two men and he can hear Alfred calling him, but he’s suddenly in another vehicle and he’s having trouble breathing.

He feels along the inside of his hoodie for his panic button and presses it.

There’s a lot of jeering and talk amongst his kidnappers, they’re excited for a payday. And Jason was easy pickings.

The ransom is a video where Jason is wearing a gag and told to briefly look into the camera while people talk over him, making threats and demands.

He knows something is wrong when all the lights go out in the room. He feels hands around him and starts to kick out until he’s face to face with a shadow he’s seen before. Batman is here for him.

Jason goes boneless in the hold and Batman gets him outside.

No one realized one of the kidnappers had made it onto the roof. Batman takes one bullet in the shoulder before they’re both in the Batmobile. Jason is crying and holding gauze to the hole in the armor while Batman talks softly and assures him he’s fine. Jason has no clue how the car gets them away but he’s thankful he doesn’t have to figure out what to do except put pressure on the wound.

When the doors to the batmobile open, Alfred is there and hauling them into what looks like a chrome emergency room. There are medical cots and equipment everywhere.

Alfred start pulling away the armor and Jason sits in shock as the cowl is removed and Batman sits before him as Bruce Wayne.

He’s gently shooed out of the medical section and sits down on what appears to be training mats. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Alfred comes to fetch him and Bruce is no longer in danger from the bullet.

Bruce looks exhausted in the moment before he sees Jason and his expression clears entirely. Jason feels a numb sort of dread spill over him as he realizes the implications of what he’s seeing. All of the things he’d admitted. All of the things Bruce had done for him. That if the bullet had struck somewhere else he’d be all alone.

He’s crying again and finally Bruce’s face changes into something that isn’t that awful blankness. He looks like he’s in pain but he reaches his arm out towards Jason anyway.

And Jason practically folds into him, crying into the bandages Alfred had wrapped around Bruce.

Bruce is whispering things into his hair. Gentle things. Kind things. Reassurances and asking if Jason is okay, because he was the one who was kidnapped, the one who had been snatched from a parking lot.

But Jason can’t process it, any of it. So he stays there, crying into Bruce’s uninjured shoulder until he’s scooped up into the medical cot to cry into his chest too.

There will have to be several long conversations about everything that had happened, but they would have to wait until tomorrow.

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[batboyblog]

Senate Elections 2024!

At the Start of the year I made a post about the US Senate elections this year. However a lot has changed since then (not just that) So I thought I'd make a new version.

How successful a President Kamala Harris is able to be will come down to who controls congress. A Republican House or Senate could frustrate many of the important agenda items Harris wants to get done. Also the Senate is key to appointing Judges, right now many America's rights are being decided in the courts where Trump and Republican appointed Judges are consistently ruling against trans rights, voting rights, abortion rights etc. Any hope of a smooth pipe line of Harris judges depends on the Senate. Senate Control hangs by a knife's edge, there are 6 soft blue seats we have to hold onto, two swing seats Dems are defending, and two soft red seats we can pick up, you can make all the difference!

If you don't live in one of the states below but want to help, you can Donate to the DSCC or sign up to phone bank with the Democrats

Arizona

Ruben Gallego (Hold)

Winning Arizona will be key to the outcome of the 2024 Presidential election. Congressman Ruben Gallego was a leader in the effort to replace Democrat turned Independent Senator Sinema with a real Democrat. Gallego was raised by a single mother, went to Harvard, and is a Marine combat vet. First elected to the Arizona State House in 2010 he advocated for immigrant rights. He was elected to Congress in 2014. Since coming to Congress Gallego has been a progressive voice, gaining attention for blunt attacks on the Trump administration. Republicans nominated around former TV host and conspiracy theorist Kari Lake. Lake rose to become a Republican star by supporting conspiracy theories about the 2020 election and Covid. Lake ran for Arizona Governor in 2022 and after losing to Democrat Katie Hobbs she refused to concede and still maintains she won and is the rightful Governor of Arizona. Lake has called Democrats "Demonic", totally opposes abortion in all cases, and is the self proclaimed "Trump candidate". If Gallego is elected not only will he be a reliable Democratic vote and Progressive vote in the Senate, he'd be the first Hispanic to represent Arizona in the Senate, ever. If you live in Arizona please make sure you vote, but more if you have any time between now and November, volunteer to help Gallego! and if you don't live there you can still give.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Florida

Debbie Mucarsel-Powell (Flip)

Florida's current Republican senator, Rick Scott, has spent his first term in Congress being one of the most extreme Republicans. Scott has pushed to defund education, roll back Social Security and Medicare, attacked trans rights, and wants to ban Abortion in all cases. Rick Scott is the wealthiest member of Congress and also was in involved in the largest case of Medicare fraud in US history. Scott challenged Mitch McConnell for the leadership of the Senate GOP getting support from extremists like Ted Cruz, Josh Hawley, and JD Vance, and now is running to replace McConnell. Scott won in 2018 with less than 10,000 votes. The Democrat is former Congresswoman Debbie Mucarsel-Powell. When she was elected to Congress in 2018 she became the first South American born immigrant and first person of Ecuadorian heritage to be elected to Congress. In Congress Mucarsel-Powell was a member of the Progressive caucus, she fought to expand medicare, and secured $200 million for Everglades restoration. After a narrow defeat in 2020 Mucarsel-Powell joined the gun control advocacy group Giffords to fight for gun control a personal issue for her. If you're in Florida please make sure you vote, and volunteer to help remove one of the most extreme Senators. Everyone else give what you can.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE

Maryland

Angela Alsobrooks (Hold)

Maryland is normally an easy Democratic win but two-term Republican former Governor Larry Hogan announced he was running, turning what should be an easy race for Democrats into a real fight. Hogan is trying to sell himself as a Trump septic moderate, but he's endorsed by Trump, JD Vance, and Mitch McConnell. Hogan spent his final year as Governor frustrating Democratic efforts to protect abortion, legalize marijuana, and take serious action on climate change. In the Senate he'll be a vote in the pocket of Republican leadership. The Democrat is Angela Alsobrooks, the executive of Prince George's County. As County Executive Alsobrooks got high marks for her response to Covid. She's worked to expand pre-K to all students in the county, as well expanding health care access including mental health access. As a candidate for Senate Alsobrooks has been a strong supporter of Abortion rights, pushing for more action on gun violence, and has been a strong supporter of LGBT rights her whole political life. After Vice-President Harris left the Senate there were no black women represented in the upper house. Together with Delaware's Lisa Blunt Rochester Alsobrooks could make history, if both are elected this year it'll be the first time ever that two black women have served at the same time in the US Senate. If you're in Maryland make sure to get out to vote, to volunteer as much as you're able, and everyone give whatever you can to protect abortion rights and support progressive black women!

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Michigan

Elissa Slotkin (Hold)

Michigan is a critical 2024 swing state. Congresswoman Elissa Slotkin is running to replace retiring Senator Debbie Stabenow. Slotkin worked for the CIA, the State Department, and the Department of Defense rising to be an Assistant Secretary of Defense under President Obama. She is fluent in Arabic and Swahili. First elected to Congress in 2018 Slotkin won and has been re-elected repeatedly to represent a swing district, becoming the first Democrat elected there since 1998. In Congress Slotkin has supported gun control, and ending money in politics. Her national security experience made her an important voice pushing for the first impeachment of Trump in 2019. She gained national attention for holding open town halls on her choice to vote to impeach Trump facing down Republican protesters. In her run for Senate Slotkin has continued to stress her support for gun legislation, ending money in politics and stresses protecting the right to choose. Republicans have consolidated around former Congressman Mike Rogers. Rogers retired to Florida after his time in the House only moving back last year to run for Senate. During his time in Congress Rogers tried twice to ban the abortion pill mifepristone. Rogers is endorsed by Trump and controversial former Detroit Police Chief James Craig. If you're in Michigan vote to protect the right to choose and stop a Trump Republican, and make sure to volunteer as much as you can, and every give what you can to help win this key swing state.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Montana

Jon Tester (Re-elect)

Normally deep red Montana represents one of the hardest Senate seats for Democrats to hang onto. Jon Tester is the only Democrat to hold statewide office or represent Montana in Congress. Elected narrowly in 2006 Tester has beaten the odds time and time again and is trying again. In his time in the Senate Tester has been a consistent voice for small farmers and local businesses against big corporations and mega companies. Tester has fought against corruption and for openness, and is one of the most effective members of Congress consistently having the most bills past into law of any member of Congress. Republicans have embraced an ultra wealthy former CEO, Tim Sheehy as their nominee to unseat Tester. Sheehy was caught lying about being shot in Afghanistan as a Navy SEAL, when he in fact accidentally shot himself at Glacier National Park in Montana. Past his embarrassing war wound story, Sheehy is an ultra rich CEO who has spent 2 million of his own money on the race so far. Sheehy has been endorsed by Trump, and Marjorie Taylor Greene. Sheehy wants to ban all abortion, repeal Obamacare, and remove any limits on gun ownership, despite having shot himself. If you can only donate to two races, this and Ohio are the most important, if you can only donate to one? flip a coin. Everyone in Montana make sure you get out to vote and just as important volunteer, there will be no Presidential or Governor or any other campaign to help Tester along its all on him, and everyone give what you can.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Nevada

Jacky Rosen (Re-elect)

Nevada is a critical swing state in the 2024 election. Jacky Rosen first came to Congress flipping a Red House seat in 2016 and then unseating a Republican Senator in 2018. Since coming to Congress Rosen has been a champion for turning Nevada into a clean energy leader. She's also has helped pass gun control legislation and is a fierce advocate the right to choose. Republicans have nominated Army veteran and conservative influencer Sam Brown to run against Rosen. Brown unsuccessfully ran in a Republican primary for the Texas State House in 2014, and for the Republican nomination for US Senate in Nevada in 2022. Now with the endorsement of Donald Trump Brown finally managed to win a primary. Sam Brown is the only Republican candidate Trump mentioned in his 92 minute convention speech at the RNC. Brown wants to roll back Nevada's Green energy progress and boost fossil fuels, he also wants to roll back any and all restrictions on guns. If you're in Nevada make sure to get out and vote, and volunteer to keep this key Senate seat out of the hands of a Trump Republican. Everyone else give what you can.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Ohio

Sherrod Brown (Re-elect)

Ohio is one of the hardest senate seats for Democrats to defend this year. Senator Sherrod Brown has been the only statewide elected Democrat in Ohio since 2011. First elected to Congress in 1992 and to the Senate in 2006 Brown has defied the odds by being a popular Progressive in an ever more Red state. Brown consistently ranks along side Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren as one of the most left wing Senators. From his first days in Congress Brown refused the Congressional health plan, repeatedly introducing single payer health care bills going back to the 1990s. Brown has been a proud and consistent ally of Unions, particularly the UAW, and tough on banks and big business. Republicans have nominated used car salesman and crypto enthusiast Bernie Moreno. Moreno is a weirdo, he accused LGBT activists of a "radical agenda of indoctrination" and then got caught looking for "men for 1-on-1 sex" on AdultFriendFinder. Moreno supports a federal abortion ban, has been sued by former employees for wage thief and discrimination, and wants to end birth right citizenship. Moreno has been endorsed by Turning Point USA, Donald Trump Jr., Vivek Ramaswamy, Kari Lake, Ted Cruz, JD Vance, and of course Donald Trump. If you're in Ohio make sure you get out to vote, and volunteer to support a great Senator. Everyone outside of Ohio give what you can, if you can only donate to two campaigns this and Montana need it the most, if you can only give to one, flip a coin.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Pennsylvania

Bob Casey (Re-elect)

Pennsylvania is a key swing state in the 2024 Presidential election. Bob Casey was first elected to the Senate in 2006 defeating right wing extremist Rick Santorum by the largest margin in state history. Starting his career as a moderate to conservative Democrat Casey has become a strong advocate for gun control since 2012 voting for every gun control measure to reach the Senate. Casey also made strong opposition to the Trump administration a cornerstone of time in office. While personally pro-life, Casey has endorsed the right to choose and voted codify abortion rights. Casey has been a leading critic of corporate greed during the inflation and authored a bill to ban shrinkflation. Republicans have nominated multi-millionaire former CEO and Bush administration official David McCormick. McCormick served in the Treasury under George W. Bush, his wife worked at the NSC under Trump. He lived in Westport, Connecticut as the CEO of an investment management firm, till he decided he wanted to be a US Senator in 2022 and he moved to Pennsylvania. He lost the 2022 GOP primary to Dr. Oz and is giving another go in 2024. McCormick is endorsed by George W. Bush, Mitch McConnell, Rick Santorum, Karl Rove, Doug Mastriano, Jim Jordan, and of course Donald Trump. If you're in Pennsylvania make sure you get out to vote, and to volunteer to keep Pennsylvania blue. Everyone else give what you can.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Texas

Colin Allred (Flip)

Texas Senator Ted Cruz might be the most hated man in politics. Since his election in 2012 Cruz has been on a single minded mission to be totally unlikeable. Shutting down the government under President Obama, endorsing Trump after Trump insulted his wife, supporting Trump's efforts to overturn the 2020 election, fleeing his state to go on vacation in Mexico after an ice storm and power outage (and abandoning his dog), blaming the Uvalde school shooting on video games, yes Ted Cruz really has done it all. Cruz is one of the most right wing members of the Senate and a loud Trump supporter. Last election in 2018 Cruz barely hung onto his seat and Democrats are hoping with 6 more years of radicalism Texans are ready for change. Democrats have nominated Congressman Colin Allred. Allred is a former professional footballer, played Linebacker for the Tennessee Titans. After football Allred went to law school, and got a job with the Obama Administration. In 2018 he won an upset victory unseating an 11 term Republican in a district that had been Republican since 1968. In Congress Allred fought for gun reform, to keep down the price of proscription drugs, and invest in American infrastructure. In his run for Senate he's standing up for the right to choose against one of the most radically anti-abortion Republicans in the country. If you're in Texas make sure you vote and volunteer to give Ted Cruz the boot, and everyone give what you can to get Blue Texas.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Wisconsin

Tammy Baldwin (Re-elect)

Wisconsin is a critical swing state in the 2024 Presidential election. Senator Tammy Baldwin is a historic trailblazer, when she was first elected to Congress in 1998 she was the first woman to ever represent Wisconsin in Congress, the first open Lesbian elected to Congress, and the first openly gay non-incumbent to be elected to Congress. She co-founded the Congressional LGBTQ+ Equality Caucus. When she was elected to the US Senate in 2012 she was the first and is still the only openly gay person ever elected to the Senate. Past her advocacy for LGBT rights Baldwin has been a progressive her whole time in Congress endorsing single-payer health care, and being a strong voice for abortion rights. Republicans are supporting a California bank owner and weirdo named Eric Hovde. Strange mustache owner Hovde has attacked trans kids, flip flopped on abortion (totally against, now open to some abortion), and insulted farmers as "not hardworking" and thats why the retirement age should be 72. If you're in Wisconsin make sure to vote and volunteer to protect a progressive trailblazer and stop a California weirdo banker. Everyone else give what you can.

VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP

Where ever you live in the US there is a critical race happening, so please check out ways to Volunteer and where ever you live there are options to phone bank text bank write letters or postcards to voters (postcards 2) but like I said wherever you are there are local candidates who need your help, and if you live in any of these critical states please give your time and energy.

[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 2: Pregnant

Pairing: Two nagas x human reader

Summary: Mating with your nagas finally made you pregnant. You are sensitive and needy but your overprotective mates are there to take care of you.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, naga smut, egg pregnancy(don’t expect accurate pregnancy stuff, this is naga smut), double 🍆🍆, oral(fem), double pen,lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is part of a series. Find all the parts here.

“Mnn…mnnn—mo-re, more!" you moaned and clung back to your mate, your holes stretching around his thick shafts.

“You’re almost there, little mate,” Ragnor rumbled, his twin cocks filling your pussy and ass wide.

The room echoed with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin. Ragnor sat back in the couch as you rode him with your back to his chest, your swollen belly facing outward. Your legs were spread wide, fully bent at the knees as his double cocks filled you deeply. Ragnor, your handsome mate with gleaming red scales, gave measured upward thrusts, his hands cupping your ass to keep you steady. His long tail was coiled protectively around you both, the tip caressing your rounded stomach.

Flushed and panting, you felt each plunge deep, making your breasts bounce with force. Keeping one hand at your ass, your naga pinched your hard nipples while shallowing down your moans with his tongue. It was a loud wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as you moved up and down on his cock.

It hadn’t been long since you and your two naga mates had started trying to get pregnant. It began during your naga mate’s rut, and soon after, you found you were expecting. Although you conceived like a human, your babies would be hybrid nagas. Yes, babies—two of them. You carried two soft-shelled eggs, free-floating within a specialized sac inside you. The doctor said that as your pregnancy progressed, the shells would harden. Once you laid the eggs, they would hatch soon after, and you could hold your precious babies.

You were not scared of your pregnancy.

You had the best mates ever and a highly experienced doctor on superhuman births.

You would carry your babies for twelve months. Yours wasn’t a typical human pregnancy. You were already six months along, healthy, with a nicely rounded and delicate belly.

Carrying baby nagas made you incredibly horny, too. You were incredibly needy, craving your mates and so easily aroused that you craved sex all the time. Your nagas were more than eager to satisfy you in many many ways. Plus, the more sex you had the better. Your nagas’ seed was good for you and the eggs, it nurtured you both and kept you healthy.

Just then, the door creaked open and Thorne, your green-scaled naga slithered inside. He was just as huge and handsome and he carried a basket of fruits in his arms. You’d had a craving before and he’d gone to find wild strawberries and sweet peaches for you. But while waiting for your fruit, you’d gotten horny. Hence the current situation.

“Look at that pretty view,” Thorne said as he slithered close, a grin spreading across his lips as he watched your holes strain around Raynor’s cock.

“Our mate is needy,” said the naga currently balls-deep inside you. “You came just in time.”

Thorne, his serpent eyes dilated, set the basket down and bent in front of you to kiss your belly lovingly. He then kissed the top of your nose, then your lips, his tongue brushing with yours. Ragnor resumed fucking you and you gasped in Thorne’s mouth as you were bounced you up and down. You whined, pleased and happy to have both your mates under your attention.

Thorne let his warm lips close around one sensitive nipple while another hand massaged your breasts. He watched entranced as you were fucked and gave your body loving caresses. You tried to speak to him, but the words caught in your throat as the thrusts grew faster and more demanding.

“Easy love. We’re here,” Thorne said as his hands joined Ragnor’s under your hips, helping to keep your legs spread wide and ride the dicks.

“Nn… please,” you whimpered, burning with the need to come.

“You’re doing so good, love. Look at you, riding those dicks, taking them deep,” Thorne purred, his tongue licking around your swollen clit.

The touch was electric and you trembled, jolts of pleasure traveling through you. “Oh gods,” you moaned, head falling back on Ragnor’s chest.

“That’s it,” Thorne drawled, his tongue working its magic on your clit. “Let go for us, mate. Let go.”

The slick sounds and moans intensified, Ragnor’s thrusts turning erratic, his fingers dimpling the soft skin of your ass. Your muscles seized and you came, riding wave after wave of blissful rapture. Your naga mate wasn’t far behind. With a few more pumps, the cocks inside you pulsed, feral growls echoing as he spent inside you. Loads of cum filled you up, your belly bulging even further.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” Ragnor said, his breath hot against your ear. “Still feels so tight.”

“Such a good mate. Came good and hard for her mates,” Thorne said with one final kiss over your sensitive clit. “Now she will be rewarded as we feed her favorite fruit.”

You had no choice but the lay there, back against Ragnor’s chest, his cocks and seed lodged up inside you while they fed you. The mate currently not inside you reached for the basket of fruits and brought a juicy piece to your lips.

“Eat, my love,” Thorne said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You need your strength.”

“But…hnn,” you sighed, the cocks inside you made you so full you could barely move.

“You don’t have to move, little mate,” Ragnor said, as if being buried balls-deep inside you was the most normal thing to do while feeding you.

“Relax and warm your mate’s cocks,” Thorne said. “The longer the seed stays inside you the better it is for you and our eggs.”

Humming in agreement, Ragnor rubbed soothing circles over your stretched stomach. Your other mate offered you fruit and you opened your mouth, taking bite after bite. The strawberries were the perfect combo of sweet and sour, the peaches ripe and delicious. Your mates licked the sweet juices running down your lips, their eyes darkening with lust. You knew they were far from done with you and you couldn’t wait to have them fucking you again.

Once you had eaten your fill, Ragnor carefully lifted your pregnant form out of his cocks and deposited you in Thorne’s arms. You were carried to the soft bed and placed down on all fours, ass high up in the air. Thorne, his green scales shimmering in the dim room, slithered behind you, his tail keeping your legs apart while his thumbs spread your asscheeks and exposed your holes in all their glorious mess. The cum from earlier still dribbled out of you.

“I love it when you’re leaking, freshly fucked,” he said while guiding the head of his shaft, hard and leaking, at the entrance of your pussy. He sunk in a little, just the flared cockhead and kept the other cock outside of you so that it rubbed the crack of your ass. Ragnor slithered beside you, propping you to sit back on the cock and then started licking your breasts.

Inch by inch you sat back on Thorne’s great cock. It invaded your pussy, spreading your walls to fit inside. The stretch was intense, yet you reveled in the fullness. Thorne began to move, fucking you with steady deep thrusts while kissing your lips, his tongue sliding against yours. Your other mate’s hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and suckling your nipples.

“Mnn…more, please!" Your whole frame quivered.

“What do you need, little mate?” Thorne asked, slowing his thrusts.

“My ass,” you whined, desperate need building inside you. “Empty.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” Thorne nodded to the other naga and said. “Hold her steady. She’s too overstimulated, I’m afraid of hurting her.”

Eager to help, Ragnor carefully shifted you on your hands and knees, pulling your asscheeks apart to expose your pouting rosebud. “Look at that pretty pink hole.” He kissed it, then watched as the other naga finally pushed his second cock into your puckered entrance. “That’s our good mate.”

The thick head pressed against you, opening your ass and past the tight muscles. Fuck, you loved when you had both cocks inside you. You couldn’t go without them. You moaned lewdly when they started pounding you, drawing in and out of your slick depths.

“Is this what you wanted, little mate?” Thorne breathed in your ear.

“Yes! Fuck, yes don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop,” he replied, his hands reaching under your belly to cup your breasts.

Ragnor was busy as well, tracing the curve of your backside and kissing into your mouth. His long tongue pushed past your lips, shoving down your throat. From behind, Thorne was panting, his huge cock stretching your pussy while the other claimed your ass. You felt full, so full and loved. So very loved.

A tongue down your throat, hands teasing your body, cocks pounding you.

The insistent fucking and teasing ripped a shattering climax from you.

Tensing, you whined and Ragnor’s tongue withdrew from your mouth so you could cry your pleasure out fully. You sobbed at how good it felt to ride your orgasm. Thorne’s cocks inside you pulsed and came as well, feral growls coming from your mate as he released rope after rope of his cum inside you. Your other naga kissed your face and rubbed your belly, whispering how good you were to them, how blessed they were to have you in their life.

Well-fucked and satisfied, you collapsed onto the bed, still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your mates took their places on your sides, Thorne pressing against your back— both cocks deep inside you, keeping his seed from escaping. Ragnor pressed against your chest and they took turns kissing you, their hands constantly touching your belly. Their tails wrapped loosely around your body, the tips flicking your rosy nipples.

“How are you feeling, love?” Thorne asked, fingers tracing your swollen stomach. “Are you okay? We weren’t too rough with you, were we?”

“I’m feeling amazing,” you purred, satisfaction pouring over you. “The eggs are fine, too.”

“They are growing strong inside you,” Ragnor said proudly. “We’ll take good care of you, mate. Whatever your need, you’ll have it. We love you more than anything.”

You nodded and felt tears prickle your eyes. Stupid hormones… they made you oversensitive.

“Happy tears,” you explained before any of your mates lost their shit about seeing you cry. “I love you both so much. I can’t wait to hold our babies.”

Tagging @nekrara 🖤Hope you all like this! Next part will be reader going to the doctor and preparing for laying the eggs. Smutty stuff loading.

[420technoblazeit]

the thing about jayce is that the same thing that makes him so annoying in season 1 also makes him so endearing in season 2. and it all comes down to his sense of loyalty. he spends a lot of time in the first season struggling with being a people pleaser and a great example of this is the aftermath of his progress day speech. heimerdinger insists that the hextech inventions need more work so he holds off on revealing them to the public, disappointing both viktor and mel. he's constantly being pulled thin by conflicting loyalties. he wants to appease the council so he rubs elbows with them and allows their illegal imports despite just raising security in the hexgates. he wants to keep the people of piltover safe so he puts up the barricade at the bridge even when that worsens the city's relationship with zaun. and when vi storms in and tells him that the best way to hurt silco is to destroy his shimmer factory he goes in swinging

but in season 2 after he quits the council jayce isn't obligated to please them and the people of piltover anymore and has some freedom to choose what he really wants. and it turns out that at his very core his loyalty is to viktor. jayce says it himself, he believes now that his place is in the lab with him, not on the council. that same devotion that led to him going astray in the first season is also what leads him to revive viktor with the hexcore. jayce just can't stand inaction. if he thinks he's found a solution he'll reach for it every time and when it comes to his place on the council that means acting against silco and intentionally or not escalating the zaun-piltover conflict. but when it comes to viktor that means doing whatever he can to save him even to the bitter end. and that makes him a much more sympathetic character because while those choices aren't necessarily morally better than the ones he made in season 1 they're also primarily motivated by his love for viktor

[pearlywritings]

In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions. 

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies. 

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior. 

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace. 

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace. 

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

[speed-world]

Idea for a story...based off something I saw somewhere else.

Y/n sucked into the cookie run kingdom game and transformed into a cookie and is a complete coward...like cookies, if they want y/n to come with them on adventures, have to bribe y/n into coming...or drag them as they scream in fear. They are terrified of plot because they know what happens in the cookie run story and feel like they wouldn't survive....

Buuuuut then, as they progress through the story, more cookies are revealed to love y/n and their presence in general make the cookies...nicer and more focused on making y/n happy than the plot lol. Like they start making sure y/n has their treats, that y/n is having fun, etc!

Cowardice…Pays Off?!

(Is this self aware? Kinda i guess right?)

You aren’t sure how or why this happened. One moment you were just by yourself, ready to play a newly downloaded Cookie Run Kingdom-The Game. You saw a lot of videos about its story and characters, and you wanted to give it a shot since it all seemed so cool!! Then, just as you started the game up, your game glitched and got stuck. The screen of your phone went blank. Then, like a vortex, it pulled you inside of the game and your entire body composition changed. You were flat, smelled appetizing, and you were a lot smaller than you were supposed to be.

You became a cookie…which horrifies you immensely!

Sure, it sounded neat to be surrounded by the characters that you loved, until you realize that you now have to go through the same story as them. A story that you knew most of the outcomes…

As you finally came to, you heard the crashing sounds of asteroids from outside. You studied your surroundings a bit more until you realized: This is the Final Battle of the Dark Flour War, which surely means-

“This is…Oh no, what a horrible sight.”

“The whole place is covered in Cookie crumbs!”

You heard footsteps of 5 cookies approaching you. You vividly remembered there words as the same words from the Final Battle prologue scene. But of course, you were there. And you noticed that the Ancients immediately froze and changed once they saw you.

“Despite the foul stench and scene, it appears that a Cookie made it after all…”

“Ah! W-wait, I-I’m not s-supposed to uh— p-please I-I’m so scared, d-don’t h-hurt me p-please!!” You freaked out at the realization, and buried your face in your knees. Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to weep.

Pure Vanilla Cookie softly approached you and caressed your back. He sat down in front of you and held your arm.

“We promise you, the last thing we’d ever want is to hurt you! You don’t have to worry, we’re here to protect you with our own lives, you have my word! I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie, may I know who you are?”

With how softly and assuring he spoke, you held his hand and nodded.

“Y/N…I’m Y/N.”

You hugged him out of instinct, which definitely surprised the healer, but he didn’t mind at all. He reciprocated the hug and then hugged even tighter…as if he’s been waiting for this specific hug with you for a while

“A-wait! You g-guys have to leave!! D-D-Dark E-Enchantress Cookie is too strong for y-you all!! Y-you won’t win against her!!” You panicked as you remembered the fate that awaited the Ancients. They all looked surprised initially, but then they all looked more determined than ever.

“While your concern is appreciated, we assure that we won’t back down from Dark Enchantress Cookie. We’ll take her down AND make assure your safety at the same time.”

You looked at Golden Cheese Cookie, quietly pleading with her and the other Ancients to not go and fight this battle. They all do their best to reassure and comfort you, hoping that you understand they can’t abandon this fight. One Ancient however, stared at you differently than the others. She looked at you as if…she actually knew who you were…

White Lily Cookie saw you catch onto her staring, and she shook her head to snap back to reality.

“I-I believe we should get ready! W-We need t-to find Dark Enchantress Cookie before she finds us!”

And then, as if on cue, you all notice the sounds of Cake Hounds rapidly charging at you. The Ancients ready themselves to fight, and you trembled as you got to your feet. You hid behind Hollyberry Cookie, tightly holding onto her for dear life and shutting your eyes…until you felt various Cake Hounds nuzzling your legs. You opened your eyes to the cute creatures smiling at you and not hurting you at all, which confused the Ancients.

“Shouldn’t these Cake Hounds be attacking us? These are Dark Enchantress Cookie’s forces, and yet they’re…rolling around and nuzzling us?!”

“It appears they’ve a fondness for Y/N. We could use this to our advantage, let’s move!”

Dark Cacao Cookie scooped you up with one arm and carried you as the Ancients ran to the castle area where Dark Enchantress Cookie was.

You screamed and pleaded to not go with them since you knew what would happen. Since comforting you didn’t seem to work, two Ancients had the bright idea of bribing you to come along.

“Come now Y/N, I promise to gift with riches beyond your dreams after we win this fight! I’ll even let these Cake Hounds be with you, but you’ll spend more time with me, my closest treasure~!”

“I’ll be sure to grace you with the finest berry juice ever! My treat!! You’ll never have to worry with me around, I promise you!!”

You were more relaxed after hearing the offers of Hollyberry Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. After a while, you noticed everyone had stopped moving. You slowly looked up in horror…Dark Enchantress Cookie was waiting there.

“And so, upon the ruins of your home we finally meet. And it would appear…that you brought an uninvited guest~.”

…She was talking about you. You met your worried eyes with hers, but she didn’t look at you with malice. More she looked down at you like a mother would a little child…and you had no clue how to react.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood in front of you, and had hardened gaze on Dark Enchantress Cookie.

“Dark Enchantress Cookie! What is the meaning of this?”

“Now, now. No need to be so hostile. In fact, I have a…proposition for you lot.”

“Proposition? What nonsense are you rambling about now?”

Dark Enchantress Cookie focused her gaze on you. You hid behind Pure Vanilla Cookie, but Dark Enchantress’s eyes never stopped following your movements.

“I would like to believe that we have a common interest. The Cookie that you’re shielding - Y/N I believe was your name, no? - There’s something about them that’s quite incredible, wouldn’t you say~?”

“What…w-w-what are y-you getting a-at?!” You decided to speak, or more stutter, for yourself.

“I’m saying I believe we’ve all taken an interest in you. Dare I say, we can come to a deal: I’ll cease my own vision for the world in exchange for the safety and prosperity of Y/N. Does that sound alright with you?”

You were very reluctant to respond, mostly because of how much you were taken aback by this. Is this really the same Dark Enchantress Cookie you remember?! Apparently, the Ancients had the same conflicted expressions. None of them truly knew what to say about this ordeal.

“Can we really trust her words? This could easily be just another scheme-“

“I AM serious about this, mind YOU! It’s abundantly clear none of us want Y/N in any kind of danger, and I can see it clearly in your eyes—all of us feel a special attraction to them, despite the odd circumstance~. There’s no reason to lie about it.”

You looked to the rest of the Ancients in anticipation. You had zero idea what the right answer was, if there was one, but you just prayed that you wouldn’t be hurt in any way.

“…..Fine then. For the sake of all Cookiekind, and for Y/N, we’ll trust you. But know this Dark Enchantress Cookie, we will fight you again if you ever back down from your word!”

“Hah, you won’t have to look forward to it~…”

————————————————————————

It’s been a while since then, and you still have no idea how to feel about your situation.

On one hand, literally nothing wants to harm you in any way. Every Cookie you’ve met has been extremely kind and generous to you, even if they’re evil aligned. The Bear Jellies are so warm and welcoming, and the Sugar Gnomes have virtually become your best supportive friends. Not to mention the Cake Hounds being head over heels for you, which you reciprocated the love for them.

On the other hand…there always seemed to be some small layer of tension whenever Dark Enchantress Cookie comes to see you. She’s always super nice to you, giving you immense affection that at times seems out of character.

Of course, the Ancients always get slightly agitated when Dark Enchantess Cookie visits. Especially Golden Cheese Cookie and White Lily Cookie, who really got upset whenever Dark Enchantress took you away from them.

Granted, White Lily made some sense with her relationship with Dark Enchantress.

But Golden Cheese really took offense to whenever you’re attention was taken off of her

In any sense, the most confusing thing was whenever the Cookies wanted to take you on adventures. Mainly the Gingerbrave gang.

You were incredibly scared of going with them, mostly because you knew of the danger of their adventures and thought you’d either be harmed or get in their way.

Whenever a Cookie invites you to travel with them, they always make sure your safety is prioritized. Sometimes they’ll try to bribe you with treats, gifts, or rewards if you tag along.

But sometimes, they’ll abandon their plans just to be with you and make sure you’re comfortable.

This life of yours was so odd and scary, but your fears would eventually wash away with how much the Cookies would treasure your being above all else. You’d grow to enjoy and love the affection and care, even if it seemed to be overwhelming at times.

[c0s-lettuce]

hopeless - fiyero tigelaar x reader

gender not mentioned, reader is friends with galinda

synopsis: fiyero is an interesting, if not irritating, presence in your life. but he surprises you most when he asks you to tutor him.

word count: 1132

a/n: jumping on the fiyero bandwagon hehehe. timeline may be a bit off, forgive me. hope you enjoy and thanks for reading! <3

You were surprised when Fiyero began caring about his academic progression. It was out of character from what you had come to know of him. You saw a lot of him when he first arrived at Shiz, thanks to Galinda wanting desperately to befriend the Winkie Prince.

Nothing about him impressed you all that much, especially after his awful treatment of those poor books in the library. Sure, he was good-looking and seemed to have the entire student body at his heel, but looks can only get you so far.

You went to the Ozdust that night at Galinda's behest. Fiyero was there, of course, looking far too smug for your liking. He seemed to take an interest in you. But when your indifference was made evident to him, he simply reminded you that his plan to corrupt his fellow students included you.

And from that day on, you could never manage to shake him off.

Everywhere you went, he was there, trying to distract you, following you around or rambling on about something that you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention to. It was bothersome at first, but eventually became a part of your daily routine.

It wasn't until much later, with the approach of midterms, that Fiyero suddenly started begging you for help. He wanted you to help him study. He even called you clever, beautiful, and kind somewhere in the process of his pleading, no doubt trying to flatter you.

He mentioned something about finally having a reason to stay and not wanting to get kicked out of another school. You agreed begrudgingly, mainly because you knew he wouldn't stop asking if you didn't. But also because you couldn't fathom the thought of him going away. Much to your chagrin, the prince had grown on you.

And so, you made plans to meet, deciding on the quad at first. A good decision; you still didn't trust Fiyero being in the library. As the first study session approached, you started growing a little nervous. You hadn't spent time with him in such a manner before. You suspected it was just the 'Fiyero Tigelaar Effect' that so many Shiz students suffered from and reminded yourself it was no big deal.

However, it was definitely a big deal to Galinda. She pranced into your room unannounced the morning before your first meet-up with Fiyero, later prompting your roommate to talk to you about boundaries. Galinda insisted on helping you prepare for your 'date', lending you a pair of over-the-top shoes and attacking your hair with a brush.

Despite the girl's efforts, it made no difference to Fiyero later that afternoon, who just smiled and told you that you'd been 'galinda-fied'.

As the days passed, Fiyero managed to stay consistent with you, only sometimes changing locations based on his heart's desire. The two of you move to the garden, the cafe and even the Oz-forsaken library. At first, you suspected this whole arrangement may have been some ploy for him to 'corrupt' you, but after a few sessions, Fiyero does the unexpected.

He turns out to be completely serious about this. He listens to you, he tries to understand, and he very, very rarely decides to distract you.

You're almost impressed.

That brings you to now, just a few days before midterms start. You and Fiyero are cramming in one last study session.

The two of you are currently situated on the floor of his dorm room. He sits with his back against the the side of his bed as he racks his brain over a linguification paper. You sit facing him, your arm resting on the mattress, propping up your head.

Fiyero furrows his brow and mumbles some words to himself. You should be helping him, you think to yourself, but your attention has been entirely diverted in the last ten minutes. You're not focused on the paper but on Fiyero and his adorable facial expressions instead. To your defence, the two of you have been at this for over an hour.

"Can we take a break?" he speaks up after a while.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard, but you quickly recover. You decide you could do with a breather yourself.

"Yeah, of course," you tell him.

"Thank Oz," he mutters, unceremoniously dumping the paper on the floor.

You watch as it joins the multitude of textbooks and worksheets that are scattered about.

Fiyero slumps against the bed, tilting his head back to rest on the mattress. "This is hopeless. I'm never going to get it."

You turn your attention back to him, smiling reassuringly. "Sure you will. Don't give up now."

"You have too much faith in me," he replies.

"And you have not enough," you tell him.

He lets out an exasperated sigh in response, covering his face with his hands. You watch him as silence falls between the two of you. It's unfair how he makes being distressed look so good.

A few more seconds of silence pass before Fiyero speaks again. "I just thought of something that might help."

"Oh? What would that be?" you ask.

"A little motivation, that's all," he shrugs, sitting up slightly. "If I pass my midterms, will you let me take you out?"

You raise an eyebrow, slightly amused by his idea. "You mean on a date?"

"Of course," Fiyero smiles. "We can go somewhere proper. A nice dinner or something."

"Right, and we'll just conveniently ignore how we're not allowed to go out at night."

His expression becomes mischievous as he leans closer, "Well, you do remember what I told you at the Ozdust all those weeks ago, don't you?"

You hum in response, catching his drift. So maybe this was one big ploy after all.

"Please?" he asks again, his voice softer. "I'll be good. I promise."

You let out a sigh of your own. Yours is of a different kind of exasperation than Fiyero's. After all, how could you ever say no to that face?

"Alright," you agree, "A date, as long as you pass everything."

He beams brightly, your answer pleasing him more than he's letting on. "Yes, great! Thank you. You won't regret it."

You smile in return and decide not to tell him you would still want to go out with him regardless. Perhaps actually having to work for something might do the prince some good.

He's still grinning as he picks up the linguification paper and dutifully resumes reading it. It's a stark difference from his earlier befuddlement, and you're not sure if he's only pretending to understand or if your agreement to his terms was really the push he needed.

Either way, it meant you could go back to your staring. And with nothing left to do but wait, that's precisely what you do.

➸

[hexhomos]

I love Mel through and through but I cannot find it in myself to say that her and Jayce should’ve continued romantically in season 2, or that meljayvik/melvik could ever work.

While she def did love Jayce in season 1 she did use him and viktor for political and financial gain. And her and viktor always hated each other (also viktors 100% a gay man)

Also I think even tho canonically labels and homophobia don’t exist in arcane it was def some form of heteronormativity that caused jaymel maybe like…. Classism or smth…. Idk 🙏

Mel and sevika is my favorite Mel ship because Mel should be with someone who won’t fold as easily as Jayce 😇

imho jayce/mel was always a relationship of convenience with a very clear economical stipulation of success that is planted all throughout s1 act 2 (mel literally walking out on jayce when he doesnt present his new gizmos on progress day bc she had already promised them to investors. lol. later on pressuring him to do a whole round of black market shakehands under HER inherited opera house which is used as a meeting point between all the corrupt topside politicians. do i even need to expand.) and its only made worse when the phony-ruler training stuff comes in and both ambessa and mel start competing to see who can manipulate jayce into making weapons for the empire faster. I've always said that storyline was inconsistent as fuck and it does a lot of flip flopping near the end of s1 (do you want weapons or not? it changes every scene.) but at least people cant call me crazy anymore bc they WERE grooming jayce into being the pliant triggerfinger figurehead and once that fails all the attention is shifted onto caitlyn, who's just so ready to fall for the bait.

Like this is why jayce brings up the investment stuff during the breakup scene. this is why mel is fighting with caitlyn against her mother at the end of the series as a complete reversal of her goals. This was supposed to be a Thing. Character development for this bit in specific was RUSHED AS FUCK since they wanted to put all of the political tidbits as far away from the core plot as possible but its still there when you look. The ''empathetic'' political stringpulling ambessa does with cait is one she has taught her daughter, and she perpetuates with jayce, who is ofc upset at all the bullshit when he realizes what's happened in the end. And that it didn't just impact him, but also viktor and the cities at large!

clean break was actually the best thing they could have done with both of these characters and for a second I didn't believe they'd HAVE the balls to do it, but I'm happy to be proven wrong lmfao! if jayvikmel has no haters im dead. I'm not even getting into that whole thing but it bothers me *so deeply* to see viktor defanged and made into a fogbrained centrist yes-man when his entire arc is about the fatal consequences generations of these rich oligarch games have had on the low class people of the undercity. One of the only scenes of him raging in the entire show is him showing his disgust for mel's weapon proposition, and we just forget that happened? nuh uh. not on my watch

[kirammanswifey]

Hii, I read your pt 1 n 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their s/o

Would you be able to hurt us(me) even more? Like they took too long to get us back that R already move on with someone better

Pretty pretty please🥺?

what if you never reconciled with arcane's characters after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i loved the person who asked me to do this because i had thought about doing it but i didn't know if you guys wanted to read more of this but i guess we'll are masochist. so i ended up depressed after writing this, and that's saying a lot for a psychology student, the one i found the saddest and the hardest to write was jinx's, i love writing sad things but it's already too much suffering, later I'll come up with something lighter and nicer. as you guys know, requests are open ;)

break up link:

reconciliation link:

Viktor

The auditorium filled with applause as you finished your presentation. The project you had worked tirelessly on was finally being recognized. You felt proud, but also empty, as if something important was missing. As you looked up, you saw him. Viktor, at the back of the room, trying to go unnoticed, almost ready to leave.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him. It had been two months since the breakup, two months of complete silence. Without thinking, you called his name. "Viktor."

He stopped, turning slowly toward you. The auditorium's light accentuated the paleness of his face, his sunken eyes, and his thin body seemed even more fragile. Concern washed over you instantly, but you held back the urge to approach and ask what was happening to him.

"How are you? How have things been going?" you managed to say, though your voice trembled slightly, betraying the calm you were trying to project.

"Fine." His response was cold, distant, almost mechanical. "The lab is progressing. The projects are going as expected."

Each word of his was a dagger, his formality making you feel like a stranger, as if you had never been part of his life. The lump in your throat grew, but you forced yourself to continue. You couldn't leave things like this.

"Why didn’t you reach out, Viktor? Do you still feel the same?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, fearing the answer but needing to hear it.

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before responding. "Yes, I still feel the same. What I’m doing is bigger than us. I can't afford distractions."

His voice was firm, but you could sense the slight hesitation, the pain he was trying to hide. Despite that, it hurt more than you expected. You nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable, though it broke your heart.

"Thank you for coming," you said coldly, matching the distance he had put between you. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me."

You turned around, ready to leave before the tears betrayed your façade. But as you walked away, you felt his eyes on you, almost as if he was waiting for something more, something you weren’t willing to give.

Viktor stood there, motionless, internally conflicted. In his mind, every memory with you fought against his convictions. He wanted to approach, to risk a second chance, to ask you to come back. The thought of losing you forever was suffocating him, but he also feared that his illness, his obsession with science, was too much for you to bear.

Finally, he decided to take that step, to approach you, to break the barrier he had built himself. But by the time he gathered the courage, it was too late. You had been intercepted by a colleague, a man who radiated health and vitality, someone who made you smile in a way Viktor couldn’t remember seeing for a long time.

From afar, Viktor watched, his heart breaking as he saw how the man made you laugh, how he looked at you with admiration. In that moment, he understood something he had always feared: you deserved someone better than him, someone who could be completely with you without the chains of science and illness.

He decided to leave, convinced that intervening would only cause you more pain. He didn’t know that as he walked away, you were watching him from afar, with a broken heart, wishing he had fought for you, even just a little more.

Jinx

Days passed after that heartbreaking farewell. The memories piled up in your mind, like broken pieces of a puzzle you could never put back together. Jinx's absence was a crushing weight, leaving you breathless, powerless. Her laughter, her mischief, her uncontrollable chaos... all had disappeared, and in their place, only an unbearable void remained.

One afternoon, as the rain furiously pounded against the windows and the sky was draped in gray, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew exactly where to find her. On somber days, Jinx always sought refuge at the cliff, a place where the world seemed to end and the abyss opened before her like an invitation.

You ran through the rain, feeling each drop like needles on your skin, every step filled with a desperation that was suffocating you. When you reached the cliff, your heart stopped. Jinx wasn’t sitting, as she usually did, lost in her thoughts. She was standing, at the edge of the abyss, her slender figure barely visible in the mist.

But before you could take another step, she jumped.

The scream that tore from your throat was heart-wrenching, an echo lost in the wind. You ran to the edge, but what you saw below froze your blood. Jinx lay on the rocks, her body shattered by the fall, motionless, lifeless. The sight left you petrified, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The days that followed were torment. Guilt consumed you. What if you had arrived earlier? What if you had said something different? What if you had hugged her tighter? The questions haunted you, whispering in your ear that it was all your fault, that you hadn’t done enough to save her.

You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep. You just returned to that cliff over and over again, hoping to find answers in the void Jinx had left. But all you found was more silence, more loneliness.

One night, when the moon barely peeked through the clouds, the weight became unbearable. You couldn’t go on without her. You decided it was time to join Jinx, to follow her steps into the abyss. You walked to the edge, feeling the cold wind on your skin, and looked down at the place where your love had met its end.

Then, a vision stopped you. Jinx appeared before you, but not like the last time. She was smiling, her gaze sweet and mischievous, like when she used to laugh at your jokes or drag you into her chaotic adventures. "Don't be sad, sugar," she whispered. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

Her words, though you knew they were just a hallucination, filled you with a strange comfort. You smiled, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'm going to be with you," you promised her. And without thinking further, you leapt into the abyss, letting the darkness take you, driven by the desire to be with Jinx once more.

Upon impact, everything became silence. But in that silence, there was something more. A whisper, an echo of eternal love.

In every universe, in every possible existence, you two would always be together. Even in death, even in the void. Because your love was that strong, that eternal.

Vi

Vi had spent two years engulfed in a darkness she couldn’t escape. After you left her, everything became a whirlwind of underground fights and empty bottles. Each punch she took, each night spent alone in the darkest corners of Zaun, made her think of you, of what she had lost. In her mind, she was always sure you would come back for her, that your love for her would be strong enough to forgive her. But days turned into weeks, then into months, and eventually, years. And you never came back.

One day, a job brought her to Piltover. A corrupt politician had paid her to "teach a lesson" to someone who owed him money. The money was enough for Vi to accept without asking questions. She was walking through the gleaming streets of the city when her body collided with someone else's.

“Sorry,” she said automatically, but when she looked up, she was left breathless. It was you. More radiant than ever, with a presence that seemed to light up even the cold stone of Piltover. Vi couldn’t help herself, she hugged you tightly as if her life depended on it. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into your hair. But her world stopped when she didn’t feel your arms returning the embrace. Instead, your body was stiff, distant.

You gently pulled away, but your gaze was like a dagger. “What’s wrong?” Vi asked, her voice trembling with confusion and the pain now flooding her. “Why are you treating me like this?”

Your expression hardened, and your words were cold, sharp as steel. “Do you really expect me to welcome you with open arms after what you did? After what you said?” Your eyes burned with a fire Vi didn’t recognize, a fire from someone who had suffered and changed. “You left me, Violet. You said things that broke me. And now, after two years, you expect me to greet you like nothing happened?”

Vi tried to respond, but the words died in her throat. There weren’t enough excuses to explain what she had done.

You continued, not giving her a moment to breathe. “Things changed when you left, Violet.” You raised your hand, showing a ring that gleamed under the sunlight. “My parents married me off to someone from the Council. At first, I thought it would be the end of the world, that I’d never get over it. But now… now I’m happy.” You paused, letting your words sink into Vi like a slow-acting poison. “I have a family. I have stability. And I’m happy. With you, Violet, I would never have had that.”

Vi looked at you, unsure of what to do, what to say. In her mind, you were still the person who loved her, but now, standing before her, you had transformed into someone completely different.

At that moment, a man approached. Tall, in his thirties, with a well-groomed beard, and in his arms, a small child with a smile Vi instantly recognized as yours. The man kissed you on the cheek and then handed you the child. Your face lit up with love as you held him.

“Sweetheart, did you find what you were looking for?” the man asked, glancing at Vi with curiosity. “Is she a friend of yours?”

Vi felt like the ground crumbled beneath her feet. You looked back at her, but now, your eyes were just cold reflections of the past. “No,” you said with a tone that cut Vi to the core. “Just someone I used to know.”

Without another word, you turned away, the man beside you, the child in your arms, and the three of you walked off, a perfect picture of the happiness Vi had always dreamed of but could never achieve.

Vi stood there, motionless, in the middle of the street, as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Her entire world crumbled in that instant. Everything she had believed, everything she had hoped for, was gone. And now she knew she would live with regret for the rest of her life.

Caitlyn

The trial was a brutal display of coldness. You stood there, in the center, surrounded by the faces of Piltover who had once respected you. But now, you were nothing more than a traitor to them. Your hands were cuffed behind your back, your gaze fixed on Caitlyn, waiting... begging for her to say something, to defend you, to plead on your behalf. But she remained silent, rigid, her expression unyielding. The façade of the perfect enforcer intact, as you crumbled.

As you left the court, the cold air hit you harder than the judges' words. Caitlyn approached the guards, requesting to personally escort you to the edge of exile. Your eyes met hers, seeking answers, some sign that there was still something between you.

"Why?" you whispered, your voice breaking.

Caitlyn looked at you, her face colder than ever. "I did what I had to do," she said with a hardness that made you shiver. "If you had done the same, you wouldn't be in this situation."

There were no more words. No goodbyes. Just a chasm that opened between you, killing everything that had ever existed.

A year later, Piltover was burning in chaos. Zaun's gangsters had unleashed a revolt, and Caitlyn, always the leader, was on the front lines. The battle roared around her, but she didn't see the attacker coming until it was too late. The blade of a knife gleamed in the air, aimed at her, until a precise shot stopped the assailant.

Caitlyn turned, her rifle pointed at her supposed savior. "Back off," she ordered firmly, though her heart was racing.

The figure in front of her removed the owl mask, revealing a face that took her breath away.

"You're still an exceptional shooter, Cait," you said with a sad smile, your voice laden with painful nostalgia.

The chaos had ceased, the silence weighed between you. Caitlyn didn't understand how everything had ended so quickly, how her men had been immobilized. Her eyes filled with questions, and you, with a flash of understanding, gave her the answer before she could formulate it.

"It was us."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

You laughed, a sound that carried both sadness and resignation. "I'm part of the Firelights. We heard about the revolt and came to the rescue. We don't want more trouble between Piltover and Zaun, so we stopped it to avoid reprisals."

Caitlyn's eyes widened, recognizing the rebel group that had caused so many headaches for the Enforcers.

"They took me in when I was exiled to Zaun," you continued with a touch of sadness. "They're my family now."

Caitlyn stepped forward, regret etching her face. "I... I missed you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I regret not defending you."

But before she could say more, a figure riding a hoverboard approached. Wearing a mask similar to yours, his dark skin and white hair gave him away: Ekko, the leader of the Firelights.

"All clear. Let's go, babe," he said, extending a hand to you. Then, he cast a sarcastic glance at Caitlyn. "Looks like the Enforcers don't know how to do their job anymore."

Caitlyn opened her mouth to protest, but you playfully smacked Ekko on the head. "Don't be cheeky," you chided, but the boy just smiled and kissed you tenderly.

Caitlyn froze, watching the scene with disbelief and pain. Seeing the love of her life with someone else was an agony she wasn't prepared to face.

You climbed onto the board with Ekko, but before leaving, you turned to Caitlyn. "I hope you can find happiness someday, Cait," you said softly, your words a reminder that sometimes justice isn't enough to fill the void in the soul.

And with that, you vanished into the air, laughing with Ekko, leaving Caitlyn alone, shattered. She stood there, staring at the spot where you'd disappeared, the regret devouring her inside. But she didn't allow herself to feel more. She had a mess to clean up and a report to deliver. There was no room for pain now, and that would always be her greatest flaw.

Jayce

It had been five months since the last time you saw Jayce, five months since that painful goodbye that had left your heart in pieces. But you didn't allow yourself to stay in that state. You channeled your pain into ambition, into a fierce determination to prove your worth beyond being "Jayce Talis' partner." You joined the world of politics, and against all odds, you managed to gain acceptance into the Council of Piltover.

The news of your rise had spread to every corner of the city, but Jayce, absorbed in his work with Hextech technology and his duties as a Council member, hadn't noticed your progress until that day.

The first Council meeting with your presence was a revelation. All the members praised you, impressed by your intellect and the innovative plans you had proposed for the city. But Jayce heard none of that. His attention was completely captured by you.

You looked different. Your hair, which you used to wear long and dark, was now short and dyed a vibrant coral red. The clothes you wore were more revealing, showing a confidence in yourself he had never seen before. It was as if you were a completely new person, someone who no longer depended on anyone's shadow.

When the meeting ended, Jayce approached you with his characteristic smile, the one that used to melt your heart. "I didn’t expect to see you here," he said with a mix of surprise and admiration. "It seems a lot has changed."

You returned his smile, but there was a touch of disdain in your eyes. "Yes, many things changed in my life when you left, Jayce. Everything got better," you said firmly. "I focused on my career and made a name for myself in Piltover for my skills and intelligence. I'm no longer recognized as Jayce Talis' partner. I'm no longer the pretty doll you used to take to those fancy parties."

Jayce frowned, his expression turning serious. "I never treated you like an object," he replied defensively. "That was always a misunderstanding. I just took care of you and gave you everything you wanted."

You shook your head slowly, your gaze steady on his. "No, Jayce. You clipped my wings. You didn’t let me be who I really am. And I'm so happy you left me because now I’m enjoying life, and I love who I am."

Jayce opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him. "There's talk that you have a relationship with Mel Medarda."

The surprise on his face was evident, but he quickly denied it, his tone defensive. "Of course not. We're just partners."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "More like master and slave. It’s pathetic to see how you let yourself be influenced and manipulated by someone else. The Jayce I knew, the one I once loved, would never have allowed that."

Jayce barely heard the reproach. His attention was caught by your words. "You don't love me anymore?" he asked, his voice hurt and low.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting his with brutal sincerity. "No, Jayce. I don’t. I’ve moved on from you."

Jayce was left speechless, the emotional blow visible on his face. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy for you to forget him, especially when he hadn’t forgotten you.

Before you left, you stepped a little closer, your voice soft but firm. "And you know what the best part is, Jayce? I didn’t need to hook up with anyone else to do it. I got over you when I learned to focus on myself and my needs. You should do the same."

Without waiting for a response, you turned around and walked away, leaving Jayce there, paralyzed by the weight of your words. It was as if you had slapped him, leaving him breathless, not knowing how to recover from that loss. Because you would be a loss that would hurt him for the rest of his life.

Ekko

Months have passed since that last conversation that ended your relationship. Since then, Zaun has changed, and so have you. You've learned to live without Ekko, though the void he left still hurts. Fate, however, seems determined to cross your paths again. And it is on a rainy night, in an alley you used to walk together, that you meet once more.

Ekko is there, under the dim light of a streetlamp, his silhouette wet from the rain but heavier with guilt. He sees you approach, and something inside him breaks. Time hasn't healed his wounds, only made them deeper.

"I didn’t think I’d see you here again," he murmurs, his voice almost inaudible beneath the sound of the rain.

Your heart races at the sight of him, but you stay firm. "I didn’t think I’d see you again either."

Ekko's eyes scan you, searching for something to give him strength to speak. "How have you been?" he asks, knowing that any answer will be insufficient for the pain he caused.

"I managed," you reply coldly. "And you? Doesn’t Zaun need you anymore?"

Ekko lowers his gaze, ashamed. "Zaun will always need me, but... I've been thinking a lot about us. About what I did, about what I said."

"And have you reached any conclusions?" you ask, keeping your tone distant.

"That I was wrong," he admits, his voice breaking. "That each day without you weighs more on me. That I let you go out of fear, out of responsibility... but I never stopped loving you."

His confession hits you, but it’s not enough to erase the pain. "Ekko, you made your choice. You chose Zaun over us."

"I know," he says, taking a step closer but not daring to move further. "And I regret it. If I could go back, I would. But I can’t. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, that I miss you... that every day I regret more what I lost."

Silence takes over the moment. The rain continues to fall, cold and relentless, like the fate you both share. You look at Ekko, and for a moment, the love you still feel battles against the resentment.

"Ekko, love isn’t enough when it becomes a burden. I can’t go back to that, I can’t be your second place again," you say, trying to maintain your composure.

"I know," he replies, his voice barely a whisper. "But I wanted you to know that I’ll always love you. Even if I can’t fix it, even if I can’t win you back, you’ll always be a part of me."

"And you of me," you admit, finally letting the tears you’ve held back fall. "But it’s too late, Ekko. Too late for us."

Reality sets in, and both of you know it. Without words, you look at each other one last time, each trying to engrave that moment in memory. Finally, you turn away, leaving Ekko alone, with the rain as his only company.

As you walk away, something inside you stops you, as if there are still words left to say. You turn slowly, facing Ekko once more, with the rain falling between you like a curtain of memories and pain.

"Do you remember what you told me the last time we talked?" you ask, your voice trembling but firm. "You said that sometimes there are battles not worth fighting because you know you’ll never win them."

Ekko nods, the weight of his own words reflected in his tired eyes. "Yes, I remember. And I regret saying it."

"Don’t regret it," you say, a bitter smile forming on your lips. "Because you were right. This... us... we were one of those battles. I fought for you, for us, but in the end, we couldn’t win. We couldn’t be what we needed for each other."

Ekko closes his eyes, the pain in his chest intensifying. "I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted you to lose faith in us."

"Faith wasn’t enough," you reply, your words cutting like a knife. "Not when the battle was lost from the start."

Silence takes over once more, each word a reminder of what was and will never be. Finally, you step back, moving away from Ekko and everything he represents.

"Goodbye, Ekko," you whisper, letting the rain wash away the last tears falling down your cheeks.

Ekko watches you leave, knowing those words will be the last you share. And as you disappear into the distance, his own regret consumes him, leaving him alone with the weight of a battle he should never have abandoned.

Silco

The lights flickered weakly in the brothel of the Undercity, as voices mingled with the clamor of incessant activity. Silco moved through the shadows, his presence as imposing as ever, closing a deal with one of his associates. Everything was going according to plan until his gaze stopped in a dark corner, and he saw you.

You were there, your makeup smeared, and your provocative clothing accentuating the marks of injuries that covered your skin. Silco felt a dry blow in his chest, a combination of anger and suffocating guilt. He couldn’t help but approach you, his hand gripping your arm firmly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a harsh voice, each word laden with tension he couldn’t hide.

You looked up, your eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and latent hatred, but a bitter smile formed on your lips. "I'm exactly where I should be, Silco. I should never have left this place in the first place."

Silco narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening even more. "Don’t give me evasions. I want the truth."

You sighed deeply, letting the facade fall. Your eyes locked onto his, this time without a trace of the smile. "You want the truth? Very well." Your voice was a whisper laced with pain. "When you decided to abandon me, many started hunting me. I survived some attacks, others I didn’t." Slowly, you brushed your hair aside, revealing the patch over your left eye. "They tore it out. And, like everything in this damn place, they sold it to the highest bidder. Some found it exciting to have the eye of Silco's former 'bitch.'"

The rawness of your words left him immobile. The trauma soaked every syllable, and the guilt Silco felt grew like an oppressive shadow. "I had no one to protect me, no place to go. This brothel was my last refuge. So here I am, back in the only place I should never have left. And surprisingly, I'm doing well. You’d be surprised at what they're willing to pay for an encounter with what once belonged to you."

Silco couldn’t bear the self-degradation in your voice. "I’m going to get you out of here," he said firmly. "I’ll pay whatever it takes and bring you back home."

He leaned in to hug you, but you pushed him away with a scornful gesture. "What’s the matter, Silco? Tired of your new acquisition already? Miss having me under your control, like your personal trophy?" Your voice was lethal poison. "Keep your promises. I’m not going back with you. You taught me that love is an illusion, a mirage that only serves to mask hatred and danger. And sadly, I’m surrounded by both."

Silco swallowed, his facade beginning to crack. "Please," he insisted, his voice tinged with an unusual tremor. "Let me fix this. Let me help you."

But you had already walked away, heading toward an exotic-looking man waiting for you in a corner. "If you’ll excuse me, I have to work."

Without giving him another glance, you left, leaving Silco alone, trapped in a whirlwind of regret and pain. In his attempt to protect you, it was he who had condemned you to this life, and now the weight of his decisions crushed him, plunging him into a darkness even he could not master.

Mel

It was an ordinary day when, upon opening your front door, you found Mel standing there, her eyes red from crying, her face filled with a despair so profound it moved you. Her posture, hunched and fragile, spoke more than any words could. Before you could say anything, she threw herself at you, seeking comfort as if her entire world had collapsed in an instant.

Words tumbled from her mouth in a rush, like a torrent of repressed emotions finally finding an outlet. "I’ve done it... I’ve done everything wrong... I don’t want to lose you. I can’t... please, don’t leave me. I need us to be together again. I can’t live with this lie. I love you, I love you, I’m begging you."

You held her in your arms, feeling her trembling body against yours, a refuge against the internal storm consuming her. You clung to her, hoping that all that had been broken between you could be repaired, but then, an unfamiliar voice interrupted the stillness of that moment.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a familiar female voice, with a tone that shook you. Caitlyn Kiramman appeared in the doorway, her hair disheveled, wearing a white shirt, almost translucent, that Mel recognized instantly. A shiver ran through her as she saw that the shirt belonged to you. Caitlyn smiled, somewhat awkwardly, but serene. "I’ll wait for you in the room," she said calmly before retreating into the house.

Mel, paralyzed, looked at you in disbelief, her anger beginning to awaken. "Seriously?" Her voice broke with disdain, but there was a contained fury in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore. "Caitlyn Kiramman? You couldn’t find a better replacement for me? Seriously?"

You stared at her for a moment before responding with a calmness that only masked the truth behind your words. "No, Mel, I’m not looking for replacements. Caitlyn isn’t here to fill any voids; she’s here for a good time. And let me tell you, she’s done an excellent job at that."

Mel clenched her fists, her face turning red with rage, frustration taking over her. "How could you? Did you cheat on me? With her? After everything we’ve been through?" Her words were sharp, like knives, and her pain became more evident with each passing second.

You remained serene, though something inside you was breaking. "What did you want me to do, Mel? Sit in a corner, crying in a bubble of self-pity, like you probably did all this time? No, Mel, I couldn’t just sit and wait for something to change. Life is too short to keep waiting for the impossible."

Mel’s words came out as a sigh of disappointment. "I’m so disappointed in you," she said, her voice trembling from the impact of your words.

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest. "What we were living wasn’t real, Mel. It wasn’t enough for you, and it wasn’t enough for me either. You’ve been living in your mother’s shadow this whole time, looking for something you’ll never find. I can’t keep waiting for you to understand that. You got stuck in your world, and in the meantime, I moved on. I’m not going to apologize for that."

Mel, in tears, tried to get closer, a desperate attempt to capture what was already gone. She tried to kiss you, but you stopped her with unyielding firmness. "Mel," you said with a clear, firm voice. "Don’t do this. Don’t do this to yourself."

She fell to her knees, her face overflowing with pain. "I beg you... please, come back to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve had in my life. I need you, I can’t live without you." Her sobs were heart-wrenching, like a child lost in a cruel world.

You looked at her for a long moment, your heart heavy, but the words that came from your lips were inevitable. "And why didn’t you take care of me, Mel? Why did you let me go so easily? If you really loved me, why did you abandon me? Why did you let me face all of this alone?"

Mel didn’t know what to say. She stayed there, her mouth open, unable to offer any justification. She only murmured one last "I love you" in an almost inaudible whisper.

You sighed deeply, the weight of reality crushing you, and you gently lifted her from the ground, guiding her to the door. "Goodbye, Mel. I hope you can sort things out with your mother. I can’t keep being part of this battle."

The door closed with a dull thud, and it wasn’t just the door to your house that was closing, but also the door to your heart. There was nothing more to do. It was time to let go.

Sevika

The night was shrouded in a dense mist, and the bar buzzed with a mix of laughter, muffled conversations, and the clinking of glasses filled with liquid oblivion. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of tobacco, spilled alcohol, and sweat—a temporary refuge for broken souls. Sevika pushed the bar door open, stumbling slightly, her unsteady steps reflecting the state of her soul. Her dark, glassy eyes scanned the place with a mix of desperation and anxiety, seeking to drown the loneliness that pursued her like a relentless shadow.

When her eyes landed on the bar, her heart stopped for a moment that seemed eternal. There you were, behind the counter, moving with the professional grace of someone who had learned to hide pain behind a mask of indifference. Sevika felt the ground beneath her feet grow unstable, as if the earth itself was rebelling against her presence. She approached slowly, as if each step brought her closer to an abyss she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

When she reached the bar, she leaned on the counter with both hands, leaning toward you. Your gaze was a mix of surprise and something colder, something that made her shiver more than any strong drink.

"What do you want to drink?" you asked in a professional, restrained voice, your eyes barely shifting in her direction.

Sevika looked at you, desperately searching for any trace of the warmth you used to have. "I’ve missed you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper before a knot in her throat broke it. "I’m sorry... God, I’m so sorry for how things ended between us."

She took your hands with unusual clumsiness, kissing them repeatedly as her words fell like broken laments. "I’ve been alone, so alone that I looked for others to forget you, but it didn’t work. No one can make me forget you. Please, give me another chance."

You sighed, and with a calculated gesture, called another colleague to replace you, leading her outside to the back alley. You lit a cigarette calmly, offering her one that she accepted in silence. Both of you smoked, the smoke forming an almost tangible barrier between you.

The silence was finally broken by a question that escaped as a rough whisper from her lips: "Why aren’t you saying anything?"

You finished smoking, dropping the cigarette and crushing it underfoot before facing her directly. "What do you want me to say, Sevika?" Your voice was low, but each word was a dart piercing Sevika's chest.

She frowned, surprised by the coldness in your tone. "I don’t know, something. Something that doesn’t make me feel like a fool."

"Why do you feel like a fool?" you asked, crossing your arms, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Sevika gritted her teeth, her fury beginning to bubble just beneath the surface. "Because I confessed my feelings to you, told you everything I went through, and it seems like you don’t give a damn."

You nodded, as if slowly processing her words before responding with icy calm. "And did you care when you left me? Did you think about how your decision would affect me? Did you think about anyone other than yourself?"

Her words caught in her throat, and for the first time, Sevika didn’t know what to say. Your smile was bitter, triumphant. "Of course not. You’re a selfish person, Sevika. You walked in here by chance, and upon seeing me, suddenly you miss me and want everything back. Well, I’m not buying that crap."

"It’s not like that," she denied desperately. "I miss you, really. I care about you."

Your frown deepened, and you shook your head. "It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You made your decision, and you have no right to ask me for anything after what you did to me."

Sevika tried to interrupt, but you cut her off sharply. "My break is over. Don’t drink anymore tonight. You’re talking nonsense." And with that, you went back inside, leaving her there, alone in the darkness.

Sevika stayed in the alley, staring at the door that closed behind you, while rage and sadness fused into a silent scream. She punched the wall hard, letting the physical pain try to drown out the torment she felt inside. But deep down, she knew that punch wasn’t enough to erase what she had lost, nor to heal what she had destroyed.

[hoonvinx]

Beneath the cold, he found you.

The biggest and richest CEO in Seoul. Widely known for his cold demeanor., but the ice starts to melt when he meets a ray of sunshine like you..

(사장) ° ceo!jay x afab!r WC:3287 | smut, suggestive| Cautions: Unprotected sex(Don't do it girly), Fingering, Pet names.

(저자 노트) ° The ending was rushed don't come for me <-

"Fuck Princess, I can get into so much trouble"

You could feel the weight of your new role pressing down on you as you stepped into the towering skyscraper of Park Industries. The air in the lobby was as cold as the sleek marble floors, and the employees rushing by moved with military precision. This was a far cry from your last job—a small, cozy firm where your coworkers baked cookies for the office on Fridays.

But you weren’t going to let the intimidating atmosphere get to you. You adjusted your blazer, squared your shoulders, and plastered on your brightest smile.

"Fake it 'til you make it," you murmured under your breath.

The elevator ride to the executive floor felt like an eternity. The moment the doors slid open, you were ushered into a boardroom where a man sat at the head of the table. Jong-Seong Park, the CEO.

You’d read plenty about him during your onboarding. The prodigy who had taken the company to new heights. Ruthless, efficient, and brilliant, they called him. But none of the photos or articles had prepared you for the reality of him.

His sharp jawline, neatly combed dark hair, and piercing eyes were the stuff of magazine covers, but his expression? Pure frost.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone clipped and disinterested, barely glancing up from his laptop.

You checked your watch instinctively, even though you knew you were ten minutes early. “I—uh—actually, I’m not—”

He didn’t let you finish. “Being on time means being ready before you step into the room. If this is the level of professionalism you plan to bring, I suggest you rethink your place here.”

Your stomach sank, but you forced your smile to stay in place. “Thank you for the feedback, Mr. Park. I’ll make sure to be... earlier next time.”

That made him look up. For a brief moment, his cold eyes met yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of surprise—maybe even amusement—before his face turned back to stone.

“Go on now” he said, his voice a blade that cut through the air.

You left the boardroom with your head held high, even as you replayed his words in your mind. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were determined. You’d worked too hard to get here.

By the time you reached your assigned office, a small but modern space tucked into a corner of the floor, you had already formed a plan. You weren’t going to let Mr. Park—or anyone else—diminish your confidence.

Sitting down at your desk, you opened your laptop and began familiarizing yourself with the projects you’d be tackling. The more you read, the more your nerves settled. This was your territory—hard work, strategy, and resilience.

Hours flew by, and soon the sun began setting, casting a golden glow over the skyscrapers outside your window. You were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice someone standing at your door until they cleared their throat.

Looking up, you were surprised to see Mr. Park himself. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You’re still here,” he said, his tone devoid of the icy edge it held earlier.

“I figured I’d get a head start,” you replied, keeping your tone light but professional. “There’s a lot to catch up on.”

His eyes flicked to your desk, where neatly organized folders and notes displayed your progress. He nodded slightly, a movement so subtle you almost missed it.

“Good,” he said. “We don’t have room for mediocrity here.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Park,” you replied with a faint smile. “Mediocrity isn’t in my vocabulary.”

For a second, his lips quirked, almost forming a smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Keep it that way,” he said, turning to leave.

But before he walked away, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Next time, you might want to take a break. Burnout doesn’t help anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected advice. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly.

After that you went home for the night, packing your stuff and organizing. You were happy that your first day went okay, but still puzzled about Mr. Park.

The next morning, you woke up determined to make an impression—not just through your work, but also through your presence. You decided to ditch the overly modest attire and opted for something that showcased your confidence. Your outfit was sharp, professional, yet undeniably alluring: a fitted blouse that hinted at your curves and a pencil skirt that hugged you in all the right places. It wasn’t over the top, but it was enough to make anyone take notice.

When you walked into the office, heads turned. And so did Mr. Park’s.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a colleague, but as you strode past, his gaze flickered to you—and lingered. His usually stoic expression faltered for a moment, his jaw tightening as he forced his eyes back to his conversation partner. You pretended not to notice, greeting everyone with a polite nod and a soft smile as you made your way to your desk.

The day started smoothly, but it didn’t take long for Mr. Park to assert his presence. By mid-morning, he called you into his office. His tone was clipped, colder than it had been the day before.

“I need you to take over the client presentation for Friday,” he said without preamble, sliding a thick folder across his desk. “And I expect the marketing strategy outline revised by the end of the day. The current draft is unacceptable.”

You blinked, barely hiding your surprise. “Both by today?”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, raising a brow. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture you hadn’t seen before.

“No, Mr. Park,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” he said curtly. “You’re dismissed.”

The rest of the day was grueling. Between preparing for the presentation and reworking the marketing strategy, you barely had time to breathe. And yet, every time you glanced up, you caught Mr. Park stealing quick glances at you from across the office. His eyes betrayed a flicker of something—frustration, intrigue, or maybe both—but he never let it linger long enough for you to confront him.

By the time you finished your tasks and dropped the completed files on his desk, it was nearly 9 PM. Mr. Park was still in his office, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening just a fraction.

“Here are the revisions and the presentation outline,” you said, your voice firm despite your exhaustion. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”

He took the files without a word, flipping through them quickly. When he finally looked up, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“You’ve done well,” he admitted grudgingly. But then his voice dropped, softer, almost hesitant. “I wasn’t trying to punish you.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Then what were you trying to do?”

For a moment, he seemed at a loss. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. “You…distract people,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. “Including me. And that’s a problem.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He sighed, his usual coolness returning. “Get some rest. And try not to make a habit of turning the office into a runway.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. His eyes were on you again, and this time, he didn’t look away. Something told you this dynamic was far from over.

You arrived at the office feeling the weight of Mr. Park’s words. His subtle warning from the night before had stayed with you, yet you couldn't ignore the flicker of intrigue that had passed between you two. You kept your outfit professional again, but the faintest touch of allure lingered in your style—just enough to keep his gaze wandering.

The day went by in a blur, with meetings, deadlines, and the constant undercurrent of Mr. Park’s presence looming in the background. By the time the clock struck 6 PM, most of the office had started packing up for the night. That’s when your phone rang.

“Miss Y/L/N, my office,” his voice crackled through the receiver, clipped yet calm.

You sighed, gathering your notebook and heading to his office. His door was slightly ajar, and you could see him seated at his desk, reviewing some documents. He looked every bit the composed executive—except for the faint furrow in his brow and the loosened tie around his neck.

“You called for me?” you asked, stepping inside.

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Close the door.”

You obeyed, your pulse quickening.

“I wanted to go over your revisions in more detail,” he said, his tone businesslike, though there was a sharpness in his gaze that told you there was more to this meeting than work. “Sit.”

You took a seat, your notebook poised on your lap. He flipped through the folder you’d delivered the night before, his eyes scanning the pages.

“These revisions are thorough,” he said after a long pause. “Better than I expected. But I need to understand how you approach this level of detail. Talk me through it.”

It wasn’t an unusual request, but the intensity with which he watched you unnerved you. As you began explaining your process, his eyes never left yours.

When you finished, he leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You’re impressive, Miss Y/N. More than I anticipated when I hired you.”

“Thank you,” you replied cautiously.

“But,” he continued, his voice dropping, “you also complicate things.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond.

He stood and moved to the front of the desk, leaning against it. “You’re talented. Dedicated. And you know how to command attention, whether you intend to or not.”

“I thought you valued that in an employee,” you said, your tone light but probing.

His lips curved into a faint, almost reluctant smile. “I do. But it’s distracting. For me.”

The admission hung in the air, thick and heavy.

“I don’t mean to distract you, Mr. Park,” you said, standing to meet his gaze head-on.

“Don’t you?” he countered, his voice low, almost teasing.

The tension crackled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he straightened, his professional demeanor slipping back into place like a mask.

“I need you to stay late tonight,” he said, turning back to his desk. “There’s a project I need your input on. Something confidential.”

Your breath caught. “Confidential?”

He looked at you, his gaze steady. “Yes. I trust you’ll handle it discreetly.”

“Of course,” you said, though your heart was pounding.

~

The office was eerily quiet as the hours dragged on. You and Mr. Park worked side by side in his office, reviewing documents and brainstorming strategies. But the tension between you was impossible to ignore.

Around 10 PM, he closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, watching you as you finished typing a few notes.

“You’ve been working hard,” he said, his voice softer now.

“So have you,” you replied, glancing at him.

He smirked faintly. “That’s different. I’m the boss. It’s expected.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “And what about me? What’s expected of me?”

He stood, walking around the desk until he was standing next to your chair. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to look away.

"Excellence,” he said softly. “And professionalism. Though you seem to excel at both… along with making things more complicated than they should be.”

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand brushed against the back of your chair, the faintest hint of hesitation in his movements.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Miss Y/N,” he murmured. “Do you know that?”

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Maybe. But I think you are too, Mr. Park.”

For a moment, the air between you seemed to still. Then, his hand moved to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“This stays between us,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Agreed,” you replied.

And with that, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was equal parts hesitant and demanding—a release of all the tension that had been building between you since the moment you walked into his office.

His kiss gets hungrier as it goes on, his hand slides down your curves feeling every part. He then slams you down on his desk. He pulls away from the kiss a sting of saliva connecting.

"Fuck Princess, I can get into so much trouble"

"I love taking risks Mr. Park"

"Darling, Call me Jay."

His hand wraps around your neck possessively, your hands land on his hips as he grinds against you. He groans. A sound you thought you never hear.

His hand goes under your skirt,teasing your folds through your panties. Jay pulls down your skirt for more access. He pulls down your underwear to your ankles. His hand teasing your folds.

"Fuck. Your pretty little cunt already so wet."

You flinch at his touch, without warning he slides 2 fingers in. Pumping it in and out. His hands still on your neck as he fingers you.

"Beg me to let you come princess"

"Please.. Jay-let me come.."

Jay grins. Curving his fingers in the right spot. Moans film the room. His fingers are fully disappearing in you. He hits the spot. Making you moan into his lips as he kisses you.

"Jay.. I need it badly"

"Need what sweetheart? Use your words." He says coldly.

"Your cock.."

Jay laughs. He sits you up to face him.

"Such a needy little thing.." He turns you around your ass facing him.

He positions his fingers around your neck again. Undoing his belt. He replaced his fingers with the belt. Choking you. He must get off torturing you, because his grin gets wider and wider.

He unzips his pants, his boxers peeking through. Finally he pulls down his boxers. He wastes no time, he slides his cock in you. Making you moan, your eyes close shut, saliva dripping.

He slams into you, not giving any fucks.

"Fuck darling, I'm close."

Jays eyes glue shut. His pace stops. He fills you up. Everything was a blur after that.You think Jay's cock knocked you out.

You wake up in your bed at home, in your nightwear. You grab your phone noticing a messages from Mr.Park.

"You did great baby, let's do it again some time."

[omgiamwish]

Snowmen and Such

@mp100secretspirit Here is my present for @smoarchok! I hope you enjoy it <3

About 1800 words of pure fluff. Read below, or on Ao3

Shigeo rests his arms on the wooden railing, leaning his weight against it and letting it hold him. Snowflakes fall in big clumps to join the expanse of white already carpeting the landscape. The sky is a soft gray, as far as he can see, and the light is dim despite only being late morning. Except for the soft static of snowflakes landing, the whole world is quiet.

“Hey!” Tome-san’s voice pierces the silence, but it’s not at all unwelcome. He turns to her as she joins him. “You forgot your earmuffs in the room.”

“Oh.” He takes them from her with a smile and puts them on. He hadn’t noticed how cold his ears had gotten. “Thank you, Tome-san.”

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to… to watch the snow, I guess.” He looks back to it, eyes catching on individual flakes in their descent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much at once. It’s really pretty.”

“Reigen-san said it snowed on the company trip you all went on last year…”

“Not this much. I’m glad I decided to come after all.”

Tome-san leans on the railing next to him. “Even though they didn’t even need you?”

Shigeo considers that. “Maybe even more because of that. And it was nice that Shishou asked if I wanted to come this time, instead of just… expecting I would.”

They watch the snow in silence for a long moment. Shigeo imagines laying down in it and letting the falling snow cover him. How long would it take? Until he was just another lump or indent in the frozen landscape? Although, as peaceful as it sounds, he probably wouldn’t like having that much snow on his face.

Tome-san thumps him on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I feel like building a snowman. Wanna help?”

“Oh. Yeah!”

They leave the sanctuary of the porch and wade out into the snow. It’s only a few seconds before Tome-san gives up making her own path and walks in Shigeo’s footsteps. He doesn’t blame her; the snow is knee deep, making every step effortful. By the time they get to the flat area of what might be a lawn in warmer weather, Shigeo is breathing heavily and verging on lightheadedness. He flops onto his back like he’d imagined doing only minutes earlier.

“Hey.” Tome-san kicks his shoe. “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

“No,” Shigeo wheezes, staring at the sky and blinking hard when a snowflake lands in his eye. “I’m just… resting.”

“You’re not slacking off in your club, are you?” She kicks his shoe a few more times. He moves to kick back and she steps out of range. “Letting Sagawa do all the work?”

“I placed twelfth in this year’s marathon, you know.”

“And then you slacked off so hard, you lost a year’s progress in like. Two months. I see, I see.”

“No,” Shigeo protests, laughing. He sits up and brushes snow off his face.

Tome kneels down and starts packing together a snowball. It takes her a few tries before it stops falling apart when she tries to roll it and she laughs in triumph when she finally gets something bigger than a baseball.

Shigeo watches her push the ball around, packing snow onto the sides to keep it a little more even. He picks up some snow and tries to pack a ball of his own. It takes him a lot longer to get it rolling than it took Tome-san, and by the time he has a ball as big as his head, she’s already got a second ball of about the same size.

“Hey Mob-kun!” she calls a bit later. “Come stack these for me! Oh, and bring that over, too. That can be the head!”

Shigeo picks up the ball he’d been working on and walks over to Tome-san, taking the path she’d made with her work.

The first ball she’d made comes all the way up their hips, and the second is maybe about half that size. Shigeo puts down his own comparatively meager sized snowball and tries to lift the smaller of Tome-san’s. It takes him a few tries to get a good grip and then for the next few moments, his entire focus is on Not Dropping It. He clutches it to his chest. Leans back to distribute the weight. Staggers the few steps to his goal. Heaves it into place and holds onto the whole thing for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall as soon as he lets go.

Then he collapses back into the snow.

Tome-san kicks his shoe.

“That was kind of impressive actually. I thought for sure you were going to use your powers. You should definitely use them for the next one, though.”

“Next… one?” Shigeo pants. Snowflakes tickle his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I want to see how big of a snowman we can make.” He hears Tome-san move around and the crunch of snow. “This one isn’t even as tall as me.”

Shigeo huffs a laugh. For awhile, he just listens to her pushing snow around. Then he sits up and looks at the snowman they’ve already made. Tome-san put the head on and packed snow into the places where the snowballs meet. It looks kind of lopsided and lumpy, stained with dirt and grass, not at all like the perfect white spheres you see in cartoons.

He kind of likes it.

Tome-san is making some weird noises, though, so he stands up and walks over to where she’s pushing ineffectually at a… very large snowball.

“Do you need help?”

“Come over and help me push!”

“With my powers?” Shigeo rests a hand on the ball. It’s about the same size as the bottom one of the complete snowman.

“No, that’s cheating.” She shifts around, digging her shoulder into it, shoes slipping on uncovered grass. “You have to- have to roll them naturally, or it doesn’t count.”

“But it’s okay to use psychic powers to stack them?”

Tome-san glares at him. “Are you going to help or not?”

He kneels beside her and braces himself against the packed snow. On three, they push together. It rolls over easily. The next few rolls are progressively less easy. They keep at it until, even with their combined efforts, they can’t get it to move.

Panting for air, they lean against the snowball, legs sprawled out before them. Shigeo is half sweaty, half freezing. Tome-san opens the top of her coat, so he expects she feels about the same.

“Do you… do you think… we can make the next one… just as big?”

Shigeo laughs, a stuttering, breathy thing.

They cannot, in fact, get the next one as big.

They get close, though, and Tome-san directs Shigeo to stack the two extremely large snowballs next to the first snowman. She rolls a third snowball for the head, no bigger than the head of the other. It sets Shigeo off to giggling.

“Wait, hold on. Look, look.” Tome-san pulls off a glove and digs her thumb into packed snow, drawing the shape of a tie on each snowman torso. “It’s-” She wheezes through laughter. “It’s Reigen-san and Serizawa-san.”

Shigeo makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. Shaking with renewed laughter, he packs together a snowball and places it at the feet of the snowmen. “D- Dimple,” he explains.

They both collapse into laughter, Tome-san howling with it.

“What’re you kids laughing at?”

Shishou approaches, walking in the trench of their foot prints that the still-falling snow had been working to cover and thus far only softened the edges of. Ritsu trails a few meters behind.

“Well, I guess those are some funny looking snowmen. Why is that one so much more shitty than the other though?”

“That one’s you, Shishou.”

Tome-san, who had almost regained composure, bursts into laughing again. Dimple pops into visibility to join her, and even Ritsu barks a laugh. Reigen-shishou gapes at him, baffled, or maybe betrayed, but Shigeo just grins, unrepentant.

“What the hell. Who’s the other one, then?”

“Serizawa-san, of course,” Tome-san answers, fighting giggles.

“And Dimple,” Shigeo adds, nudging said snowball with his foot.

“Hey,” Dimple complains, without heat.

“That’s kind of cute, actually,” Reigen-shishou decides.

“Nobody asked you,” Dimple mutters.

“But if you kids are getting up to this kind of stuff, you’re definitely in the mood for a snowball fight, yeah?”

Tome-san raises her eyebrows, then looks to Shigeo. He tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know Shishou, Tome-san and I are kind of tired.”

“Nonsense.” Reigen-shishou scoops some snow from the ground and starts packing it. “You kids need to lighten up. How often have you seen such great snowball weather?” He pulls back his arm, clearly aiming at Shigeo. “It’d be a shame to waste-”

A snowball hits Reigen-shishou in the head, disintegrating into a white halo. He stumbles forward with a shriek, almost face-planting in as-of-yet untouched snow.

“What’s wrong, Reigen-san,” Ritsu calls, gathering another handful of snow. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Reigen-shishou whips around and throws the snowball he’d intended for Shigeo at Ritsu. Ritsu doesn’t need to dodge the poorly aimed throw and doesn’t bother to. The next two snowballs hit Reigen-shishou in the chest, despite his attempts to dodge.

“Mob, Tome-chan, help me out here.”

Three snowballs hit Reigen-shishou at once.

Tome-san laughs. Her laugh cuts off into a shriek when a snowball hits her chest, right where her coat is still open.

“Mob, what the hell!”

She lunges toward him, scooping up snow to let loose over his head. He scrambles away, flinging loose snow behind him. He'd opened his own coat a bit, in the last efforts of making the snowmen, and she wastes no time in tackling him and shoving snow down his shirt.

They keep that up for awhile, shoving snow into each others faces and hair and clothes. Making to get up and run away, only to slip on the snowy ground or be tugged back down with the lightest pull. It’s Tome-san who finally calls a halt, breathing too heavily to laugh, but still smiling.

“That- that’s enough. It’s way too cold to keep doing this. Let’s go in.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t make any move to get up from where she’s sprawled in the snow. Shigeo doesn’t either, only rolling a bit to the side to get out of her personal space.

“Are you alright, Nii-san?” Ritsu calls.

“Mm.” Shigeo looks around. “Did Shishou go inside already?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu smirks. Then he steps closer holding out his hand. “We should, too. Your clothes are wet, and you’ll get sick if you stay in them too long.”

Shigeo takes Ritsu’s hand, accepting his help up. Tome-san stands by herself, brushing snow off her clothes. Dimple hovers around their heads, commenting on the fight. Together, they head inside to the warmth of the building, Serizawa-san’s questions, and Reigen-shishou’s complaining. Shigeo can’t stop smiling.