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#i was in the middle of doing one more but i hit my time limit

sophiamcdougall · 8 months

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I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

#story time

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months

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How do I figure out what motions/handlings to write? (Hand gestures, moving in the scene, etc).

I am autistic and have never paid much attention to the way people move. I only do so now because I have been reading and noticed it was missing from my own writing. I never see anyone struggle with this, so I feel like I am missing some understanding on how to structure a scene

Guide: Working Body Language Into Your Writing

Body language is the process of communicating nonverbally through conscious or unconscious movements of the body.

Th four types of body language:

-- Facial Expressions -- Posture -- Hand Gestures -- Body Movement

Facial Expressions communicate thought and emotion using the features of the face, such as eyes, mouth, nose, and eyebrows. Some examples of facial expressions are:

-- an upturned mouth -- dimples -- a raised eyebrow -- flushed cheeks -- a scrunched nose -- rolling eyes -- gaping jaw -- eye signals (winking, narrowed eyes, twinkling eyes, etc.)

Posture communicates thought and emotion using the positioning of the body, head, and limbs. Some examples of posture:

-- sitting up straight -- slouching -- leaning toward someone -- hugging oneself -- crossed arms -- hands on hips -- slumped shoulders

Hand gestures communicate thought and emotion using intentional movements of the hand. Some examples of hand gestures:

-- pointing -- "face palm" -- waving -- beckoning with hand or finger -- thumbs up -- middle finger -- clenched fists -- covering mouth with hand -- placing hand over heart -- gesturing at someone/something -- clapping

Body movements communicate thought and emotion using bigger actions, like gestures using the head/neck or limbs, or moving the entire body. Some examples of body movements:

-- jumping up and down -- cowering -- flinching -- bowing/curtsying -- handshakes/hugs -- hitting/kicking/pushing -- taking a step back -- moving toward -- shrugging -- shaking head/nodding -- tipping head back -- dancing in place Choosing Body Language to Show Emotion

A character's thoughts and emotions can be conveyed using a combination of different body language signals. Every body language signal (such as a wink, smile, frown, shrug, wave, etc.) has a bunch of emotions it can be tied to.

For example, we all know that smiling is typically a sign of positive emotions like happiness, joy, satisfaction, triumph, and affection. Shrugging is usually an indication of indifference or not knowing something. However, we can also modify body language using adjectives. For example, a "nervous smile" or a "sad smile" tells us something very different from just a regular smile. An "apathetic shrug" clarifies indifference, whereas an "enthusiastic shrug" implies excitement about something but not having all the answers or facts.

Sometimes, choosing the right emotion to illustrate a character's thoughts and feelings is as simple as considering what you yourself might do in that moment. Or, perhaps someone you know who is like your character. Other times, it can be beneficial to research which body language signals are typically indicative of a particular emotion. For that, I would strongly recommend purchasing a copy of The Emotion Thesaurus by Becca Puglisi and Angela Ackerman. This handy reference lists a variety of emotions along with the body language that often indicate them, and it goes even further in that it also describes the internal sensations that often go with these emotions, which is handy when you're writing in first-person or third-person close/limited. The book is available for purchase in print and e-book, and you can find samples by searching for "One Stop for Writers Emotion Thesaurus."

I hope that helps!

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daddyricsdoll · 2 months

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Congrats on 1k, love!!

Could I request “Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” With Nando please 🖤

1k ✭ Celebration

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🏍️★°‧𖦹｡⋆☆

The perks of Fernando riding a motorcycle meant my hands were always on him while he drove. Sliding up and down his chest, thighs and if I was close enough, my fingers would hold his throat.

And his helmet only made me crazier, the way he looked when it was on him, even better when he pulled it off but it reminded me of the times when he’d fuck me in his drivers room wearing everything he needed for a race. Or run to me after one, with the helmet over his head as his gloved hands grasped my ass.

Ever since the off season started I’ve missed it. Having to see Fernando wear his helmet everyday but not lay his hands on me.

So that became my encouragement, my aim for this short ride. Just to get his hands on me the way it was after a bad race, and especially the good ones.

I held his waist tightly, making it certain I’d never fall. Until I slid my hands lower, holding his thighs. Teasing him with touches that would stroke his inner thigh and let him know exactly what I was doing. But a reaction from the Spaniard never came.

Leaving me to such a needy act. Letting my hands go up his inner thigh and touch his cock. Not making my act subtle at all as he groaned. One of his hands gripping mine as we stop at a red light.

“Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” Fernando's words were severe, but each of his hits felt like a kiss. So his words morphed into such sweet sounds. Like he had just said he’d cuddle me for eternity and keep me warm till the stars fall from the sky.

Only encouraging me to carry on. My contact made him grip the handlebars even tighter.

Now ignoring me and taking a wrong turn. Driving harshly as if he’s on track and I’m not with him. Another spark of arousal exploding in me.

“Fernando! Where are we going?” I try to shout over the loud motorcycle, failing as I get no response. Looking around as the people and buildings start gradually disappearing. My fear mixes with lust and you could call me a psychopath for just imagining the things he’d do to me with no one else around. All secluded with his helmet on, masking his face and taking away a piece of his identity. Usually it would scare people, but I’ve never wanted it more.

Fernando pulls into an abandoned car park, empty from vehicles and life other than us. Lights still scattered up and down the lot, lighting it up for the very few people that dare to come here.

He parks right in the middle of everything, making us the stars of this limited movie. Fernando gets off the bike first, helping me off right after. Pulling my helmet off and placing it on my seat before he leans me against the motorcycle.

“Puta, you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His hand holds my chin, making me stare into my own reflection through his helmet. “I know what you want. And you’re not gonna want it again after I finish.”

“Well then let me prove you wrong.”

(Sorry for edging you with this one. I've got some Nando smut coming)

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wyniepooh · 6 months

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Swear

hotch doesn’t swear. or at least he didn't, until he met you.

Female bau!reader x hotch. Cw: mentions of alcohol and reader being drunk, creepy man saying slightly creepy words to reader, swearing. Slight talks of anxiety, self blaming, guilt. Random man tries to get w drunk reader at a bar, hotch comes to her defense.

“To catching another dumb son-of-a-bitch!”

Raised glasses filled your mildly limited vision as your toast echoed bounced around the table. The night didn’t always end like this, but when it did, the team made sure to celebrate enough to last the whole year.

Today’s case was particularly satisfying. There was nothing like putting handcuffs on a seriously cruel offender that put a smile on your face and fuelled tequila shot after tequila shot. although, you wouldn't deny that perhaps it fuelled a little too much drinking.

“I’m pretty sure the ladies is on the left, Derek. Are you forgetting that my name is literally on the regular’s list?” Your own words sounded unusually slurred, but you didn't bother questioning anything that was happening in the moment.

The man in front of you chuckled, letting go of his grasp on your forearm as he lifted his own defensively, raising his suspicious brows with a smile. “Alright, alright. Didn’t know we were still on duty. Go wherever you want, agent. Just don’t get lost, and don’t blame us when you see something you do not wanna see.”

You rolled your eyes as you stumbled away, using the light of your phone to shine at the approaching door of the washroom. Once you reached the hard door, you stuffed your phone into your pant pocket and pushed on the flat surface.

“Woah-“

You felt the gulf of cold air hitting your face before you could register what had happened. A middle aged man stood dazed in front of you, his expression sweetening by the second, and it was right then that you realized Derek was totally right.

“Uh, I’m so sorry. I thought this was the women’s washrooms. Clearly I need to revisit my directions,” you tried to chuckle.

The stranger flashed you a toothy grin, and while you probably didn’t smell any better, you swore the man would catch on fire if you dropped a match.

“That’s all right, sweetheart. Here, where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”

You only now registered how close he was, and how close you were to the wooden wall behind you. You tried to look over his shoulder, but he mirrored your movements, smile so intact yours started to falter.

“Excuse me- get out of the way." Even though the music was being blasted at an unreasonable volume, your clear voice still rung throughout the room.

He laughed. “Come on, sweetie. You were the one to bump into me. Shouldn’t you…” he stepped closer again, “…make up for it?”

Your smile had fallen completely by this point, and you crossed your arms as you spoke, “I’ll say it one more time, sir. Get out of my face.”

“Just give me a little-“

the flash of a familiar red tie swung past you.

“You heard what she said.”

Looming behind the sweaty man was hotch, suit still impressively pristine as it was at the beginning of the day, but furrowed brows seemingly worse.

The man’s face flushed red at the interruption, and had you not felt so cold and had your hands not been shaking, you would’ve laughed at this stranger’s ridiculous appearance.

“And who the hell are you?”

“You shouldn’t be the one asking questions."

You uncrossed your arms, attempting to step in his direction. “hotch, let’s just go-“

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw an arm reach towards your waist.

“Hey, baby, don’t go away so soo-“

The sound of skin colliding hit your ears much aggressively than the blaring music. You looked down to see hotch’s hand firming gripping onto the man’s wrist, his arm just about to make contact with your body, no doubt.

“She told you to go away,” hotch whispered.

the guy sighed. “hey, relax man. come on, you get it. I’m just- you know, tryna get some action from this pretty little-” his sentence was interrupted by a nasty groan.

He toppled over, nearly in half, as hotch crouched down to his level, hand still squeezing his wrist.

“Maybe you didn’t hear her. She said to fuck off.”

The bar went silent. You swore someone had lowered the sound of the music, and it seemed everyone had stopped drinking and laughing to catch a glimpse of the situation.

The man managed to twist his arm to escape hotch's grasp, quickly scurrying to the front. You sighed a breath of relief as the door opened and the man practically ran away.

“Thank you-“

“Come on,” he murmured as he extended his arm, and you instinctively grabbed his forearm as you both began to walk.

You chuckled. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“I only use it when I need to,” he smiled.

“Wow. So I ruined somewhat of a clean streak, huh?”

He stopped. He turned around, eyes reflecting onto yours with the slight smile still wavering on his face. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

The seemingly immeasurable adrenaline finally stopped pumping in your blood, and the repressed tears finally made their space in your eyes. You returned his smile, giving his arm a firm squeeze as you whispered,

“Thank you.”

A/n: oh to have hotch comfort me and tell me I didn’t mess anything up 😔

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saturnsorbits · 7 days

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Android AU where you purchase a discounted and broken Bakugo model.

He’s got limited movement in his right arm, a faulty ocular system and a series of burns that cover one side of his face and have made the middle of his chest all melted and tacky - the synthetic skin warped like scarred flesh, but he works well enough.

It’s nice, having him around. You cook together. Watch movies. Go on picnics. Hike. Dine out. Visit aquariums and museums. It doesn’t take long for people to start assuming…

Husband. Boyfriend. Fiancé. It’s all thrown round. An endearing misunderstanding that never garners more than a blush, or at least it was, until the feelings started.

It’s a growing debate, if the androids can feel like humans can, but you find yourself at his mercy anyway. You fall for him slowly, but definitely, lost to him in all of the ways you’d never thought possible.

You bottle it, lock it in your chest even when it becomes too much taking you in a choke hold and then one day, you just… Burst.

Ducking under the rail of the park, you cross the wood-chips and toss yourself to the curved rubber seat of the swing. Beyond the small park is the ocean - a small slither of wide open blue that crashes against the walls of the sea barrier before you.

This was your place, just your place and now, now you’re sharing it with him.

He sits on your left, pushing himself with the balls of his feet. In the shadow of the street light with his synthetic blonde spikes spilling over his forehead, he almost feels like a lover - like something more than he can be. ‘I like it here.’

‘I know.’ Bakugo turns, smirks. The social module downloaded into his brain makes it look perfect, tells him the exact angle his lips should stretch to for the chosen effect.

‘There’s something about the sea being so close, it’s…’

‘Calming.’

‘Yeah.’ You sigh, glancing over to Bakugo careful not to look too long. ‘It’s calming.’

‘You wanna know why?’

‘Sure.’

‘My search says it’s due to the broad nature of the sound, as it hits your ear...' He taps your tragus. 'It creates a deep tonal noise, which due to its processing ease in the brain creates a soothing effect.'

'Huh.' It’s strange, hearing him talk like this. Usually, he’s so informal, so blunt and matter of fact it’s strange when all of that wiring in his head kicks back in and has him talking like… Well like a robot.

‘Did it again, didn’t I?’

You chuckle. ‘Sometimes you just talk like we’re worlds apart.’

‘Sorry. I -.’

‘No, no…’ You smile, softly, before reaching over and resting your palm on his thigh.

Bakugo blinks, looking down at the hand wrapping his leg. Gingerly, he accepts it. Entwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes. ‘I…’ His voice is a whisper. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Katsuki.’

Squeezing softly, Bakugo doesn’t lift his gaze when he talks. 'I don't love you.'

You laugh, the cold air stinging your teeth. ‘I don’t love you.’ It’s a half-truth, the emotion caught in your chest might not yet be love, but it’s too close to it for comfort. ‘You don’t have to love me.’

Bakugo breathes deep despite not needing to. ‘I - I don’t feel -.’

You cut him off, eyes wide, a softeness already burrowing into your expression. You can’t imagine what’s it’s like, to be filled with a thing you were born never to have - to be coming alive for the first time. ‘Katsuki… You do. I know that you’re more than just a robot… More than -‘

‘No.’ Bakugo tightens his grip on your hand, flicking his eyes up to meet yours. ‘I can - I do feel…’ He corrects. ‘I just don’t feel for you what you feel for me.’

#saturnssnippets

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 2 months

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so part of me wants to blame this entirely on wbd, right? bloys said he was cool with the show getting shopped around, so assuming he was telling the truth (not that im abt to start blindly trusting anything a CEO says lol), that means it’s not an hbo problem. and we already know wbd has an awful track record with refusing to sell their properties—altho unlike coyote v acme, s3 of ofmd isn’t a completed work and therefore there isn’t the same tax writeoff incentive to bury the thing. i just can’t see any reason to hold on to ofmd except for worrying about image, bc it would be embarrassing if they let this show go with such a devoted fanbase and recognizable celebrities and it went somewhere else and did really well (which it would undoubtedly do really well, we’ve long since proven that). it feels kinda tinfoil hat of me to making assumptions abt what’s going on in wbd behind the scenes, but i also feel like there are hints that i’m onto something w my suspicions: suddenly cracking down on fan merch on etsy doesn’t seem like something a studio looking to sell their property would bother with, and we know someone was paying to track the viewing stats on ofmd’s bbc airing, which isn’t finished yet, so i’d expect whoever is monitoring that to not make a decision abt buying ofmd until the s2 finale dropped.

but also i think part of me just wants there to be a clear villain in the situation. it’s kinda comforting to have a face to blame, a clear target to shake my fist at. but the truth is that the entire streaming industry is in the shitter. streaming is not pulling in the kind of profit that investors were promised, and we’re seeing the bubble that was propped up w investor money finally start to pop. studios aren’t leaving much room in their budgets for acquiring new properties, and they’re whittling down what they already have. especially w the strikes last year, they’re all penny pinching like hell. and that’s much a much harder thing to rage against than just one studio or one CEO being shitty. that’s disheartening in a way that’s much bigger and more frightening than if there was just one guy to blame.

my guess is that the truth of the situation is probably somewhere in the middle. wbd is following the same shitty pattern they’ve been following since the merger, and it’s just a hard time for anyone trying to get their story picked up by any studio. ofmd is just one of many shows that are unlucky enough to exist at this very unstable time for the tv/streaming industry.

when i think abt it that way, tho, i’m struck by how lucky we are that ofmd even got to exist at all. if the wbd merger had happened a year earlier, or if djenks and tw tried to pitch this show a year later, there’s no way this show would’ve been made. s1 was given the runtime and the creative freedom needed to tell the story the way the showrunners wanted to, and the final product benefited from it so much that it became a huge hit from sheer gay word of mouth. and for all the imperfections with s2—the shorter episode order, the hard 30 minute per episode limit, the last-minute script changes, the finale a butchered mess of the intended creative vision—the team behind ofmd managed to tell a beautiful story despite the uphill battle they undoubtedly were up against. they ended the season with the main characters in a happy place. ed and stede are together, and our last shot of ed isn’t of him sobbing uncontrollably (like i rlly can’t stress enough how much i would have never been able to acknowledge the existence of this show again if s1 was all we got)

like. y’all. we were this close to a world where ofmd never got to exist. for me, at least, the pain of an undue cancellation is worth getting to have this story at all. so rather than taking my comfort in the form of righteous anger at david zaslav or at wbd or at the entire streaming industry as a whole, i’m trying to focus on how lucky i am to get to have the show in the first place.

bc really, even as i’m reeling in grief to know this is the end of the road for ofmd, a part of me still can’t quite wrap my head around that this show is real. a queer romcom about middle-aged men, a rejection of washboard abs and facetuned beauty standards, a masterful deconstruction and criticism of toxic masculinity, well-written female characters who get to shine despite being in a show that is primarily about manhood and masculinity, diverse characters whose stories never center around oppression and bigotry, a casually nonbinary character, violent revenge fantasies against oppressors that are cathartic but at the same time are not what brings the characters healing and joy, a queer found family, a strong theme of anti colonialism throughout the entire show. a diverse writers room that got to use their perspectives and experiences to inform the story. the fact that above all else, this show is about the love story between ed and stede, which means the character arcs, the thoughts, the feelings, the motivations, the backstories, and everything else that make up the characters of ed and stede are given the most focus and the most care.

bc there rlly aren’t a lot of shows where a character like stede—a flamboyant and overtly gay middle-aged man who abandoned his family to live his life authentically—gets to be the main character of a romcom, gets to be the hero who the show is rooting for.

and god, there definitely aren’t a lot of shows where a character like ed—a queer indigenous man who is famous, successful, hyper-competent, who feels trapped by rigid standards of toxic hypermasculinity, who yearns for softness and gentleness and genuine interpersonal connection and vulnerability, whose mental health struggles and suicidal intentions are given such a huge degree of attention and delicate care in their depiction, who messes up and hurts people when he’s in pain but who the show is still endlessly sympathetic towards—gets to exist at all, much less as the romantic lead and the second protagonist of the show.

so fuck the studios, fuck capitalism, fuck everything that brought the show to an end before the story was told all the way through. because the forces that are keeping s3 from being made are the same forces that would’ve seen the entire show canceled before it even began. s3 is canceled, and s2 suffered from studio meddling, but we still won. we got to have this show. we got to have these characters. there’s been so much working against this show from the very beginning but here we are, two years later, lives changed bc despite all odds, ofmd exists. they can’t take that away from us. they can’t make us stop talking abt or stop caring abt this show. i’m gonna be a fan of this show til the day i die, and the studios hate that. they hate that we care about things that don’t fit into their business strategy, they hate that not everyone will blindly consume endless IP reboots and spin-offs and cheap reality tv.

anyway i dont rlly have a neat way to end this post. sorta just rambling abt my feelings. idk, i know this sucks but im not rlly feeling like wallowing in it. i think my gratitude for the show is outweighing my grief and anger, at least for right now. most important thing tho is im not going anywhere. and my love for this show is certainly not fucking going anywhere.

#ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #s3 renewal hell #txt #mine #og #studio crit #edward teach #stede bonnet #gentlebeard

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sidemari · 8 months

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• "Themed Phrases" - Scenarios Collection •

Important note: I had to repost this work because Tumblr's algorithm censored my previous post, devaluing all the work I had to finish this piece. I hope that doesn't happen with this one :(

About the game: Both characters' names and themed phrases are in alphabetical/numerical order to facilitate your life as you read this work. Thanks for spending some time on here <3

Pairings: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Venti, Xiao and Zhongli [separately] x Fem!Reader

Word count: 7,5K+ words.

A post perhaps you'll enjoy: here.

Childe

Scenario

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

42. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

TW: Alcohol consumption.

After some glasses of wine, kisses were not enough: both of you needed something more efficient than that to bring relief to your desires.

"I'm feeling... I'm feeling weird" You mumbled against his neck, breathing in his cologne.

"I know you're. It's easy to notice you're excited" His breath hit your ear. "Or should I admit you're horny?"

"Ajax... Stop with your teasing for once"

You felt a kiss against your collarbone that made you shiver, despite the warmth the candles in the bedroom provided.

"It was your idea to drink, in the first place. You know I get... Like this" You muttered.

“You don’t need to be shy, my love” He pulled you to a quick kiss, right before smiling devilishly. "You know I'm around to help you"

And then in the middle of confusion, the reason you both were commemorating.

"It's our anniversary..." You unbuttoned the first button of your coat. "I may have something else for you"

His gaze became piercing, almost cornering you when you showed him your lingerie.

"Lacy?" He grinned. "You're such a sly girl, uh?" If the fabric of your coat wasn't thick enough, it would have torn.

Your breasts were now fully exposed, as they looked perfectly sculpted in the cup of the bra you were using.

You finished undressing and that was when he guided you to your bed.

Your heart was racing inside your chest when he took off his gloves.

"Can I?" He asked for consent while his fingers caressed your hips.

"Yes... Yes, please"

His tongue felt warm.

Your body shivered under his ministrations.

Sucking your clit right before swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves was enough to have you whimpering.

"Ajax- F-Fuck..." Your hands pulled his ginger hair weakly, pressing his face against your intimacy even more, to the point that the words he tried to say were all muffled, because wet and slurping sounds fulfilled the bedroom as Tartaglia prepared you to receive him.

“Is this too fast for you?” He muttered when he broke the contact to breathe.

“Please… Fuck me already” The fatui only smiled, quickly taking off his clothes in order to get freedom to move properly.

“Lift your hips for me and put your legs on my shoulders”

“Ajax…?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

His thrusts were steady and initially slow.

"It's a shame you're now only wearing your bra. That set was pretty hot on you"

A fast pace was settled and you could barely move much or handle all the stimulation.

"You know how I feel when you're all obedient and devoted to me, right, darling?" A hard thrust of his almost reached your cervix, making you whimper and squirm.

"A-Ajax..."

"Shush… We're both almost there"

Your bodies reached the limit some minutes after that, having you both completely surrendered to each other during the rest of the night.

Diluc

Scenario

1. "I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to"

2. "Friends don’t do this kind of shit"

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

43. “I’m going to fucking wreck you”

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

The crystal glass containing an untouched wine was now a fidget on Diluc's hand.

"Tsk, who am I fooling? I despise this shit"

He sounded bitter, almost raged when he abandoned the glass above the table, getting up from his seat at the Winery Salon to walk towards you.

"I'm sorry I have to talk to her right now, Kaeya. Perhaps you can talk finishing your conversation after I'm done with her"

"Diluc...?" You asked confused, as he guided you upstairs with a tight grip on your wrist. "I'm not... I'm not done talking to him"

"Save it" The man hissed. "I'm losing my patience with you, and you're aware of that"

"Diluc... What have I even done this time?"

"You're mine, (Name). You're mine and mine alone. Still, you can't bring yourself to stop seeking attention from other guys, uh? Especially from Kaeya, that..." He didn't finish his line, he simply locked the door behind him, sighing in frustration.

"This is... This is stupid" You said quietly. "You were the one who was disinterested in me. You said it would only bring confusion to the both of us. I guess you were right, afterall"

"What are you even talking about?"

"Don't you remember? You were the one who said 'Friends don’t do this kind of shit', Diluc" You said firmly. "Our relationship doesn't mean much more than being friends with benefits for you, right?"

"You know I didn't mean that phrase in that way, (Name). You're everything I could ever ask for... That's why my blood was boiling with jealousy of seeing you so close to Kaeya"

"So it was all about jealousy...?"

"Is it so astonishing having me confessing something like that?" He took off his gloves slowly, guiding you to his bed with his steps.

"Diluc... He's probably still downstairs..."

"It's even better if he listens to anything" A soft chuckle left his lips. "Now strip of those clothes, because I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to"

The only thing you remembered the next morning was how that single time felt so special and different from any other nights you shared together.

"That's my good girl... Look how wet you're with so little stimulation... Perhaps you were close to Kaeya only to make me riled up, uh?"

You didn't answer him, you only squirmed when his slim fingers brushed against the most sensitive spot of yours.

"You wanted to get me jealous so I could fuck you hard enough to remember you that you're mine alone?" He chuckled softly. "And I must admit it worked pretty well, dear"

Diluc said before his tongue started exploring your sex, with his fingers still there. He had the habit of collecting some of your essence with the tips of his tongue before swallowing all of it.

"I can never understand why do you taste so freaking addictive on my tongue"

Your hands shakily pulled his red hair softly, not making him feel pain, but pleasure as he savored your heat.

"Diluc..." His name was nothing more than a mewl that left your lips.

"Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

He was right, were you needy for him.

But you didn't answer him.

"Say you want me to fuck you senselessly against this mattress, my lovely"

Still no answer, only moans leaving your lips as his fingers kept stimulating you.

"My lovely?" His movements stopped abruptly. "Answer me" Diluc slapped your thigh, gaining a louder moan from you.

"Fuck me, please... I need you filling me up completely... I need to feel you inside of me right now..." You obeyed him.

"I’m going to fucking wreck you”

And so he did.

It was the first time Diluc was rough with you during sex.

He was fucking you raw on that bed.

"You know what you signed up for, (Name)" He said between the hard thrusts of his hips. "You know how much I despise feeling jealousy. It's only fair that I'm the responsible one to teach my little girl a lesson, uh?"

You simply nodded continually, not being able to say much when your body was being pressed against the silk bed sheets while Diluc ravished your body.

The belly bulge his length formed every time he bottomed out inside you made him arrogant about it.

"Do you see how much our bodies match? You were hand-made just for me to fuck you this good, baby..." His hand gripped your chin, lifting it up for you to watch him closely.

"You're perfect... The most precious thing I have" His hips thrusted against yours roughly enough to leave you sore the next day.

"Diluc..." Fuck, he knew you so well that he could almost read your mind thinking about how close you were.

"Cum with me, doll... Let me feel you squeezing me as I fill you up with my seed"

Your nails sank against the skin of his back while your legs kept him inside of you even after your high.

"Look at you... All marked up as mine, uh?"

Sleepiness followed your orgasm, but you could feel Diluc getting ready once again inside your heat.

"D-Diluc...?" You asked quietly, almost shy about what would happen next.

"You don’t need to be shy, my love” That only made your cheeks glow red even more. “Even if you’re worn out, I'm not done with you yet”

Kaeya

Scenario 1

5. “I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-”

9. “Bite me”

15. “Now take a deep breath…”

17. “Don't pull out”

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive here”

30. “That feels good, baby?”

31. “You want me to claim you, don’t you?”

32. “Make love to me, please”

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

50. “I’ve been thinking about you all day”

54. “I just want to make you feel good”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

TW: Omegaverse, heats, creampie.

"This feels... Uncomfortable" You mumbled, changing your position for the hundredth time that minute.

Sweat covered your warm skin but that didn't make you feel better.

It was only getting worse. You'd reach a point that ignoring your urges and instincts would only lead you to your own destruction.

"Kaeya... Please, come home" You whimpered, pressing your legs together so you could try to release some tension.

But things started getting blurry.

And the sounds seemed so stuffy.

You had fainted.

And your boyfriend found you weak, sweating coldly as your body kept trembling despite how warm your skin felt.

"I'm here... Hey, I'm home"

"Kaeya...?" You blinked torturously slow.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here to help you"

"What's happening...? But your thoughts were foggy, since you were way too confused to think straight.

“You’re burning up with fever”

“My meds… I’m irresponsible”

“It’s something normal, (Name). It’s not like any of us can control our cycles”

“I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-” You got up from the bed so quickly that your sight became black and your knees faltered.

“How many times do I need to say to you that you don’t need to suppress anything from your omega nature?”

“Kaeya… This is a burden. I’m a burden…” Gelid and strong hands pressed your body against his own, trying to help you come to your senses.

His lips pressed a kiss against your damp neck, gaining a whimper from you.

“K-Kaeya…?”

“I just want to make you feel good” Another kiss met your skin. “Allow me to take care of you, my love”

Carefully your clothes were taken off by his skilled hands right before he helped you to lay down on the bed.

The silk bed sheets seemed cold the first seconds you laid on them, but they were less cold than Kaeya’s fingertips that traveled against your arm, then hips and finally thighs.

Shivering, you suppressed another whimper when he sucked on your collarbone, marking you as his once again.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive here” Kaeya jokes, kissing the bond mark you received long months ago, during your first cycle together.

“Kaeya… I’ve been thinking about you all day”

“I know, love. I know. And I couldn’t take my thoughts out of you”

His lips touched yours, asking for the permission you gave him instantly.

Your tongues explored each other slowly, while little wet sounds were made and propagated through the bedroom.

The kiss finished when you both needed to breathe properly.

“Open your legs for me, omega” As if you were enchanted, you obeyed him without thinking twice.

Your intimacy was fully exposed to the one who claimed you.

His fingers eagerly collected some of your essence just so he could taste you on his tongue.

A smile formed on his lips when the captain saw your expression.

“You want me to claim you, don’t you?”

“Kaeya… I need you… Myself was never enough for me”

“Shush… I’m here now, remember? Just trust me”

“Please… Please!”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Just…” You whined when his finger stimulated your clit. “Just make love to me, please”

The man pulled your body towards his, slowly penetrating your sex.

Some tears of reflex formed on the corner of your eyes just to be kissed away by your partner.

“Good girl…” You felt a thrust. “Now take a deep breath…”

A steady pace was settled as Kaeya made sure to mark every inch of flesh his eye could admire.

His hips now collapsed against yours creating lewd sounds that anyone could hear if they were close enough.

Your hands went from the bed sheets to his back, scratching him slightly in pleasure while you struggled to take him properly inside you.

“Is this too fast for you?” He asked concerned, afraid that your weakness would take the best of you.

“No… This feels… This feels s-so good” You gasped between his thrusts.

“Ah…” His voice carried a provocative tonality. “So that feels good, baby?”

You didn’t answer him.

It was not like you needed to for him to know you were close to your limit.

One of your hands went to his head, caressing his navy blue locks, guiding him towards your neck.

“Bite me” And so he did. Alberich’s sharp teeth sank into the healed bonding mark on your neck, bruising it once again and sealing your love one more time.

“Shush… You’ll be fine. It’s only some blood”

Some more seconds and you came undone under his body.

The soft squeezes against his shaft made him melt and get closer to his own orgasm. You were able to feel him twitching inside your walls and with that you enlaced your legs around his waist, preventing him from leaving your sex.

“Don't pull out” You whispered. “I wanna feel it. Fill me up to the brim, please”

• Time break •

His embrace was warm, despite the coldness from the room.

“Thank you” You whispered when he hid his face against the crook of your neck.

“We’re bonded, right? We should take care of each other all the time”

You smiled, caressing his hair.

“I’m quite sore”

“You must be… It took many rounds to control your dark necessities”

“K-Kaeya!”

“It’s not like I’m complaining though. Work was tough and at least you helped me to unwind” He kissed your neck once again. “Also… I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

Scenario 2

4. "I don’t care if they watch"

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?”

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

“When will you make me your priority?” You complained with tears in the corner of your eyes, but his attention didn’t leave the paperwork in front of him. “You’re always so careless… Don’t you ever think about what your own partner will think about your attitudes?”

“Enough” The captain got up from his seat, coming towards your direction.

You thought he would stop in front of you, but his steps didn’t falter one single time, until your body was fully pressed against the wall of his office.

“K-Kaeya…?” His hand squeezed your wrist, without the intention of hurting you, but only signaling that if you went a bit too far you’d regret it.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger.

“If you’ll only argue with me once again, I’ll leave”

“My, my. Perhaps I don’t have any other choice. besides claiming you in this exact office, right, my doll?”

“It’s not like this will solve our problems”

“But we can forget about them during some minutes and that’s enough for me”

“Kaeya… We are at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. This is the last thing we should be-” A kiss was stolen from you.

Dominantly, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, exploring your own tongue with curiosity.

One of his hands was still holding your wrist tightly while the other held your waist strongly, pressing your body against the door frame.

“Take off your clothes, quickly” He whispered in your ear after he broke the kiss.

Shivering with his voice tone, you only had the strength to obey his words.

The woodend table felt cold when your naked body laid down.

“What if… What if someone needs to talk to you? What if someone sees us?”

"I don’t care if they watch" His gelid hands opened your legs wide apart, just to see how wet and ready you were for him. “Perhaps you get turned on by arguing?” His finger brushed your clit vigorously, making you squirm.

“Mhmm… It’s s-so sensitive”

“Look how prepared you are, dollface. I could start pounding you right now and you’d have no trouble with it, right?” His finger scooped some of your slick, bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself”

You sucked on his finger, only to grow addicted to your own taste.

“See? You’re addictive” The captain unbuckled his belt, hitting your right thigh with the accessory. “I'm not done with you yet”

Standing still and without trousers, he finally penetrated you, already building up a fast pace within seconds.

“F-Fuck… This feels so freaking good” You whimpered, forgetting about any topic that you were arguing about. “Kaeya… Kaeya!” His tip brushed against your g-spot continually, making you melt with the stimuli.

“Keep moaning my name like that. It’s pleasant” His hand scratched your hip hard enough to leave a little mark.

“I’m… I’m so c-close”

“Don’t cum without my permission”

“It’s too m-much…”

“Only some more thrusts and you can come with me. Don’t you dare cumming before I say so. Or else, you’ll be in trouble and I won’t give a fuck we’re at work”

Your answer was a small whimper and a nod from your head.

Your body jerked up with his movements while his hips didn’t stop collapsing against yours for once. No thrust failed.

“Kaeya…?” You asked for permission when your legs started trembling around his waist. “Please?”

“Deliver it to me, my darling”

And once again your body obeyed him without questioning anything.

Your fiancé emptied himself inside you, marking you as his in another way before pulling out of you.

Your body was way too sticky to put your clothes back on properly when a knock was heard against the door.

“Fuck” You whispered, finishing dressing up.

“We will finish this later in our bedroom”

“Can we at least cuddle afterwards?”

“I’ll take care of you all night long, don’t worry”

Kazuha

Scenario

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

41. “Just let your body take control”

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

54. “I just want to make you feel good”

The night breeze carried something sweet to his senses but he knew that such delicate scent he felt wasn't from the small tree that was part of his room's landscape.

"I know you're here" Kazuha said calmly.

"I missed you" It was your time to say something after not being able to see him for months straight. "And I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier than you expected-"

His lips shut your mouth with a delicate kiss.

"I understand that being an adeptus is draining, love. You have nothing to apologize for... But if we finally met today, I shall admit I just want to make you feel good"

He was perfect.

He was everything you could ever ask for.

You've never been with a man who could make you feel so human, so safe and so loved whenever you were together.

After his whisper, you could feel his hands on your shoulders, his fingers trailing down your neck, as his thumbs stroked your breasts above the fabric of your shirt.

His hand hoovered along your body, feeling your curves and the softness of your skin.

"Your scent drives me crazy" Your breathing strained with his tone and you shivered. Despite the warmth of the room, something about the words and the way he said them into your ears made you weak for him.

"Kazuha..." You whimpered when he finally guided you to his bed.

"Is there something wrong?"

"It's just... I'm not that good when it comes to receiving attention like this"

"Is this too fast for you?" Worry was all over his face. Forcing you to do something was never on his plans.

"No... I need you now, Kazuha"

• Time break •

He reached your soaked panties, pulling them down so he could fuck you with his skilled fingers.

You moaned soundly with your back arched, eyes closed tightly as you simply enjoyed that warm night by his side.

You haven't felt like this in so long.

You needed this feeling.

You needed his love.

And you needed him.

Your hips buck as you try to get away, but his grip is tight while his tongue savors all you had to offer him.

"Kazuha..." His name was nothing more than a whisper that left your agape lips.

It was hard for you to let your guard down like that, even if you trusted him enough to do such. Almost as the man above you could read your mind, he reassured you:

"Just let your body take control” He was growing impatient, just wanting nothing more than to be inside of you.

"I'll make you mine once again"

When he slides inside you, filling you up to the brim, you cry out with a mixture of overstimulation and euphoria.

He makes your love deeper every time he thrusts into your sensitive core over and over again with his body pressed against yours, his face oh so close to you that he had to steal some kisses from you.

Kisses that were hot and hungry.

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

Kazuha teases your mouth with his tongue, flicking it this way and that until you can no longer stand it, so you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore further.

Your whole body tingles from head to toe.

Everything else disappeared from your mind except the feeling of his body on yours, his hands caressing your body, his kisses and the way he ravished you in the most sinful way he could.

Your body would remember him after that.

Your body would show you belonged to him and him alone.

His cock twitched inside you when he was finally close, just when your orgasm ripped through your body.

Kazuha's voice sounded raspy against your ears after he marked your insides with his seed, which easily found its way towards your womb due the constant contractions of your tight walls.

"I'm not done with you yet”

Scaramouche

Scenario

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-"* Edited to: "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…"

9. "Bite me"

17. “Don't pull out”

18.“Why do you smell so good?”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

32. “Make love to me, please”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?”* Edited to: “Can I cuddle you?”

TW: Omegaverse things

Finishing reporting your last mission to the Tsaritsa was incredibly hard when all you wanted to do was laying in bed and having someone to take care of your stupid heat.

"I consider your mission a success. Now leave." The archon said with contempt before you left the gelid room swiftly.

Your vision was blurred and your legs were weak enough to make the walking to your room difficult.

"It stings..." You gasped, trying to breathe properly since the oxygen felt heavy and inefficient. "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…" You were so lost in thought - talking to yourself - that you didn't notice there was someone passing by the corridor.

The collision was strong enough to bother your sensitive body.

"Can't you see I'm trying to pass this freaking corridor?" The harbinger said harshly before he knew it was you that had bumped against him. "Oh, (Name)... It's you… My bad"

"Scaramouche... Forgive me... I just- I just need to get to my bedroom" You runned through the last few meters of the corridor just so you could enter your place and lock the door.

"Fuck... This feels so overwhelming" You whimpered, with your body glued on the door frame.

Having the wooden door behind you being knocked on so harshly made your body shake a little.

"Open the door, please"

"Scaramouche… I'm fine, you can leave"

"I can smell your scent from miles away, omega. If there's something you need right now it's someone to take care of your heat, right?"

'How can him be so accurate?' You thought to yourself.

"Come on, we've done this before-"

Before he could finish his line, you opened the door slowly, blushing while you watched a grin form on his lips.

Pulling your body against his, the harbinger whispered in your ear, close enough to make your body shiver.

"I know exactly what you need, my love" The door behind you both was closed abruptly.

"So… Can I finally help you?" His fingers gripped your chin weakly, only applying enough pressure so he could make your lips touch.

His cold nose brushed against your neck, breathing in your sweet scent, before so soon, a kiss being stolen from you.

It started softly, almost showing his affection towards you but soon he deepened the kiss until your lips were sore.

"Why do you smell so good?" Scaramouche whispered, pressing kisses down your neck.

"Make love to me, please" You whimpered, gripping his clothes with weak and shaken hands.

"You seem to not be able to focus on anything else besides my hands. Tell me, my love. Do you want me to do something with them?"

"Touch me, please" You whimpered.

"Ah, I see. You're so obediently waiting for me to start playing around with you, yet I'm here, all words, no actions" His fingers left your chin to hold your face delicately, with his thumb brushing against your lower lip before he could steal a peck from you. "Let's get started with this" He whispered while laying you down on the comfortable bed before getting above you.

A soft squeeze on the flesh of your breasts was enough to make you whimper.

And the thin fabric of your shirt made you feel every stimulation of his fingers against your nipples. They always had been a sensitive spot of yours and Scaramouche seemed to understand that rather quickly with the help of your reactions.

Soon the soft touches were lowered to the level of your hips and thighs. The skilled fingers gained goosebumps from your body as the harbinger carefully explored your weaknesses.

At some point, you unconsciously opened your legs, giving him enough room so he could finally touch your sex. Pulling your panties to the side, he teased your clit with his middle finger until it was soaked with your slick.

"It seems you're nice and ready for me, even though I barely touched you" You felt his fingers brushing against your aching walls as he thrusted them into your sex. “Fuck, you’re perfect"

You swallowed dryly with his statement, trying to not sound that needy.

His fingers' pace suddenly became faster and the constant stimulation made you reach your high so easily it was almost comic.

"Your little sounds are so cute yet so sinful" The harbinger whispered, taking his fingers off your walls right before he licked them clean. "And your taste is so freaking addictive I could eat you up all night long”

“Scara… I need you now” You gasped, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“You made a mess of me, doll" You could see through his pants how hard you had gotten him. “Wanna feel it inside of you, my love?” You nodded.

Watching him taking off his shorts and underwear made you not pay attention to his next actions.

Your heart skipped a beat when he pulled your body close to his.

Your faces were really close once again that night as you felt the urge to pull him for a kiss before anything else could happen.

"Can I?" He asked for permission after corresponding to your kiss.

"I’m yours"

Even though you were ready for him, it was difficult for you to take him properly inside your walls.

The soft squeezes your insides made every now and then made him almost lose concentration while he built his pace up.

"You feel so freaking good~" He was strong enough to pin you down with only one hand, as the other stimulated your bundle of nerves. "I absolutely adore how vulnerable you look while I ravish you like this"

"Scara..." You squirmed under him as your orgasm got closer. "Deeper, please"

A smile formed on his lips before he took your legs from his waist to put them above his shoulders, allowing him to reach deeper within you.

You saw his frame through your blurry eyes: his hair looked so beautiful even when the indigo locks were messy because of his movements. His hand wasn't holding your own against the mattress anymore so you took the chance to caress his hair with love before pleading;

“Bite me” And your wish was finally fulfilled before the harbinger laughed quietly at how lovely you looked: red cheeks, plumpy lips, sweaty and marked skin with some of the hickeys he had given you. “Fuck… I’m close…”

“Don’t cum without my permission” He ordered, before thrusting against your sex even faster, making your hips sore. Holding back your orgasm made you feel weak, but obeying his orders to make him proud was worth it.

“Please…” You whimpered, marking his back with soft scratches. “Please, let me cum, master… I c-can’t hold it any longer…”

A smile formed on his lips.

“Deliver it to me, my darling” Was what he said before both of your bodies got soft due your climax. "I'm glad I finally made you mine again after craving you for so damn long" Pulling him to a kiss, you both exchanged glances of affection before you asked him for another detail.

"Don't pull out" You whimpered, bringing his body ever closer to yours.

"I won’t pull out for now…" You felt a kiss against the skin of your neck.

“Could you cuddle me?” You whispered shyly.

“So pure and so passionate…” His thumb brushed against your lips. “I’ll cuddle you all night long, my doll. And in the morning, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about the Tsaritsa rules”

• Time break •

The next morning, you still felt his body against yours, cuddling you with love.

“Scara…?”

“I’m here”

"Could you make me yours once again?"

Venti

Scenario

16. “I think we were a little too loud last night”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

26. “I think ropes would look lovely on you”

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

53. “Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"Being so vulnerable and devoted to your God is something beautiful, my muse" The bard's voice was nothing but a murmur against your lips. "I could almost write a song about our love, so the winds would tell the entire Teyvat the story of a mere bard and his loved one" With that, the kiss finally started, making you melt under his body. His tongue explored your mouth with delicacy, slowly sucking your own tongue every now and then before he broke the contact to breathe properly.

You felt something brushing against your arms' skin before you gasped his name.

"Venti..." A smile formed on his lips.

"I think ropes would look lovely on you"

"Ropes...? Are you planning-" A cute giggle left his lips before the god started bondaging your body to his taste.

"Your innocence is so sweet, my muse"

The first spot that got his attention were your breasts and a silly but meaningful idea crossed his mind.

His slim fingers traced patterns above your flesh, making you focus on what was he writing against your skin.

"M... I... N... E..." You whispered. "Mine..."

"You're a quick learner, my muse" His face got closer to yours so he could murmur something against your ear. "You belong to me" Lowering his head, his tongue now swirling around your nipples, making you squirm under him while his slim fingers traveled to your core, stimulating you to the point that tears of pleasure formed in the corner of your eyes.

"Venti... Just like that..." His fingers stretched you out for him for long minutes until your body couldn't take it anymore.

Your whimpers told him you were close, but letting you cum without having him inside you so he could feel the soft squeezes of your walls while he marked you with his seed was a waste.

“Don’t cum without my permission” He told you with a demanding tone, before letting his fingers go off you. "You should do as I say, right, my muse? You want to make your master proud, don't you?"

"Yes, Venti... I wanna make you proud of me"

"Ne, my muse... You provoked me all day long... Touching me, stealing kisses and whispering lewd thoughts against my ear... You really thought you're the one in charge in this relationship?" A soft chuckle left his lips before he entered your sex without much warning.

"F-Fuck... Mhm~" Your back arched a little in the perfect angle to show how deep he was into you with the bulge on your belly. "So... S-So deep..." Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you felt his hips collapsing against yours at a hard pace.

"Look at you... You can barely talk properly, my muse..." He kissed your forehead. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The ropes created enough friction against your skin to provide some pain that mixed with pleasure made you feel alive for once.

His length brushed against the certain spot that made you melt under him while he marked your body as his and his only.

"Barbatos-" His true name left your mouth when you felt overstimulated for the first time that night. "Too much..."

"Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it”

"All I need is you, now" You said softly in answer, even though you were feeling so many sensations that your mind was foggy.

You didn’t remember much of what happened after you finally reached your climax.

You could say you whimpered when you felt his warm essence entering your womb, instinctively pulling his body against yours as you both came down from your high.

Your body was feeling too heavy and sleepiness made you fall into a slumber.

The next morning, the sunlight woke you up.

"Windblume..." Venti, who was cuddling you, whispered in your ear. "Good morning, my muse" You squeezed his hand as an answer, still way too sleepy to start a conversation.

"I think we were a little too loud last night" Was the only thing you said within long minutes of cuddling.

"Oh... You think so, my muse? But... I must admit that being a bit loud is part of my personality" He kissed your neck delicately to not hurt the sore skin from his hickeys. "Mhm... Windblume?"

"Yes?"

“I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"V-Venti, come on... I still work at the tavern, you know?" You complained.

"Ne, it's okay, princess. People will simply know that you belong to me forever" His voice became mischievous. "And you can't say you weren't in the mood for some marks"

Xiao

Scenario

8. "You’re so turned on already? That was fast"

11. "I want you now"

14. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good”

32. “Make love to me, please”

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”* Changed to: "I may or may not leave some marks on you"

Having the one woman that messed up with the adeptus' feelings right in front of him made him aware of what could happen next.

"Xiao...?" You asked quietly, getting up from your bed at Wangshu Inn rapidly.

"My apologies. Appearing out of nowhere like I do may scare humans like you. I just felt I should check on you, is all" His eyes glowed intensely inside the barely illuminated room.

"To... Check on me?" You asked confused, since he almost never showed up to you, even though he was always in the same area.

He didn't answer you, but a scoff of irritation left his lips, making you shiver.

"Is there something wrong? Are you hurt...?"

"I need to be honest, is all, (Name)" His voice carried some frustration.

You nodded, giving him space to start talking whenever he felt comfortable to do so. The worst thing you could do with Xiao was pressuring him in any way.

"I hate feeling like this. But you changed me. You managed to destroy the walls I passed centuries building up just so I could isolate myself from anyone or anything. You with your way of being... You showed me a side of myself I didn't even know was alive anymore. You showed me that perhaps giving myself a chance to start over isn't as dreadful as I thought..." He approached you with careful steps, checking your reactions to see if he could go any further.

Your heart skipped a beat with his words.

So after all this time you both had met... Xiao was finally able to comprehend what he was truly feeling?

"I'm stretching on this speech... What I need to say is... I love you, and I need you, (Name)"

The distance between you two disappeared when you pulled him to a kiss.

• Time break •

"Your scent drives me crazy" The adeptus almost whimpered against the crook of your neck. "I've been trying to deny my feelings towards you but it's useless... I think we just need to get carried away with our urges"

His hands moved swiftly across your body, your breasts, arms and thighs.

"I want you now" He moans as he pulls your panties to the level of your knees just so he could rub your clit against his thumb.

"Xiao..." Your voice was shaky. "S-So sensitive..."

"You’re so turned on already? That was fast" The adeptus teases as he feels you squeeze the finger he now pumped inside your heat.

Your little sounds made the most sinful thoughts cross his mind while he explored possibilities with your body.

"Good, good..." He murmurs as he continues to work your clit with his thumb while two other fingers stimulate your sweet spots. "Such a good girl you're, (Name)..."

"Please... I need more" You gasped.

"Make love to me, please” You moan as you feel his hands on your breasts just so his fingers could pinch your nipples.

He then slams into you, filling you so perfectly well that every muscle of your body goes into spasm. Your eyes water as you try to blink them back shut, but you can't stop the hot tears from streaming down your cheeks as your body continues to tremble every single time Xiao thrusts into your insides.

“Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good” His voice was raw, showing the side of him he always tried to hide

"Oh gods" You mutter as you clutch his shoulders and kiss him, your tongue exploring his mouth as he kisses you back.

You feel his hands on your hips, then his fingers trailing down your inner thighs he holds you tightly during your lovemaking.

You can feel the tip of his length almost pressing against your cervix, and you can feel as your walls tightened around him as your orgasm hits you.

"Xiao..." You sounded like an angel to him. Pressing his body against your even more with your legs as his hips rock back and forth against yours non-stop, you soon felt he had finally reached his high.

A warm liquid marked every of your walls' crevices in jolts, as his breathing became uneasy right before Xiao stole a kiss from your lips.

An almost aggressive kiss that showed you his desires were not satisfied just yet.

"I'm not done with you yet” A weak smile formed on his lips as he brushed a lock from your hair out of your forehead. "May this night make up for the time we've lost"

"Still..." He continues. "I may or may not leave some marks on you"

"It's not like I'll mind them" You answered before changing positions.

Zhongli

Scenario

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-"

11. “I want you now”

14. "Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good"

31. "You want me to claim you, don't you?"

47. "Come for me, you've done so well"

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

TW: Omegaverse things

"Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-" You whimpered, thinking you were alone inside that place.

You could only hope your scent wasn't too strong or tempting at that moment. Afterall, with your status as an omega and having an alpha being your manager was specifically hard due your instincts.

Your nature could take the best of you at any moment and that thought by itself was almost terrifying.

"Hey" Zhongli's voice made you jolt in place. "Hey, it's okay..."

"Zhongli... You were supposed to come to work only t-tomorrow-" Before you could finish your line your knees faltered due to the weakness from your heat.

To your surprise, strong hands prevent you from falling, leading to both of your bodies pressing against each other.

"Didn’t expect to see me here?" His voice sounded confused. "Or it's only a deception I came here during such a delicate moment, my omega?"

“So you noticed that detail…”

"So warm, sweet and inviting" You felt a kiss against your nape. It was so delicate and desperate it made his mind sink into lewd thoughts. "You're aware of the truth, right?"

“Zhongli…?” He inhaled your aroma slowly, letting every note of your scent trigger the right sensations from his being.

“Sooner or later our natures will take the lead. It’s better to get to know each other while our minds aren’t so hazy”

“Please, m-make this stop-” You whimpered when his fingers pressed against the place a bond mark should be.

“Your scent drives me crazy” The man whispered, before carefully leaning you on the table of the office. “I’ll make you mine, and I’ll be yours”

Zhongli started kissing your stomach as his hands gripped your hips tightly right before opening your legs with strong hands, massaging your entrance right above the fabric of your panties.

Your back arched a little with the friction and you moaned.

"You're so vulnerable like this it hurts"

“Zhongli… I want you now… I need you now”

"You want me to claim you, don't you?"

"Mhm…"

He was already hard, ready to just penetrate you. Stroking his member and brushing himself against your folds almost drove him insane.

The one who was your boss penetrated you slowly, enjoying every inch of his cock being involved by your wet and warm walls. With his length now entirely inside you, his tip almost reached your cervix.

"Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good"

Morax started his thrusts and your slick only made it easier for him to do what he craved and needed.

His lips captured yours in a warm and slow kiss and his tongue explored your mouth as he stimulated your clit with the fingers of one of his hands.

Everything quickly became too much to you, with your orgasm being so close it almost hurted.

"Alpha!" You whined, your nails scratching his back in pleasure.

"Come for me, you've done so well"

And your body obeyed him that time, and many other times later on.

• End of the post •

If you arrived here, thanks for your attention! ❤

And if you will, check other 18+ works here and here.

#diluc x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #venti x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x y/n

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devilfic · 2 months

Text

❝right place, right time❞

VII. twenty-one questions.

parts: previously plot: everything comes to a head. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, reader's a little stupid, descriptions of surgical stitching, blood, surgical needles, knives, violence, mentions of drugs and underage substance abuse (alcohol), minor character death(s). words: 11.4k.

a/n: it has been yet another hot minute and this chapter has given me a lot of grief in terms of all the ideas I had for it and what it ended up being. as you can tell by the word count, I could Not shut up

Alfred calls you bright and early to watch Bruce spar.

The billionaire had mentioned it before, and while you didn't doubt you would meet an untimely fate were you to challenge Mr. Pennyworth one-on-one, it was a whole other thing seeing them both on the mat.

Alfred is slow but thoughtful; when Bruce attacks, he goes for several hits at once. Alfred anticipates each one. He's more defense than offense, but when he strikes Bruce in the chest even you can feel it.

Bruce is lean, quick. He ducks and rolls and uses every part of his body, not just his fists. He looks a little sloppy when he wraps his legs around Alfred's—out of practice, maybe?—but it doesn't keep him from succeeding. Alfred fights like a soldier. Bruce fights like a martial artist.

Bruce makes a noise when Alfred falls to the mat and you spring up with attention, "Everything okay?"

You hear "his leg" and "I'm fine" overlap one another.

The real reason Alfred had called you was because he wanted you to watch Bruce hurt himself. The vestiges of a sprain, he guessed, that Bruce was too stubborn to rest. When he couldn't convince Bruce to pass on sparring, he resorted to you: "an objective spectator." Alfred had sounded pleased. Bruce had looked about ready to suplex him.

You head over anyway, ignoring the protests of the injured so you could kneel and survey the damage. "Can you walk?"

Bruce doesn't meet your eyes. He forces his body to stand, but you can easily tell he's favoring a side. You reach a hand up and pinch his injured calf, hearing him hiss through his teeth. "Of course it's going to hurt when you do that." He sounds childishly annoyed. Alfred is fighting a smile from his spot next to you.

"I don't understand. You're head of the company, you can afford to take a few days off. Even chair rest is still rest."

"Ah, but there lies the conundrum," Alfred pushes himself up to his feet, "he cannot sit still."

Bruce extends his hand to you, still avoiding eye contact. You hesitate but take it anyway, and the ease with which he hoists you to your feet is a bit disorienting.

Since your agreement with Batman, you were forced to be patient. After all, there were more pressing matters in Gotham besides your own ticking time bomb. He'd promised that he'd get back to you soon about Bruce and, until then, you would have to grin and bear it.

Alfred excuses himself to get busy with lunch the minute Dory enters with the groceries, leaving the two of you alone in the middle of the living room. "As your doctor," you begin, "I can't in good conscience let you keep pushing your body past its limit."

"It barely hurts anymore."

You bend as if you're about to grab at his leg again and he takes a step back, annoyed—if not offended, "You have no record of chronic pain. No record of serious past injuries at all. Yet you strain yourself doing... what, exactly? Sparring all day? You may be young, Bruce, but your body isn't indestructible."

You get the feeling he's heard this before, bristling like a scolded cat as you stare him down, "I'm fine," he brushes past you toward the table he and Alfred moved to the far end of the room, grabbing a sweating glass of water, "Alfred's just being... Alfred. He worries too much."

"I worry," Bruce raises a brow as he takes a swig and you clear your throat, "you said you need to be reminded to care of yourself. Well, that's my job now. Not that the hospital couldn't use more of your money but it's not worth the pain you'll be in." Bruce leans against the table, one leg crossed over the other. You approach, briefly taking note of the water that dribbles down his chin. "I'm starting to think you're just a masochist."

"Yeah? How do you figure?" His lip twitches up into a smile.

You open your mouth but the thought stops you cold. You were going to say, "Because I know someone just like you," but then you're transported back to that fateful morning where you first met. Bruce and all his... familiarity. The wild speculation of your exhausted mind. All of which, at the time, overlapped perfectly. Yet now that you knew them both better, they were worlds apart to you. Except for that one thing.

What was it that set them apart, again?

Your eyes drift up to Bruce's. "I get your type at General sometimes," you divert, "real pains in the ass."

Bruce steps closer to you with his glass abandoned on the table, "And your type can't seem to leave well enough alone."

You prickle. If it weren't for the fact that he was so clearly teasing you, you'd have lingered on the almost double meaning, "The fact you think this," you raise your foot and tap the side of Bruce's injured leg; his eyes narrow, "is well enough further proves my point. You need rest."

Bruce rolls his shoulders back; his compression tee clings to every muscle as he does, drawing your attention for a brief moment. "I'll think about it."

Your jaw drops. Bruce smiles. You feel a white hot flash of irritation that's wiped away when Alfred reenters the room, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you, "Will you be staying for lunch?"

Before you can say no, Bruce interjects for you, "Yes. Thank you, Alfred." Then he turns to you, pats your arm like a friend, and pushes you in the direction of the kitchen, "I'm gonna shower. Make yourself at home."

You stumble over yourself, regaining balance just as Bruce's head disappears over the top floor banister. How quickly he could retreat when leaving you to the lions.

But Alfred is in a good mood today. Better than usual, actually. The hair on your neck stands on end as you follow him to the kitchen, preparing for the good mood to sour now that it wasjust the two of you, but it doesn't come. You watch him hum a little tune as he fixes up some vegetables to sauté.

You even find yourself getting comfortable at the island when he breaks the silence, "I appreciate what you're doing for Bruce... regardless of its efficacy. It's nice to know someone else has common sense in this house." Alfred sets down four empty plates at the breakfast table.

You take note of his tone, an improvement from his barely concealed dislike from weeks before. You take that as a small victory for today, "It's like arguing with a brick wall. How have you managed it all these years?"

"Like a soldier." Without asking, he fills a glass to the brim with water and hands it to you.

"Right. You're a veteran." Your observation gives him pause, the food he tends to at the stove crackling away. "I can tell. I've treated a lot of veterans so I can spot them from a mile away now."

Alfred snorts, straightening his shoulders. "I served as a young lad. Eventually retired and came here, took on the job as the Waynes' butler and bodyguard. I've been with them for quite some time. Since before Bruce was even born."

"You practically raised him."

"Rather... clumsily, might I add," Alfred glances at you and you're surprised to see him bashful, genuinely, "protecting him, I could handle. Raising him... well, that was another matter entirely."

"But you did a pretty good job. I mean, he's accomplished a lot. Especially with the mayor. I imagine that's why he's working so hard: really seems like he's dedicated to restoring his father's legacy."

You can't help the little hook you throw out.

Right before the Mayor was elected, when a bomb shook the penthouse of 1939 Kane St., Edward Nashton had taken to the airwaves to out Thomas Wayne as a cold-blooded killer. Not long after, the man who'd pulled the trigger was shot dead in the street before he could be brought to justice. That would bring anyone out of hiding.

Wayne Enterprises inevitably challenged the claims, Bruce Wayne had taken to his father's defense in an impassioned press conference that even you tuned into, and Gotham General made the decision to keep his father's statue in the courtyard.

It was never ruled out, though. After all, all of the Riddler's other exposés were true. But there was no paper trail. Nothing but he said, he said, and with everyone involved dead, it was Bruce Wayne's word over a zealot who'd flooded the city.

You take a sip from your glass to let Alfred ruminate on his reply. He doesn't raise his eyes to you again, "Precisely."

"I've been keeping a close eye on him in the news. His philanthropy this past year has been really remarkable." That was a bold-faced lie. You'd been keeping an eye on him for the past few weeks. Everything else you knew about Bruce Wayne's newfound appreciation for the poor and needy came from Em. "Some of the people at the party, however..."

"Councilman Roberts, was it? He was awfully spirited from what Master Bruce relayed to me."

The very mention of his name makes your blood pressure spike, "The guest list was very diverse."

Alfred transfers the cutting board to the sink, "Master Bruce has his reasons. He's become rather fixated on the state of political affairs. First behind the scenes, and now..."

"Now center stage." You finish for him, swirling your glass. "Think he'll run for office one day?"

Alfred looks somewhere between amused and horrified.

It would be natural. Thomas Wayne had almost done it. Why not Bruce? It'd be a comeback story for the ages if someone didn't try to kill him again.

"I'd rather he keep out of it. Being in a position like that has never been his true calling."

"Yeah? And what is?"

Alfred doesn't look like he wants to say. He scrubs at the surface of the wooden board, absentmindedly brushing the same spot clean over and over. His eyes catch yours for a split second, just as quick as the smile that he flashes when the answer finally spills out of him, "Altruism."

You and Alfred don't talk much more until Bruce comes down. Dory joins you all at the table soon after and, rather awkwardly, you find yourself having a quiet lunch with the Waynes. Hooks abandoned. Fish not caught.

You wait for what feels like hours, but eventually he arrives.

His car is an absolute monster. It growls as it pulls up beside you in the withering glow of street lights, and if it weren't for said lights, it would blend into the shadows almost completely. The raindrops that dot the hood help catch the light on the deep black paint job.

You look for the door handle but it opens for you. Inside, you see Batman with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. You swallow. This is new territory.

You throw your bag in first, then climb into the passenger seat, very aware of the pocket knife stuffed in the pocket of your scrubs. You go to close the door and it closes for you all on its own. Behind you is an intimidating engine that vibrates through your every bone and muscle, and when you look to the driver, he is staring straight ahead. A few beats pass as you try to keep your teeth from chattering, "Do the seat belts move on their own, too?"

Batman looks at you from his peripheral. Then—twisting in his seat—he reaches across you to retrieve the seat belt, dragging it across the front of your body until it clicks at your side, "'Fraid not."

Despite all the rumbling of the car engine, it's a smooth ride through the city. Even the littering of pot holes and uneven pavement doesn't ruin it. Still, it does nothing to quell your nerves.

You feel small, sinking into the passenger seat built for people wearing a lot more armor than you. You also note that there's nowhere for your legs to go underneath the seat. You bump the solid obstruction with the backs of your sneakers but can't make out what it is.

There are other weird things you notice when you start looking. Starting where your shoulders rest are six holes going down the seat, three on each side, all a foot apart from the last. You press your finger into one of the holes and feel hard metal on either side of the gap. Upon further inspection, Batman's seat has it too, "What are these for?" You ask.

Batman doesn't need to look at you to know what you're messing with, "Restraints."

You recoil, "I beg your pardon?"

"I could show you."

"I'm- sorry, what..." You bend at the waist to feel the metal plate beneath the seat and recognize that there are holes along the sides there too.

"In case I need to bring someone along who's less than willing. Metal bars are installed in the seats. Only I know how to activate them."

"Why your seat too?"

"In case someone tries to steal the car," he makes a turn into one of the boroughs and you realize you're getting close to your destination, "but I've considered putting a trunk in the back for... passengers."

"And where do you get the money for such... modest mods?"

At that, Batman does not answer you. You figured he wouldn't. There were a hundred answers he could give you that would surely, most definitely give his identity away. It doesn't stop your brain from beginning to wander.

It doesn't get very far before you're pulling up into the alley between two houses, shrouding the car in the shadow of Joey Russo's home.

It's not as nicely kept as the other houses on the street, and its age doesn't do it any favors. A lot of the off-white paint has been chipped off or discolored over the years. There's a piece-of-junk car in the driveway that looks like it works, but just barely. The lawn has outgrown the neighbors', kept at bay by patches of dead grass where you can tell someone had gone to town with weedkiller. There are old, faded garden decorations around the front porch. Some gnomes with their ceramic hats caved in, a wind chime missing most of its chimes.

You're wandering out of the alley and into the harsh, orange beam of the streetlight when you feel Batman's hand roughly drag you back into the dark. You're about to ask what the problem is when your eyes catch the side of the house.

There's a little window with its grey curtains shut, a dead flower limp on the sill. Next to the window is a backdoor cracked open.

You do not protest when Batman presses up against the side of the house and moves you behind him. There are dogs barking, cars driving by, faint sirens in the distance, but you can't hear anything from inside.

You watch as he presses his hand to the door and slowly pushes it open, peeking in from a safe distance into the dark. Most of the windows are blocked out by sheer curtains, and no light in the house is on from what you can tell.

Batman is a hulking thing, always, but every step is feather-light on the weathered floorboards as you both enter. There's no sign of Russo, even though the house feels warm. Like it'd been lived in recently. Your heart picks up as you swear you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye, but it's just the wind picking up one of the curtains.

You so desperately want to ask him what he's thinking but your voice is stuck in your throat, the thought crashing down upon you that you are here, that somewhere in this house is the man who had ensured you'd be here today (in nearly all the ways that that could apply), and that it was not so far behind you as you might've hoped.

And were you to get an answer—any answer—from Russo tonight, it would not change the fact that your name was still on Bruce Wayne's payroll.

You feel sick to your stomach all over again.

When the living room is clear, you're simultaneously relieved and terrified when Batman leaves you to scope out the adjoining dining room. The house is silent aside from your breathing.

It's a few moments alone that does it; you start to feel another wave of anxiety. It had been a few minutes, hadn't it? Maybe. A minute at least. You're not confident enough to go looking for Batman, and you fear calling out to him would just detrimentally unsettle the atmosphere. You listen for where he might be, any creaks in the floors boards, but there's nothing.

Just as you're about to step into the dining room yourself, something moves out of your peripheral again. Only this time, you realize too late that it's not the curtain.

You barely register the pain at first—the skin of your upper arm splitting in half—but then it's white-hot and you're choking on a cry before you can stop yourself. Something had rushed at you, a person. You shakily touch where they'd cut you.

Was it a knife? It had to be, with how cleanly it tore your skin. Your brain jumps to the next question: was it covered in anything? Would you get infected?

You stumble back and reach into your pocket for your own knife with a little more urgency. The person rushes at you again with something akin to a battle cry and you narrowly dodge their raised weapon, only the sound of it ripping through the curtains tells you it wasn't just another delayed reaction.

You slash at their back while they're still turned and manage to actually make a cut before jumping back. It's not enough, though. Your attacker spins and even though the light has now turned them into nothing but a silhouette, you can feel their crazed gaze on you.

It feels boiling. It feels personal.

Their breathing is ragged, panting from more than just the fight. It sounds like they're foaming at the mouth, rabid and wild, as they spit at you, "You should've died with your little bitch of a friend when you had the chance."

The anger in their voice stuns you before the words do.

They come at you again and you sidestep them once more but it's staggered, allowing the tip of their weapon to slice your cheek open. When you cry out this time, you yell for Batman.

You don't have any concept of time right now, but as you fall to the floor, you swing at your attacker's ankle, hoping to cut a vein, when you feel Batman rush past you and directly into your attacker.

They both crash into the coffee table, glass and wood shattering in a cacophony. You watch through burning eyes as the two wrestle each other, keeping your hand pressed to your arm to still the bleeding even as it slips against the skin. Batman has them pinned when your attacker starts wildly kicking, and one of his feet hits Batman hard in the leg. You don't expect it to be the leverage he needs, but it's enough to daze Batman—he looks suddenly awash with pain—and that's all the attacker needs to slip out from beneath him and head out the back door.

Your heart stutters. How hard did he have to hit him through the suit for it to cripple him so easily?

Batman tries to recover, tries to deploy the grapple gun in his gauntlet to trip him, but he slips into the alleyway just narrowly. Batman is after him in an instant.

You force yourself up from the floor to follow after him, when you realize that within all that commotion, no one else in the house made themselves known.

You stumble up the staircase, haphazardly swiping at the wall for light switches that might help clear the spots in your vision. "Russo!" You call out, and your voice is shaky. You realize you're trembling.

There are too many doors on the upper floor but there is one that is cracked open. You rush toward it first, shoving it open with your good shoulder.

And there, to confirm your worst suspicion, is proof.

You've had enough training in your field not to immediately vomit at the sight even as the smell overpowers you. He's lost weight and he looks smaller than he had been when you were just sixteen. Laying on the floor, drenched in his own blood, Detective Joey Russo isn't the crystal clear picture you'd preserved in your head these past 17 years.

You make it only a few steps before falling to your knees beside him. It's clear he'd passed from the stab wounds not long before you'd arrived and there's just so many. His chest, his stomach, his arms and legs and skull—his face had taken the worst of it. Whoever had done this had been furious.

You can barely bring yourself to stare into his eyes but when you do, you sob. You try to look anywhere else but your eyes just catch on pictures of him on the wall, happy, smiling, with a wife and a kid who leave no traces of themselves in this room.

It's just him. All alone here.

You sway a bit as you reach a hand up to shut his eyes but the blood on your fingers stops you. You realize that you've left a trail on the way up here, and as your eyes retrace back to the bedroom door, you see Batman standing there looking down at you.

He doesn't ask, just walks over to you and hoists you up to stand, forcing you to lean into him for support.

The time between him finding you and the walk downstairs passes in a muddy amount of time and you're stumbling into the hood of his car as your head swims.

You must be losing a bit of blood.

Batman presses a hand to your arm. His other hand goes to your cheek and you flinch away at the sting.

You watch him dizzily. He reaches down to the bottom of his cape and rips a strip off to tie around your bicep. "GCPD is on the way. We have to get you stitched up."

"If only there were a surgeon around." Batman doesn't find your joke funny. Neither do you, all things considered.

The doors open on their own again and he sits you in the passenger seat, leaning it back as far as it'll go before buckling you in. You think you feel his hand linger on yours before he abandons you for the driver's side. The thrum of the engine is the least of your concerns now.

You're halfway down the street when you mumble, "He said... I should've died."

"Stop talking." He doesn't say it with menace, or at least not the kind where you actually mean it. It's all bark and... worry, you think.

You hate the smell of your own blood, which is funny because it smells about the same as everyone else's and usually that's just fine for you. Or maybe you're still smelling Russo's.

You think of your attacker. About what they said. That you should've died with your "little bitch of a friend". It's too convenient to not be—one of the street lights you pass is far too bright and you have to shut your eyes to keep the thought going—be about her. And why her? Why Russo? Why now?

17 years of nothing. And now everything at once.

"Russo," your voice is weaker, "we gotta go back for him."

"Stop talking! I'm trying- shit." This is the most panic you've ever heard in Batman's voice before. The most fear. He hadn't been this worried when he was dying on your living room floor. "Please." He begs.

You're of sound mind enough to know what he's really asking. You should know, even as you sway in and out of consciousness.

You conserve what little energy you have left to focus on the side of his face. His jaw forever clenched. Eyelashes long enough to catch the city light on. And although it's not entirely clear from the angle you're laying at, you search out the blue of his eyes as his face turns to look at you. It's the last thing you see before you give in.

When you come to, you are laying in a hospital bed with a throbbing arm and an equally throbbing cheek. Your scrubs are still in tact, even with the bloodstains down the front and sides. The knees of your pants are stained too, and you are harshly reminded that this blood doesn't belong to you.

The next thing you notice is Em sitting in the chair beside your bed, head thrown back in a peaceful nap. She must've heard—or seen, you don't recall getting from the car to here—and came to keep you company. You'd reach over to tap her knee if it were your good arm's side. The next thing you notice after that is that there is someone else in the room with you two.

It takes a second, but you remember him: a kindly face even with the cloud of disturb that hangs over him. When he sees you're awake, he gets up from his position against the wall and approaches the other side of the bed, "Detective James Gordon," he introduces himself, nodding to you, "we met at the precinct before."

Your voice comes out scraggly, "I remember you."

He flashes you a quick smile, "Well, I'm happy to see you're alright. You lost a bit of blood, but your friend—" A pen materializes in his hand and he points it at Em, still dead to the world, "—said it was just a few stitches."

"Are you here to arrest me?"

He's trained well enough not to look shocked, but you see his expression shift, "Why would I arrest you?"

You swallow, looking down at your scrubs once more, "I assume you're not here to talk about our mutual friend."

James nods. "We examined Joey Russo's home. We found, among other things, your DNA on the scene. Blood in the living room and... upstairs bedroom."

You pinch your pants leg, trying to get at the skin so you could keep the churning of your stomach at bay. Anything to distract yourself from the very vivid image of Russo's lifeless eyes.

James clicks his pen and you focus back on him. He's got a small notepad in his other hand with a few words already written down. You wonder what he's written about, what he's thinking about you right now. "From what I understand, you dropped by the precinct recently asking for the whereabouts of Russo and were denied given his retirement. You mentioned that you were inquiring about an old case involving yourself, is that correct?" James continues after your nod, "You brought this up to the Batman too."

"Yes," your voice wobbles, "I asked if... he could help me."

"And?"

"He said no."

"But you were both there tonight. So, what happened? Why were you looking for Joey Russo?"

You lean up on your good arm, allowing your legs to swing from the bed so you could sit upright in front of James. One glance over your shoulder tells you Em is still asleep, "I told him it was urgent. I had reason to believe confidential information about the case had been leaked to someone. I wanted to confront him, find out if he... was the one that leaked it."

"The case being part of your sealed juvenile records, correct?" James casts a look over you, somewhere between pitying and skeptical, "given your involvement in this situation, I was given access to this record. Detective Russo worked your case 17 years ago, and was, in fact, the person to get your records sealed in the first place. Along with... three others, I believe. And you believed someone had unauthorized access to it?"

"I know- I know. I know they did."

"Can you tell me the name of this person?"

Detective Gordon seems trustworthy. Batman trusts him, you can tell that much. It's just the saying it out loud part that trips you up, "My, um... my employer. Not Rudy, but Bruce Wayne. I'm his personal doctor. I became aware he had this information and wanted to check with Russo myself before I said anything."

James doesn't bother hiding his intrigue this time. His eyebrows shoot up a bit when you say Bruce's name, "Right. And... do you have proof that he has this information? A picture or a recorded conversation, a witness even?"

Of course not. You'd been happy enough to get out of that penthouse without being caught. Your silence is answer enough. James writes something down on his notepad and nods at you, "Well, a single person—especially not a civilian employer—should be able to access something that's not public record. Even Russo couldn't, having been retired. I can't imagine Russo was the one to give him that information unless he just had a file lying around, and I doubt he did. He never revisited that case before he retired in any capacity."

"Is there any way Bruce could have accessed it?"

"There's plenty of ways if you have an in somewhere and the leverage to do so, but this is all speculation. I can look into it, though. See if anyone's accessed the file recently, sniff around. If you come across anything solid, let me know."

You doubted you would. After that night, those files had probably gone into a room with lock and key.

"There was something else that I wanted to talk about, though," James shifts closer to you, "Our mutual friend assured me that you've never been to Russo's house before tonight, and that he had been with you the entire time you were there. From what I understand, there was someone else in the house with the two of you. Do you have any idea who he might've been?"

"No, I... I didn't really get a good look at him."

"What about his voice? Could you describe it?"

"Uh, young. Sounded about my age." Your fingers grip the bedsheets tightly, "He said something. He said that... I should have died. Along with my friend."

James' eyes narrow on you, "Your friend?"

"Alex," you choke out, feeling a tear spill out of your eye, "I know he was talking about Alex."

"Hm. You think that's why he attacked you? He knows you?"

"But I don't know him."

James flips his notepad back a few pages, "There were eight people there the night Alex Villanueva was murdered, including herself and you: your three friends, none of whom have stepped foot in Gotham since 2019. The shooter, Natalie Young. Her younger brother, Dimitri Young. And a fellow member of their gang, Lucien Goulding. Natalie was killed in a shootout 17 years ago, Goulding is currently in prison, and Dimitri... he should be serving life in prison right now."

Your brows furrow, "Should?"

"He and several other inmates were reported missing from Arkham five days ago."

Your mouth goes dry. You squirm in bed with a sudden urge to take off running and never look back. Maybe you'd aim for your mom and dad's in New Jersey, or maybe the Atlantic.

You remember when Dimitri was a head shorter than you, had yet to sprout up so young. You remember what it was like looking at this kid not much younger than you, green eyes watering, curled up on the concrete as Alex kicked and punched and bled him until he could barely limp home.

And how he looked when Natalie came for you. Still a kid.

"Bat said he was about 5'11, 210 pounds, green eyes, shaved head and tattoos. A bit different from what he was when you last saw him. It makes sense you don't remember."

"He wanted to kill me." You whisper.

James—he's an angel, really—gives you a moment to let it sink in. "We want to put a security detail on you. We have strong reason to believe Dimitri was the one to kill Russo, and it's very possible you were next on his list, but I don't think he anticipated you being there tonight... which might've saved your life."

You shake your head, "Batman saved my life."

The detective smiles, "Twice in a row might make him your guardian angel." The both of you turn when you hear Em stir awake from behind, and James goes to dismiss himself, "Well, thank you for your time. You should probably be heading home to get some rest soon, but if you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know." James hands you a business card, "And I'll look into Bruce Wayne for ya. Could be something there. Our mutual friend might know. Take it easy."

"Wait," you call, before he can get out the door, "Russo. He had a- a kid. A son. And a wife, I think. They weren't at the house. Are they okay?"

James looks a little pained as he answers you, "No... uh, his son was murdered a while back. His ex-wife's been living back home in Boston ever since. She's been notified."

There isn't much else to say after that, so he ducks his head as a final goodbye and exits the room, raincoat swaying behind him.

You're awoken by an incessant ringing about 24 hours later.

Popping one eye open, your brain takes in the shadowy lighting of your living room, blinds still halfway up from when you'd first returned home early that morning. Judith had caught you slumped outside of your apartment door and flanked by two officers—roused by the sound of you coming home late—and had helped you to your couch, poured you a glass of water, and stayed with you until the painkillers put you to sleep.

Frankly, you gave yourself permission to lie and rot today. But the ringing would not stop.

You grab your phone, uncaring of the caller, and accidentally press it to your cut cheek with a hiss, "Yes?"

You expect it to be Em, checking in to see if you were still alive. You also expect it to be your mother, checking in to make sure you still planned on staying in Gotham. You even expect it to be Rudy (who had been just about on the verge of tears when he saw you with a busted cheek).

It's none of them. "Can I see you?"

You place the voice instantly, actually going breathless. "I'm- what's... what's wrong?"

Sitting up hurts like a bitch and you realize that you're about two hours past your scheduled Tylenol. You inhale through your teeth and try to gather your bearings.

"I got... stabbed," Bruce sounds guarded, but it shockingly doesn't come across like that's because of the stabbing, "I need your help."

"Jesus! You need to call 911. Or- or get one of your ten million drivers to take you to the ER, or call a fucking helicopter to-"

"The tower, can you come? Now?"

You weren't supposed to be driving. The cops had brought you home, and you very much did not want to ask for that favor. You drop your forehead into your palm, massaging your temple with your thumb, "How deep is it? Did you stop the bleeding?"

"I've got something on it. I just need you to stitch me up."

You glance around the room, hazy, and reach for your water, "I'll need a ride. Can't drive right now."

"He's waiting outside." The line goes dead.

You don't believe him until you go to open your apartment door and see a suited man leaned against the opposite wall, nodding politely at you. You must look like you've sprung from the dead after last night, but no one makes a comment about it. The two officers on either side of the door nod to you, "Says he's a driver for Bruce Wayne and that you'd know what he was here for. His ID checks out, but we're gonna have to tail him if you go with him."

You shut the door and look through the peephole, but the driver looks comfortable waiting.

You'd wonder how Bruce knew you'd need a ride before you said as much, but it was clear by this point that he knew everything about you.

You probably shouldn't go. Not until Gordon looked into him, or Batman. Right?

You root around in your coat pocket for the phone Batman had given you and send a quick text to his number.

Going to Wayne's. Tell Gordon to hurry up with a warrant.

You pop two pills and pull on your coat.

When the elevator doors part, you drag yourself down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the main room. Alfred nor Dory is anywhere to be seen, but with it being past 10 at night, you can only imagine they're off to bed by now. There is just a single light coming from the kitchen, and when you turn to the breakfast table, there is Bruce. Waiting.

He doesn't look at you when you approach, however. One of his hands is holding stained gauze under the neck of his shirt, and the other is gripping the table with white knuckles. You wash your hands at the kitchen sink, then round up on his left side where he's pressing against the back of his shoulder, just out of reach for him to stitch himself. You fear he would've tried had you not answered the phone.

Or, God forbid, come to you.

He looks up when you're right in front of him, scanning you quickly, "Are you okay?" He doesn't sound all that surprised to see you like this. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You pull the neck of his shirt down to survey the damage, for lack of a good explanation, "I'm certain I've got a better excuse than you." Bruce shifts when you move his hand away, exposing the bloody flesh that makes you wince. You set your things on the table and command him to lift his shirt. He hesitates. "What is your excuse?"

"Got caught off guard."

"Where?"

Slowly, Bruce slips his shirt off, allowing you to see the full expanse of his back. There was the angry red stab wound, but there were other things too: moles and beauty marks scattered across his skin that paled in comparison to the several jagged lines across his shoulders and lower back—pink raised skin where it looked like he'd been cut before. Cuts that had healed years ago. You hover your fingers above one and realize they're shaking. "You never told me you and Alfred fight with knives."

"We don't," he glances at you over his shoulder but looks away just as quickly, "some of those scars are from martial artists I trained with in Thailand."

"Some?" You see so many, and those are only the ones that leave visible scars.

"Others are from the Russians."

You begin to lightly clean around his wound and ready the anesthesia but, despite the fact that he cannot see it in your hand, he waves it off completely, "Are they... the people who gave you this?"

He goes silent again. You feel like you should stop asking questions at this point, but they itch at your throat.

He wouldn't call you here to fix this unless he had nowhere else to go.

When you make the first stitch and he doesn't flinch, your eyes flit to his other scars. Martial arts training, he said. The second stitch and still no response. On the third stitch, you press your thumb against the edge of the wound and push down. He actually swears at you as blood dribbles out of the wound, and the hand that had been gripping the table reaches back to grab your lower thigh, effectively bringing the operation to a halt.

You shove his hand off, "What the hell happened? Your hands, your leg—that was easy to explain. But this?"

He has the audacity to glare at you over his shoulder, "I don't pay you to ask questions."

"No, you don't. And yet you could've hired anyone but you hired me. Even though..." You trail off, eyes blazing, because you're not feeling that confident, "the least you can do is tell me what happened."

Bruce holds your gaze until you feel your knees begin to wobble in place. For once, he doesn't look like a wide-eyed, nervous animal in front of you. He looks angry.

Then it's gone. Bruce rolls his shoulders back and you watch the needle, still hanging by its thread, roll against his muscles. More blood seeps from the wound as your hands itch to get back to work. "One question," he starts, looking away from you, "the night of the party, upstairs. You told Alfred no one got on the elevator. But you did, didn't you?"

You swallow. "He said it was broken."

"Be honest with me and I'll be honest with you."

"About anything?"

From behind, you can see Bruce's jaw twitch just so, "Everything."

You step closer. Taking your needle, you resume the suture, "A question for a question, then. To keep it fair."

"Alright."

"Tell me what happened."

"I was looking for someone."

"Who were you looking for?"

"That's another question."

"Fine," you try not to take your frustration out on his skin, "I did. Who were you-"

"Dimitri Young." You still in your stitching. It feels like your heart is inside your head, thumping against your skull with every beat. "What did you see down there?"

You have to rake your petrified brain for context, having nearly forgotten everything that had come before... before... "I- I was... nothing." Bruce hisses through his teeth and you realize that you're just pressing the needlepoint into his skin mindlessly. "Files. A computer. A car underneath a sheet, some tools, a motorbike. A TV playing the news." You don't bother with hiding it now, "How do you know about Dimitri?"

"Because I know about you. Why did you go down there? Not knowing what you might find?"

It takes all that you have to keep the burning tears at bay, "Because I don't trust you. Because everything about this has felt off. I needed to know what you were hiding. What are you gonna do with what you know?"

Bruce takes a moment as if he's thinking about it, but when he answers you, you're for once certain of his honesty, "Nothing. I might set it on fire, if that's what you want."

"You could have another copy lying around. Or a way to access it again."

"I could. But I don't. And I wouldn't want to." He turns his head over his shoulder and you are frozen under his stare, "I'm being honest with you."

"How did you get it?"

"That's another question."

You complete the next few stitches with a little more force than needed, "Then ask me something."

"Why did you take the job if you didn't trust me?"

You laugh humorlessly, "Because I knew the pay would be fucking ridiculous. How did you get my file?"

"You wouldn't have turned me down the first time if that were true."

"Answer me."

"Be honest with me, I'll be honest with you. Why'd you take the job?"

"Because-" You choke, "you... sent me those ridiculous flowers and a handwritten note." Bruce's head tilts, you choke out more, "And when I asked you why you offered me the job, you said that it was because I noticed you were hurt when no one else did. And I said it felt like more than that. I think- I have been trying to get an answer."

Bruce studies you. He must believe you because he finally answers your question, "Russo had nothing to do with it."

"Who did you pay to get it for you, then?"

"That's-"

"Just ask me, God damn it." You finish off the suture and bite off the thread.

"Why did you turn your life around?"

You'd thought about that a lot after that night. The simplest answer was right there, but if you were being honest with yourself (and you were being more honest than you would've liked tonight), you really didn't want to die. "I wanted to live. That's what I'd always wanted. Even though I... really didn't act like it. I never wanted to live more until that moment." This time when you lock eyes with Bruce, you don't want him to look away. Maybe it's because he's defeated you, broken your pride, whatever. Right now, you want to see him.

You don't have to ask again. You watch him rise from the table, flexing his back again, and though you want to scold him for irritating his stitches mere seconds after you've finished them, you just... don't have it in you.

And then he's standing face-to-face with you.

You think the lights and painkillers are deceiving you at first, but this close, you are certain: he is littered with scars and wounds color-picked from late twilight skies. His back doesn't even look this bad. It's always been more than bruised knuckles and leg sprains.

And it's familiar. All of it. Bruises and cuts new and old, the shape of him, the color. The stab wound is new but all of this is months (years) in the making.

The closer you get, the more it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes follow the length of his torso and then—your fingers press against his side, up against a healed gunshot wound. You brush your thumb against it. It makes you feel nauseous.

You look up and he's looking at you. Defeated. Relieved. You can feel the denial creeping in but it all clicks into place, doesn't it?

The bullet wound, the limp, the job offer, the sprained leg. You couldn't see it because, frankly, they couldn't be any more different from each other. And yet...

Bruce's hand covers yours and keeps it there.

That damned bullet brought you together. It had brought Batman to you, it had brought you to Bruce, and it had solidified in no small way that whatever had led you to this moment in time was years in the making. All because you wanted to live.

"Come with me." And Bruce leads you upstairs.

17 years ago.

"I think it could be good," Alex holds up the bottle to you, "if you're down."

You hate the taste of whatever she's giving you but it does make you tingly. You take a big swig and set it between you on the concrete, "You know I'll go wherever you go."

Alex grins, "That's the spirit!"

On Tuesdays, you and Alex like to watch the cars go by from the alley. It's between a Thai restaurant and a laundromat so it always smells good; if it's not the fabric softener, then it's the pho. It's where you always find her. After a few heart-to-hearts spent curled up on the ground with her here, it became "your" territory.

Claiming it didn't stop people from holing up inside and standing around a barrel fire, nor did it stop the laundromat owner nor the line cooks from coming out to smoke and take out the trash. But it did mean that you both liked it here. For lack of other places to go.

"You know that piece of shit from the Vipers won't take no for an answer?" Alex kicks at a rat that scuttles past, making sure it wouldn't take a bite out of her ankle.

"You're very popular, it's not a surprise."

"Shit, it's just cause they know my parents don't give a shit where I go. They're all like, 'Come join us! You could be one of our best! We'll pay you more in a day than you'd make stealing in a week!' but they don't talk about all the kids floating in the river when they try to do better for themselves."

"Like you'd let someone boss you around." You giggle, and Alex beams.

"No way in hell! I love my independence. See, I can take whatever I want whenever I want. Those sad fucks in the Vipers have to answer to some... some random guy they rarely ever see. Why would I want that?"

You'd seen the kids the Vipers recruited. There was no age limit, some as young as nine were happily making deliveries. It used to be a joke in your school that any kid with a front door would end up in the Vipers eventually.

You wondered if you would've ended up there too, had you not been with Alex.

Your makeshift gang of two which had grown by three in the last few months was less organized than the Vipers. It didn't pay unless you pulled your weight, and most of it was at Alex's discretion. For the most part, none of you moved without her. She was the head, the leader, and the only reason you could afford your new winter boots this month.

And you would truly follow her wherever she went.

You watch a few more cars pass. You press your head to the brick and let the sounds of the city light your nerves. That is until you feel a breeze where Alex had once been. You open an eye and find her inching further into the alley. "Hey," you call, but she turns and shushes you so your next words come out in a whisper, "where you going?"

She frantically waves you over.

You don't see what she's looking at until you get about halfway down the alley, but the voices are crystal clear at this point. There's a woman and a young boy standing off behind a dumpster, but when the woman catches sight of you and Alex, she shoves something into the boy's hands and dips around the corner. The boy, flustered, is just barely able to put it away before Alex is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the light.

It becomes clear that he's not a young boy. He's about your age, maybe off by a year or two, but so thin and lanky that his puffer jacket engulfs him completely. Alex yanks his sleeve down to reveal a poorly done tattoo of a snake going up his upper arm, jagged and unfinished like he'd run off in the middle of getting it done. It didn't seem too far-fetched an idea: the guy looked 92 pounds soaking wet.

"You're on the wrong turf, kid." Alex warns, but you know her tone of voice is too final to be a warning.

The guy yanks his arm back, "Fuck off."

You realize what he was fumbling with when the woman had run. A small bag of something white, and a wad of cash sticking out of his pocket. You snort, "Dealing for the Vipers a little far from home, aren't you? You must be new."

The guy tries to escape but Alex grabs the hood of his jacket and drags him back, "We'll overlook the trespassing if you give us a cut."

"Leave me alone. This place doesn't belong to anyone." But as soon as he says it, Alex takes a hold of his dirty blond hair and yanks his face up to look at her. You go to grab his money while he's distracted but you don't expect him to brandish a knife until he slashes at you. He misses, but it sets Alex off.

She uses his hair to throw him into the side of the dumpster and you can see the thoughts rattling around his head upon impact.

"Right, everything belongs to the Vipers. Is that why your boss is still Falcone's little bitch?"

The guy is indignant against the taunts. He tries to slash at her but Alex is faster, always has been, and she has his wrist in a death grip before he can even get close. You watch her twist it back until he lets out a cry of pain, the knife clattering to the floor at your feet. You take it and hold it up to his neck, watching his eyes go wild between you and Alex.

"Give us the money and we'll pretend this never happened-" you start, but jump back when you feel something wet hit your cheek. You almost don't believe it, but the guy has some spittle dribbling down his bottom lip and a satisfied smile when you lock eyes with him again.

Alex wasn't just fast. You remember her standing up to your childhood bullies between classes and giving them shiners that she still bragged up to this day. It took a few years before you both stopped ending up with twice as many injuries, and a few more years after that before you stopped having bullies at all.

And this guy— maybe he didn't know what he'd gotten himself into and that extended to more than just this moment in time—was half the size of the guys Alex had beaten to tears in the past.

It does not surprise you that he crumbles to the ground with the very first punch to his gut. Alex hits hard first to make the fights quick, and so when her next punch lands on his nose, you know that something has been broken. With each kick to his gut, the tears free flow as if surely, the next hit will kill him.

You watch silently. Alex is unforgiving.

After a minute or two goes by, he is so beaten down that he wheezes every time he breezes. You're certain Alex has gone overboard but something in your heart swells at the thought that it was for you.

When all is said and done, you snatch the money from his jacket and he doesn't bother to stop you, head leaning against the ground as tears and blood and snot trickle into a puddle. For good measure, Alex snatches the drugs too, "Don't show your face in this alley again or you won't leave alive."

And you know this is a lie. A trick to make her bigger and badder. A threat that she would never follow through on. Because Alex always made herself look bigger, badder, scarier, deadlier. It's what protected you both on the streets. It's what made you follow her, what made your friends follow her.

Alex was everything, and you would follow her anywhere.

You ride in silence together down to the terminus. You feel much the same as you did the first time. Bruce pulls back the gate and you spill out into the dark, but much like before, the lights and TV kick on. The News 7 jingle plays, Bruce pads over to mute it.

You watch him stand a few feet away from you, avoiding your eyes as they sweep the floor. There are those same tools scattered about, hubcaps stacked on top of tires, wires going from one side of the room to the other. It looks just like you'd last seen it, only the car that had once been covered by tarp is now on full display. It gleams in the overhead lights, as much of a monster in clear view as it was in shadow.

He really wasn't shitting you.

When you still don't say anything, Bruce walks over to his desk. Underneath it is a crate full of folders, and you realize he's getting yours when he turns and holds one out to you. You take it, inching closer. Without a word shared, Bruce pulls up something on his computer and you nearly flinch when your mugshot is reflected back at you on one of the screens.

"Your record isn't accessible unless I use a workaround which isn't... legal, but it's how I found your file without Russo. The GCPD doesn't know." You peer at him from the corner of your eye, urging him to explain, "I taught myself how to get in."

Your eyes are welling up with tears the longer you stare at the younger version of yourself. Bruce continues, "I know what the record says. That they traced back a few robberies to you and your friends over the years, and that you'd had a run in with a Viper the night you met Russo. You helped track them down, took out a portion of the gang's operation, and your record was sealed. That's all."

"They didn't trace all of them back to us," you start, not really wanting to talk, "just some. There were more."

Bruce seems to sense that as he closes the record, "It's your turn. To ask, I mean."

You look at Bruce in the face and hate the softness there. You can't be angry, or numb like you wish you could be. Your chest is all twisted up with emotion with no one feeling staying for long, even if it would flare up again every once in a while. "Did you know about me before or after you asked me to work for you?"

"Before. After that morning, I couldn't stop... thinking about you. Truth be told, me and Alfred have been doing this alone ever since I started. Before you, he was the one that would stitch me up, kept me out of doctor's offices where someone might talk. But he was also running the company for me, and taking care of me, and worrying about me. I knew if I was going to commit to this, I would need to try and stay alive, and I always meant to find someone but it wasn't an easy decision to make. Until I met you."

You know it's his turn now, but you can't help asking, "And you didn't think... maybe the kid with a record would be a bad idea?"

Bruce cracks a smile, "I mean, the stitches never got infected." You would've laughed at that if you were in a better mood. "I wasn't always so understanding. But I imagine someone who's dedicated the better part of their life to saving lives has more than made up for it."

Your head automatically shakes, "I can never make up for what I did."

"You don't have to tell me everything," he begins delicately, "but I need to know what Dimitri is after. I need to know what he's thinking. You're the only one who can help me."

You blink away a few tears and plop into a stool by his desk, dropping your head in your hands. The memories suffocate you, rushing at you like a flash flood. You don't know where to start, let alone what you want to tell him. An hour ago, you were certain he was caught up in a Gotham mob, planning to use your history as blackmail for... something.

You can't quite reconcile the feelings you have for Batman with the face of Bruce Wayne. Or who you thought was Bruce Wayne.

But he was right. You were the best chance at catching Dimitri. You were the only one who could make it up to Russo.

You swallow at the memory of Russo's mutilated body, but then... you remember him in that police station. When you were 16 and wishing you were dead. You suck in a sharp breath, "I met Alex when I was a baby. I mean, we've known each other for a long time- knew each other. She and I used to be attached at the hip. She protected me from bullies and I would sneak out at night to listen to her vent about her parents, about Gotham. She fucking hated it here. I did too.

"Alex and I learned that if you want to survive, you have to be powerful. So we became powerful. You might not think a pair of 14 year olds are all that powerful in the grand scheme of things but when it was just us against the world, it was addicting. When we wanted something, we just... took it. We started off pickpocket-ting on the streets, usually assholes who could afford to lose a hundred or two. And then we started robbing places, small-time stuff, you know. Run down houses, apartments, swiping out of registers when no one was looking. If anyone gave us shit, we just turned tail and ran. It was hard enough trying to make ends meet for our parents, and we liked the thrill of it. We rarely ever got caught.

"Eventually, some of our friends from school joined us and we become a little piece-of-shit gang. God. We were like... fucking 15, running around the city like we were so big and bad. My parents had no clue what I was really up to but they knew something was wrong. I didn't care. I was with Alex and I would follow Alex anywhere. We had this little alleyway, right? Between a Thai place and a laundromat. That's where I could always find her. And one day, we were fucking around and caught some guy dealing back there. Alex got pissed. We tried to take his money but he defended himself. I said something... he spit at me. And Alex just lost it.

"She beat him into the concrete and I just... watched. This guy, couldn't even throw a punch if his life depended on it, and she just wailed on him. And I watched. And I liked it. I felt powerful. We felt powerful. I know, a pair of jackass teenagers hurting people for fun? We were pathetic. But it didn't feel that way, being with Alex. She was my best friend."

The tears are free-falling now and you don't even bother to wipe them away. It would feel cowardly. You couldn't hide from Bruce now, not anymore. Not if he wanted to believe in you. "We didn't know who this kid was, other than the fact he was a Viper. A young one, a weak one. We didn't think he'd even last a week. Most kids like him end up getting disposed of by the boss anyway. And then all five of us were fucking around in that alley again when they showed up: the guy, Dimitri, and his sister Nat and this other kid. All of 'em Vipers.

"Nat wanted the money and the drugs back. Kid had a black eye so I guess he'd gotten shit from his boss about it. Alex was... indignant. Refused. For once, I begged her to give in but she just wouldn't fucking listen. Of course she wouldn't, do you know how much I enabled her? We were on top of the world, why would she give in? And she really pissed Nat off with that, but then she started mouthing off and then... Nat shot her. Right in front of me. It was instant."

Bruce remains incredibly still. His lips part to say something but nothing really comes out. You keep on going, "I was so shocked that I didn't even move when Nat turned the gun on me. It was like... I don't know, it was like I couldn't quite believe she was dead. But I understood what happened. Logically. I saw it happen. I saw the bullet in her brain. And when Nat turned on me, I think a part of me just... didn't want to have to think about it. Like a coward. If it wasn't for our friends pulling me out of the way, I wouldn't... be here. Next thing I knew, I was at the GCPD getting investigated for murder."

"They thought one of you did it?"

"The cops that brought us in, yeah. They just so happened to be around the corner when we ran into them. By that time, Nat and Dimitri had run off. The cops thought it was some fight between the five of us and that one of us pulled the trigger, but they couldn't find the gun. That's when Detective Russo showed up."

"And he offered to get you a plea deal."

You nod, sniffling, "He told me... he said that he could tell I'd never seen something like that before. There was no way I could've done it. And when I couldn't even finish the whole story without choking up, he said... he said that in exchange for our help catching Natalie, he would make sure all the crimes they tied back to us were sealed and expunged."

"What about Natalie? How did they find her?"

"The GCPD had been looking into the Vipers for months. Vipers almost exclusively recruit minors because they're more loyal, but there wasn't a way to get in without putting some innocent kid in danger. So they had us look into it. We found one of their hideouts by the docks. GCPD wanted to get the kids out and into the foster system since a lot of them were orphans, like Natalie and Dimitri. But the ambush didn't take. They got a couple kids out but... a few died, including Nat. Last I heard of Dimitri, he got tried as an adult for killing a cop during the shootout. That was life in Arkham."

Bruce shifts closer, "Until he got out. And he came looking for Russo."

"He was just a kid, Bruce," your voice cracks, "he was just a kid. He couldn't even defend himself. And because we were assholes we got his sister killed and we got him put away. He was just a kid."

"So were you."

Something about the tender way Bruce says that makes you sob. For years, you've looked back on that moment with so much guilt, knowing how lucky you were to make it out of that situation alive and unscathed. How lucky you were to be taken seriously, to be cared for, for a detective like Joey Russo to show you a picture of his kid in his wallet and tell you that he would hate to see them in your position.

You were lucky that you got to fix your grades and go to college, study medicine, save lives, be here. Natalie didn't get that. Dimitri didn't get that. Alex didn't get that.

"You said... you said you hated Gotham. Why did you stay?"

You wipe at your cheeks, "I- I honestly... I wanted to. My parents made a deal with me that we would leave for New Jersey after I graduated but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. I couldn't leave Alex. I couldn't leave the city, after all I'd done to it. In it. I wanted to leave like my friends because the guilt was so much but I felt obligated to fix it. I wanted to help people. Not hurt them. And I've worked hard to do better. I just can't leave. I don't want to leave."

What surprises you is the hand on your face afterwards. Bruce cups his your cheek. His thumb brushes away some tears, and it feels so unlike Bruce even though it's him, even though he's the one who cradled and comforted you after being held hostage, even though he was the one that stood on your fire escape and confessed that he trusted you, liked you even. Your brain just sort of stops there. You melt like putty in his hand. You realize you've been craving a gentle touch like this for a while.

"Then you won't have to," Bruce casts his eyes to the side, looking at where you laid your file on the desk. You can see the cogs turning beneath his furrowed brow, "I'll make sure of it."

"How?"

"...You won't like it."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday @moony-toasts @sketchiethebear @trawberry-fire @hangmanscoming @agent-scorpio @julesjewelss36 @chonkercatto @dcgoddess @hollandorks @anotherr-fine-mess @miriamnox @dumdumsun @phoenixgurl030 @allgaslynobrakess @marvelouskatie @swangelss @millercontracting @aivlisdecolores @geeksareunique

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman angst #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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primofate · 2 years

Text

Protective Lover Series Part 2 - His reaction to seeing you cry (and it’s not because of him) [Genshin Impact]

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst, more comfort and fluff than anything, not proofread, i appreciate people telling me that i missed to tag a character but the truth is i dont tag all the chars cause i think i have limited tags, no? some protective genshin guys

Personal Favourites: Tartaglia, Xiao, Zhongli

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - When someone badmouths you)

Aether

his heart breaks the same way as yours, if not even more

doesn’t say anything at first but will take you in his arms silently and make comforting sounds, rubbing your back up and down

his priority is making you feel better first, instead of bombarding you with questions about what happened.

When you’ve calmed down a little he’ll start wiping your tears and will give you a gentle smile

“You can talk about it whenever you’re ready, Y/N. In this world and the next, I’ll always be here by your side,”

Albedo

Offers you a handkerchief and stays by you until you’re ready to talk about it.

When he sees that you’re clumsily wiping your tears he takes the handkerchief back and does it for you, patting your cheeks dry while he has a hand cradling your cheek.

The look on his face is sullen and downcast, as if he’s guilty he wasn’t able to protect you from whatever it was that made you feel this way.

He squeezes your hand and urges you to tell him what’s wrong.

“Strange. Tears are a normal human reaction to emotions...yet when I see yours, I can’t help but feel that they don’t belong on your features...”

Ayato

doesn’t look like he’s too bothered but is actually quite anxious inside. What happened? Did something transpire while he was away? Were you somehow affected by his status?

It comes with being busy all the time, he’s worried that he might not be taking care of you enough and seeing you cry hits hard for him.

hugs you protectively. One arm round your middle and the other gently pressing on the back of your head as you rest your face on his chest or the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, love. Never in your time with me do I wish to see tears of despair in your eyes... Please, if there’s something I can do, tell me,”

Bennett

panics

flounders and doesn’t know what to do. The let-me-check-my-pockets-if-i-have-any-tissue-welp-no-I-don’t-so-I’ll-wave-my-hands-around-to-try-and-make-them-feel-better character.

Ends up awkwardly putting both his hands on your shoulders and giving you a forced smile.

“I-It’s alright. Everything will be fine. I promise! We’ll fix it together, okay?”

Chongyun

is stunned by your tears. This may sound weird but he thinks that something about them is beautiful, despite it being sad. Kind of reminds him of snow crystals.

Holds your hand and lets you cry, being careful of if your mood is getting worse or better

is worried, but is patient and will never rush you to ‘stop crying’

is not very confident that he can make you feel better but will definitely try his best

“...Y/N? If it’s okay...Can you tell me what happened? I... I just don’t like seeing you sad...”

Dainsleif

Your tears are literally precious to him. Doesn’t matter if it’s happy or sad tears, both makes him feel a bit of sadness.

will let you curl up in his arms as he soothes you gently, occasionally wiping away tears that cascade down your cheeks.

will press some kisses on your forehead while waiting for you to mellow down.

Will look at you while wiping your tears and

“No one should ever make you feel this way, not me, nor anyone else... Tell me what happened, my star, and I assure you I’ll take the hurt away,”

Diluc

panic but on the inside. The instant ‘what happened?’ is written all over his face but doesn’t say it out loud immediately.

thinks you’re physically hurt, when he finds out you’re not, he’s even angrier cause something has upset you to the point of making you cry and he definitely wants to know what or who it is

cups your face in his hands and has a worried expression while watching your tears fall, trying to pat them dry gently.

is ready to go to war

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen? *sighs* I’m here, it’s alright. I’m not leaving...You’re my everything, do you understand that? If anything happens to you...”

Gorou

startled but is incredibly downcast when he realizes you’re crying and it shows with his ears flattened down and his tail unmoving.

Something about his instincts makes him press his forehead against yours and he closes his eyes while holding the two of you in position like that. He thinks it comforts him more than it comforts you, but he hopes it helps you too.

doesn’t quite know what to say, but will ask politely about your feelings.

“...Is everything okay? I-I’m not sure how to make things better but I’m always here to listen. I promise,”

Heizou

Wordlessly pulls you into a hug and rubs your back, hums a little tune or song to hopefully ease your crying.

already thinking about what could have happened while trying to comfort you.

pulls away and gives exactly two kisses on your cheek. one on the right and one on the left then proceeds to pat your face dry.

“My charming Y/N, I’ve got a good idea of what might’ve happened...Hm? How did I figure it out so fast? *chuckles* You underestimate me, dear. Your utmost happiness is easily the most important job on my list,”

Itto

Freezes. Kind of doesn’t know what to do when he sees someone crying (though he has made a lot of kids cry before >_> it’s different when it’s you)

Will offer you material things to try and make you feel better. Candy. Lollipop. His onikabuto.

When you tell him all you want is a hug he kind of melts on the inside but is also ridiculously proud.

Is still kind of concerned and is convinced someone has bullied you and will throw hands if that’s the case

“Well you’re in luck! I give the best hugs around here! Err... Only for you though. You sure you’re okay? Want me to go and teach ‘em a lesson?”

Kaeya

crestfallen. His usual grin has turned weak and he takes you by the hand, drags you over to the nearest chair or bed and pulls you onto his lap, cradling you in his arms as you cry.

validates your feelings and doesn’t make you feel stupid or weak for shedding tears.

let’s you cry for as long as you want and lets you rest your head on his shoulder, no matter how damp it gets.

Mostly talks to himself, but kind of talks to you as well during your process of calming down.

“...What exactly has upset my snowflake, I wonder? Someone I have to talk to? Something I have to take care of? Anything to bring the smile back on your face, love,”

Kazuha

takes you somewhere private or quiet. Comforts you first by sitting somewhere with you and letting you drape your legs over his lap while he cradles your upper half and shushes you gently.

Thinks you’re still incredibly attractive even when crying, but is also worried about your emotions.

Will talk to you about it and won’t push too much if you don’t feel like it yet.

While wiping your tears...

“Nothing will make me think any less of you, Y/N. This will pass, but whatever it might be, please let me do the honor of sharing your burdens with you.”

Razor

Instant hug and curls his body around you, literally in protection mode and not letting anyone else near you.

Conceals you from the rest of the world until you’ve calmed down in his arms.

He doesn’t look at your face because he’s on the lookout for anything or anyone who tries to approach you during a vulnerable time, but he knows you’ve calmed down when your breathing evens out

“...Y/N...will be okay...I will...protect,”

Scaramouche

freezes, but out of anger, not concern. Probably trying not to stomp out of there and demand his subordinates to tell him who made you cry.

Silently goes towards you and remarks/mumbles about how ugly you look when you cry, but he’s also wiping your tears.

Then tilts your still damp face up to look him straight in his murderous eyes. immediately goes to worst case scenario.

“Stop crying already and tell me who I have to kill,”

Tartaglia

cold. but not towards you. Cold because he’s thinking about how he’s going to make the offender suffer.

Towards you, he’s gentle and whispers comfort in your ear. Telling you that he’s here now and he’ll make it all better, but only if you tell him what happened, and only if you point out the specific people who made you unhappy.

Showers you with kisses down your jaw and up again, then presses two last ones on both your eyelids.

“Now which unfortunate soul do I have to talk to and take care of to make things better, my love? Don’t be shy now, I’ll take care of it real quick,”

Thoma

concerned. the type to approach you, hug you, rest his head on top of yours and gently or softly cradle/sway you side by side

it’s like a little slow dance but with less movements, hoping that it gives you more comfort, like a rocking chair type of thing.

it hurts him to see you cry and you can tell from his scrunched up brows and heavy facial expression.

Looks as if he’s about to cry as well.

“Whatever you feel, I feel it deeply too. When you’re happy and when your face lights up, my heart is at ease. But...seeing you this way...I didn’t think it would hurt me this much,”

Venti

still has a positive streak to him, but is mindful of your feelings.

The type to say things like you look better with a smile or that tears don’t suit you, or that he misses your smiling face but will also tell you that you still look charming, tears or not. That’s just how he sees you.

the type to squish your cheeks together and try to get a smile out of you

“Awe there it is. See? That smile’s much better!”

After he has cheered you up will ask you what it is that upset you and will tackle the problem with you.

“Hm... I see. In that case, you can’t do it alone! This is a job for the two of us. Let’s go and make things better, shall we?”

Xiao

shocked, then angry. He’s never seen you cry and you’re usually happy go lucky so when he sees you cry he thinks it’s a gravely serious thing.

despite that he still somehow doesn’t quite understand the purpose of tears. He knows what despair is but has the mindset that tears are not necessary, though he tries to understand how fragile humans are.

Will awkwardly stand in front of you while you cry, and later on will attempt to use one curled finger to brush away your cascading tears.

“...You humans...your resolves are too weak...too fragile, and yet...”

will pause for a seconds to continue to observe you cry. He acknowledges the twisting feeling in his chest.

“...and yet why does it make me feel this way, watching you weep?”

Xingqiu

surprised. will ask you to sit down and go through it calmly, will offer to do something for you: brew you tea, read your favourite book aloud.

Will ask you what he can do to make you more comfortable because he’d rather ask than do the wrong thing.

Will sit by you and rub your head and silently observe your mood.

will clear his schedule if there was anything on it.

“...Are you feeling better, Y/N? Would you like to stay here or go somewhere else? Take as long as you want, I have all the time in the world for you,”

Zhongli

calm but concerned. You can tell that he’s thinking about what might have gone wrong. At the same time, he’s trying to comfort you.

Ideally he’ll take you to bed and let you curl up against him while he rubs your back, letting you get all your emotions out before he starts asking you questions, though he already as a lot on his mind.

He lets you play with his hair, cause he knows that’s a kind of comfort for you.

Will lay with you in bed for a while, even after you’ve calmed down, just to give you time to think.

“...Beloved, whether or not it’s a joyous occasion or a sorrowful one, for as long as I live, my promise is to love you and to always be the pillar you can rely on. Today is no different. Would you like to talk about what happened?”

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#genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin angst #heizou x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #tartaglia x reader #kazuha x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #bennett x reader #thoma x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #chongyun x reader

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honeyedmiller · 9 months

Text

Shotgun | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: very poorly written smut (literally just high sex), usage of marijuana, smoking, dbf!Joel, no outbreak!Joel, age gap (reader is in late 20’s; Joel mid 40’s), explicit language, Joel has stronger feelings for reader than he can admit… like it’s so much pining omg, no use of y/n, tiny bit of a plot. 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: you and Joel smoke together for the first time.

You knew it was wrong—both of you did. But did that stop you?

Absolutely not.

You see, Joel should be completely off-limits. He was your dad’s best friend, after all. But, you couldn’t help yourself. Neither could he. After one drunken evening about a month back, both of you gave in to satisfy your cravings for each other. No one had to know, and they were never going to know.

Messing around in secret was exhilarating and honestly, pretty fucking hot. Joel Miller has fucked you like no man ever has before or ever will, and he made sure you were aware of that. He satisfied all your needs which kept you craving more of him. That explains why you’re sitting on the couch on his back porch at nearly midnight.

The cool night breeze wrapped around your body in comfort. You winced at the pain between your legs, having just gotten the life fucked out of you by said hottest middle aged man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Here darlin’.” Joel steps outside in nothing but his boxers while you sport his oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath.

Joel hands you a water bottle and you thank him, uncapping it and taking a few much needed sips. He sat beside you on the loveseat, spreading his legs as he rested his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes for a brief second as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

His tan skin glowed under the moonlight, muscles outlined by the shadows the light cast. Joel opened his eyes again and looked at you, eyes dark and seemingly hungry for more.

“Look better in my shirt than I do, baby.” He chuckles, sitting straight up before reaching for something on the table beside him. He pulled out a small tin box, opening it swiftly before taking out its contents. It took you a second to register what exactly it was, and when you did, your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You smoke, Miller?” You laugh as you eyed the joint between his thumb and index finger.

“Only sometimes. You?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pursing your lips.

“Here.” Joel held the joint up so you could take it between your lips, which you accept gingerly. He grabbed the lighter from the tin box before flicking it on, the soft glow of the orange flame illuminating his features. He brought the lighter to the end of the joint, lighting it for you before flicking it off as the end of the joint crackled.

You inhaled deeply, taking the joint from your lips before handing it to Joel. You exhaled as he took a hit, taking the time to look at him. He looked freshly fucked, but peaceful. You smirk at the thought as the sounds of his moans replay in your head, arousing you once more. You squirm in your seat, and Joel notices.

He looks at you with a quirked eyebrow but doesn’t say a word as he hands you the joint again. You take it and move closer to him, inhaling before grabbing his jaw softly so he had to open his mouth. Your face was mere inches from his when you blew the smoke into his mouth. His warm hand grasped your bare thigh, giving it a squeeze. He took one more hit before he leaned forward to stub the half finished joint in the tin box.

He leans back and looks at you, tongue poking out to wet his lips. The tension was thick and god, you just wanted him to fuck you again.

You don’t know if it was the way he was looking at you or the weed (hell, could’ve been both), but you took the initiative to straddle his lap and kiss him hungrily. He chuckled into the kiss at first before moving his hands over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips down onto his now half-hard cock.

You pulled away for a quick breather, and Joel had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Insatiable little thing, aren’t ya?” He tsked.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Miller.” You retorted, grinding your hips down onto him. He could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of his boxers, and he groaned softly.

“Fuck, angel. You’re gonna be the death of me.” Joel brought his lips back to yours and you both kissed each other with such fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as you rocked your hips back and forth, the friction from the cloth of his boxers catching your clit just right. You separated your lips from Joel’s and trailed soft kisses down his jawline, taking your time as you moved down to that one spot on his neck that you knew drove him wild.

You nipped at the spot, licking it to soothe the bite as his fingers dug into your flesh. Your kisses trailed even further to his collarbones and dragged your lips back up to his. You separated from him for a second, staring into his dark eyes as you felt the high consume your body. You lazily smiled at him before toying with his hair.

“Need you, Joel.” Your voice is a soft purr, and he grips your hips in response.

“Guess I can’t keep you waitin’ then, huh baby?” He teases. His eyes were hooded as they stared over your features, not giving one damn in the whole world in that moment that you were his best friend’s daughter.

You made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time, but he’d take those feelings to his grave before he ever admitted that to you.

Wordlessly, Joel picked you up by your thighs and brought you both into the house, back door slamming shut as he made his way upstairs with you. You littered his neck with slow, wet, sloppy kisses in the meantime. When he got to his bedroom, he laid you down on his bed. He couldn’t help but admire you from above, taking his time to soak in the view of you in his t-shirt.

You whined softly, bringing yourself up on your elbows so you could pout at him playfully. “Don’t keep me waiting Mr. Miller.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He slots himself between your legs, holding himself up by his forearms. He could feel the weed taking its affect on his body as his mind begins to become hazy. He feels elated and all he wants to do is kiss you and fuck you slowly. It was his way of showing you how much you actually meant to him without saying a single word.

So, he did just that. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, cradling your face softly with one hand as the other cupped your heat, sliding his fingers against the slickness that had once again gathered.

He went slow. Gentle. Like you were a precious doll made of porcelain and if he made any sudden movements, you’d crack. He doesn’t know how he got tangled into this, how he fell for his best friend’s daughter. It was unfair. Unfair that he couldn’t like a woman his age, nonetheless a woman that wasn’t his best friend’s daughter. Unfair that you were perfect to him and everything he’s ever wanted. It was so fucking unfair.

Your wanton moans broke him from his heavier thoughts, ones that clenched at his heart in the slightest. He moved down your body, leaving sloppy kisses along the way until he was faced with your slick, aching cunt. You shivered as his hot breath hit your core, silently begging the man to use his skilled tongue on you.

Luckily he didn’t keep you waiting much longer. He delved his tongue into your heat, starting with precision as he flicked over your clit multiple times. You inhaled sharply at the sensitivity already there, but bliss soon took over and you tangled your fingers through his already disheveled hair, pushing his face into you more. He moaned at the action, completely blissed out while he was eating you out like a man starved.

He was sloppy with it this time, not caring that your arousal was on his bed sheets and all over the bottom half of his face. He took two fingers and sunk them into you, curling them up to find that spongy spot that drove you wild. Your hips were writhing beneath him, and he looked up at you with an adoring stare.

He loved to see the way he made you feel, at least physically. You never really spoke of your feelings or emotions toward him, if you had any in the first place. Maybe this was just sex for you. An experienced, older man knowing what makes your body tick. What you like, and how you like it. The thought made his heart sink a little but he always had to pull himself back to the reality of it all: you two were never going to happen.

Joel admits he’s a bit delusional for having such thoughts, and he wishes he could whisk them away and forget he ever even had them. But, the more time he spend with you, the harder he found to do so.

Your unraveling is what pulled him from his nagging thoughts. You moaned loudly, cumming hard around his fingers and mouth. He made sure to clean every drop you gave him, like the gentleman he is.

He moved up your body again and pressed kisses against your abdomen, sliding his shirt on you up with his hands so he could envelope the soft flesh of your breasts into his mouth. You whined at the feeling, his hot tongue making you flutter around nothing once again.

“Need you, Joel. Please.” You repeat, voice much more coarse post-release, but who could blame you? Joel Miller was a man who knew how to give earth-shattering orgasms.

“Need you too, baby.” In more ways than one.

He slid his boxers off to free his painfully hard erection, sliding the tip of his cock against your folds before pushing into you slowly. No matter how aroused you were, you always found yourself having to adjust to his girthy size. You two’ve fucked countless times before in the past month and the sheer size of him astonishes you every single time.

You gasp softly as he sank to the hilt, bottoming out into you with a low groan. You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist, breath ragged as you focused on the pure pleasure that is Joel Miller. His pace was slow and his lips were tentative. He made sure to kiss you all over your face and neck as he slid in and out of you languidly.

The room was a mix full of moans and skin on skin and the smell of sex. It was impressive how Joel’s libido really was. But, then again, you never took into account that it was just you that drove him wild. Your eyes fluttered open for a second and you saw Joel staring down at you with a look in his dark eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was one you’d never seen before, but it was soft and full of emotion. You batted your lashes before bringing him down by his neck gently to kiss him, and in that moment, it felt so intimate. His slow pace, the passionate kiss, the unsaid words and the look in his eyes was telling you that this was more to him than just sex.

But why you? Fuck. Maybe it was just your stoned mind overthinking everything. Yeah—that’s it. This meant nothing more than just a casual fuck, as you two’ve been doing all along.

Joel’s pace got slightly faster, but not by much. If you were completely sober you’d be well aware of the fact that this was like him making love to you. Sober you would’ve stopped this from the jump. Sober you would’ve told him to fuck you until you saw stars. But, intoxicated you secretly enjoyed the slowness and fullness of the man above you, rocking in and out of you with such tenderness.

Joel’s hand moved down to your already aching and swollen clit, rubbing small circles around it. You clenched around him which caused him to groan, and you knew you both were close.

“‘M close.” Joel choked out the words, and you nodded in accordance.

“Me too.” You meekly uttered, head tossed back onto his pillow as your jaw fell slack. The burning heat in your core rushed throughout your body, and Joel came undone at your undoing. You both moaned loudly in unison, thanking the heavens above that Sarah was at a friend’s house tonight.

Joel plopped down beside you on the bed, both of you breathless and fucked out. You noticed that your high was sadly starting to waver, but you got the munchies. You sat up slowly, brushing your hair out of your face before turning your head to look down at Joel. He was already looking at you with curiosity, and you offered him a small smile.

“Got any snacks?” You ask, and he laughs.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s satisfy those cravings.” Joel’s cheeky innuendo didn’t go unnoticed as his shirt fell down your bare body once again. You both went downstairs after he put his boxers on again and raided the cupboards for the good snacks, which were indeed Sarah’s. Joel made a mental note to replace them later.

He looked at you as you munched on some chips ahoy cookies from a small bag. This felt way too domestic, but a part of him didn’t mind it.

Maybe in another life, in another universe, you wouldn’t be off limits. You’d be his, and you’d both be happy.

Maybe in another life, in another universe, you felt the same way about him as he did for you.

Just maybe.

i don’t really have a tag list but as promised i’d tag you @cool-iguana i hope you enjoyed this <3

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #dbf! joel miller #dbf! joel smut #joel miller smut #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller story #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller pining #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller fic

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neonghostlights · 10 months

Note

I am SO happy that you’re taking requests! Your work is fantastic, I adore seeing you pop up on my feed 🥰

Could I request a little angsty piece with Rockstar Eddie? He’s gone a little off the rails, enjoying everything that comes with being young, hot and famous and you ended up breaking things off with him as his behaviour got more and more inexcusable.

Six Months after you break up, he shows up at your door in the rain, crying, full of regret. He begs ‘take me away from this big bad world and agree to marry me, so we can start over again’ (yes that’s from a blur song 🤣)

I’m happy for you to run with this and let your creative juices flow! Thank you Angel 😇

Aw thank you so much❤️! I really hope you like this one! Rockstar!Eddie Munson x ex!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Break up, Crying, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.1k

Memories

The cardboard box of memories sat in the middle of your kitchen island. It had been there for a few hours, ever since you got brave enough to pull it out the back of your closet.

You knew you needed to get rid of it, it wasn’t healthy to hold onto. But you found yourself doing this once a month, when you heard a song on the radio that was too familiar or someone was brave enough to mention his name when you were within hearing distance. You would always shove it back in the closet when you were done, promising yourself you would never do this again.

The rain and wind hit the windows so hard you thought they might crack. You could blame the weather on your mood, and not the fact that today was the six month anniversary of the break up. You had just gotten to the point you could call it the break up mentally and out loud. There was a time where you could only bear to refer to it as the separation or the incident. You liked to think you were making some progress.

That was until tonight, of course.

You pulled the box off the counter, making your way to your living room. You set it on the wooden coffee table with a thud. The creases of the box were fraying from carrying over its weight limit. One day you’d have to throw it all out. But not today.

You reached in and grabbed the tape you knew would be right on top like it always was. You popped it in the radio, letting the sound of Never Tear Us Apart play. He never liked this song but you did. You played it enough that he started to sing along to it too, and then that turned into dancing to it in the living room together.

It unofficially became your song. And now it was the soundtrack of your heartbreak.

You sat on the couch gently, afraid that if you moved too quickly it would break the trance and you wouldn’t be able to savor these little moments you allowed yourself to have.

The first thing you grabbed was an old t-shirt of his that you never gave back on purpose. You were wearing it the night it all went to shit. If you inhaled deep enough you could still catch a whiff of the perfume you were wearing and the stale smell of cigarette smoke.

He hadn’t shown up to dinner that night. You had both moved out to Chicago together in hopes he would gain some traction with his music there better than Hawkins. It worked. He got what he wanted.

The day it ended was your 4 year anniversary. You had made plans together for when you got off work and he made it out of the studio. You waited at the restaurant for over an hour and he just never showed.

Eddie had started partying a lot. His band had taken off and they were picking up fame. With the attention of all his new friends he had seemed to have forgotten about you though. You left the diner, embarrassed that the sweet waitress was pitying you.

Your small one bedroom apartment felt suffocating by the amount of people inside of it when you got home.

You slammed the door behind you when you entered but no one paid you any attention. The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts as you maneuvered and pushed by sweaty bodies.

“Baby!” You heard him call as you passed by the couch he was sat on with people surrounding him. He always had people surrounding him. You were never alone anymore.

You ignored him, making your way to your bedroom. You opened the door to two people tangled on your bed.

“Get out!” You yelled, watching as they picked up stray clothes and scrambled out of the room.

“Baby. What’s wrong?” Eddie cooed when he caught up to you. He was swaying, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath.

“Everything’s ruined, Eddie,” you bit out, grabbing the duffel bag from your closet.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand across the wrinkled blanket.

“It’s not ruined, babe. We can wash it,” he informed you with a smile, slurring his words.

You rolled your eyes and started grabbing handfuls of clothes and emptying out your drawers, throwing anything you could get your hands on into the bag.

“Wait a second,” Eddie said, pushing himself up from the bed sloppily. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” you snapped, zipping up the bag.

“But why?” He asked, genuine confusion in his voice. You wanted to pull your hair out. He just didn’t get it even when it was right in front of him.

“Why do you think, Eddie? I waited for you for over an hour and you never showed! This shit,” you waved your hands in the air, “is all you care about now. You used to hate parties and all of this bullshit but look at you now.”

Eddie’s face softened, some coherency coming back as he realized what he had done. He reached for you but you moved away. You watched as the panic came across his features.

“I can fix this. I can make everyone leave,” he said, making his way to the bedroom door.

“Don’t bother. I’ll make it easy for you and I’ll go,” you muttered, pushing past him and into the hallway.

“Wait!” He yelled, scrambling after you as fast as he could with the alcohol still burning in his veins. “Where are you going?”

“Does it matter? We’re done,” you called over your shoulder, using your bag to push through the people.

Something shattered and broke in the kitchen. You didn’t bother to stop, it wasn’t your problem anymore.

“So you’re going to give up on us? Just like that?” He questioned, anger lacing his voice.

You whipped around to face him, not caring that you had an audience.

“Just like that? I have been begging you to give me an ounce of attention for months, Eddie, and you’d rather give all of your time to strangers. Don’t put this on me,” you snapped, turning back around and running through the front door before he could say anything else.

“What a buzzkill!” Someone taunted you before you could close the door all the way. The sound of a scuffle broke out but you didn’t check to see if it was Eddie fighting. You needed to get out of there.

That was six months ago. You had moved back to Hawkins and rented a house. Eddie’s band got even more famous. You doubted he was even still in Chicago anymore. He was probably out in California or New York, enjoying even bigger parties and everything that came with them. You grew nauseous at the thought.

You couldn’t do this to yourself anymore. You tossed the shirt back in the box, covering the rest of the memories in there. You popped the tape out, cutting the music off, and threw it in there too. You couldn’t handle this tonight. It was all too much.

You placed your head in your hands. Did he ever miss you as much as you missed him? Doubtful, since he never once called or came looking for you after you left.

The sound of the doorbell had you lifting your head out of your hands. You waited a few moments, wondering if it was just all in your head. The sound of it ringing again had you getting up from your seat.

No one should be here tonight. The weather was so bad that you were sure the streets were flooded. Maybe Steve and Robin were stopping by to check on you since they knew what today was. They had promised to give you space but maybe they had changed their mind.

You threw the door open, ready to scold them for coming out all of this way. But it was Steve or Robin standing on your doorstep with dripping hair and eyes.

Eddie clutched a bouquet of flowers tightly in his hands. They were soaked, the white and red petals drooping from the weight of the water. Eddie looked like he had just gone swimming, his hair wet and his black band t-shirt drenched and pressed against his t-shirt.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t. He thrusted the bouquet forward and into your hands. You caught them, water streaming down your arms and soaking the sleeve of your sweater.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded, tempted to throw the flowers back at him.

“I miss you,” Eddie sniffled. It was obvious he had been crying tonight. His voice cracked on every syllable.

“Eddie, I-” You started.

“I’m sorry. I need to say this because I have a whole speech planned and then you can say whatever you want to me,” he explained, shaking slightly from the cold air and water.

You nodded silently, allowing him to speak.

“I’m so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. You were- I mean are the most important thing in my life and I got so blinded by everything else that I didn’t take care of you and our relationship. I got so blinded by people wanting to be around me and thinking that I was cool that I lost touch of what really matters. I need you. I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe since you’ve been gone, baby. I wanted to marry you, you know? I was gonna propose to you once we signed that deal with the label. Now we’ve signed it and you weren’t there and I feel so damn lost.” His teeth were chattering as he spoke; his limbs shaking from the low temperature. Every time he blinked drops of tears and rain flicked from his long eyelashes.

“Why now? I’ve been here for six damn months and you never even called,” you bit out, eyes tearing from what he had confessed. It felt like a slap in the face to know your whole future had gone down the drain because of Eddie’s behavior.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Trust me, you don’t know how often I wanted to come here since Harrington mentioned you moved here. I wanted to get better for you first, though. You were so mad and I thought that you didn’t want me anymore. I, uh, I’ve been seeing someone. A therapist,” he explained, “I’ve been working on my shit. I don’t drink or party anymore. I just work with the band. That’s it.”

You chewed your lip, thinking over what he was saying.

“I don’t want to be like how I was anymore. I just want you. I want to make you my wife. I want to have a life with you. Please,” he begged.

“I can’t jump back into this relationship again. I can’t get hurt again and I’m definitely not going to just marry you after you show up on my doorstep claiming to have gotten your shit together,” you said finally.

Eddie’s face crumpled but he didn’t argue. He just nodded in understanding, looking down at his feet.

You sighed, your heart arguing with your head. How often had you wanted this exact scenario to happen? You couldn't just push him away now when he has been all you've needed for the past six months. If what he was saying about getting help was true, he deserved the chance to make things right.

“But I’ve missed you so much. I still love you so much that it hurts. I can’t just hand you my heart again and let you do whatever you want with it. Maybe we can start over though and see what happens?” You offered.

Eddie’s face lit up at the offer and he straightened up, sticking a hand out to you.

“Hi, I’m the new and improved Eddie Munson and I promise not to break your heart,” he said, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss on the skin there.

You told him your name in a shy voice. Eddie didn’t let go of your hand after he kissed it, he just squeezed it tighter. There was a moment between you, where neither of you knew what to say.

“So, Mr. New and Improved Eddie Munson, would you like to come inside and dry off for a bit?” You asked.

Eddie smiled, nodding his head in agreement. You led him inside the warm safety of your house, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You and Eddie played your song again that night. And this time, you were able to listen to it all the way through.

#eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson

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lvlyghost · 10 months

Text

All The Nights to Come

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You get hurt during a mission.

Word Count: 900+

Tw: strong language, blood, angst, comfort towards the end. grumpy ghost as usual. bad grammar, and probably a lot of typos. not proofread 🫶🏻✨💞

A/N: just a little one-shot to help me with writer's block. next I'll be working on another part of salvation and a third part of the things i never said since a lot of you asked 🥹💛 remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍

Masterlist✨

You didn't know how to stay out of danger. Or at least that's what all of your teammates said. Especially Ghost.

Ghost. You had a complicated... relationship with the Lieutenant.

Polar opposites.

That's what he had called you both one day.

He's the darkness that comes at night, you're the light he'd gladly let consume him.

"Stop distracting me." He grumbles staring straight ahead. You chuckle at his growing annoyance.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Ghost. The worst thing that could happen is tripping with a rock." You roll you eyes. "How about we play something, we still have one hour left until we reach the evac point."

"No."

"Comen on! There's no one around." He sighs, but doesn't say anything. You decide to not push his limits. You've started to know him more and more, as much as he would allow, of course. "Is something bothering you?" you finally ask, head tilting down to watch your step. Again the only response you get is silence. "If this is about what happened last night..."

"It's not that." He gruffly interrupts you. Irritated that you're even bringing it up.

"You were the one who said this couldn't happen anymore. So you might as well make up your mind Ghost." You walk faster, leaving him behind, or as much as you can considering his strides are easily longer than yours.

"I am your superior, what the fuck am I supposed to do, kid?" You clench your jaw, hating how his words are setting deep in your heart. The way he emphasized the word superior. "I could get us both suspended, or even worse get us kicked out of the military! Am I really the only one who's thinking?" He seethes.

"Oh well!" You feign amusement. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you cared enough when were fucking each other in my room..." Ghost's body freezes for a brief second before he keeps walking. "If you're bloody scared of letting me in you should've just said it. No need to fucking hurt me like I'm nothing."

"The fuck did you just say? Have you not heard a word I just told you?!" His accent becoming more prominent every time he speaks. "I'm trying to protect you, I don't bloody care what happens to me."

Ghost doesn't notice it, too enraged, looking down at you as he walks closer. But you do.

You see the reflection, a small glimpse of the scope. The sun shining down on the sniper's rifle. Everything moves in slow motion, you scream... or at least you try to, pushing Ghost with all the strength you have. He stumbles a few steps to the side, the pure shock in your face as you realize what's about to happen. A bird chirping in the distance, and what sounds like a cascade near, a river flowing before it hits you. Right on your left shoulder, a shot that was aimed at his heart.

Ghost's heart.

And you take it instead. It pierces through flesh and bones, hurting like million of bullets. Your sight goes black as you start falling, body helplessly hitting the muddy terrain. Shots are fired, a loud shriek and a deep voice echoing but it's so far away. It's getting harder to regain consciousness.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that!?" Fear glowed in his eyes. Ghost's big gloved hand pressing down the wound on your shoulder, the fabric quickly becomes stained with crimson red blood.

Your blood.

"S-Sir?" You choke up. Fighting to keep your eyes open.

Focus on him.

"I'm going to fucking have you on desk rotation for this." He grits his teeth. "Don't you do that ever again. Not for me. Never for someone like me." He leans closer, managing your body in his hands so he can take a better look. He breathes when he sees the exit wound.

"It's my duty..." you murmur, with half-lidded eyes. "To shield and protect my superiors..." you breathe out.

"Don't give me that shite." He scolds you. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect my team." Not just his team. The truth was that he wanted to protect you, he had to. "Now keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah? That's an order sergeant." He commands.

You laugh, with what low energy you have left.

"Sir? You and I both know I'm not good at following orders." He reaches his medical pouch, disinfecting and wrapping as many bandages as he can on your wound.

"Now's a good time you start listenin', kid." He picks you up with more gentleness that's he's ever experienced himself. Who would've thought that a man like him could care for someone else. He has the softest touch, you think. "Think you can hold on until we get there?" He asks, looking down to your face, body too small and light in his arms. If he could kiss you right now...

"Sure thing, Ghost." You murmur, wincing when he starts walking. "This is not what I had in mind when they said we were going to Spain. We could play that game now, right?

A soft chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, making your lips tilt up in a weak yet heartwarming smile.

"Fuckin' hell, love" he doesn't lose sight of your eyes. "I guess we can. As long as you keep talking to me. Don't you dare go somewhere I can't follow."

"Don't think you'll get rid of me that easily, Sir."

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

J. Hughes - Late Night Drives

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): none? Jack getting a little ‘worked up.’

—————————————

“Cole get your ass out of my face!” I peeked into the back seat, met with the sight of Cole’s legs and Trevor trying to push him aside. When Quinn suggested we do a side-by-side ride, I assumed it would be a peaceful drive on back roads. The boys’ excited reactions seemed to portray something completely different. Jack was in the drivers seat, turning the vehicle on while Quinn, Trevor, and Luke scrunched themselves up in the back, and Cole found a place to stand beside Trevor. The side-by-side had an open roof, and he was the only one short enough not to fly out if he stood. Despite the fact that it was unsafe, nobody stopped him.

The boys at the lake house.. they were completely different. Still sweet and lovable, but god they were handfuls.

The sun was setting, so Jack flipped the headlights on simply for safety.

“Ready, babe?” Stupidly, I nodded, un-expecting of my fate. I heard the familiar ding of a Bluetooth connector. Jack reached upwards to press something, then blaring rock music overtook the atmosphere. My whole body tensed.

Jack was a good driver. A responsible driver. Apparently not at the lake house. What happens at the lake house stays at the lake house. Dangerous or not. He ripped out of that driveway faster than a snake could strike, throwing up the gravel from the end of the drive as he pulled out onto the road. I heard Cole let out a shout, his excitement bringing a smile to my lips despite the tension.

Jack flew through potholes, ignored speed limit signs, barely touched the break on turns- I finally understood why they called him Rowdy. I also understood why Quinn’s natural older sibling instinct took a sideline when it came to who drove the side-by-side. Because Jack, as reckless as he was, did it best.

My anxiety calmed through the excited shouts from the boys in the back seat, and the big smile on Jack’s face. He stretched his arm out to me, and I slipped across the seat to lean into his side. He draped his arm over my shoulders while the other gripped the wheel tightly.

Everything was loud. The music, the engine, the wind. It made the environment all the more thrilling. Especially the way Jack’s eyes would leave the road for a split second to peek at me.

Things went well until he hit a particularly deep hole. The whole vehicle jolted, and I spotted Cole immediately finding a seat in Trevor’s lap. My own hand had come to grip Jack’s thigh, but he merely barked out a laugh at the nerves, as did Quinn and Luke.

“You can’t sit there!” Trevor shouted over the roar of the engine.

“What?” Cole shouted right back. Jack and I both laughed.

“Never mind!” Trevor leaned back, brow raising in mock frustration when Cole maneuvered himself to sit sideways, draping his legs over the laps of Quinn and Luke. Luke Laughed, but Quinn -sitting in the middle of the back- rested his arms on top of Cole’s legs, probably to provide some type of security. If not to Cole, then at least to himself.

The familiar piano tune roared over the speakers, a song that became popular in the previous summer. Soon I had five boys singing, “Great Balls Of Fire” in my ear, and I couldn’t help but sing with them. I glanced in the rear view to see Cole leaned back so far, his head was hanging upside down outside of the side-by-side. Despite that, I could still hear his raspy laughter, mixed in with Trevor’s asthmatic giggles. Jack flew around a turn, and my body leaned away from his. It was only a matter of time before he pulled me back into his side. Luke leaned forward, peeking his head into the front seat on the side opposite of Jack, and I closed my eyes in preparation for his shouting.

“Jacky!” Luke called.

“What’s up?”

“Let’s stop at the pond!”

“The what?”

“The pond!” Apparently, Luke waited too long to mention said destination, because the next thing I knew, Jack was breaking hard and making a sharp turn off the road and onto a trail. Everybody started yelling. None particularly worried, simply having a good time. My hand gripped Jack’s thigh impossibly hard.

“You’re turning me on!” Jack complained as he tried swatting my hand away.

“What?”

“You’re turning me on!” Jack repeated, loud enough that our company could hear.

“Dude that’s nasty!” Luke reached past me to gently push his brother’s head, before leaning back in his seat.

“Fuckin’ gross!” Cole shouted in agreement with the youngest Hughes, lifting his head back into the vehicle only long enough to voice his distaste for the conversation Jack and I were trying to have. But when he leaned it back out, he was startled by the branch that almost smacked him in the face, so he decided to keep his head inside the side by side.

Jack hadn’t slowed the whole drive through the woods. Not until we made it to this pond. He stopped the side-by-side and let the boys out, the four of them running off toward the water. I saw a shoe fly, another follow, some kicked off in the grass. A few shirts were removed, but the shorts remained on. Jack smiled at me, grateful for the moment of privacy as he shut the side-by-side off.

“Good drive?”

“There were a few moments I thought I was gonna die.” I responded casually, earning a laugh from him. Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips to my own. I raised my hand to cup his cheek.

“Love ya,” I whispered against his lips before he pulled away.

“I love you too.” Jack opened his door and climbed out, offering his hand to me. I quickly took it and slipped out his side, letting the door swing shut behind myself. I could hear the faint laughter of the boys in the water, splashing each other and shouting random trash talk. I turned just in time to see Quinn take his younger brother down in the water. Jack and I laughed while we slipped our shoes and socks off. His shirt followed, mine did not.

“Come on, Rowdy!” Trevor called, and Jack quickly slipped from my side to run down the bank and into the water. The air wasn’t particularly cold. It was a warm evening. I didn’t mind joining them in the pond, but I certainly didn’t want to get near as wet as the five boys were. I cautiously approached the pond and dipped my feet into the water. A bit chilly, but refreshing. Jack’s giggly laughter was contagious, and I found myself laughing quietly at him as he stomped through the water to get to Quinn. The two brothers got into quite the wrestling match before they both went tumbling into the water. I hugged myself as I stood there, shaking my head in disbelief. Jack was the first to emerge. We made eye contact, and he started in my direction before a hand got ahold of his ankle and pulled him back into the water. Quinn and Luke turned toward me, mischievous smiles on their lips as soon as they started running. I gasped. They were after me.

“Run!” Jack shouted when he came back out of the water, his hair a hot mess in his face, and I heard him gag. No doubt on the taste of pond water.

It was too late, by the time I got one foot out of the water, Luke had me in his grasp. I broke into a fit of laughter as he tossed me over his shoulder and lugged me deeper into the pond.

“Cole! Help me!” I demanded, but Cole and Trevor were too busy laughing at me. The second Luke deemed it deep enough, he dropped me. I gasped for air before I hit the water, mentally cursing Quinn and the sound of his triumphant laughter mixed with Luke’s.

My back came into gentle contact with the bottom of the pond, and I was quick to surface, rising to my feet and drawing in a breath full of hair. I coughed a few times before two gentle hands parted the curtains of hair in front of my face. Jack.

“You good baby?” I smiled and laughed softly. His hair always looked curlier when it was wet. Like a poodle.

“I’m great, Jacky. Thanks.” I dipped my hand into the water and splashed him. Jack laughed and pulled his hands away from me to shield himself. Quinn and Luke were busy going after Cole and Trevor while Jack and I threw water at each other.

When the excitement died down, and the adrenalin finally stopped rushing, we found ourselves all laid out on the bank. Cole was on his side, Trevor beside him on his stomach. Luke was on his back next to Quinn. Jack and I were sitting up on the bank, cuddled up together to try and stay warm.

“To think, you were gonna skip out on a side-by-side ride.” Jack softly teased.

“I know, Rowdy. I would have missed out on about five near death experiences, and the swim of a lifetime.”

“You didn’t almost die.” Jack disagreed, shaking his head.

“Cole almost did when that branch almost whacked him in the face.” My soft joke caused quiet giggles to fall from our lips.

“Can’t believe I gotta get back in that thing with you.” I mumbled.

“The drives back are always more peaceful. I let Quinn drive.. since he drives like a mother.” I smirked and glanced toward Quinn, who flipped Jack the bird.

Jack hadn’t been wrong. I sat in the back with him, along with Trevor and Cole once again. Jack sat in the middle, and I on one side with Trevor on the other. Cole went back to using everybody as a mattress.

Luke sat upfront with Quinn, who turned the stereo down and practically off to listen for oncoming traffic in the darkness of the night. Quinn truly did drive like a mother. Slow and controlled enough to lull Jack to sleep before I followed soon after, amused in my dazed stupor by the way Luke’s head hung forward in the front seat. He must have passed out before anybody else. I was thankful the engine of the side-by-side was louder than the collective snores of the group, but nestled into Jack’s side, it all sounded like faint background noise nonetheless. I was comfortable and secure in his arms.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #trevor zegras #quinn hughes #cole caufield #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader

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Dumb Bitch Disease

zazai-kun

Zazai-kun