#even j the story content too right ..

[lemongogo]

one of my favorite scenes 🧎

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 14

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

“I want to go home,” Zahra said softly, Azalea slumbering safely between them. His mate, his wife… she was subtly golden glowing that morning, looking like the sun incarnate.

It was more obvious now…or maybe he just saw it more than he had before. Or maybe it was because Zahra was happy. Content. 

“Are you sure, sunshine?” He asked her softly, his thumb tracing her cheek. “There is no need to rush.” 

There wasn’t. 

He was willing to take all the time in the world right here in Rosehall with the two of them. And maybe a part of him…a part of him was hoping for some more time before the insanity of their family was going to descend on them. 

Azriel didn’t believe for one moment that that was over already. 

“I want her to come home to the cottage,” Zahra said softly. “Though we’ll need to figure out some way to…extend it maybe?“ 

They had talked about it before in passing, comments about adding an office… but now they would be adding a nursery. And maybe other rooms as well when they were already at it.

Azriel could feel the warmth of his mate’s body against his, their daughter sleeping peacefully between them. He was acutely aware of her golden glow, of her scent, of the press of her hand against his chest. The knowledge that this female, this beautiful, strong, incredible person, was bound to him for eternity was a heady joy. A light in the darkness.

He pressed a soft kiss to Zahra’s forehead, his wings curling around them again.

"Of course, Sunshine," he murmured against her skin. "We’ll return home."

Whatever she wanted. 

Her request was so simple, and yet he understood the importance of it entirely. The cottage was home, yes, but more importantly it was part of their story. Their story together. Their lives with their daughter. 

“Your sisters won’t be patient forever,” he  warned Zahra nontheless.

It wouldn’t be pretty. He knew that. She knew that too. 

Zahra looked at him, fierce green eyes meeting his.

“I don’t care,” she murmured, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I am not going to hide. I am not going to wait because they don’t like me or the choices I made. I don’t care, Azriel,” she told him flatly. 

Her fingers brushed against his cheek, her touch gentle yet firm. “Azalea is my priority. You are my priority. I’ll deal with my sisters if I must,” she told him, her voice soft yet filled wth conviction. 

Azriel had thought it was impossible to love her more than he already did, but with every look, every word, she proved him wrong.

He couldn't imagine a life without her, without their daughter. He couldn't imagine living without Zahra by his side.

He had found his mate, his love, his everything.

"We belong together," he whispered, his voice full of love and promise.

"Always."

His lips found hers, his hands gently cupping her face as he kissed her.

Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the love radiating from her.

He wanted to stay in this moment forever. With the beautiful woman he loved more than anything, their daughter nestled between them.

The rest of the world could wait.

All that mattered was this. This moment.

His fingers trailed over her face, tracing the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw.

She was his. And he was hers.

Nothing could ever take that away. Nothing could ever come between them.

Azriel would fight for her, and for their daughter, until the end of time.

She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. 

"Besides, I can't ignore them forever," Zahra said quietly.

Azriel chuckled softly against her lips, his hand moving to cup her face gently.

"You could try," he replied softly, a teasing edge to his voice.

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his gaze locked on hers.

"You should be able to. They owe you at least all the time you want," he told her softly.

Zahra sighed.

"They don't owe me anything," she disagreed quietly.

Azriel frowned at that, his brows furrowing slightly.

He had hoped that she wouldn't say something like that.

He knew that she felt like she didn't deserve anything, that she wasn't owed anything. But it was so untrue.

She deserved everything.

"Zahra…" he began softly, but she cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Stop," she said firmly, her hands gripping his shirt tightly.

She was too gentle. Too kind.

But he knew he couldn't force her to see it the way he did.

He would do anything to protect her, their daughter. Even if it meant accepting her forgiveness of the people who had done her so wrong.

It didn't mean he had to like it though. 

He pressed another kiss to Zahra's lips, his hand moving to trace down her spine.

He wanted to protect her, to keep her close and shield her from all that was wrong in the world.

But he also knew that Zahra was strong, that she had the strength to make her own decisions.

Even if he didn't necessarily agree with them. 

"You're too damn forgiving," he murmured softly against her lips, his voice husky with emotion.

His hands curled around her body, pulling her close, his lips never leaving hers.

He held her tightly, his body enveloped her in a tight embrace.

“I am not,” Zahra disagreed. “But quite frankly, I would rather not spent my energy on them when I could spent it on Azalea.”

Azriel nodded in agreement, his body still wrapped around her.

He understood her reasoning. It was better to focus on what truly mattered. Their daughter.

"You're right," he murmured against her hair, his wings twitching in agreement. "She is our priority," he said, his voice firm. "Nothing else matters."

Not even his own anger at his family. All that mattered was his wife and daughter. 

He leaned back slightly to look at her, his hands running over her back in soft circles.

"I love you," he said softly.

It was a plain truth. Something he felt was worth repeating as often as possible. He knew she was aware of his love for her, but it would never hurt to remind her. 

Azalea let out a little noise then, her small hand fisting in Azriel's shirt.

Both of their gazes went to their daughter, their eyes filled with affection. She looked small and so innocent, wrapped up in their embrace.

"There you are, sweetheart," Azriel murmured, a soft smile on his lips.

He let his hand brush over their daughter's head, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest.

"Just like her mother."

Zahra chuckled softly at the compliment, her eyes twinkling.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Shadowsinger," she teased, her voice low. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Azriel's cheek. "You're lucky you're so good at it."

She winked at him slyly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

There wasn’t much to pack up. The things Zahra had brought, the chest that houses the few pieces of clothing Esmeray had made for Azalea… Which prompted the shadows curling themselves around his wings, May we go shopping, Master?

Azriel paused at the question, his brows rising in surprise. He should have expected it. 

They were an extension of him. The desire to shop for their daughter was simply reflection of his own desire to spoil the little girl. Of course, the shadows would want to buy things for their daughter, he thought. It was quite natural for them to want to provide anything and everything to his child.

"They want to go shopping?" Zahra asked him with some amusement and he realised that they must have spoken loud enough for her to hear. He just shrugged. "Let them," she said easily. "And if you want to buy some furniture, be my guest."

He leaned down to press a kiss to Zahra's cheek, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face to him. "Thank you for understanding," he murmured softly.

"Maybe they'll find a crib for her," Zahra said drily. "I feel like a horrible mother already."

Azriel frowned at that, his brows knotting together. He didn't like her saying that.

She should never feel that way. Ever.

"You're not a horrible mother, sunshine," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You're a wonderful mother. Our daughter is happy and healthy. That's what matters."

He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek. "You're doing everything you can for her. And that's all anyone could ever ask for."

Zahra gave him a hesitant smile. "I never want her to feel as alone as I did," she said softly.

Azriel's expression softened at Zahra's words, his heart aching at the thought of her feeling so alone. He'd do everything in his power to make sure she never felt that way again.

"Of course not," he said, his voice soft and full of love. "Our daughter is never going to feel alone. She's going to be surrounded by so much love. From us, from our family. She's going to grow up knowing that she is loved. That we would fight to the ends of the world for her.” He pulled her closer in his arms, his wings wrapping around them. "I promise you," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "Our daughter will never feel the way you did. She will be safe and loved. We'll make sure of it. "

The sound of Azalea's soft whimper interrupted any further conversation between them.

"I think she wants something too," Azriel observed with a chuckle, looking at their daughter.

The little girl looked up at them with clear demand in her eyes, her tiny hands reaching out to them.

"Seems like she wants us to pay attention to her," Zahra said with a smile, her expression filled with adoration as she looked down at their daughter.

"Always so demanding, it seems," he quipped with a warm smile.

He reached down to pick up Azalea, holding her gently in his arms.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly.

They promised his mother that they would come to visit soon, and then it was simply a question of him wrapping his wife and daughter into his shadows and winnowing them home to their little cottage.

The world around them shifted and blurred, a surge of darkness and weightlessness as the shadows swirled around them.

And then they were there, standing in the middle of the living room in their cottage.

The shadows had been busy already, Azriel reflected drily. They must have started before even asking for permission. 

Zahra gave a shocked laugh, as she saw the bookcases lining one wall of the living room.

The cottage, which had once contained little more than the basics, was now filled with furniture and decorations. A new sofa, that somehow managed to compliment the horrible ugly armchair, and new curtains adorned the main room, along with several of Azalea's new toys and baby supplies.

"This is…a lot," Zahra muttered, looking around their home with wide eyes.

Azriel couldn't help a small, proud smile from forming on his lips. "Did you expect anything less?" he drawled, his voice laced with amusement.

He hadn’t. There was a touch of pride in his gaze at the sight of his mate and daughter in their home.

He shifted their daughter in his arms, the baby's weight a comforting presence against him.

"Are you complaining about how our daughter's needs are being met?" Azriel teased, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of Zahra's hair from her face.

Zahra huffed in response to Azriel's teasing, but there was a smile on her face. 

"Of course not," she said with feigned indignation. Zahra wrapped her arms around him and their daughter, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I'm simply astounded by your ability to spoil me and our daughter so thoroughly."

Azriel chuckled, pulling her closer to him, his wings enveloping them both.

"It's not spoiling if it's deserved," he replied, his voice low and husky as his lips brushed against her neck.

A proper bed was in the bedroom now, big enough for them to share, even if Azalea slept with them, which Azriel thought was quite likely.

Zahra stole Azalea who looked around wide eyed and showed her the kitchen her soft voice carrying through the room.

Azriel just watched.

He was filled with a sense of contentment as he watched them together, his chest filing with warmth

The sight of his wife and daughter exploring their new home…he couldn't imagine a life better than this, a family more perfect than what he had.

Rhys? he reached out carefully. We are home.

As Azriel reached out through their link, Rhys’ voice filtered into his mind.

You're home? Everything alright?

The concern in his voice was plain, his tone laced with worry, his surprise palpable.

Everything's fine, Azriel reassured him quickly, his answer swift. The last thing he wanted was for Rhys to be concerned or worried. We're alright. No need to panic. Zahra wanted to bring Azalea home.

Zahra wants to bring her home? Rhys echoed through their mental connection, bewilderment evident in his voice.

Yes, she wanted her home, Azriel affirmed, his voice calm and steady.

He could sense Rhys’ trepidation though, the question in his mind before he even asked it.

A question that they both knew the answer to.

I doubt we'll be able to keep her sisters away for much longer, Rhys warned him quietly.

Azriel's lips pressed into a thin line at Rhys's words, a wave of irritation rising in him.

He knew that. But that didn't meant that Azriel was a fan of it.

If they upset my wife or my daughter, I won't stand for it, he growled.

He knew Rhys could sense his anger through their mental connection, the protectiveness he felt for Zahra and Azalea.

For a moment it was quiet. Then...Your wife? Rhys demanded. Azriel?!

Azriel sighed, realizing that Rhys had picked up on his unintentional slip. He hadn't meant to reveal the truth just yet, but it seemed that he had inadvertently done just that.

Yes, my wife, he admitted softly.

You got married and didn't tell me?! Rhys's voice thundered across their minds in clear surprise and shock.

His reaction was predictable, but Azriel could hear the hint of offence in his voice.

You should shut up, we didn't know about you and feyre either, he shot back.

That's different, was Rhys's only response through the link, his voice almost whining.

Azriel rolled his eyes; Rhys was the High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful being in their world, and yet he was sulking like a child.

We just wanted something small, just for us, Azriel answered with a mental shrug.

I probably shouldn't even be surprised, Rhys said with a sigh.

We didn't want Azalea to be a bastard, Azriel offered with some amusement.

Rhys’ sigh sounded through the link again before his brother replied through the mental connection.

So you are just being responsible. That’s a first, Rhys teased though his mind, Cassian will insist on throwing you a party, he warned. 

Azriel rolled his eyes again; he could already imagine the glee in Cassian's eyes when he found out.

His brother would be relentless.

Let him try, he shot back. He won't get past the shadows.

Rhys laughed aloud at that, the sound echoing through their mental connection.

You underestimate his determination. You know there will be a party, whether you like it or not, Rhys insisted, his tone laced with amusement.

***

Zahra looked around the cottage as she held their daughter in her arms, her eyes taking in the sight of the new furniture and decorations.

There was a new bed, a rocking chair, and toys and supplies for their baby all over the cottage.

“You really went all out,” she said aloud.

But she loved it. She loved all of it.

The cottage had been hers since she won it in that stupid card game...but now...now it was a proper home. Their home. Home for Zahra and her family, for her mate and her daughter. Nothing that she thought she would ever have.

Nothing that she would ever want to lose.

She watched as Azriel settled onto the horrible armchair, his large form taking up the space. He spread his wings out behind him, the sight of them making the space look even smaller. He patted his lap, a clear invitation.

She understood the silent gesture and moved over to him, taking a seat on his lap, their baby on her lap.

Azriel's arms encircled them both, holding them close as he wrapped his wings around them, enveloping them in his warmth.

He dropped a kiss on top of her head, his breathing slow and steady, his heartbeat calm and comforting.

She let her head rest against his chest as his hand moved to stroke Azalea's head. 

"I told Rhys about the wedding," he said softly.

Zahra chuckled at that, leaning her head back to look at him.

“How did he take it?” her eyes were filled with curiosity.

Azriel chuckled as well, his fingers gently stroking along her leg, his touch warm and comforting.

“As well as you could expect,” he replied, his voice filled with amusement. “He was shocked and offended that we didn’t tell him or invite him to the wedding. His ego may never recover.”

Zahra just snorted. "It was perfect," she disagreed. "Just us." Just the way she liked it.

The shadows swarmed around them at that, playing with her hair and Azalea squealed as she reached out for one swirling tendril. It held still for her, letting pudgy baby hands grip at it and wove through her fingers excitedly.

Azriel chuckled at the sight their daughter's interaction with his shadows.

"She likes them, huh?" Azriel observed, his voice filled with humour.

Zahra watched as Azalea's pudgy baby hands gripped at the tendril, her wide eyes watching it intently. She couldn’t help but giggle at the look of intense concentration on Azalea’s face. 

Another tendril unceremoniously dumped a velvet jewellery box on Zahra's lap at that moment. Like a silent We need to do everything around here!

Zahra's eyebrows rose as the box appeared in her lap, her gaze moving from the box to Azriel.

"And what is this?" she asked, the corner of her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh.

"Open it and find out," Azriel said drily.

Zahra chuckled and rolled her eyes, but her fingers lifted the lid off the box anyway.

She couldn't help her curiosity. As she looked inside, her eyebrows lifted again. "Oh," she breathed, her eyes widening as she took in the contents.

Two matching gold wedding bands laid there in the velvet. Simple. Unassuming.

She had never loved any piece of jewellery more, as she lifted the bigger one to slide it over Azriel's ring finger.

Azriel watched silently as she put the ring on his finger, his expression tender and soft.

And as she moved to put her own ring on, his hand stopped her.

"No," he said firmly, his voice low and demanding. She looked at him, surprised by his denial. "Why?" she protested, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Azriel gave her a sly smile as he took the smaller ring from her hands, his fingers gently caressing her skin.

"Because that’s my job,” he said simply.

Zahra's breath caught in her throat at his words, the intensity in his voice making her heart race. She swallowed, her eyes darting between the ring and his face. "Is that so?" she replied, the words coming out huskier than she’d intended.

Azriel's lips curled into a smirk as he heard the change in her voice. His grip on her hand tightened as he brought her fingers up to his lips, his eyes darkened further as he kissed them softly.

He took the ring then in his free hand, holding it between them. "It is," he answered firmly. "I am your husband."

Her lips parted in surprise at his demand, a flutter of anticipation in her chest. Azriel's eyes remained focused on hers, his gaze burning with a possessiveness that should have scared her.

Instead, all it did was make her want him more.

Her mind went blank as he gently picked up her ring finger and, with a single fluid movement, eased the gold wedding band over it.

Zahra’s heart skipped a beat when he slid the ring onto her finger, his touch lingering on her hand for a moment longer than necessary.

He held up her hand and turned it gently, studying the ring on her finger with an expression of satisfaction.

"It looks good on you," he said, his voice low and rough. His gaze flicked up to hers, his eyes almost glittering.

Azalea took that moment to yawn. Zahra couldn’t help but coo slightly. Azalea's little yawn caught Azriel's attention, and his gaze immediately moved to the baby in her lap. His lips curled into a soft smile at the sight of her.

"Someone's sleepy," he said, his voice filled with affection.

He reached out his hand to run it over her soft hair, watching as the baby's eyes fluttered closed.

“Let’s lay her down for a nap and I’ll tell Violet that we are back home,” Zahra said softly. And probably ask her for…well. They needed to figure out the childcare situation after all. No more 10 hours days hunched over her kitchen table..but then she had made quite the dent in the accounts of a few decades already. 

Azriel nodded, his eyes still fixed on their sleeping daughter.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he agreed, his voice soft. "I'll take her."

He stood up, carefully picking up Azalea in his arms. The baby shifted slightly, but then settled back into a deep, peaceful sleep against his chest.

Zahra had not expected for Violet to show up at her front door 3 hours later, out of breath and shoving a gift bag into Zahra’s arms. “The next time you get a baby, I need a forewarning!” Violet declared. Zahra couldn’t help laughing heartily, her eyes glittering in amusement.

Violet’s declaration and the breathlessness in her voice were priceless. She took the gift from her friend’s hands. “You want to meet her?” Zahra teased, her voice filled with affection.

Violet, still huffing and catching her breath, gave her a mock glare. "You really are not funny," she said in an irritated tone.

But despite her irritation, there was a small hint of a smile on her lips. Zahra could see the affection in her eyes.

“Of course I do!” Violet said brightly.

Zahra opened the door wide.

As Violet entered the cottage, her eyes immediately went to Azalea and Azriel, who were sitting on the floor, engrossed in their game.

She watched as Azriel carefully played with their daughter, his big hands surprisingly gentle and tender.

The sight was nothing less than heart melting.

“Oh, she’s adorable,” Violet cooed. Zahra chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

She had never expected her friend to swoon like an enamored girl.

“She is, isn’t she?” Zahra agreed with a smile, her heart swelling with maternal pride.

Violet moved further into the room, her eyes still fixed on Azalea as she stepped closer to them.

Zahra watched as the baby giggled happily, her tiny hand reaching out to grab Azriel's fingers.

Zahra could see the tender look in Azriel's eyes as he played with their daughter, his expression filled with love and adoration. And then Azalea spied Violet and started at her wide eyed, dark eyes fixed on the purple wings sprouting from Violet’s back.

She stared at them intently, her expression filled with fascination and awe.

Azriel chuckled at his daughter's reaction, his hand gently stroking her head.

"Seems like she’s quite interested in your wings," he commented, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

He watched as Azalea reached out a small hand toward Violet, her tiny fingers grasping for the shimmering wings.

Violet couldn't help but smile at the baby's interest.

She bent down slightly, bringing her wings closer to Azalea, giving her a better view.

Zahra chuckled at the scene before her.

"Yeah, she’s like a moth drawn to a flame," she joked.

Azalea’s small hand grabbed onto Violet’s wing, her grasp surprisingly firm for such a small baby.

She tugged at the wing gently, clearly curious about the strange appendage.

Violet winced slightly at the unexpected grip but laughed, not seeming bothered by it.

Azriel shook his head, amused by the scene unfolding before him.

"Careful, she's surprisingly strong for being so small," he warned, a fond smile on his face.

Violet just laughed. “Gods, she’s adorable,” she gushes. “Yes, you are!” She cooed at Azalea.

Azalea beamed at the attention, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Her tiny hand released its grip on Violet's wing and she clapped her hands together, as if applauding the compliment.

Zahra chuckled at her daughter's reaction. "She likes you," she observed.

“Clearly,” Violet agreed, her smile growing wider. “She has impeccable taste.” 

She reached out a finger, gently tickling Azalea's stomach, prompting the baby to giggle and squirm.

Zahra watched the exchange between her baby and her best friend, her heart swelling with happiness.

"I think she has a talent for endearing herself to everyone," Azriel added, his voice filled with pride.

He watched as Violet continued to interact with their daughter, her hand moving from Azalea's stomach to her tiny hands, which clutched at Violet's finger.

"Must get that from her mother," Violet teased, giving Zahra a playful wink.

Zahra snorted in response, rolling her eyes but unable to contain the smile on her face.

"Oh, please. I don’t see you being immune to her either," she shot back.

Violet laughed out loud at that, admitting defeat with a shrug. "Touché. Your baby’s too cute for her own good."

She turned her attention back to Azalea, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

Azalea responded gleefully to the attention, her wide eyes fixed on Violet, her attention unwavering as if she couldn’t get enough of her. She cooed and babbled, her hands continuing to grasp at Violet’s finger.

Azriel chuckled at the interaction, enjoying the way his daughter was so enthralled by his mate's friend.

He exchanged a glance with Zahra, his smile mirroring hers.

Zahra couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. Seeing her daughter enjoying herself and being showered by adoration was a sight she could get used to.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

The Wildcard!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Child! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Being a kid raised under the Joker’s wing isn’t exactly what anyone imagines when they talk about a "good childhood." I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna get bedtime stories when your father figure is a psychopathic clown, right? Although, now that I think about it, he probably did tell you stories before bed—just that his versions ended with explosions and maniacal laughter instead of happy endings. You never really know with him.

But, hey! There was always mom Harley. And while she wasn’t exactly the classic model of a devoted mother, Harley definitely had her moments. Those times when she’d look at you with those big, wide eyes and promise she’d protect you from everything, even from herself. And that says a lot, considering that sometimes even she didn’t know who she needed to protect herself from.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Blood, Trauma, Phobias.

Guide! Pt.2

A/N ── Yes, damn it, yes! My first request! Thank you so much, really, thank you! No need to clap, I’ll get all blushy uwu. I put all my love and care into this. Hope you enjoy it to the fullest!

In reality, you were not her biological child. She knew that very well, and moreover, she knew that Mr. J would never want a child with her. In fact, it had never been part of the plan. "Kids are a hassle" the Joker would say, with that shrill laugh that coursed through his body like an electric shock. And Harley, well, she didn't exactly want a baby either. Until she found you.

Harley found you among the rubble, covered in blood, although it wasn't yours (at least that's what she hoped). You couldn't have been more than five months old, and there was no trace of your mother. At that moment, her intentions weren't exactly maternal, but what could you expect from a criminal at 2 AM? However, something in your little eyes disarmed her. You were small, defenseless, and upon seeing you… well, she simply couldn't resist.

Thus began your life with Harley Quinn. It wasn't the most typical childhood, that's for sure. Mr. J saw it as just one of his whims, and as long as you didn't cry and stayed out of his business, you were welcome. According to him, it was easier to raise a little clown from childhood.

To begin with, your toys were not exactly "age-appropriate." Mr. J had a fixation with explosives, so more than once you found yourself playing with what you hoped was an innocent candy box, only for Harley to shout from across the room: "Honey, no! That's not a toy, it's dynamite! Give me that!"

Ah, motherhood. A tough job, yes, but also something Harley never thought would come to her in such an… unexpected way. In her former life, when she was still Dr. Quinzel, she envisioned a normal existence, perhaps with a good job that would provide stability. But well, one thing led to another, and there she was, raising a baby who wasn't biologically hers, but whom life —and Gotham— had placed in her arms. And although her life with the Joker was total chaos, she always made sure of one thing: that you were safe.

In her twisted way of seeing the world, Harley protected you even from him, from Mr. J himself. She knew how unpredictable the Joker could be, so she did everything possible to make sure you were never in the same room for too long. And even though it sometimes seemed like the Joker didn't even notice your existence, Harley made sure to keep that distance. "I want you to be different" she would tell you while fixing your hair with a smile, "I don't want you to end up fistfighting with Batman like mommy."

Harley loved playing with you, especially at being doctors. There was something almost nostalgic for her in that, as if every time she saw you healing your dolls, a small part of the old Dr. Quinzel awakened within her. She loved seeing you with your toy stethoscope, focused as if you were in the middle of a serious operation.

"Mom! Miss JeanieBeanie had a broken heart, and I healed her with words! Just like you told me." Harley smiled, that big, bright smile that only she could make, and although she always tried to maintain the toughness of her persona, she couldn't help but let a tear escape. "Ah, sweetie, you're a genius."

And then, of course, there was the topic of school. You couldn't attend school known as the Joker's kid, that was for sure. So with a little colorful dye, a lot of makeup in the morning, and some nice clothes, Harley would take you to school incognito, as if you were a completely normal child. At least, she tried to make you seem that way. The first days were a disaster, though.

It wasn't that Harley didn't trust the school's safety, but, of course, being the Joker's Queen left her paranoid. So there she was, lurking around the windows of your classes, hiding behind bushes, trying to ensure that no madman would come in with a Kalashnikov to disrupt your school life. Sure, she was kicked out most of the time, but she always returned. Harley always returned.

Sometimes, when she couldn't see you during recess, she'd send you hidden messages in your lunchbox, with little doodles and silly jokes that made you laugh out loud. She worried a lot about you not making friends. "Remember, sweetie, if any kid bothers you, just smile like me and show them who's boss. But don't hit them, okay? Save that for later."

When the Joker finally broke up with her, it was a disaster, like a train derailing in slow motion. But just like with everything else, Harley made sure that the blow didn't fall on you. She never let Mr. J's chaos reach you because you were her priority, her sweetie. So, holding her hand, you left with her without looking back, with her suitcase in one hand and a bat in the other.

Since then, life became a bit more complicated, but also freer. Harley and you had to make do by stealing to survive, moving from place to place until ending up in a small apartment in Gotham's Chinatown. It wasn't the best area, but hey, it had charm. There, the nights were long, the walls thin, and the sounds of street fights mixed with your laughter while you tried to do homework and Harley gave you "life advice" that included how to escape from the police in style.

"Do you know what's faster than a bullet?" she'd say while looking at your face painted in bright colors before running off with a stolen shopping cart. "You, with the right attitude!"

Harley let herself go with alcohol during some tough times, but she always kept you away from that dark side. Sure, she bought a hyena and named it Bruce, which was simply hilarious. Bruce, like that perfect man on the magazine covers that you both secretly adored. "Bruce, come here, let's go for a walk!" you'd hear her shout down the street, and the neighbors wouldn't even blink. It was Gotham, after all.

By then, you were almost done with school. Amid the chaos of your life, you made a friend... Damian something (Wayan or something like that, you were bad with names). He wasn't the friendliest person in the world; in fact, "brat" would be a kind description, but for some reason, he intrigued you. "Mom says that if a boy or girl seems cute to you, you should go for it!" you told him once, repeating Harley's wise advice. Of course, Damian just looked at you like you were the weirdest thing he'd ever seen (and mind you, he had seen weird things; he's 'friends' with the nerd Jon). And although he maintained his air of arrogance, you found him adorable in a way that even he didn't understand.

Some nights, Harley and you would just lie on the rooftop of some building, looking at the lights of Gotham. With bags of marshmallows stolen from a grocery store, you'd roast them with a lighter while she told you stories. But not normal stories, rather ones involving car chases and explosions. No princesses and castles, more like villains and spectacular escapes. Sometimes, Selina Kyle would join in. "It's easier than you think" she'd say, winking at you while showing you how to sneak into a museum without setting off the alarms. It was never a typical childhood, but it sure was entertaining.

When Harley joined (temporarily) the Birds of Prey, things started to improve a little. You had more people around you, like a dysfunctional family you didn't know you needed. The girls tried to be a good influence, although with Harley, that was always relative. But at least there were fewer explosions and more quiet nights; just that "quiet" in Harley's terms meant motorcycle races, sporadic thefts, and bar fights. Pure fun!

And occasionally, Ivy, her "friend," would come to visit them. You thought she was amazing, so elegant, so calm... You knew there was something more there. "Kiss already!" you shouted at them once, laughing, watching how Harley blushed slightly while Ivy rolled her eyes with a smile.

But despite everything, Harley never stopped being an incredible mom, in her own way. On the toughest nights, when you'd curl up in her lap after a long day, she'd stroke your hair and whisper, "You know, sweetie, I never thought I'd be a mom, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me." And although it wasn't a typical motherhood, there was something comforting in knowing that amidst all that chaos, you could always count on her.

So, amid thefts, stolen marshmallows, and moments filled with love, Harley gave you a childhood that wasn’t normal, but was filled with adventures, laughter, and unconditional love. And what more could you ask for when you have Harley Quinn as your mom?

A/N ─── My first request uwu~ I’m so excited! I really hope I did it well, and that you all like this little headcanon. I put all my love into it, so if you have more ideas or want to request something, don’t hesitate! I’m here for whatever you need.

Take a bath!

[lovegasmic]

Making satoru squirt and him making fem reader squirt. I'm dying for some switch content

⭒ mdni. mutual overstimulation, whiney Satoru my beloved. ( i had to pause writing at least 5 times to scream in my pillow ) please read the first two tags lmao

“b-baby, p-plea-se, I can’t, not anymore, a-ah!” Satoru sobs quite loudly to be honest, his eyes are glossy and filled with tears, the rim of them slightly reddened and matching the color of his bitten lips from endless hours of overstimulation. you’ve probably sucked the strength out of him through his dick, since his hands weakly push against your forehead in a failed attempt to keep you away from his throbbing length, “j-just pull it out, ah-a!”

“how many so far?” you giggle, pulling his cock out between your lips with a loud pop and getting in return a grateful sigh out of your boyfriend, one that doesn’t last long as your palm comes to rub circular motions on his tip, smearing the remaining cum all over the swollen flesh.

“d-dunno... ngh! haa, it’s too much!” he chokes on his own sobs, arching against the couch backrest so his heaving chest glistens with sweat under the living room lightbulb, his thighs squeeze your sides tightly, kicking and fighting the intense mixture of pain and pleasure running through his flustered pale body from the tip of his cock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend so worked up and overstimulated, all whiney —more than usual if you had to admit— but he looked absolutely cute begging for mercy.

“just one more, c’mon, and i’ll let you go” you smirk pressing your lips to the underside of his messy cock, feeling the veins throb under your tongue and palm warm up from where it continues to rub on his tip.

“n-no! stop please, feels weird!” Satoru begs, his body curving so he hovers over your body, so close to your face you’re able to watch his eyes open wide in shock, panting loudly and holding onto your hair for support barely seconds away from half screaming and shooting a translucent and diluted cum-like liquid in hard jets that landed on your face and the floor.

“wha—” you mutter back, staring in surprise at how your boyfriend’s body flops back against the couch, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon, “Satoru... did you just squirt? ” it comes out as a giggle, still dumbfounded from what just happened.

he doesn’t reply, and you’re a bit worried that he might have fainted, deciding to sit on his lap and observe his unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“Toru?” you softly slap his cheek, biting back a grin “are you dead?”

your boyfriend is a box of surprises, that’s for sure, but something that never failed to amaze you, even though you’re well aware of, is his incredible strength and stamina, yes, he might look all brain fried right now, but you should have expected for him to flip you over in the blink of an eye, pushing you underneath his body and spread on the couch with one leg over the backrest and the other bent so far it almost touched your ear.

“i told you to stop” Satoru growls, hands hooking under your thighs, positively bending you in half with his fattening cock dangerously close to your dripping cunt.

you laugh breathlessly, pushing the damp hair out of his eyes and slicking it back to watch how his bright blue eyes are now slightly darkened and almost disappearing around his blown out pupils, “please..., that was so fucking hot”

“we’ll see if you say the same after I make you squirt and beg” his voice is erratic, deeper and a bit dangerous, barely giving you time to process his words before he’s plunging deep into your pussy with a broken moan, he might act all dominant now, but the way his thighs shook and cock twitch told another story.

“don’t exaggerate! it wasn’t t-that ba-ah!” you get to mutter, cut by Satoru’s hard and precise thrusts inside your sopping wet cunt, moving in frenzy while choked out sobs came out of his mouth, drunk in the feeling of your tight hole squeezing him.

“so good, oh my fucking god!” your boyfriend moans, caging your body underneath his by pressing almost his whole weight on top of you, allowing only his hips to fuck into you with a loud wet sound from where his balls slam against your slick coated ass, barely rising before he’s back deep inside your walls, continuously slamming directly against your g-spot.

“S-satoru, i’m sorry alright, b-but please! slow down!” you cry out, begs falling on deaf ears as the man thrusts never falter, continuously driving you insane, and himself into the border of crying from fucking his overstimulated sensitive cock inside your pretty pussy.

“ah, ah! i’m gonna cum again” he sobs, ignoring your screams and nails digging on his back, and instead wrapping his arms around your thighs, bending you in half as he mounted you with whines and whimpers coming out of his lips, “uh, feels amazing, i’m going insane” is the last thing Satoru says before digging his teeth in your neck and cumming drily inside your pussy, the position causing his cock to bump and twitch directly against your g-spot and forcing your own orgasm out.

a loud beep rang in your ears at the same time your eyes clouded, unaware of the force of your own squirt gushing out and dropping from Satoru’s toned chest and flushed cock, you couldn’t hear a sound, but were certain you screamed quite loudly, only a couple of minutes after, once he knew you were a bit more lucid Satoru dared exhale a soft “payback” directly against your ear.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: getting off these drafts. btw i heard kelvin's next 😮‍💨

DILEMMA. | Aaron Pierre.

Rich! Terry Richmond x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( fingering (fem receiving), penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) angst, guilt (you're a cheater, bitch) slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread. Terry referred to as Terrell.

Summary: in which an engaged woman and a rich man fall into a heavy affair, she's hesitant.

i be so in love with your girlfriend,

and she loves it too, and i love it too

when we rendezvous, we get comfortable.

"yeah, I miss you too," you cooed softly into the phone, your stomach churning at how honest your voice sounded despite your despicable actions.

You probably would've meant it if it were any other day, if you were any other place. Maybe if you were actually in London, like you told your fiancé you'd be before you landed in Toronto, you'd mean it. But every time you came back to this country—the city rather, you never meant it.

Your truths given to another man all at once, that you had no choice but to lie to the man you'd planned to spend the rest of your life with. You looked at the blinging engagement ring on your left hand and grimaced. You halfway listened to the man muttering on the other end of the phone and half of your attention, scoured through your head as you paced the small area of the hotel balcony you were standing on.

"Alright, babe," he hummed on the other line, "just wanted to make sure you landed alright, I love you."

You shuddered at how genuine he sounded. You loved him back too—but even you battled with that sentiment, you had another man making his way up to the hotel room in a country you weren't even supposed to be in.

Maybe if you'd forgiven him for all those mistakes he made over the course of your relationship—maybe if you went to counseling like your parents and friends advised you to you wouldn't be sneaking off on the love of your life.

"I love you too, baby," you feigned a smile, hoping that he could hear how genuine you tried to be, "can I call you back later? Everyone's checking in right now."

He subtly agreed with you on the other end, telling you to call him back later when you settled in before ending the call. Thank god for your job. Had you not been a flight attendant, this shit probably would've been a little harder to pull off.

That was the issue though, is that all this shit was getting harder to pull off. You loved your fiance, sure, but you were in love with Terrell. And that was never supposed to happen.

None of this was supposed to happen.

Six months ago you were supposed to go on a quick girls trip with your homegirls. Nowhere too far, but nowhere too close. So it was decided upon on Toronto. You'd been to Toronto countless times before on layovers and international flights, which is how you knew about how lively the city was. You and a few of your favorite coworkers leaving the hotel on the few nights you spent there, hitting up the clubs and after hour bars.

But you weren't supposed to meet Terry.

There you and your homegirls went, all strutting through Revival as if it wasn't the biggest club in Toronto. You'd been here once before, briefly with a few coworkers, but you still gawked how lovely it was. Looked straight out of a Vegas strip catalogue, and who owned that very busy, popular club? Terrell indeed.

Having drinks being sent to you and your homegirls section. And not just little shots—you had a bottle of Louis XIII sent to your table by a gorgeous bottle girl, you and your homegirls gaped at her. Who the fuck and how the fuck were yall about to pay for a $4,000 bottle of cognac? But she set your fears aside, claiming that it on the house, and was from the boss.

You and your homegirls bristled in happiness after that. Where the fuck was the boss on your first visit here? But nevertheless, you chalked it up to the people of Toronto being courteous to tourists. Up until you met Terrell on the dance floor. Oh, and you didn't fuck around when it came to that, you were two years fresh out of college, your party days were not behind you.

You thought he was simple club goer too, just finding you on the dance floor and making conversation, shouting in each other's ears over the music. He was handsome of course, eyes piercing, tall, full lips, dressed in nothing but designer. It wasn't until he asked you if you and homegirls liked the bottle of LOUIS XIII he sent to your section, that your slightly intoxicated mind put the dots together. You thanked him profusely, and told him how much all of you were enjoying his club.

And although he seemed happy to hear that, he seemed happier to know what exactly only you had planned after this. You'd been out the game so long you'd forgot what flirting looked like, but even you knew this was flirting. You told him about your Fiancé, and that seemed to slightly deter him (not really) but somehow you and your homegirls still managed to take turns hanging out the sunroof of his Mercedes Benz as he ripped through the streets of Toronto after the club closed.

And that was six months ago.

And within those six months you'd visited Toronto more times than you could remember, without coworkers, and without your homegirls, and simply with Terry.

At first it was fun. Harmless fun, you thought. Here you were, a man with far too much money fawning over you. You were far too loyal (at the time) to give him your number, and instead had given him your moderately sized instagram. There he damn near never missed a story, constant heart eyes, constant attention. Attention and flirting your man hadn't given to you since he courted you. That weakened you.

Before you knew it you were on constant first class flights from your city to Toronto, constant sex and low key outings were you and Terry's favorite pastimes when you did come for your brief visits.

But over the next few months you'd became invested. The little gifts had become more meaningful. Once just flowers, and cards and small designer items had become more than just materialistic and more like keepsakes. You cherished them. And although nothing had been concrete in your little affair, you assumed it was all through good fun. Here this man was, older, rich, single and fine—he could pick any single woman in Toronto, but he chose you. Engaged, committed. So maybe he knew he didn't have to commit?

You remembered the way he didn't even flinch when you told him you were engaged to be married, he simply just kept his lingering gaze on you and apologized. The conversation seemingly still seemed to flow, and he still asked you to ride with him afterward. You, not willing to leave your homegirls, and disrespect your engagement (at the time, slut) agreed, under the condition that your homegirls rode too.

Yet, here you were now. Riding him alone. And as bad as you wanted to cut it off, a part of you, bigger than you'd wanted to admit, didn't want to. You liked how free you felt with him, how natural and different things felt. How cherished you felt.

You hadn't even realized that he'd came in, finally, it was his hotel suite after all, paid and reserved for by him. But he was courteous enough to tell the Ritz Carlton front desk employees that his girlfriend would be arriving before him, securing you a keycard of your own.

"How long you got?"

You jumped at the sound of his voice shaking you from your own wandering mind, eyes flickering over to Terry leaning on the frame of the open sliding door. You understood his absence of pleasantries and greetings, y'all were way past that.



He looked so handsome though, per usual. He was always dressed to T's. Even now, black durag adorning his head, a black long sleeved Under Armor compression shirt enhanced his already perfect physique, a pair of matching compression pants under the mismatch Nike basketball shorts he wore. Or maybe he just made everything he wore look good.

"Two days," you said slowly hands gripping the railing of the balcony, averting your attention back out onto the view of downtown Toronto in front of you.

A small bout of silence stretched between the two of you, the air charged with a little bit of everything. Sexual tension, apprehension, passion—like always. But, your hesitance and distance added onto that, and Terry could feel that.

You sighed in contentment against him when he wrapped his broad arms around your waist, pressing your shorter frame into his from behind. His lips finding that sweet spot just behind your ear. "You good?" He mumbled against your skin, persisting kisses there.

You rested your head against his lowered shoulder, his face tucked into the crook of your neck as you hesitantly answered him, giving him a small "yes". To which he knew wasn't true.

And in his mind when you were with him, thinking was void. That's why he handled everything, from the travel, to the hotels, to the outings. He made sure he was your escape. He knew the wifely duties you had back in the states, cooking, cleaning, working—that's the shit your main man put you through. He didn't.

He could tell the night met you, you needed a well deserved break. You seemed tense from the moment he approached you, he literally watched it all melt away during the duration of your conversation, you were already pretty, too pretty. But you looked even prettier when you were relaxed. So, that's what he strived to see.

"What you thinkin' about, mama?" He hummed against your already hot flesh. "You know I don't condone that shit."

You laughed at how serious he sounded, prompting him to chuckle right behind you. You raised your shoulder from his head, craning your head up at his now lifted frame behind yours with furrowed brows, "you don't condone that? Me thinking?"

"You know that," he casually responded, "why you think I handle everything? You do that shit back home with that nigga. Here, I don't need all that." He mumbled before using his opposing hand to tap lightly against your temple, softly kissing your lips.

And that was the problem. Him handling everything. Not wanting you to think and enjoy your time together. That's what made you feel free, that's what had you feeling all types of feelings about him. But you couldn't voice that, just staring back up at him with that dazed stare you gave him every time he kissed you.

You didn't speak until he led you back into the spacious suite, back to the bedroom where the huge king bed was that you belly flopped on when you first arrived. You didn't speak until he started removing the Swarvorski pumps he'd bought you on your last visit, grasping your left ankle and lifting it up to his lips, pressing summer kisses up your calves. You teeth sinker into your bottom lip, watching him as he watched you. Everything else melted away for a moment. Just a moment though.

"Terrell," you huffed as your thoughts overcrowded your mind again, jerking your leg away from his lips, though it still remained secure in his grasp, "this is wrong." If only your fiancé hadn't called and ruined the very sexy mood you were in, you could do this. You would've done this.

Terry recoiled at the reference of his real name with you, and the fact that you were back with this again. He hadn't heard those three words up until the third month, and here you hear three months later singing the same tune again. He sat your leg down gently, getting up from his kneeled position on the floor. "Nah, don't start that," he firmly replied joining you on the bed in one swift motion. Pressing his lips against your non-responsive ones, trailing his kisses over to your cheek, jawline and then finally your neck before you pushed away from him.

"I'm serious," you muttered quietly, folding your arms over your chest, "I can't keep doing this to my fiancé, I'm about to get married in a few months. This shit is wrong, and you know that." You gave him a side glance, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip.

Terry sighed, his eyes on you in a near blank stare. This shit was tuning him out. Where was all this shit coming from again? "You came all the way out here to tell me that? What you sayin'?" He asked you, brows slightly furrowed as he looked over your solemn side profile.

You were silent for a moment, mind racing. You dropped your arms from their folded position, fiddling with your fingers and wringing them out in nervous jitters. "We can't do this...any more." You said slowly. You weren't strong enough to do this three months ago, but maybe now? Terry's brows now no longer furrowed, he looked at you with now a completely blank stare, almost like your words weren't toward him. He nodded slowly as you continued though. "But that doesn't mean that I don't wanna see you anymore—we can still be friends, I can still come see you sometimes." You foolishly said.

"Yeah?" Terry asked eyes trailing over your seated figure, hungrily. His hand didn't hesitate to retreat to your thigh, rubbing the thin material of your dress up your thighs. "We can be friends?"

Your eyes dropped from his gaze, to his wandering hands. Skin feeling hot all over again, you resisted the urge to close your eyes, not trusting yourself to speak you nodded slowly. Silly girl, really.

"Yeah?" He asked you once again, brow raising in mock surprise. "You sound so sure, mama. How can we be friends and I can't even keep my hands off of you?" His hands trailing up, up, till they got to the waistband of your pretty images, his long digits slipping inside.

You huffed as soon as his middle finger started circling your hard clit, eyes fluttering closed as you fought to give him a response in return, "you'll learn," you huffed through his subtle, teasing on your clit.

He laughed in response to your statement, "you know that shit ain't true. Don't even know why you fightin' this shit to be honest," he coyly responded, finger sliding up and down slowly from the hood of your clit down to your entrance before slowly slipping his finger inside of you, feeling how snug you felt around him. He mocked your moan of pleasure, watching as your head fell against his shoulder, a small whimper slipping past your lips.

"It's wrong, can't do this, you 'bout to get married," he repeated your phrases back to him, tone patronizing, "but this pussy so wet for me," he mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead, resting his lips there before slipping another finger in, eyes darting between your expression and his hand in your panties.

Fingers curling and pushing so deliciously deep, your brows furrowed as you gasped sharply, a soft pretty moan following right after. Terry persisted his soft kisses against your forehead as he continued his assault with his fingers, pace picking up ever so slightly, sounds of your sticky arousal coating his fingers filled the spacious bedroom. You nodded your head at the immense pleasure you felt, soft gasps slipping past your lips with every thrust, "yes, yes, yesss," you chanted to nothing in particular, eyes squeezed shut as your hands instinctively wrapping around his working wrist.

His free hand lazily knocking them away, almost as if you were disturbing him. You whined, feeling his fingers increase in speed, the sound of nothing but your arousal filling your ears as your moans and chanting became silenced behind your quickly approaching orgasm.

Terry took note of your shallow breathing, frozen figure and agape mouth, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, "there we go," he mumbled against your skin, "cum. Cum for me," he rushed out, fingers slipping out of you to rub in rapid, vigorous circles against your clit. Juices spurting out of you seemingly on command. "Gimme all that shit, stop playin' wimme." He hummed grabbing your slackened jaw, fingers still effortlessly working against you, juices still squirting out of you wildly. Capturing the moans you were finally able to let out right into his mouth.

He didn't stop kissing you, or his lewd actions with his finger until he was sure you had finally rode out your orgasm, trembling and all. He slipped his hand out of your panties, fingers dripping in your essence as you both watched. "Look at that," he mumbled, "came so fuckin' hard." He said before rubbing his fingers against your parted, swollen lips, before slipping them inside your wet mouth. Fingers fucking your wet mouth and throat as he watched, teeth sunken into his bottom lip looking at you with hungry eyes at you tasting yourself.

He slipped his fingers out of your mouth all at once, immediately slapping them against the seat of your nose soaked panties. "Can't make you do that if we just friends."

You hadn't got a chance tip properly take off any of your clothes. He didn't give you a chance. Your dress pushed up above your exposed titties, bra hanging lazily off of one arm, panties pushed to the side. He was so hungry to ravage you, almost like if he'd given you a chance to undress you could change your mind. You were a lost cause as soon as he got you to that bed tbh.

"Stop playin' wimme," he looked up at you, face stern, a stern look in his eyes, hand slapping against your left ass cheek with a hard force, leaving a lasting sting behind you would've cried at hadn't you been so turned on, a needy moan leaving your lips as you slumped against him, "ride that dick right."

You whimpered as he pushed you back, your hands grasping both of his shoulders as you stabilized yourself on the tips of your toes before lifting and slowly lowering yourself onto him, you didn't dare take all of him, what you were taking was just enough, hitting that spot that you liked so much. You kept this up for as long as you could, avoiding his impatient glare.

"Yeah, you playin' with that dick," he mumbled irritancy clear in his tone, both hands gripping either sides of your fleshy hips forcing you down onto him, the stretch coming with that perfect sting, the force of him filling you hurt so good, a guttural moan erupted from you, eyes glazing over as you stared down at him with parted lips, "you know who you with, ride that shit how I like."

The casualty in his tone was abstract to the dirty things he was saying to you, that alone had you leaking all over him. Your whimpers and moans fell into synchronization with the creaking bed, squelching of your pussy and your skin slapping together as you took all of him. Terry's grunts and groans matching yours, his eyes averting back and forth between your pleasurably contorted expressions to where you met at the base of his dick. You felt your self started to slink against his upright figure, arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his neck muffling your audible moans as you continued your rushed pace.

But he had to see you. Had to watch all the pretty faces you made when he made you take him deep like this. Both his hands grasped your torso, lightly pushing you away from him, halting your movements causing him to furrow his brows. "I ain't say stop, keep ridin' that dick," he affirmed, sending another sharp slap to your ass. You whined at the sting, starting to bounce again, ignoring the aching in your calves. Him filling you up once again making your mind a fuzzy mess.

"Just like that," he groaned, looking up at you leaning forward to catch one of your pierced mounds into his mouth, lips latching on softly, the sight making you huff through a moan your own eyes fluttering closed as you continued riding him. He pulled back with a loud pop, eyes watching you intently. "Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my dick like this. But you done with me, yeah?" He asked voice low and uneven as you sunk yourself down to his sticky base where you met, a shallow breath slipping past your parted lips. "You done with me?" He asked a bit louder, his eyes boring into your soft ones.

You could barely answer, mind fuzzy as you fucked your self into an empty oblivion. Eyes closing and then promptly opening, only to roll back. His hand grabbed your jaw roughly, making your brown eyes flutter open, a series of heavy breaths slipping past your lips as you tried to focus on his gaze. "Say the wrong thing and watch I don't let you cum on this dick, you heard me."

"I'm not done," you managed to slur out, voice small and breathy as your hands wrapping around his wrist, for leverage at your now burning knees.

Your quiet response obviously not satisfactory to Terry. "You wanna cum on this dick?" He asked you, still holding onto your slackened jaw.

"Yesss!"

"So let me hear you say that shit. You done with me?" He repeated more firmly.

"Im not done, daddy!" You cried out shaking your head in his grasp vigorously, the tears burning behind your now shut eyes threatening to spill over as you continued trying to fight off your quickly approaching orgasm.

"I know," he cooed, pressing open mouthed kisses all over chest, "I know, baby. You love fuckin' this dick don't you?" He muttered against your skin. Hand dropping from your jaw to join his other in wandering all over your body. You felt so hot, everywhere. Everything felt so good and like too much all at once.

"Yessss!"

"Yeah you do," he hummed through a moan of his own, "keep fuckin' me just like that. Such a nasty lil bitch, keep goin," he groaned.

You opened your tear filled eyes, soft and unfocused as you gazed down at him almost pathetically, "wanna cum daddy. wanna cum so bad," you whimpered.

"m' almost there, baby," he rushed out, eyes focused on the mess you were currently making on him, breathing ragged, "keep goin."

You could tell exactly how close he was when he started thrusting into you, luckily for you anyways, your knees were burning, calves aching, you didn't know how much longer you could've kept up.

"Oh my god," you repeated over and over through a series of heavy breaths and moans, your eyes low, vision blurred as tears ran down your soaked cheeks, "I'm gonna cum! Daddy im gonna—"

"Cum," he breathlessly mumbled, lips parted, "cum on my dick. Let me cum in you, mama."

"Cum in me daddy!" You rushed out, mind completely fuzzy and blank. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" You frantically announced, slouching against Terry's broad figure as he continued his sloppy, hard thrusts groaning and grunting as he filled your sensitive pussy with his warm cum. Your ears muffling the sounds of him announcing his orgasm, late of course.

Soft kisses covered your neck and chest as you came down from your orgasm, his strokes now slow and relaxed. But as you came back down you noticed your horrible mistake.

"Cum in me daddy!" Your words echoed in your now stable mind. Canada had to sell plan B's, surely. Right?

Hope you enjoyed <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn @motheroffae @kaylaahisthebestest- - @hello-therree @simplyzeeka

[jyuansgf]

nsfw content ahead. minors dni.

– how would they react if you ask them to be rough on you as much as they possibly can during sex? with jing yuan, gepard, argenti. + aftercare. cw: rough fucking, overstim, fingering. a bit of fluff on the aftercare. not proofread.

notes: thanks to my friend for terrorising me into doing this /j ^___^ jokes aside, i had fun writing this!! i didn't want to make this too long so i tried my best.. also my rules, tags everything about my blog is up on my pinned. make sure to read them byf please!! if this one actually gets attention more than i intended it to be, i'll make a part two and a genshin one ;___; 

jing yuan — 

i think jing yuan wouldn’t react any differently when you ask him to be rough on you. jing yuan has always been gentle with you ever since you two started dating—jing yuan can be either a gentleman in bed or.. just fuck your brains out? he’s actually anything you can ask for. he prioritises your pleasure and your comfort more than anything else. you want him to fuck you senseless? sure, you want some intense fucking? go for it, you want some gentle fucking as he whispers some sweet praises right next to your ear? or maybe both—he’s just the perfect man for anything. if you want him to bury your head on the pillows as he pulls on your hair and pounds you from behind, he’ll do it, only if you want him to. although he can’t deny the fact that he likes to see you fall apart on his cock, fucking you rough as possible while his fingers are buried deep inside you. as long as he can make you cum before he does, he’s happy. 

after care with jing yuan is one of the things that you two can always look forward to after having your brains fucked out—and trust me, that isn’t the only thing he’s good at. if he’s that good in bed, he’s definitely more than that when it’s after care. first thing he would ask you if there’s anything that hurts or did he go too far on you, he would even prepare a bath for the both of you (no fucking again, he says) and prepare some sweets or your comfort food after your intimate moment with him. ask him to give you a massage or tell you a random story about his childhood then he shall deliver! or if you just want to lay down on bed, he’ll make sure to clean you up if you fall asleep. he just wants the best for you, and he would be willing to give you more. make sure to thank him, the only thing he’ll ask for you is your love and embrace that he can always come home to.

gepard —

i think he would be a bit taken aback by your request, not that he doesn’t want to do it but he’s got some hesitation in him if he can go that far for you. he would be the type to ask you to show him how you want this to happen or set any boundaries, he thinks you’re someone who should be deeply taken care of in bed and he didn’t even think of this doing this with you at all, he does not want to hurt you. but he’s definitely willing to give it to you if you explain to him that this is not going to hurt you in the least.. it is your request after all. rough sex with gepard would definitely start with lots of foreplay, he’ll hesitate but once he gets the hang of it soon enough you’ll also be fucked dumb on the sheets, and he thinks that awakened something in him.. he doesn’t know that you’re the type to like this nor himself. he would often ask you if you can still take more or if you want him to stop, all his pent up frustrations or stress as a captain of belobog guards will all be poured into you that’ll leave you like a panting mess under him. don’t get him wrong though, he prioritises your release more than his, but forgive him if he accidentally cums inside you again and again.. poor guy can’t help himself at all.

after care with gepard would be a 50/50 situation for the both of you, give him time to recollect himself after because he thinks he’s not able to recover after that.. because of how good it felt. he’ll shower you with kisses and praises immediately after and would ask you questions if he did good or if it’s what you asked for. if you assure him that he did not hurt you at all, that’s the only thing he needs to hear. stay for a little chat with him in bed as you both calm down from it, he would start preparing a bath for you two as he changes the bedsheets, a little subtle kisses before going to sleep is how you two would end the night. he would really do anything for you, if you wanted him to. totally thinks he would be up to doing it again some other time. don’t tease him about it though. he’ll blush a bit if you knew how much he liked it, just a bit, he says.

argenti — 

one of the best gentlemen out there, who just aims to make you feel good no matter what. just like jing yuan, i don’t think he’ll mind it. as for someone who just wants to worship your precious body. but of course he would ask you first if you’re sure about doing it, and if you give him a sign that it’s okay, he doesn’t even hesitate on doing so. he’ll be the type to go slow on you at first, tease you until you’re ready to take him inside your warm cunny. then, the next moment you knew, he’s fucking you in such vigorous pace, would make you suck on his fingers as his lips traces over your body, and if he takes you from behind–he would even wrap his hands around your neck just to take a good look at your pretty messy face, he’ll still kiss your tears away even though he’s ramming inside your sopping wet pussy, he’ll switch by using his fingers, cock or his mouth just to overstimulate you. degrading words would definitely come out of his mouth but he does it in his own unique way (if you know, you know). he will definitely tease you but worry not, you don’t even remember how many times he had made you cum already.

aftercare with argenti? my love, you’re in for a treat. i’m sure we all know this man praises everything he sees, but when it comes to you as if he doesn’t run out of words. your afterglow with him would be definitely something, immediately would cradle you in his arm after making your legs tremble from overstimulation, he would press kisses all over your body and not a single spot would be missed. he would even press a chaste kiss on your clit after he cleaned you up, telling you were such a good girl for taking him or any words of praise that he could think of. the bath was already set up even before the two of you started, some bath bombs, scented candles, and petals scattered all over the floor. he’ll bring you some water or any snacks you prefer as he helps you clean up and after the two of you settles in bed, it would always ends with giggles and topics that the both of you share.. and of course, he doesn’t forget to praise you all over again, may he forgive you for falling asleep as he talks about how your body makes him feel good and how ethereal you are. it’s his way of making you fall asleep after all. 

[writtenbymoonflower]

hi you gorgeous gorgeous ray of sunshine i hope your day is majestic and awesome <3

I come bearing a request hehe

So can i please get a poly!marauders x fem reader where she has alot of work or something to get done lately and its just sucking the absolute lights out of her (uni is beating me up help) and she os sort of just dimmed and out of it and one of them asks her if she is okay and she just breaks down and they comfort her like the sweet loving boys they are (just cuddles and fluff to save my day pls) THANK YOUU

sorry this is so late gorgeous! i hope things are better now!

cw: anxiety attack fluff, stress

924 words

Despite your best efforts, you knew that you weren’t any fun right now. It felt like you were a black hole, sucking all of the joy out of the room with no end in sight. It made you feel horrible, especially since you were surrounded with copious amounts of love and affection. Way more than you could ever hope to ask for, and for some reason, you couldn’t allow yourself to fully appreciate it. You were trying your best, but every attempt at levity didn’t feel quite right. You could see it in your boyfriends faces too, and though they were gracious enough not to comment on it, you knew they desperately wanted to. You even noticed James placating Sirius earlier when he recounted a funny story and your laugh came out awkwardly pitched. 

You were now attempting to relax, but your muscles refused to un-tense. You were laid on the couch, curled tightly into a ball with your head on Sirius’ lap and your legs pressed against Remus’ thigh, James’ laughter ringing in your ears. You resisted the urge to shift around in discomfort, hoping that the more content you appeared the less distraught you would feel. It wasn’t working very well, if the burning sensation welling in your eyes was any sign of that. You squeezed them shut in hopes it would help. You flinched as cold fingers brushed over your face unexpectedly. 

“You okay, babydoll?” Sirius’ voice was hushed and terribly gentle in the way it was when he’s feeling particularly tender. You nodded a little too aggressively to be believable. He cupped your cheek with his hand, the cool feeling of his palm over your heated face being a little too comforting. A crease appeared between your eyebrows and he made a worried cooing sound. 

“What’s going on?” James turned the TV down. You were being watched and inspected and you hated it. You covered your face as the first sob escaped before you could repress it. 

“Shit, baby.” Sirius stiffened. Remus’ large hands pulled yours away from your face. You held your breath to refrain from sobbing, your shoulders shaking. 

“What’s wrong, lovie? Are you hurt?” James sounded panicked. You hated that you were doing this to him. You shook your head. “What’s happened?” 

“I- I don’t know.” You hiccupped. Your lungs were expanding and contracting rapidly. 

“It’s okay, lovely. Can you breathe for me?” Remus pulled you off of Sirius and onto himself. Usually you would hear a slew of protests from the raven-haired boy, but he was panicked enough to stay silent. You landed face down in Remus’ lap as he rubbed between your shoulder blades. You tried to breathe deeper but when you did you just cried harder. 

“I’m fine. J- just give me a second.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or the boys. 

“It's okay, baby dove. Just let it out.” Remus said softly. You felt James rubbing your head. All the tenderness was too much and you cried harder. You knew you were wetting Remus’ pajama bottoms with tears and snot, but you were too distraught to care. Slowly, your sobs slowed into quiet sniffles and hiccups, and you wiped your wet face, much too harshly for James’ preference. 

“How’re we doing, sweet girl?” Sirius rubbed your calf tentatively. 

“Better.” You said, still choked. “Sorry about that. I don’t know why that happened.”

“Don’t apologize, dovey.” Remus helped you to sit up. “Just take a minute.” You nodded, feeling lightheaded. James passed you a glass of water with a kiss on your damp cheek. You drank it fast, handing the empty cup back. 

“Do you need anything else?” Sirius turned your face to wipe your cheeks again. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” You said, feeling awkward. 

“You don’t have to thank us, baby.” James reached over Remus to grab your hand. “We just want to help, if you’ll let us.”

“I don’t know if you can.” You sighed. 

“Try us.” Sirius said, bordering on challenging. Remus reached his long arm along the back of the couch to squeeze his shoulder in a way that said ‘settle down.’

“I think we can find a way." Remus took a more gentle approach. "You can start by telling us what’s going through that head of yours.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I think that would help.” James said, not giving you time to respond. “We don’t want to force you, but it’s only going to hurt you to keep things inside, lovie.” His eyes were soft and open behind his glasses. It made you feel like you could cry again. 

“There’s nothing huge to talk about, though.” You shrugged. “I think it’s just a bunch of little things, you know?” 

“Well then maybe,” Sirius stage-whispered as if he was spreading classified information. “You can tell us the little things when they come up, before it gets this bad. You couldn’t argue with that. 

“That might help.” You looked down at your hands. “But don’t complain when I start whining over miniscule things.” Remus raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Have you been dating the same Sirius I have?” He grinned and Sirius squawked. You giggled. 

“You’re lucky that I’m more happy about her laughing than I’m mad at that comment.” He crossed his arms and pouted. You laid back down in his lap and smiled up at him. 

“I don’t mind your complaining.” You reached up to touch his face comfortingly. He still scowled.

“At least I’ll have a bitching buddy.” He huffed. 

[forwards-beckonrebound]

ANHS au masterpost

ASKS ARE CLOSED DURING HIATUS.

we are currently in chapter 1 as of 10/29/24.

Characters available for questions right now, last edited 10/29/24:

- Noah

- Vanessa

ANHS (A Normal HighSchool AU) is basically what its name is not. It's not a normal highschool au, very far from it.

Please take the time to read the content warnings below...

CONTENT WARNING: murder, blood, suicide, abuse, neglect, and bullying. it's heavily recommended that you do not get attached to any character...

Basic information - I will try to answer asks every 1-3 days, I struggle with fatigue.

Noah, Vanessa, Jessica, and Cynthia Elliott are the four most popular kids in school. Everyone knows about them, and if you don't, you live under a rock. Along with their friends, Lizzy, Thad, and Doll, they run CopperNine High like an unstoppable force, though it's really only during four stupid years...

But this life is everything to them, they just have to make it through highschool, while making it horrible for everyone else, especially Uzi Doorman... (and Doll, but she's never included.)

Note: every character will have their flaws, including Noah. Do not expect any character to be perfect, you will be disappointed. Please follow along with the pacing of the story!

ASK rules:

- no NSFW! Even though Jessica is 18, do not make any comments.

- send as many asks as you want, but try to limit yourself per each ask answered! That way I can get to all your asks without it moving on with the story too soon

- I do not take drawing requests at the moment! I'll make a separate rule list for this if I ever do.

- don't send any asks about N x V, V x J, or Jessa! They are family in this AU, and that would be weird. (Not to say I dislike these ships!)

Temporary references!

they will have fully fleshed out references soon. I want to focus on answering asks first.

Important character ages and grades listed below (they will age as the story progresses.)

Noah - 16 , sophomore

Vanessa - 17 , junior

Jessica - 18 , senior

Cynthia - 15 , freshman

Lizzy - 16 , sophomore

Thad - 16 , sophomore

Doll - 16 , sophomore

Uzi - 16 , sophomore

Official tag is: A Normal HighSchool AU and ANHS AU

[jasmines-library]

This might be a weird request, but can you take your favorite song and make a batfam story with it? I saw the “Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?” fic and immediately folded I loved it so much <3 <3 <3

The Ghost of You.

YES YES YES! It's really hard for me to just pick one song, but this came to mind so i thought i'd give it a go. Also this probably wasn't what you were after anon, so i'm sorry. You're all going to hate me after this :(

Summary: After your death, the batfam struggle to navigate their lives without you.

Warnings: This fic deals with death (mildly graphic) and the aftermath, contains suicidal thoughts, grief, unhealthy ways of processing grief and some other heavy content so please be advised.

Word Count: 2k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

I never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't always just forget her

But she could try

Tim was the first to arrive too late.

Your body had already careened over to the side, collapsing into a puddle of your own blood. Tim faltered as he made his way over to you, gawping at the arrows that protruded gruesomely from your stomach, your shoulder and the back of your knee. That was what had taken you down: a well placed shot to the back of the joint. The other two followed as insurance. To ensure that you would bleed out. 

And even though Tim was right there, he faltered. Even though he could see the way your chest spluttered as you fought for air, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands shook. His lips trembled. And if anyone was focusing hard enough they would have been able to see the glint as water collected in his eyes. 

Then came Jason, grappling down from the building. He had heard it before he saw it. Grimacing at the way your cry was followed by two more, he was gripped tight by a fit of rage. Mercilessly he took out the two crooks in front of him so he could dash to your side. He should have been helping Nightwing and Batman, but at that moment all he could focus on was your safety. 

He managed to gather himself up enough to try and press around the arrows, but your blood pooled through the fabric of your suit and your breathing had slowed to nearly nothing. Tim had finally got himself to move and he was sure that he heard someone call your name. Though he couldn’t remember if it was himself or Jason. Either way he too pressed down harshly around the arrow to try and staunch the blood flow. And it should have hurt. God, you should have been thrashing and screaming. But you just lay there, spluttering as you faded. Tim didn’t know what was worse; but he came to the conclusion that the sound of your agonised scream was better than waiting in this near listless silence. 

“Just hold on, Raven.” Jason. But you would have never guessed it from the way his normally firm voice wavered. “We’re going to get you to help…j-just a little longer. 

Then you moved. Your hands shifted to lay atop of theirs and you strained your head to see them. Tim’s stomach dropped as you looked at him with your hooded eyes and small smile. A gesture of consolidation. You were trying to tell them that it was okay. It made Tim want to hurl. How could you be thinking of them in a time like this?

 “Y/N..?” Tim muttered. He should have used your vigilante name. He didn’t care. 

“s’okay” you slurred as your eyes fluttered at him. You could no longer make out much as your vision became a blur of colour. Jason palled at the sight of the crimson that stained your teeth as a sickening contrast to the paleness of your skin. He wanted to look anywhere else, like to Dick and Damian who were still trying to take down the criminals who just wouldn’t quit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of your face. 

“S’gonna b-be ok..” 

“No…” Tim was crying now. They both were. Neither made any effort to try and hide it.

“P-promise you won’t do…any’thn stupid-” you mumbled.

Tim brushed his thumb over your hand. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to but he would. For you. “I promise…”

You wanted to turn your attention to Jason, but your eyes fluttered and you could feel your strength fading.

“ Love you…” Then, your chest rose… and fell as you took your final breath. 

~

At the end of the world or the last thing I see

You are never coming home, never coming home

Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me

And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

The manor was silent. Deathly silent.

And even though the manor was the busiest it had been for a while it still seemed so empty. It was almost like the minute that your heart stopped pumping, so did all of the life in the manor. 

Dick hardly slept. He spent his nights staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts carry him away because if he didn’t his mind would torture him with pictures of you. He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot actually. Especially after he had seen your body being lowered into the ground sealing you into nothingness. You were gone.

Dick remembered Jason and Tim uttering something about promising not to do anything stupid. But he wasn’t sure. They didn’t talk much anymore. He thinks he remembered them saying that they had promised you. But he hadn’t. And so the thought crossed his mind often. If he was only brave enough to do it. Oh, what he would jive to see even just a ghost of one of your charismatic grins again. Or to hear your laughter as you sang to your music poorly in your room across the hall. You often used to keep the door open, just a crack as a form of comfort blanket and that let your voice carry through the hall. But now the door was firmly closed. 

Pull yourself together. Dick blinked away the film that formed in his eyes. Though no tears fell; he had cried himself dry a long time ago. You wouldn’t want this. Dick had tried to tell himself. But it seemed everything he did reminded him of you. Reminded him how he was never going to see you again. And it hurt. You were still so young. You had your entire life ahead of you to live and Dick yeared to have seen it. But it was ripped away from you cruelly like candy from a child.

Ever get the feeling that you're never all alone?

And I remember now

Your bloodstained face was burned permanently into Tim’s mind. It was there every time his eyes drifted closed. 

Each time he finally got himself to sleep, there you were. Crying out his name. 

He should have been quicker. Tim scolded himself often for this. He thought that his fumble could have been the difference between you living and dying. But of course, he had frozen. His body had refused to function no matter how much his brain screamed at him to just move! But he was frozen. He remembered watching fearfully as Jason, who was much further away, dropped to his feet from above and tried feebly to help. If only he had been just that little bit quicker. If only he had been paying attention then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. 

He was sitting in the batcave, staring blankly at the monitors. Not because he wanted to but because someone had to. Though him being there wouldn’t have made much difference. All of the shapes on the screen had blurred into one colour. 

Tim had never felt more lonely sitting in the plush chair because usually you would be there with him. Cracking a joke or two, or reminding him he needed to go to sleep with a gentle touch on the shoulder or his hand. Sometimes Tim thought he could still feel it. A phantom pain: like when someone loses a limb. 

You had become such an important part of his daily life that his body yeared for your touch or the sound of your voice. He yearned for the warmth of your fingers, but then remembered that the last time he felt them, they were ice cold and covered in your own blood. 

At the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies

She dies.

Jason was angry. He had never handled his grief well, even from a young age. And his coping mechanisms were far from healthy. Whilst his brothers spent their time reserved to themselves, Jason was searching for revenge. But he had promised you he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

So he found his solitude in a punching bag. 

Your scream piercing through the air. A punch to the bag so hard that it swung violently on its bolt. 

The feeling of your blood trickling around his fingers. A right hook.

Your cold and clammy skin against his as he removed his gloves to trail his hands along your face. Another. 

Your last words falling from your tongue. Punch. 

Your chest rising as you spluttered. Punch. punch.

Your last exhale. Punchpunchpuch.

He kept going until his knuckles were a mangled and bloody mess and he felt like his jaw might snap from how much he had been clenching it. 

Jason didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles as he trudged towards the shower, despite how much they burnt and throbbed. But for some sick reason he couldn’t wrap his mind around, he savoured it. Almost as a punishment for not being able to save you. 

When he slipped into the shower, he still couldn’t stop the flood of images ricocheting around his head like a broken record that still somehow managed to play no matter how scratched up it was. He thought he might have found some solace in the feeling of the water trickling over his skin, but all he found was his mind confusing it for the feeling of your blood on his skin. 

Jason let out a cry of anguish, bringing his fists to clench at his hair as he sank to the floor and began to cry. 

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall, if I fall down

Damian had seen a lot of death in his life. That came as part of being a human weapon. But no death tore him up as much as yours.

He would forever remember the cold that gripped him when he saw Jason with your body in his arms. He had never felt so empty as Bruce tried to pull him away. Damian had fought against him, nearly clawing at his father to try and get to you, but Bruce just held him close and pressed Damians face into his chest to shield him from the horrors in front of him. But it was too late. He had already seen your mangled body and he couldn’t help the way his body trembled as he clung to Bruce like a scared little child. 

And Damian would never admit it, but he was scared. 

Scared of how everything would play out now that you were gone. Scared that you were angry at him for being so far away. Scared that because he wasn’t there when it mattered most, that it might happen again. 

He should have been there. Damian cursed to himself. 

He had been on the other side of the building trying to deal with the last of the crooks. Dick was with him for a time, but had finished up much earlier than Damian and had fled as soon as possible. Damian should have picked up then that something was wrong. 

But he didn’t.

And he was so frustrated with himself for not. He should have been better. Should have taken the criminal down with one blow and followed his brother to your side. Surely with all four of them there, you would have made it… right?

He wasn’t so sure. 

He wasn’t sure of much anymore. No one was. And they all felt so betrayed because you being by their sides was one of the things that kept them going everyday. And now…

One thing they did know for certain though was that you were gone. And no matter how much they yearned for you, you were never coming home.

🦇 BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hearts4robs

(I'm sorry.)

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Which One Piece Characters Are Coming to the Cookout?

tags: headcanons, black!reader, gn!reader

notes. i'm not accepting critiques because i'm not wrong in any of my assessments. we all know these people would be there. i was up late for no reason thinking about this and decided to make it tumblr's problem. keeping it light for my first one piece hc post but i'll be making more

usopp

this nigga's one of us, this is a no question. this is his birthright

you don't see us questioning piccolo and the namekians at the black history month dinner, we don't question shit with usopp

bro belongs here

is most popular with all the younger cousins because of all of his stories

your older cousins are asking sniper king what his wash day routine is because his hair is amazing and we all know it

ace, sabo, luffy

ace and luffy were raised by dadan so these niggas are culturally black. sabo may have been raised by her to a lesser extent than his brothers, but he still was in that house so he gets to come too

the only problem luffy's ass would encounter is that he eat too damn much and he'll steal off someone's plate, so keep an eye on your man and he'll be fine

luffy also knows how to party. it's a challenge when one of the uncles go "you don't know nothin' bout this right here, young buck"

it's the same for ace. he grew up hearing dadan play mary j blige and roberta flack when she cleaned sunday morning so he's getting up the moment he hears someone playing word up

sabo and his top hat would get some eyebrow raises when he shows up but when he shows he knows something about some turkey necks and collard greens, they will be revoking their sneaky ass comments

ace and sabo would be particularly popular with your relatives who want you to hurry up and tie the knot. they help with your wash days, are polite and are very handsome. you will be a hearing a "if it don't work between y'all please give me a call" or two

all three of them will probably keep you at the function longer than you expected for various reasons from 'saying goodbye' and staying an additional 40 minutes to 'okay we gotta stay for cameo, they're playing get down on it!'

sanji

this white boy can cook much to the surprise of your extended family, so hell yeah he gets to come

your family gave you the side eye when you told them sanji would be bringing a dish thinking it was going to be potato salad with raisins and a dash of paprika but bro came with a huge ass bowl of banana pudding and the pudding was made from scratch

he's solidified his place in ensuring he is always invited to a function your family throws

your aunts love that he helps during your wash days, something you bragged about endlessly before you brought him to meet everyone

sadly sanji, like the asl brothers, will continuously fall victim to the "alright we leavin' y'all" but then you end up staying an extra hour because he's too busy yapping it up with all your aunties

you practically have to drag him back to the car

law

you already know your cousins are going to be all over this man based on the energy he exudes alone

"oh he a doctor? so he got money" someone's gonna say it at least once

he mostly sits to himself, more content to watch your family have a good time than interact exceedingly with everyone which may make him come off as standoffish but he really is just happy seeing everyone around him be happy

losing his family at a young age, he's happy to be pulled into yours even if his rbf may make others think otherwise

but all the mysterious aura goes out the window when someone jokes he probably can't play ball and suddenly your family is seeing a different side of him that is childish, competitive and amusing

jinbe/any fishman

automatic invitations by virtue of birthright. it's the same shit with the namekians, they're one of us so they get to come. they are with us on juneteenth

if anything, jinbe IS the uncle going "you don't know nothin' 'bout this right here" the moment the spinners, carl carlton or george duke comes on

[fallecupid]

nsfw alphabet with art donaldson. ( headcanon )

.ᐟ.ᐟ warnings :ㅤ dom!reader.ㅤsab!art.ㅤfem!reader.ㅤnsfw content.ㅤword count: 3,3k.

( author's note : i apologize in advance for errors in this text / vague wording / words that are incorrect in meaning ( if any are present in the content. ) english is not my native language, everything written below has been translated by a translator. )

A — ( aftercare ) Immediately after sex, donaldson most often takes time to catch his breath, and later immediately buries his face in you like a damn koala. this is accompanied by his quiet questions about how much you liked it and whether he caused any discomfort.

B — ( body part ) of course these are hands. art melts in your hands, all these small touches on his hair, cheeks, and ultimately his penis. all this makes it the top of the world and brings incredible pleasure.

C — ( cum ) a man prefers to keep you clean, so he either cums in your mouth or on the fresh sheets.

D — ( dirty secret ) donaldson often jerks off in the bathroom, imagining something like bdsm. he wouldn't mind participating in something if it involves you.

E — ( experience ) can you say you are his one and only for life? however, his first time wasn't too damn terrible and he got better and better each time. after all he is a good boy and a quick learner, right?

F — ( favourite position ) donaldson likes it when you sit on him, it opens up a lot more possibilities. plus, this allows him to see your facial expression and understand whether he is going correctly.

G — ( goofy ) art will often say something inappropriate, almost forcing you to tease him. however, he is far from serious during sex.

H — ( hair ) hair is one of donaldson's main weaknesses, if you want to make it wet, just caress the light locks of his head. during sex, he will often ask you to grab his hair while you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

I — ( intimacy ) art is a hopeless romantic. he suffers with every fiber of his being trying to please you. whether it's a candlelit dinner or going to the cinema with a bouquet of roses.

J — ( jack off ) sometimes he can afford it, on a tennis tour when you are not around. he locks himself in the hotel bathroom looking at your photos and completely worshiping you. sometimes these are video calls, but that's a completely different story.

K — ( kink ) dominance. well, you can’t hide that to some extent what turns him on is how much control you have over the process. more often than not, making him a boneless man who lets his needs come to the fore.

L — ( location ) there is no need to change traditions, so he fucks you (or you fuck him) in your bedroom, away from everything, only a lush bed and quiet moans.

M — ( motivation ) donaldson just needs to look at you to make his dick jump at a frantic pace. but it’s worth highlighting foreplay. what turns him on is how well you can act it out.

N — ( no ) nothing without your permission. even if he fucking wants you, he won't until you give him the green light.

O — ( oral sex ) he wouldn't perform oral sex on his own accord. if you proposed to him, he would happily agree, wanting to please your sophisticated desires.

P — ( pace ) definitely a slow pace. he wouldn’t rush anywhere, but rather would stretch out each thrust like a damn taste of pie on his tongue, giving you a chance to enjoy it to the fullest.

Q — ( quickie ) definitely not. neither you nor he like speed in this matter.

R — ( risk ) he wouldn’t fuck you in a toilet stall or somewhere on the balcony.

S — ( stamina ) usually your sex doesn’t last too long, an hour or an hour and a half, and you’re both already wet and damn satisfied.

T — ( toys ) unusual, but unfortunately not practiced.

U — ( unfair ) art encourages you rather than teases you. a few kind words and you have already pounced on him like a cat on a piece of meat. this is not to say that there is anything bad about this.

V — ( volume ) more often than not, any noise is muffled by your hips or pillows, so overall art is not a problem in this regard.

W — ( wildcard ) during sex, he is too often embarrassed by your comments about the behavior of his penis, so he sits under the covers while foreplay time passes.

X — ( x-ray ) something like 15 cm?

Y — ( yearning ) on a scale of ten it is something around 7/10. sex is relaxing and enjoyable.

Z — ( Zzz ) a man falls asleep once after you, so it depends on how tired you are and whether you will not have a continuation of previous sex.

[mraprilfools]

So, I decided to make this a reality. Thank you Zhoumao0-2 for inspiring me. If you see this, I didn't want to mention you out of nowhere since we've never interacted. Without further ado! Title: Just pretend it's a Woman

Summary: Mammon has found a kinship with a recently fallen sinner, Adam. The two enjoy the festivities with Spiked Hot chocolate and building towers of blocks thinking of different words for Dick. Then they ask some of life's greatest questions.

Like is it gay to kiss a man with tits?

Pairing: Adam/Mammon

Word Count: 1.5k

Contents/CW: Adam and Mammon are warnings in themselves, they're both Homophobic bisexuals, Groping with the clothes on, dry humping, kissing, lots of cussing, and there's a dildo bolas for some reason.

“Prolly not! Sides… I spiked the hot chocolate too. Shakier than a fucking roo. Right, let’s make a SECOND dick tower.” Mammon offered, sliding over new blocks. “How do you spell Johnson? S’it…. J-O-N-S-O-N?” Adam rubbed his skull, snatching up an A. “It’s JA-HN-son. So J-A-N-S-O-N. Stupid bitch.”

Full story under the cut.

Hog

Cawk

Dick

Penis

Schlong

Rows of colorful blocks stacked up into a treacherously unstable mountain piled higher and higher. An unsteady hand carefully set the last G at the apex to complete a masterpiece in two men enjoying the dying embers of the evening. The sweet smell of hot chocolate tinged with far too much whiskey gave a nice cinnamon zest that neither seemed to mind. Mammon’s man cave was a treasure trove of delights as any man who hoarded all the world’s riches could possess. Rows of liquor bottles were more for decoration than drinking, golden records, prized memorial items from movies, and items of great historical import. All had been reduced to a mockery for two men to enjoy a night trying to think of as many words for the word dick as possible.

Slumped over the table, Mammon’s whole body trembled with vibrations while he made a nest with four palms to rest his large head. The usually white face shrouded by his mask was pink from the alcohol running through his system. Mug after empty mug collected at two corners begging for the womanly touch to care for two slobs.

“Oi! Adam! Did ye focking spike the hot chocolate?” The Australian hefted up his bright green mug with a cash handle requiring two fingers to slip through comfortably. The once angel, how goatish sinner snorted audibly and put on a guilty lopsided smirk.

“Pfft-- Yeah, DUH! Anyway, Whaaat bout’ Willy? Pff-!” Raspy laughter spilled from the inebriated sinner, a furred first smacking the table trying to contain the mirth that consumed him.

Mammon was far less graceful, pushing himself up with two hands and the last remaining to point Adam’s way. “BRILLIANT! FOCKIN’! BRILLIANT! Willy and Knob too! Can’t forget those two!”

“Wang!”

“Right! Johnson?”

“Shhhiiiit… do we h-have enough blocks for all of those. Johnson would have to go at the… bottom.” Adam squinted, wobbling to and fro.

“Prolly not! Sides… I spiked the hot chocolate too. Shakier than a fucking roo. Right, let’s make a SECOND dick tower.” Mammon offered, sliding over new blocks. “How do you spell Johnson? S’it…. J-O-N-S-O-N?”

Adam rubbed his skull, snatching up an A. “It’s JA-HN-son. So J-A-N-S-O-N. Stupid bitch.”

“Oi! Who you callin’ stupid, ya fucking dunderhead?” Mammon retorted, opening two more of his brilliant chartreuse eyes. The blocks were forgotten as he crawled over to Adam’s side of the table, grabbing hold of him by Adam’s black wife-beater. The wobbly sinner snatched Mammon by his wrist, using it as a support while his head rotated. Unable to meet his eyes for a second.

“You! Ya fat fuck!”

“Oh yeah! Say it to my face cunt!” Mammon leaned in, curling his fingers around the thin fabric while his white fuzzy face came within inches of Adam’s. Forcing the goatish singer to meet his eyes, with rots of teeth peeking from his reddish gums.

“Fat. FUCK.” Adam dared, cackling. Mammon squinted each of his four eyes, then shoved him back. Trying to catch himself, Adam clutched harder onto the wrists and sent the large sin tumbling over him. The table beside them jostled, with blocks and half-empty mugs sent flying everywhere. One came and smacked Mammon over the top of his head. A clownish honk rang out in place of his curse.

A great big capital D sat on the floor beside them, taunting them.

Adam’s taunting laughter rang out, arms thrown up over his head as his bright red face stared up at the large sin hovering over him. “Getting on top of another man is fucking gay. You homo.”

“Ya fockin’ shirts riding up showing your belly. You’re the one who looks fucking gay.” Mammon countered, jabbing a finger against the plush and hairy belly. Adam hissed, sucking in his stomach to try and prevent the ticklish sensation from making him laugh. He ultimately failed and shook with laughter. With glee, Mammon's fingers danced along the bare flesh with Adam twisting and squirming beneath. His already red face became closer to the shade of a tomato.

“AHAHAHA! FUCK! STOP IT YOU DICKWEED!” Two against four, Adam had no way to stop the buffet of hands against his unprotected belly. He yanked Mammon forward as his only recourse. The clown's head smacked against Adam’s chest making him arch his body with a loud ‘oof’. Mammon honked a second time, smacking Adam in the face with one of the ears of his cap. “Pfft! Get your shit outta my mouth!”

“You're the one who put me here shithead.” Mammon contested. He raised his head, only to realize that their faces had become close. A long silence passed between the two, with Adam falling back to put a little more distance even while his face was flushing a bright red.

“Kissing other men isn’t gay right? Like if they got tits?” Adam asked, filling his hands with two handfuls of Mammon’s abs. Initially, the clown jolted, not expecting the other to start fondling him. But the sight of the flushed sinner beneath him was enticing enough to allow it. Taking the excuse to fill his hands with an armful of Adam’s abs in return.

“S’long as you close your eyes and imagine a woman and it ain’t gay.” Mammon agreed.

A long pause dragged on, with Adam squeezing Mammon’s tits a second time. His mouth opened as if to suggest something. But he lacked the courage and stuck out his bottom lip in consternation. It was Mammon who ordered,

“Close your eyes, unless you’re fucking gay.”

“I’m not gay!” Adam fired back, grumbling under his breath. But he obliged and relaxed his body. The ringing of money tickled Adam’s ears as the clown bent forward, feeling the warm breath of another tickle against the nape of his neck and his chin. The sweet smell of hot chocolate and the telltale sign of liquor had sent both of them into a pleasant haze.

The knock of Mammon’s lip brushed against the growing scratchy five o’clock shadow on the man’s face, which was decided very unladylike for the imagination. Mammon got another fistful of Adam’s abs to compensate, flaring his nostrils. Growing impatient, Adam snatched the clown by the back of the head and crashed their lips together.

The taste of whiskey and chocolate together melded with the masculine scents of either man melding together. Adam parted his lips to accommodate the multi-colored tongue of the greedy sin, chasing the taste and the slippery appendage dancing around his own. What little breath the former angel had was squeezed out of him by the larger man easing his weight across him. He broke the kiss, panting against the clown’s neck.

“You’re too fucking heavy Mamz.”

“Then you get on top ya fuckin’ pansy.”

“Fuck no, just don’t put all your weight on me. Fucking don’t know how to make out with chicks.” Adam snorted.

“Chicks aren’t so fuckin mouthy. Shut up.” Mammon barked, crashing their lips together. Adam growled his protest, but what fight he had slipped away when he felt that long tongue trace his bottom lip. With his left hand gripping Mammon’s shoulder, he kept him locked not too far to steal his air, but close enough that he could feel the soft plush body against him.

“Mamz...” Adam broke the kiss again.

“What now?” Mammon impatiently barked.

“I can feel your dick pressing against my leg.”

“WELL, your dicks stabbing into my stomach you cunt.”

A silence passed between the two followed by laughter. Then Adam’s pupils danced around as he shifted his groin. Only getting so far as to press that hard length into a new spot in Mammon’s belly.

“Well...” Adam began, raising his hips forward. “Chicks with dicks are hot right?”

Mammon opened his mouth to say something then shut it. A gloved hand rubbed his jaw as he gave it a thought. “Mm, yeah. S’hot. But you gotta shut up. You sound nothing like a woman.”

“Neither do you!” Adam chuffed, he impatiently Mammon forward to meld their lips together for the third time. Taking the lead this time as he sucked on the bottom lip and thrust his tongue between his lips to tangle with his multi-colored tongue. Rather than shying from the heat assaulting their bodies, Mammon rotated his hips chasing the feeling of Adam’s hard-on until their cocks rubbed against each other through the two layers of clothing.

Muffled moans were swallowed by their kisses, with Adam shifting and fighting to yank that ridiculous cap off Mammon’s head. It fell free with a little fight, revealing that fuzzy white face beneath with mandibles. Though the haze of drink, he only thought about it for half a second. Drunken awkward kisses peppered against cheeks, the bridges of their noses, and each other's necks, became an intoxicating dance for the two. It didn’t take long for their self-imposed restrictions to keep things straight and were thrown to the wayside with handy groping to massage and squeeze biceps or paw at the body of the other man.

When the weight of far too many double-spiked hot chocolates made Mammon’s arms noodles he collapsed to the side, gasping for air. All eight of her chartreuse eyes half opened and staring at the sinner beside him. The siren’s call of rest guided each of his lips to surrender and pull his company close.

Adam kept on his back, zoning out and staring up at the wall. There was lingering warmth in the place his body had been covered by another, a pleasant tingle on his lips, and a memory of sweet chocolate and cinnamon.

When his eyes finally focused he found himself staring at the ceiling lamp. A makeshift bolas where they replaced the weights with dildos instead draped over one of the blades stuck and swinging languidly back and forth. The sight of it summoned more immature giggling from the base of Adam’s throat. Heaven stifled his genius for far too long. The large sleeping sin next to him took in a deep inhale and snored like a bear. But that fuzzy face pressing against the crook of his neck felt soft and pleasant. The two sets of arms draped around his body made him feel so secure even if the floor was not the best place to sleep.

Adam decided to roll onto his side, burying his face into the comfortable warmth and softness of the other man as the alcohol in his system did the rest to pull him into the darkness of slumber.

[postmodernbeliever]

stalker - fox mulder x female reader

at the fbi, your job is to watch who you're asked to. but on your own time, you watch fox mulder... and little do you know, he's watching you, too.

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my ao3 | word count: 3,518

content tags: sneaking around, embarrassment, stalking, longing, fox mulder is watching you, you are watching fox mulder, fox is a freak like you, fox likes weirdos, obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, you and fox just kinda eyefuck and nothing happens but god should it, cross-posted on ao3

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they all call him spooky mulder. what a nickname, spooky- even in its mainstream use, it has not lost its effect. there was always something off about him, something unsettling, which piqued your interest. you liked it so much that you paid special attention. it was your nature to keep tabs; you watched him come and go from his basement office, all the while pretending to be down in the gutter of the j. edgar hoover building for any other suspicious reason than taking mental notes on him. 

sure, it may sound creepy, but this is your job- this is why the fbi has you on the payroll. you’re what they call “the eyes and ears”, and in a sense, you don’t really have a job. your cover is to work in the filing department, faceless and nameless, and keep things organized as they go off to different sectors. you are the one sending weapons to evidence (or elsewhere) and case files to agents (or not) at the heart of the organization, where you just become the signing-off signature. but that office, where you blend in, is how they use you best. orders directly from the top tell you who to watch and when to come forward with information. but they never assigned you to special agent fox mulder. as was his infamous passion project dubbed the X files, this was your unassigned interest within the bureau- he was your freakish fixation.

you followed his case files as they came to inconclusive endings. you noticed when his hair grew too long. you knew he liked the coffee from the break room by a.d. skinner’s office, but he liked the creamer they kept on the first floor, so he traveled cross-complex to make the cup taste just right. you’d read every report and drowned in his philosophical, metaphysical droning, admiring the prose so overdosed on sleep deprivation and the ramblings of a transcending mind. it was like twisted poetry, how he explained what each case had imparted upon him. the way he viewed sociology, the way he viewed intervention both divine and damned, the manner in which he proposed the forces at play work and how they are ever-changing and insurmountable… god, he really is a genius. everyone may think he’s insane, or that his work is a waste of valuable resources, but fox mulder’s mind was one to be entertained, one to be challenged. to let his power go misrepresented or his purpose go any less than unabated would be a crime (if anyone asked you.)

see, this is why it could be considered weird. you revered him like a deity, unapologetically idolatrous of his brainpower- and from a more internal, girlish yearning, you loved his face. god, that face. you had examined his personal files many times in the safety of your office, tracing invisible lines over the photographs of him; caressing the scrapes and bruises documented from altercations with suspects, drooling over his academy polaroids stashed away from old physical exams. he still looked as young and charming as he did in his old school photos. a young oxford man, beautiful, traumatized, in need of proof. his work demanded his darkest instincts and most disgusting thoughts, and you loved him for it, or at least the idea of what it turned him into. and as far as word travels, fox mulder bars no personality incontinuities. after all the stories of the blood he’s tasted at crime scenes and the horrific pictures of murders and monsters plastered on the walls of his murky office, he was more than just spooky. he was freakish, and uncomfortable, and alluring.

now, fox is no idiot. in fact, to even think your interest was going unnoticed was a major misjudgment of his perceptive abilities; the man is the best analyst in the crime division, for god’s sake. he's never missed a clue. yet somehow, in the midst of your innocent stalking, you’d imagined he never saw you standing in his basement hallway, or mingling in the first-floor break room by the irish cream. naivety never crossed into your work, but it clouded your visions when it came to him. he’d seen you every time, shifty eyes fidgeting with blatant secrecy. when the man who didn’t believe in random events saw you more than once, he began following your lead. 

fox mulder kept copies of your personal files on his desk and sifted through them often, trying to get any information on you to substantiate why you paid so much attention to him. aside from his widespread suspicion, he also had a sense for intent, and he felt you were of no harm. even lurking in the shadows, there was a comfort to your presence. that might be his creepy personality being used to unsettling beings, but he didn’t mind. he liked catching you looking. he liked the way your suit jacket never matched your pants, but always somehow coordinated even in clashing patterns. he liked how your hair curled like french fries at the bottom, wide and loose. he liked how your manicured nails were always dark and sharp, and blatantly against bureau policy. fox knew you were as new to the fbi as he, so not new at all, but a child to seasoned agents; he learned of your ridiculous retention of information, and that you read twice the clocked words per minute of the average american. he knew of your graduation from yale and your speedy completion of the academy, as well as your elevated skill for firearms, which immunized you from a majority of field training. he knows about your secret connection, yet not who it’s with, and that it’s ushered you into a disguised deep-level position. in less legal ways of determining, the agent discovered you were the president of your high school’s history club, as well as the chief editor of the newsletter, and your family had a summer cabin on the oregon coast. you were smart, valuable, integral, even- and your talents were being wasted under cover of the monotonous filing department. he knew more than you realized. but even with his disturbing understanding of you, fox couldn’t figure out why it was him you watched- you had no connection to him, no link to his work or anyone who aimed to sabotage it. of all your secrets, he seemed to be the biggest.

you’d never expected anything to come of your little infatuation, but fox mulder didn’t like to let things linger. so when you just so happened to be venturing into the basement for something in the archived evidence room, he went into pursuit. you swiped your key card in the automatic door, and he followed you inside and made sure to close it nice and loud behind you. the lock clicked, causing you to jump out of your skin, and he laughed.

“not a fan of followers, huh?” the man teased.

“you just locked us in here, sir!” you nearly choked. you’d never seen him up close and personal. his shirt was a wrinkled mess, but it looked so nice rolled up on his fair-skinned arms, and his hair was a lot darker in person than it looked in the pictures. so were his eyes. 

“sir? no, nobody calls me sir.”

“what should i call you, then?” you groaned.

“agent mulder. spooky mulder. basement boy. whatever floats your boat!”

“well, then, agent mulder,” you elected, “you just locked us in here!”

“is that what you’re worried about? don’t worry, i'm sure agent scully will come down soon enough. or maybe not. maybe you’re stuck in here with me.”

you pivoted and began walking down the first aisle of archives, trying to come up with something to grab to avoid blowing your cover. fox kept at your heels, poking his head playfully into your eyeline.

“looking for something… you?” he inquired.

“that’s agent to you.”

“no name? ooo… spooky,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you suppressed the fluttering in your stomach. you thought in frustration, how dare he make wordplay hot?

“says you.” you negated.

“so you do know me!”

“everyone knows you, agent mulder.”

“oh, sure… but you’ve been watching me, haven’t you?”

you stopped between the alphabetized boxes marked by Hs and Js, biting your tongue. you watched as fox sauntered around to the front of you, leaning nonchalantly against the filing shelf and smirking. his hand raised to wipe his mouth, and you analyzed the rough calluses and ink splotches carving uniqueness into his knuckles. a deep cut rested along his thumbnail down to his wrist. you recognized it as a healed-over wound from an inconclusive case months ago- something he claimed to have involved lizard men.

“i- i’m not sure what you mean.”

“you’ve been following me around, taking note of what i do. i see you every day. sometimes in the break room, sometimes in the bullpen by the car desk, sometimes shooting guns down at the range room on saturdays like i usually am. you’re always… floating around.'' fox mused, running a hand through his thick hair. a few pieces curled agonizingly over the frame of his face, and you felt like dying.

“must be coincidences.”

“you know well as me that there are no such things as coincidences,” fox stated, “there are simply events that occur, and more often than not, they occur causally, or in my case, through spurious correlation, but nobody can ever seem to pinpoint the third invisible factor that links one event to another, except for me.”

“speak english, agent mulder, would you?”

“you’ve been following me, which caused me to notice you, which caused you to pretend you haven’t been, and so forth,” he sighed, “but you know what i’m saying, don’t lie. you’re a yale alumni, graduated summa cum laude with a double major in psychology and international affairs. you’re one of the smartest women in the building. so why are you acting dumb?”

your stomach flipped as he stepped closer to you, leaning down in all his six-foot glory to meet your gaze. swallowing thickly, you shoved your hand in a box labeled CONFISCATED Ka-Kz and fished out the first object you grasped: a bloodied kazoo. wincing in embarrassment, you waved it in his face and grimaced.

“i'm just down here for this.”

“for a murder kazoo.” he deadpanned.

“…yes.”

you turned away and began heading for the door, but a strong palm wrapped around your wrist, halting your stride. fox tugged you back, and you tried to keep your drooling gaze to a minimum at how handsome he looked when he was searching for answers.

“if you tell me what you want from me, i'll let you go.”

“i don't want anything.”

“bullshit,” the agent rolled his eyes, “everyone wants something, agent, even you. you’re a bad liar, you know that? that’s why you’re not under deep cover.”

how little you know, you thought with a smirk. “well, not everyone is made for danger.”

“no. you’re just made for stalking.”

you seized up, “i am not stalking you!”

fox grinned, liking how worked up you were becoming. “then why are you always in the corner of my eye, agent?”

you huffed in desperation, weighing your options. you could,

a) keep lying.

b) tell fox the truth.

c) bang on the locked door and scream until someone saves you from spooky mulder.

none of your options were appealing, but you weren’t getting out of here if you didn’t choose. option A would drag it out, and option C would get him fired, so you only had one path if you wanted to control casualties and your level of embarrassment in one shot.

as he stood patiently waiting, tie so horrendously knotted that it took all your willpower not to tug him down by it, you gave in. 

“well, agent mulder, you… you’re interesting.”

“am i?”

“y-yes. you do amazing work. you catch killers. and you… write beautifully.”

fox chuckled softly, “you like my writing? what, are you the one who files my field reports or something?”

now may not be a good time to admit you tweaked the computer system to always assign you files submitted by agents between L and P in the alphabet just to be the sole individual who received fox’s files, so you withheld the truth a bit. it will come back to bite you in the ass when he looks into the signatures on his official paperwork, but oh, well.

“every so often,” is what you settled on. “you have something to say, and you say it like you’ve been contemplating the proper phrasing forever. it’s always so eloquent and intelligent and… fascinating.” you stopped praising him, feeling shame wash over you like a bad shot of vodka.

“well, aren’t you a regular fan?” fox rested his head against the filing shelf, eyes raising to the ceiling. his neck stretched open far enough that you could watch his adam's apple bob as he spoke. “glad to know my conclusions aren’t just the ramblings of a lunatic.”

“quite the opposite, agent mulder.” you blushed.

fox looked back down to you, and his puppy dog eyes bore holes into your cheeks. “i know a lot about you, you know. i know where you went to high school. i know you also use the irish cream for your cup of joe every day. i know you drive that baby blue car out in the garage, with the stupid “honk if you love labs” bumper sticker. but what i don't know, agent, or rather what i can’t figure out, is why you’re working in the filing department when you should be on an analyst team, or why you’re so insistent on following me around work. so, can you enlighten me with the truth?”

the truth. even when encountering you, his true colors show. you would be frustrated if it wasn’t so attractive how he interrogated you.

with a shaky breath as support, you said, “i want to know you.”

“is that all? you just… want to know me?”

“we don't work together. you’re too off-limits. my orders require me to stick to the mundane and watch from afar. but you, agent mulder, you are never mundane. you sit down here every day and crane over horrific cases, imagining the unimaginable, and all in the stuffy confines of a basement office that people would rather die than visit you in. y-you’re terrifying, you’re… fresh air.”

fox would never admit to it, but his entire body experienced pins and needles at the sound of your voice. in the least creepy way possible, you reminded him of the school librarian from his childhood- thin glasses, a loose blouse, and a voice thick and sweet, just how he liked his coffee.

“well, as the resident spooky one around here, i'd say you’re more freakish than me. you’re quite the stalker.”

“that's my business.”

you put the kazoo back in the box, frustrated you even attempted to jeopardize the secrecy of your nature for being down in the basement. fox’s hazel eyes followed your lethal nails as they replaced the object, and he wondered if they hurt when they grazed skin. a part of him really wanted to find out.

the man huffed, “so that’s it? no plans to kill me, or turn me in to the boss for my beliefs?”

“nope. just… watching from a distance.”

“you could watch up close if you wanted to. i could really benefit from someone so smart as you are, and someone who has such a knack for detail,” he teased. “you seem to have a way with words yourself, agent.”

“well, i appreciate the offer, but my hands are full as it is, agent mulder.”

“call me fox.”

in a flustered blackout, you blurted, “but no one calls you fox!” and the agent’s pupils blew wide.

somehow, deep inside, the idea of you knowing his secrets without ever speaking to him turned him on. you were a watcher, and as a profiler he’d even go so far as to call you a creep- a girl with a case of muldermania following his every move and sniffing the air when he walked past. he saw it in how your hands shook before him, how you craned your neck back in submission, how your eyes darted between his eyes and lips with fervor; how you swallowed nothing every five seconds in what he couldn’t discern between fear and anticipation. you had slightly sick motivations, so driven by the feeling his writing gave you and the idea of what it must be like to be inside his mind. and he liked it. he liked being studied, and understood, and having no say in it being done by a pretty girl like you. the man took another step closer this time, and you didn’t budge. this was one of his personal space invasions he’s so famous for- the kind people complain about when they’re put on the job with him. also the kind you’d dreamt of since you learned of his existence beneath the bureau.

“but you do when you think of me, don’t you?” he crooned, knowing how to play you from one freak to another. “when you think of watching me when you’re alone, and how we might interact. you call me fox in that pretty little head of yours, right? so say it.”

“w-well…”

“come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

you licked your lips as the heat of his breath danced across your face, and you flushed. “a-as much as i'd love to stay and talk, i have my obligations. not everyone is at your whim, fox.”

in a hormonal lapse, fox let out a soft, “mmm,” and flashed his adorable grin for you to fuss over. “that's too bad, then.”

“but,” you interrupted, “if you ever need, um, proofreading… or help, i can- you can, uh, maybe leave me a note? or something?”

“on your desk? in the filing department, right? in that office with the blue walls and the photograph of you and your chocolate lab, the one who inspired your bumper sticker, agent?” fox revealed, showing his intellectual hand.

with a dry mouth, you mustered a meek, “yeah, that’s the one.”

“good. maybe i'll spray it with my cologne, so you can savor the moment.”

“excuse me?” you squeaked.

“come on, agent,” fox winked, “just a joke. unless you’d like that, y’know, i won’t judge.”

and of course you would. he smelled like dust and paper, with a little sugar left from the coffee he drinks, and a little smoke from the candles he lights when they turn the lights off on him overnight in that dark hole of an office.

“you live up to your name, spooky mulder,” you bit your lip.

“so do you,” fox agreed, “what would we do without our eyes and ears?”

“… what did you just say?” you could barely muster a voice.

“you heard me.” 

fox slipped a hand in his suit pant pocket and revealed your business card- not the filing office one, but for your cover. you have no idea how he’d gotten one, because the only place you keep them is in the locked safe beneath your desk. you were in bold, with your full name, position, boss, and reserved extension line. you thought of fox breaking into your office at night- while you were at home having dreams you’d never admit to- and sifting through your belongings, touching all that was yours, cracking open your secrets. you shuddered as he placed the card gently in your hand, his fingers trailing against the veins at the center of your wrist, where he could feel your pulse hammering.

the man slid past you in a split second, heading for the evidence room door and jiggling the handle upwards. when it unlocked, he shot a premeditated glance towards your mortified face and said, “somebody ought to get this fixed. see you around, agent.”

just about shaking, you stood in the aisle, dizzy from the sound of his departure and how every word fell from his lips with such intention. after a moment of weakness in which you let yourself lean against the filing shelf and catch your breath, you straightened out your blazer and made for the door. when you came into the hallway, you saw spooky mulder standing in his doorframe, thumbing through a file with his silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. you turned quickly towards the stairs and left him to his devices, those being the file that was full of pictures of you.

all this time admiring from afar made you feel like a fool. now you were stuck with a lingering conversation and the overwhelming urge to visit the archives again, because someone downstairs had his eye on you. he knew you by way of his own eyes and ears, and there are a few things that aren’t in your files he’d like to learn. 

and to think you were the stalker!

[buckets-and-trees]

Huffily Ever After: A CindereLloyd Story [6/8]

Chapter Six - An Afternoon Adrift

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 6.5k Summary: You're fired, and it's not a joke.

SERIES Content/Warnings: modern Cinderella adaptation, unknown identities, enemies to lovers, toxic coworkers, eventual smut

Notes: Tenth story for the Valentine Storygrams.

Previous Chapter | Series

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"What's going on?" you asked, your voice sounding small and uncertain even to your own ears, and you hated that. "Isn't it obvious?" Amilla said, her voice as cold and sharp as an icicle. "You're fired."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs.

"What?" you gasped, your mind reeling. "Why?"

Amilla's gaze was unflinching, her posture rigid. "We lost Zhongxin to Hansen Global this morning," she started. “Holly and Anya told me you’ve been spending every minute you can with people from Hansen Global since you got here, so since you’re clearly jumping ship, I’m cutting you out first so you don’t get the satisfaction.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process Amilla's words. The accusation was so absurd, so far from reality, that for a moment you were speechless. The bustling lobby seemed to fade away, leaving you in a bubble of disbelief with only Amilla's cold stare penetrating the haze.

"That's... that's ridiculous," you finally managed. You cleared your throat, forcing strength into your words. "I haven't been 'spending every minute' with any one person or group. I've been attending sessions, networking with potential clients and collaborators to consult with, just like we planned."

Amilla's eyebrow arched skeptically. "Really? Because that's not what the team says. They've seen you with Claude Dumont and Lloyd Hansen multiple times and word spread that you were at the Hansen Global table at the awards gala last night cozying right up to Robert Hansen himself."

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of Amilla's accusations. "I spoke with Claude and Lloyd at a few networking events, yes. And I was invited to the Hansen table for part of the gala, but that was just—"

Amilla cut you off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Save it. The evidence is clear. Even now your boyfriend’s inserting himself after lurking in wait for you.”

You turn and look over your shoulder, angry to see Lloyd just a few steps away.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he says, voice low and clipped.

“Stay out of this,” you hiss.

He’s not your boyfriend, nor do you want him to be, but his instant rebuttal still stung your pride in the moment.

Amilla’s laugh is devoid of any actual mirth. “You've been consorting with our biggest competitor, and now we've lost our most important international client to them. The timing is too convenient to be coincidence."

Anger rages within you, cutting through the shock. "This is ridiculous! I've poured my heart and soul into Nexus, into the Zhongxin account. I would never betray the company like that!"

"Actions speak louder than words," Amilla replied coldly. "And your actions have spoken volumes. Since it’s a firing with cause, you’re termination is effective immediately, and no severance package will be offered. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her last words were dripping with falsely overdone politeness, “we’re done here, and I’m done with you forever.”

With that, Amilla turned on her heel and strutted away and back into the restaurant.

You stood rooted to the spot, your mind reeling as you tried to process what had just happened. The bustling hotel lobby blurred and turned to white noise, leaving you in a daze of shock and disbelief. Your career, your reputation, everything you had worked so hard for - it all felt like it was crumbling around you.

"Hey," Lloyd's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Am I okay? No, I'm not okay! I just lost my job because of you and your company!"

Lloyd's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "Because of me? I had nothing to do with it!"

"Really?" you scoffed. "Your company poaches our biggest international client, then I'm accused of consorting with the enemy and fired on the spot. Seems pretty connected to me."

Lloyd took a step closer, his voice low and intense. "I had no idea Zhongxin was your client when the deal was made. And I certainly didn't orchestrate your firing."

You wanted to believe him, but doubt and anger still churned within you. "Then why were you following me just now?"

"I wasn't following you," Lloyd said, exasperation creeping into his tone. "This is a public lobby. I was on my way to meet someone when, yes, I did slow down out of curiosity and overheard the conversation. I couldn't just walk away when I heard what was happening."

He couldn't walk away when he heard what was happening? You searched his face, skeptical, before throwing out a, “Fine,” and turning away.

“Fine?” he scoffed. “You’re still pissed at me?” he followed you as you headed for the elevators.

You spun around to face Lloyd, anger flashing in your eyes. "My career just imploded in front of me, so, yeah, I’m angry, I’m hurt, but don’t flatter yourself into thinking that every one of my thoughts are centered around you, Lloyd Hansen.”

You spun and walked as swiftly as you could without running, weaving through the clusters of tourists and conference attendees in the lobby. The opulent surroundings that had once filled you with awe now seemed to mock you, a stark reminder of how quickly fortunes could change. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, their light catching on the gilded mirrors lining the walls, reflecting your harried expression back at you from every angle.

As you approached the bank of elevators, you could hear Lloyd's footsteps behind you, his longer stride allowing him to follow you easily. You jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, willing it to arrive faster, desperate to retreat to the privacy of your room.

"Wait," Lloyd tried. "Just hear me out."

The elevator dinged, its doors sliding open. You stepped inside, turning to face Lloyd as you pressed the button for your floor. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Lloyd's hand shot out, holding the elevator door open. His blue eyes bored into yours, intense and unyielding. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking for."

You hesitated, torn between your need to be alone and the nagging feeling that there was more to this situation than you understood. The elevator chimed impatiently, urging you to make a decision.

"I don't think there's anything left to say."

Lloyd's expression hardened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. As the doors began to close again, he delayed them once more. "You're making assumptions based on incomplete information."

You crossed your arms and pinned him with a venomous stare, “You can’t reverse what just happened, so I don’t think there’s any information you could share that would really help the situation at all, okay?”

Lloyd's jaw clenched, his piercing blue eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. But you held his gaze, refusing to back down.

"Fine," he conceded, his voice low and controlled. "If that's what you want."

He stepped back, allowing the elevator doors to close. As they slid shut, you caught one last glimpse of his face - a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite identify. Regret? Concern?

The moment the doors closed fully, you sagged against the elevator wall, the enormity of what had just transpired was about to crash over you in waves, you could feel it. Your career, your reputation, your future - all of it had been upended in a matter of minutes. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back furiously. You wouldn't cry, not here, not now.

The elevator ascended swiftly, and you knew you only had to keep it together for a few more minutes.

As soon as you entered your hotel room, the facade crumbled. You collapsed onto the bed, body shaking with sobs you could no longer contain. The injustice of it all overwhelmed you - the baseless accusations, the loss of the job you'd poured yourself into, and no chance to even defend yourself.

Your mind raced through the events of the past few days, searching for any sign, any clue that could have warned you of the impending disaster. But there was nothing. Just yesterday, you'd been riding high on the success of your panel discussion, feeling like you were finally carving out a place for an exciting future in the industry.

Victor trying to force himself had shaken you and been humiliating, but you had been able to work through enough of that with Maggie to know that it would just be a dark spot but not ruin everything. It had been a private struggle, and you could even guess that it wasn’t probably even that much to do with you, you just happened to be the one he’d fixed on this week.

But this?

It was personal.

You had known Amilla tolerated you because she had to and you delivered results. But she’d found a reason to finally shove you out. And now? Now you were unemployed, accused of betraying the very company you'd given your all to in the first chapters of your journey, and stranded at a conference where you no longer belonged. The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

As the initial shock began to subside, a new emotion started to take hold: anger. Anger at Amilla for jumping to conclusions without giving you a chance to explain. Anger at Holly and Anya for apparently spreading rumors about you. Anger at Lloyd and Hansen Global for their role in this mess, even if you weren't entirely sure what that role was.

And beneath it all, a simmering anger at yourself. Should you have seen this coming? Had you been naive in thinking your hard work and dedication would be enough to secure your place at Nexus?

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, likely filled with messages from confused colleagues and friends who had heard snippets of gossip. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at it, not yet. The thought of facing their questions, their pity, or worse, their judgment, was too much. So you turned your phone to do not disturb for the next hour before putting it back on the nightstand.

You lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as your mind raced. The plush comforter was your only respite in this moment, and yet even that made you acutely aware that you no longer belonged here, in this posh hotel room paid for by a company that had just unceremoniously fired you.

When your phone buzzed again an hour later, it pulled you from a nap you didn’t know you’d sunken into. Your mind hadn’t quieted, but evidently being still, in the cozy bed, the emotional exhaustion had swallowed you up - racing mind and all. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, bracing yourself for whatever fresh hell awaited you.

The screen was filled with notifications for missed calls, text messages, and slack alerts. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. Did you really want to deal with this right now?

Before you could decide, a soft knock at the door startled you out of your daze. For a moment, you considered ignoring it, not wanting to face anyone. But then a familiar voice called out.

"It's Gus. Please open up."

With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and made your way to the door. When you opened it, Gus stood there, his face etched with concern. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I don’t even know what to say," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

You melted into his embrace, fresh tears streaming down your face, but at least you were past sobbing - for the moment.

"How did you find out?" you asked, your voice muffled against Gus's shoulder.

Gus pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. "Word spreads fast at these things. I overheard some people gossiping about it in the hallway. I couldn't believe it, and I tried to text you but you didn’t answer, so I came straight here."

You stepped back, allowing Gus to enter the room. As you closed the door, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. At least you weren't completely alone in this mess.

"I know it happened, but I still can't believe it," you admitted, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "One minute I'm preparing for what I assumed would be a red alert meeting, and the next..."

Gus sat beside you, his brow furrowed. "What exactly did happen? The rumor mill is going wild, but I want to hear it from you."

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Amilla had set you up for a spectacle in your firing. That was abundantly clear now.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to recount the painful scene. "Amilla, Anya, and Holly were already there - she told me to meet them at noon, but they’d already been seated and had ordered even though I was a few minutes early. She ushered me out into the lobby, accused me of conspiring with Hansen Global, said we lost the Zhongxin account to them because of me. She fired me on the spot, effective immediately, and said it was so I couldn’t quit on Nexus after what I’d done."

Gus's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's insane! You've been nothing but loyal to Nexus. How could she think you'd betray the company like that?"

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up again. "Apparently, Holly and Anya have been spreading rumors about me spending time with people from Hansen Global. And then Lloyd showed up right as Amilla was firing me, which only made things worse."

"Lloyd? As in Lloyd Hansen?" Gus asked, his tone sharpening slightly.

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, he just appeared out of nowhere. He said it was just terrible timing, but it definitely didn't help my case."

Gus's eyes narrowed. "What did he want?"

"He tried to talk to me afterwards, said he wanted to explain something," you replied, shaking your head. "But I was too upset to listen. I just wanted to get away from everyone."

Gus was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "Do you think... is there any chance he actually knows something about what happened?"

You paused, considering. In your anger and shock, you hadn't given Lloyd any chance to speak. "I don't know. Maybe? But even if he does, how could it possibly change anything? I've still been fired.”

"And what exactly is your relationship with Lloyd Hansen?"

You felt a flash of irritation at the implication in Gus's tone. "There is no relationship," you countered firmly. "We've interacted at a few events, that's all. He invited me to dance at the afterparty of the gala last night, but it was purely professional, and then he helped me out in that Victor altercation as any decent person would have."

Gus looked skeptical. "Are you sure about that? He seems pretty interested in you."

You stood up abruptly, and began pacing the room. "Even if he is - which I'm not at all convinced of - it doesn't matter," you said, your voice rising with frustration. "What matters is that I've lost my job and I have no idea what I'm going to do next."

Gus held up his hands in a placating gesture. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pushing you about this right now. What can I do to help?"

You stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I don't know, Gus. I feel like I'm drowning here."

"Okay, let's take this one step at a time," Gus said, his tone gentle but firm. "First things first, do you want to stay for the rest of the conference?"

You hadn't even considered that. The thought of facing everyone after what had happened made your gut churn. “No, but I don’t have the money to just jump on a plane back home. God, am I even still allowed to stay in this room? Nexus was paying for everything for our travel!”

Gus's expression softened. "Don't worry about that right now. We'll figure it out. If you need to, you can crash in my room until we sort things out."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. "Thanks, Gus. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

He gave you a small smile. "That's what friends are for.”

You nodded, grateful for Gus's steady presence. As you both sat in silence for a moment, your phone buzzed again, startling you back to its presence.

"You should probably check that," Gus said gently, “but do you want to yet?”

You grimaced at him before your eyes flicked back to the phone.

“Okay, no,” Gus said, “there might be something important, but I’m making the executive decision that it can all wait for at least one more hour. We’re going out for a walk. Fresh air and the city streets will be good for your soul, and then you can with all of this,” he snatched your phone from the nightstand, shaking it around before pocketing it in his pocket.

You frowned, but nodded. You felt like you should be ready, but you weren’t ready. “Okay. But one hour. Then I should at least skim things.”

“Totally agree to that. Now go splash some water on your face, grab a jacket, and then we’re going. I downloaded six audio-guided walking tours of the city and have only done one of them!”

You managed a weak smile at Gus's enthusiasm. "Alright, alright. Give me a minute."

In the bathroom, you did as instructed and splashed cold water on your face, trying to erase the evidence of your tears. The person staring back at you in the mirror looked pale and shell-shocked, but at least your eyes were no longer red and puffy. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the outside world.

You and Gus were able to head down to the ground floor and make your way out out of the hotel without bumping into anyone, and the bustling city street hit you with a wave of noise and energy. It was jarring after the quiet cocoon of your room, but also oddly comforting. The world was still turning, life was going on all around you, oblivious to your personal crisis.

Gus handed you an earbud and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times as you inserted the proffered but and then a chipper voice began narrating directly into your ear.

"Welcome to the Hidden Gems of Paris-Montparnasse according to an ex-pat Walking Tour! I'll be exploring some of the lesser-known historical sites and architectural wonders of this vibrant city. Let's begin our journey at the Saint-Jacques Metro station…"

As you and Gus followed the audio guide's instructions, weaving through the bustling streets, you felt some of the tension in your body start to ease with the movement. The narrator's enthusiastic descriptions of century-old buildings and quirky local legends provided a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your thoughts.

Gus occasionally nudged you, pointing out particularly interesting details or making quiet jokes about some of the more outlandish claims in the tour. His presence was comforting, a reminder that you weren't alone in this mess.

After about forty-five minutes, you were just exiting the Gardens of the Observatory of Paris when Gus suddenly tensed beside you. You turned to follow his gaze, and the sight that greeted you was both unexpected and overwhelming.

There stood Maggie, her arms laden with an assortment of paper bags. Next to her, also holding bags and looking slightly uncomfortable but determined, was Claude Dumont.

"What a perfect coicidence!" Maggie exclaimed, her voice infused with a forced cheerfulness that didn't quite reach her eyes as they approached. "We were on our way back to the hotel to try and find you - and we come bearing sustenance for the weary."

You stood frozen for a moment, your mind struggling to process this new development.

“What do you say to a picnic here in the park?” Maggie suggested more than asked.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to press on with the walking tour or retreat back to your room and the realization that you couldn't hide forever. Gus squeezed your arm gently, a silent show of support.

"I guess that would be okay," you managed. These were two people

Maggie's smile softened, becoming more genuine. "Wonderful. Let's find a nice spot, shall we?"

Following Maggie and Claude deeper into the garden, you couldn't help but notice the tense set of Claude's shoulders. He kept glancing at you, but didn’t speak yet, the tension palpable but manageable as Claude's presence served as a stark reminder of the company at the center of your predicament.

You found a secluded area with a few benches surrounding a small fountain. The gentle sound of water provided a soothing backdrop as Maggie and Claude began unpacking their bags.

"We've got a bit of everything," Maggie announced, beginning to open bags. The rich scent of freshly baked bread wafted towards you, mingling with the sharp tang of cheese and the sweet promise of pastries. It was a sensory bliss that further distracted you from the upheaval of your life today. Your stomach growled in approval, reminding you that you’d missed lunch.

"I... hope my presence is not wholly unwelcome," Claude said, his usually confident demeanor somewhat subdued. He held out bottles of sparkling water and spring water, letting you take your pick. "I insisted on accompanying Maggie on her mission to find and feed you. I thought perhaps I could offer some clarity on the situation."

You felt a conflicting surge of emotions. Over the past few days, you'd grown fond of Claude. His wit, charm, and genuine interest in your ideas had been a breath of fresh air in the often stuffy atmosphere of the conference. His friendly overtures had been so genuine and welcome, but now…

You hesitated, torn between your desire for answers and your instinct to protect yourself from further hurt.

Maggie intervened, her voice gentle. "I know it's a lot, but I think you should hear him out. Claude reached out to me the moment he heard, and... well, I think there's more to this story than we realize."

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself.

"Okay," you said finally.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, casting long shadows across the landscape and illuminating the worry lines etched on Claude's face.

Claude cleared his throat, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on his knee. "First, I want to say how deeply sorry I am about what's happened. The deal with Zhongxin... it was news to me this morning as well."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you exchanged a quick glance with Gus, who looked equally taken aback.

"What do you mean? You’re head of international relations at Hansen Global.”

Claude nodded, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed I am. But the world of international business is often more complex than it appears on the surface." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he began to explain.

"You see, Zhongxin has been a coveted client for many companies in our industry for quite some time. Months ago, when they opened up a bidding process, inviting proposals for representation, multiple companies jumped at the chance, including both Nexus and Hansen Global. I was heavily involved in our pitch, given my role. We put together what I believed to be an impressive proposal - innovative strategies, cutting-edge technologies, the works."

As Claude spoke, you found yourself transported back to those intense weeks of preparation at Nexus. The late nights, the endless revisions, the nervous energy that had permeated the office. You remembered the thrill when Nexus had been selected, the pride you'd felt in being part of the team that secured such a prestigious client. The memory now felt bittersweet, tainted by recent events.

Claude continued, his voice drawing you back to the present. "We lost that bid to Nexus, fair and square. It was disappointing, of course, but not entirely unexpected given Nexus's stellar reputation emerging in the Asian market."

You nodded, a small spark of pride flickering despite everything. Your team had worked incredibly hard on that pitch.

“I have a longtime friend who is a member of Zhongxin’s board, so afterwards I asked if there was anything we could have done differently, anything that might have swayed their decision. And do you know what my friend told me?"

You shook your head, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

"He said no, that our proposal was excellent. But then he mentioned something interesting. He said that in the end, there was a dynamic young professional on the Nexus team that they had a really good feeling about. Someone who had not only showed remarkable insight and passion during the presentations, but who had been diligent, eager, and helpful in all correspondence from the beginning stages up to the end." Claude paused, and his gaze intense gaze held a visible glimmer of admiration despite the gravity of the situation. "He was talking about you."

The revelation hit you like a wave, momentarily washing away the ache of your recent firing. You remembered the pitch meeting vividly - the way you'd passionately presented your ideas, the energy in the room, the approving nods from the Zhongxin representatives. At the time, you'd attributed their positive response to the strength of the overall proposal. Now, learning that you had played such a pivotal role in securing the account filled you with a bittersweet pride.

“I told you the night we met that I was already aware of your work in Southeast Asia and this was what pointed me in your direction, and I’ve been keeping tabs on your work since then.”

Claude's words hung in the air for a moment as you processed this new information. You felt a mix of pride and confusion, unsure how to reconcile this revelation with your current situation.

"But if I was such a key factor in winning the account," you began, your voice wavering slightly, "then why would Zhongxin suddenly switch to Hansen Global? And why would Amilla think I had anything to do with it?"

Claude's expression darkened. "That's where things get complicated. And, I'm afraid, rather ugly."

He paused, seeming to weigh how to proceed with the next bit. The air was thick with tension as everyone waited for him to continue.

Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair. "About a month ago, I started hearing whispers that Zhongxin was starting to become unhappy with Nexus. Nothing concrete, just murmurs of discontent. I didn't think much of it at first - client relationships often have ups and downs, especially as two parties learn to navigate the client relationship in the first year.

"But then," Claude continued, his voice lowering, "I heard something that troubled me deeply. There were rumors that someone at Nexus was deliberately sabotaging the Zhongxin account."

You felt your stomach drop. "What? That's impossible. We were all working so hard on that account!"

Claude nodded grimly. "I have no doubt that you were. But the whispers persisted. Now you worked most often with Min Ho Song, correct?"

“Yes.”

“And Min Ho learned that your team director, Amilla Tremaine, was making a trip to Shanghai to meet with a potential new client.”

“That’s right. Amilla and Zhongxin’s schedules weren’t lining up while she was going to be there, and since Zhongxin wasn’t paying to bring her out, she had to prioritize the other client, but Min Ho and the team seemed like they were understanding.”

“Well, it turns out Amilla did find a pocket of time to meet with Zhongxin.”

A pit began to form in your stomach.

Claude's expression grew even more somber as he continued. "According to my friend on the board, Amilla's meeting with Zhongxin was disastrous. She arrived nearly an hour late, offering only a flippant apology about traffic. This, in a culture where punctuality is highly valued, especially in business settings."

You felt your chest tighten, imagining the scene. The Zhongxin executives, impeccably dressed and perfectly on time, waiting in a sleek conference room as the minutes ticked by. The growing tension, the exchanged glances, the murmured concerns.

"But it gets worse," Claude said, his voice low. "Throughout the meeting, Amilla reportedly displayed a dismissive attitude towards Zhongxin's concerns and questions. She interrupted speakers, checked her phone repeatedly, and at one point even rolled her eyes at a suggestion from one of their senior board members."

You felt sick. This was not wildly different than how she treated you, but you were stunned that she had treated any client this way - especially one as large as Zhongxin.

“Seemingly fed up with their input and concerns, she proposed drastic changes to the current strategies - strategies that, as I understand it, were largely based on ideas you had pitched to launch some of their key campaign and marketing strategies. When they tried to express that they only wanted to discuss adjustments and expansions, she said they should trust her expertise - that she didn’t tell them how to do their jobs, so they shouldn’t tell her how to do hers.”

Your jaw dropped.

“The chair of the board then said she was right - and as board chair, he knew when it was time to terminate a toxic partnership.”

“Wait,” Gus interjected. “Are you saying that Amilla knew she killed the relationship before she even left Shanghai?”

Claude nodded. “Before she even left the building.”

“What the hell! How long did she think she’d be able to keep this quiet? Or did she think she’d be able to recover?” Gus asked.

You were still too stunned to speak.

“She may have even thought closing a deal with the new client would compensate for losing Zhongxin,” Maggie tossed out.

Claude shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips. "It's anyone's guess what was going through Amilla's mind. Perhaps she thought she could salvage the situation, or maybe she believed losing Zhongxin wouldn't be as catastrophic as it's turned out to be. The human mind has an remarkable capacity for self-deception, especially when pride and ego are involved."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the lush gardens surrounding you. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground and highlighting the vibrant colors of the flowers nearby. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming roses, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly cut grass.

"As for Zhongxin," Claude continued, his attention returning to you, "they didn't waste any time. After deciding to terminate their contract with Nexus, they immediately revisited the proposals that had been on the table a year ago. Our offer, it seems, still held viability and appeal for them. They worked with our office in Southeast Asia to finalize and sign the deal in the last twelve hours, and by the nature of the time difference, I only found out a couple of hours before they issued their press statement.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - anger at Amilla, disbelief at the turn of events, and a growing sense of injustice. "But why would Amilla accuse me of betraying the company? Why fire me?"

Claude's expression darkened. "That's where things get even uglier. It seems Amilla needed a scapegoat."

Maggie leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "Think about it. Amilla knew she'd messed up catastrophically. She needed someone to blame, and fast."

"And I was the perfect target," you said, the realization running like ice through your veins. "Young, ambitious, someone she's never fully trusted or liked, and the person who had the closest relationship with the Zhongxin team."

Claude nodded grimly. "Exactly. By pinning the blame on you, she could potentially save face with the higher-ups at Nexus. She could claim that you had been secretly working with Hansen Global, feeding us information, and that's why we were able to swoop in so quickly after the fallout."

"That's ridiculous!" Gus exclaimed, his face flushed with anger. "There's no evidence to support that!"

"Evidence isn't always necessary when someone is desperate to cover their tracks," Maggie said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Not in the corporate jungle.”

You felt numb, struggling to process the enormity of what you were hearing. The injustice of it all made your head spin. You had poured your heart and soul into that account, into Nexus, only to have it all ripped away because of Amilla's incompetence and desperation to save face.

"So what happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Claude leaned forward, his eyes intense. "That's up to you. But I want you to know that Hansen Global would be more than happy to bring you on board. In fact, when Zhongxin signed with us, they specifically suggested we poach you."

You blinked in surprise. "They did?"

Claude nodded. "They spoke very highly of your work and insights."

A small spark of pride ignited in your chest, but it was quickly doused by the weight of everything else. "I... I don't know. This is a lot to consider.”

"But this isn’t fair!" Gus retorted, his face still furious. "We can't let her get away with this!"

You appreciated Gus's righteous indignation on your behalf, but a creeping sense of hopelessness was settling in. "What can we even do? It's my word against hers.”

Gus gasped then.

“What?” you asked immediately.

“Helen!”

“Helen?”

“Yes!” he laughed. “She just landed a few hours ago! You’ve got to talk to her! You were basically her protégé! She’ll have to believe you!”

With all the drama, you’d forgotten she was on her way to Paris from Amsterdam, and while you’d been thrilled with that news this morning, now you were nervous to face her - if so many others knew you’d been fired, she certainly would by now, too.

Gus hastily pulled your phone from his pocket and thrust it into your hands. You bit your lip as you turned off Do Not Disturb.

Sure enough, among the sea of notifications, one stood out - a DM in Slack from Helen, your former boss and now the VP of Strategy and Innovation.

HELEN: We need to talk as soon as you can.

It had been sent almost an hour ago.

You stared at Helen's message, your heart racing. This could be your chance to set the record straight, to have someone with real influence at Nexus hear your side of the story. But doubt crept in - what if Helen had already made up her mind? What if she believed Amilla's version of events? Amilla was the one she’d hired as a director.

"Well?" Gus prompted, his eyes bright with anticipation. "Are you going to message her back?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Yes, I am."

With trembling fingers, you typed out a reply:

YOU: I'm available now if you are. Where would you like to meet?

The response came almost immediately:

HELEN: Meet me in the hotel lobby in 15 minutes.

You showed the others the message, a mix of hope and apprehension swirling in your stomach.

"This is good," Maggie said reassuringly. "Helen knows you, she'll listen to your side of the story."

“And if not, I’m serious about making you an offer,” Claude reiterated. 

“Do not accept anything from him until you speak with me though,” Maggie said. “I’ve been wanting to start my own think tank, and I came to the conference this year specifically to scope out members to flesh out my team.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Wait, really?”

Maggie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she nodded. "Yes, really! I've been planning this for months, but I wanted to find the right people to bring on board. And after seeing you in action this week, I'm more convinced than ever that you'd be perfect for what I have in mind."

You felt a rush of warmth at her words, a stark contrast to the cold dismissal you'd received from Amilla earlier. The idea of working with Maggie, of being part of something new and innovative, was incredibly appealing.

"That's... wow, Maggie. I don't know what to say," you stammered, genuinely touched by her offer.

Maggie's smile widened. "Say you'll have dinner with me tonight so we can discuss it properly. I've got a reservation at this charming little restaurant I discovered last time I was in Paris.”

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, that would be perfect! Thank you." And then you said it again with more softness and warmth, looking at each of them. “Thank you. I don't know how I would have gotten through this day without your support.”

You felt so much gratitude for these people who believed in you, even in the face of this disaster - Maggie who had known while during your graduate pursuit, Gus who had worked along side you since you started at Nexus, and Claude who’d only known you a few days but had apparently been watching your career over the past year.

As you stood to leave, Claude reached out and gently touched your arm. "Remember, regardless of what happens with Helen, you have options. Amilla's actions will not define your future."

You smiled, determination taking root in your gut again at his words. You had always worked hard for everything. It was just time to pick up and do it again.

With a deep breath, you set off towards the hotel, Gus at your side, your mind racing with all you'd learned and the conversation to come. The walk back seemed both too long and too short, your nerves growing with each step.

The hotel lobby bustled with conference attendees, their animated chatter creating a low hum of background noise. Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Helen's familiar face. You spotted her almost immediately. She was seated in one of the plush armchairs, her tablet in hand, looking every bit the powerful executive you remembered. When she saw you, she stood, Gus squeezed your shoulder in a show of support and good luck, and you stood a little taller as you approached the Nexus VP of Strategy and Innovation.

"Hello," she said, her voice calm and measured. "I think we need to talk.”

next chapter: coming February 17

Only two more chapters!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 6

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: i can't believe i made this chapter so angsty,

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

I packed the books Jay had lent me into my bag. Once I had my things in order, I stood up and headed for the door. I took a deep breath before slightly opening it. Peeking through, I saw Jay bowing his head while his mother yelled at him. I covered my mouth in shock.

"Just because I let you participate in that tournament doesn't mean you can do whatever you want! What have I heard from your brother? You go to school without breakfast? You don't even eat dinner here, so you probably don't eat lunch at school either! Are you trying to starve yourself to death?!" his mother shouted at him. I winced at her harsh words. "Why are you doing this to yourself?! Is it because of that girl? Answer me!"

I swallowed hard as I looked at Jay's face. He kept his head bowed and didn't answer. I clenched my fists.

"Ever since that girl left, you've been like this! I'm telling you, stop getting into relationships! They only distract you from your studies!"

"I'm studying like you wanted. What more do you want?" Jay said quietly, and I gasped at his response.

Before I could react, his mother slapped him. I stepped back in fear. What should I do? Stop his mom? What if she gets angrier at Jay? What if she doesn't let him see his friends anymore because I interfered? But I can't just leave Jay like this!

Before I could make a decision, Jay came back into the room. His face looked exhausted, and his shoulders were slumped. And here I was, standing, watching him, wanting to ask if he was okay. But I didn't want to cross his boundaries. I didn't even know if he liked having me near him. Maybe he was just like Vinny.

He went straight to his bed and sat down, lost in thought.

"J-Jay," I said nervously, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have agreed to study tonight. You couldn't even eat dinner."

He didn't respond. Now I felt even guiltier.

"I should go—"

"Stay." I froze and looked at him, surprised. He was still staring at the floor.

"Your mom might get even angrier. I don't want you to get scolded again, Jay," I said softly.

This time, he faced me. "All she cares about is my studying. Then I will give it to her. Let's study more," he said coldly.

I frowned and took a deep breath. I sat beside him, and he didn't get angry, for which I was grateful.

"I know I have no right to say this, but..." I bit my lower lip nervously. "Doesn't it seem like your mom is just worried about you? I heard you haven't eaten since this morning." I searched his eyes.

"But of course, hitting you is not okay. If she really worries about you, she shouldn't hurt her own son," I added.

I saw his fists clench. "She doesn't care about me," he said seriously, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Okay..." I smiled, and he looked at me. "If you want to study, then let's do it together. But do you want to eat first?" I asked, taking out my phone.

"I'll order some food. What do you want?" I asked while browsing food options on my phone.

"I'll cook. Put your phone away," he said, surprising me as he stood up and left the room. I was left staring after him, bewildered.

He cooks? He knows how to cook?

I hurriedly followed Jay to the kitchen, surprised to see him already wearing an apron. My cheeks heated up at the sight. He looked so good! He's already smart, and now I find out he can cook too. What girl wouldn't fall for him? I didn't hesitate to approach him.

"You don't have to! I can buy us food. You've already let me stay here in your house, and now you're cooking for me too," I said shyly, but he was already frying something.

"Just prepare the plates," he ignored my protests.

"W-Where's your mom?" I asked as I set out two plates. I also helped him wash the knives he'd used. I couldn't believe he had time to chop everything!

"She left as usual," he said. He was focused on frying something as he spoke. I didn't know what else to do while he was cooking. It seemed like he didn't need any help, or maybe he just didn't want me to disturb him. So, I decided to wait until he was done.

I saw him taking off the apron. My eyes widened as he served pork tonkatsu with cabbage on our plates. The cabbage even had sauce, making it look even more appetizing.

"Wow, you can really cook," I said, impressed. I watched him scoop some rice and place it on the table. My heart warmed at the sight. He really knows how to make a girl fall for him.

"Let's eat," he said, sitting down, and I followed suit.

"Thank you for this... I'll pay you back next time." I said with a smile. He just nodded.

I started serving myself some rice. I really love rice. I can't go a day without eating it. I happily tasted what he cooked. It was so delicious! I almost forgot I was with Jay at the table. When I looked at him, I was shocked to see he was watching me eat like it was the first meal I'd ever had.

"Seriously? You didn't even invite me?" Jay's brother suddenly appeared.

"You're finished eating dinner, so go," Jay said, trying to shoo him away.

"I just had rice soup!"

"That's not my problem."

I laughed at their bickering. I smiled at his brother and offered him a piece of tonkatsu. Jay had cooked two pieces for us. I could manage with just one piece of meat.

"Here, eat this. You can get some rice," I offered.

"No, you eat it. Just let him be," Jay insisted, but I looked at his brother, who was eyeing the tonkatsu. I stood up and got him a plate. I also scooped some rice for him and gave him some tonkatsu and a bit of cabbage.

"Hey it's okay," I smiled sweetly at him. He looked stunned and seemed shy about looking at his brother. Soon enough, he joined us at the table. He sat beside me and started tasting the food his brother cooked.

"Thank you," he said softly, and I just smiled.

Jay sighed. "You should have told me earlier that you wanted some so I could cook for you."

"I didn't know you'd be cooking! It's been so long since you last cooked! Months even."

I realized the possible reason why he hadn't been cooking. It might have been because of Shelly. I forced a small smile. Maybe he used to cook for Shelly like this? How lucky she was.

"After you finish the alphabets, we can move on to the literature," Jay suddenly said, handing me half of his tonkatsu. I was taken aback.

"O-Okay..." was all I managed to say.

"Demitra! Do you have a boyfriend?" Jay's brother asked out of the blue, catching me off guard.

"Woohyeon." Jay warned.

"What? I was just asking! I'm single."

I laughed and shook my head. "No, you're too young to be my boyfriend, don't you think?"

"I'll be 18 soon!"

I laughed again and glanced at Jay, who continued eating as if he didn't care about our conversation. Why do I feel disappointed? I can't believe it. Why would he care about my relationship status?

"Are you one of Shelly's friends? Jay's girlfriend has a lot of friends, and I bet you're one of them."

Jay froze at the mention of her name. He stopped eating and glared at his brother.

"Uhh—" I didn't know what to say!

"Leave," Jay shot a sharp look at his brother. "Go eat in your room," he said seriously.

"But I'm still talking to Demitra—"

"I said leave," Jay shouted, and Woohyeon paled, quickly standing up and taking his food with him as he left.

I averted my gaze. After all this time, he’s still affected by her name. He truly loves her. Even though Shelly left and hasn’t contacted him. How could that woman not update her own boyfriend? Not even a text? Doesn’t she think about Jay’s feelings? I hate this. I shouldn't have cared about them at all.

I glanced at my watch. "Hey, isn’t it too late for us to study now? There’s always tomorrow. Let’s continue then." I forced a smile.

He looked up. "It’s up to you," he said shortly.

I laughed. "After I finish eating, I'll wash the dishes. Then I’ll head home."

"You're leaving?" he asked, surprised.

I frowned. "What else would I do here, Jaehyun? Sleep in your room?" I joked, but he just stared at me. "Just kidding... Do you need anything else? Do you want me to teach you more tips on biking?"

He shook his head. "It's fine. No need to wash the dishes. I’ll take you home," he said, starting to clear the plates.

"Oh, you don’t have to! I have my bike, remember?" I said, smiling at him. "Thanks again for the meal! I'll treat you tomorrow, I promise!"

He just stared at me before nodding. I sighed as he turned away. I want to learn more about you, Jay. So why can't you talk to me? I just want to make you smile. Why is it so hard? Is she really that important to you? Are you really starving yourself because of her?

I clenched my fists and looked away. I packed my things and took my stuff from his room. But I froze when I saw a small picture frame. It was a photo of Shelly and Jay together. Shelly had her arms wrapped around Jay’s waist while posing. They looked so sweet together.

Why do you keep appearing everywhere I go, Shelly? Why are you always ruining things for me? Why does the world keep doing this to me? Why?

I sighed.

"I'm leaving! Thank you again, Jay!" I waved to him as I stepped out of their house.

[centrally-unplanned]

In news from a different world, last December J-pop idol Miho Nakayama passed away, quite shockingly so at the age of 54. I have no connection to her music or acting, but of course I do appreciate her role in the very early history of video game development and dating sims via the 1987 Famicom game Nakayama Miho no Tokimeki High School, which I have discussed before. I decided to play the game "in memoriam", as it were - it does in fact have an English patch, and you can see a playthrough of said patch on YouTube here. It was time to experience my very own 80's high school idol love story <3.

To the surprise of no one, this game sucks. It essentially had to, no real fault on the developers, but that doesn't change the facts. It is working with incredibly limited graphical capabilities of course, with the average scene looking like this:

Which just isn’t enough for “ambiance” immersion to work, every setting is generic by definition. That can of course be saved by a good plot or gameplay, but neither shows up here; there is barely any story to speak of. Main Guy goes to new school, meets “Mizuho”, realizes she is secretly pop idol Miho trying to live a normal life, they start dating, and paparazzi-types and the pressures of her career get in the way such that eventually (based on your route progression) she breaks up with you or you stay a couple and ride off into the sunset together. Literally by the way, a friend loans you a motorcycle so you can escape the press:

You might be saying “surely you are skipping some things” but I assure you it is nothing important. Neither Miho nor the main character have any personality to speak of, and your time is filled generally by comedic hijinks or just the mechanics of progressing the relationship. There is a fat-faced friend who gossips about school, you have a family that ~exists, there is a stuck-up rich girl you speak to about twice before she kidnaps you in order to serve you drugged food so you will date her (as was typical for 1980’s courtship norms) which happens solely to make you late for a date with Miho to create drama, and so on - it is all as tiresome as it is irrelevant. You can even poke your head into the girl’s locker room at some point, the crown jewel of filler content:

This isn’t even arcade-cabinet-strip-mahjong levels of hot, I know video games of the era could do better than this! Though for all the extraneous plot beats and side characters, I did like “The Trio”, a group of cackling girls who follow you around like a Greek chorus taunting you for your desires:

In another game these fey spirits would devour your organs at the right moment, mad respect. 

Anyway, all of this plot filler is used to stretch out the non-story but in that task it gets a helping hand from the game mechanics, which are a classic example of arbitrary progression gatekeeping. Half the dialogue options are just variants of the same core emotion, and the right answer is inscrutable. You get moments like this one, where Miho is apologizing to you for a misunderstanding:

And all of these answers are pretty dismissive? But the right answer is A, the meanest of them! Guess she has a type, but since you as a player haven’t negotiated her safe words yet you don’t know that and are just gonna facecheck your way through these.

As the cherry on top the advertised “facial expression” system is actually a letdown - it is very rarely used, most dialogue options don’t ask for it, and when they do you have six options:

But you actually never use half of these, and 90% of the time the correct answer is “normal”. At least this was bad in a “too easy” way, so it doesn’t waste your time, but you could just remove it as a mechanic and miss nothing. All of the “interactive” elements could be replaced by linear narrative, actually, and nothing would be lost.

Besides the competitive media mix aspects of the game, obviously. Which is what it is all about, right? This ain’t some random 8-bit idol, this is Miho Nakayama! And even in-game she is pretty cute, I do like the design for the close-up convos:

The glasses-for-disguise are nice with her moe eyes, the details of the shading really pop in an 8-bit context, and really the whole framework of the UI as this sort of flip picture book is adding value here (as opposed to being irrelevant in the location shots). They even give her a bunch of different outfits on your dates because as the heroine she deserves it:

“Ash, those first two are literally just palette swaps” “No man, look, the red one is using dithering to create a fade effect on the colors, implying a more complicated pattern like plaid thatching, while the blue one uses bold lines to imply a striped coat”. It was impressive in 1987, alright! This girl has no textual personality but there is life in this design that stands out from its peers.

But of course it isn’t the in-game graphics doing the heavy lifting here. As mentioned before, this was a “Telephone Game”, where players would be prompted at times to call phone numbers Nintendo had rented out to hear voicemails Nakayama had recorded. These voicemails are, to the best I can tell, lost to us - I have not found an existing recording online. They were only up briefly actually, for a few months after the game was released - this was not an era where longevity for games was considered important. We do have transcripts of them though, and I can imagine that picking up your house phone, calling a phone number, and getting the actual voice of the “character” in the game talking to you - making your heart go doki doki if you will - must have been pretty cool.

(Miho even travels throughout the game, and the phone numbers - according to this blogger - actually use location-appropriate area codes so it feels like you are really calling Osaka or Hokkaido! Very cool…unless - according to another blogger - you got hit with long distance calling charges for your pursuit of troubled love, as was reported in the media at the time. Now that’s authenticity?)

This mechanic is essentially a ludomantic experience that is impossible to capture today, because voice acting in video games is incredibly common; so much so that it would come off as gimmicky to make someone go through such a multi-device process. But since the Famicom couldn’t make vocal sounds, it had to make you use your phone, which created the simulacrum of actually calling a real human outside of the game to talk to. That is pretty neat!

As mentioned, the media mix came bundled with a competition - the winners were the first 16,000 players to submit a “Best Ending” record via the barely-used Famicom Disk Fax system. As helpfully explained in the instruction manual alongside photos of the IRL Nakayama:

And the big prize of a VHS tape of behind-the-scenes Nakayama stuff has been preserved, and is easily available if you want to watch it. Don’t though, it isn’t worth it; it is primarily b-roll footage of her doing typical day-to-day tasks and softball interview questions about “what is her type” with generic answers, stuff like that. Solid C- for the genre. But still, you didn’t know that when competing, right? The pressure to get your game file in was fierce.

I mentioned how the game essentially “had to be bad” at the start, and I want to dig into why that is. In my initial post I linked, I actually made a false statement - I said the development time for the game was “2 weeks”. I said that because the game’s Wikipedia page in English says it and so it is common trivia on the net, but I don’t think that it is true. Even when I typed it in that original post, the back of my mind was going “wait, that can’t be literally true, it is very hard to make a game that fast in that era - these guys are coding in Assembly!”, but I sort of hand-waived it away as, oh something like they were harvesting an existing game prototype or somesuch. But I believe this fact comes from a mistranslation of interviews like this one:

岩田: 坂口さんは『ファイナルファンタジー』の開発を終えて、『トキメキハイスクール』に合流されたんですか？ 坂口: ええ。チームの何名かが合流して、３カ月間くらいでしょうか。で、最後は１０名くらいのメンバーといっしょに京都にやって来て、２週間くらいカンヅメになって、なんとか開発を終えることができたんです。

Or:

Iwata: Sakaguchi, did you join the "Tokimeki High School" project after finishing development on "Final Fantasy"? Sakaguchi: Yes, that’s right. Several team members joined the project for about 3 months, I think. And then near the end of development, about 10 of us came down to Kyoto and we holed up for around 2 weeks until we somehow managed to finish the game.

So what is going on here is the game’s development was a joint production between Nintendo - in Kyoto at this time - and up-and-coming game company Square in Tokyo. And yes, they were literally working on Final Fantasy right before this game, and switched gears to tackle this new project. Or at least some of them did, for 3 months, and then famed-director-of-Final-Fantasy Sakaguchi came down to Kyoto and lived out of a hotel for two weeks doing crunch to finish it off. That fact, probably because Sakaguchi is the famous person reporters would care about, got transformed into the idea that the whole game took 2 weeks to make. 

In this same interview they talk about how, at the end of that crunch, they all went out for drinks to celebrate…until they got a phone call about how the motorcycle in the ending credits is glitching out and flying off the screen, which they thought was a hilarious, beautifully fitting bug for their time together. And that is hilarious, the primary reason I am recounting it, but I also think it goes to show that this was a hot mess of a game dev process. 2 weeks or ~3 months, both of those are not enough time. And with two companies in different cities, doing crunch out of a hotel, wrangling with a record label for a pop idol’s permission, setting up phone line recordings and VHS tapes and a bonus competition using experimental fax machines, all aligned with a media blitz? All for a game genre that honestly hadn’t been done before? I have checked, and you can authentically argue this is the first ever dating sim, at least on a console. People overstate what it is inventing - it is pulling tropes from romance anime and manga, of course - but even that process of transference is tough. This wasn’t a genre yet, and in a way they weren’t even trying to make a dating sim. They were trying to make an event.

One that today you just can’t experience. Very few people care about Nakayama Miho “like that” anymore, we aren’t seeing the commercials or the magazine ads or buying the discount unofficial strategy guide that invented a fake protagonist and never used Miho’s name because they didn’t have the rights. Today you play the game just because it is a game, and when you hit the phone numbers you tab over to a transcript of the voicemails…or maybe don’t even bother. The game was just a vessel for the hype. That doesn’t make the game good, by the way, I don’t want to go that far. The game was a not-very-good vessel for the hype, and an anachronistically better team could have made a better game. It isn’t really worth playing, in the end. But it is worth researching! As an event, it is really cool. As a piece of history, it is probably unique. And I respect the team behind it for that.