#in a different way than watching as a kid
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jeonginsleftcheek · 1 day ago
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By The Pool
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pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader
genre: smut, strangers to ???
wc: 2.5k
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, pinch of degradation, reader is called 'slut' once, cum tasting, creampie
a/n: since i found out he has a lifeguard license on skz code i needed to write this🫠
masterlist
You thought it was going to be another boring month at the resort.
It was a place you knew very well ever since you were a child, your parents always took you there, every summer was the same.
Even now, when you were a student and no longer living with them, you couldn't escape the three weeks they wanted to spend there with you and your brother as a family.
But, there was nothing boring about the eye candy you noticed by the pool.
Every year, there was a new lifeguard on duty and though they were all fit men and women, no one captured your attention like he did.
There was something about him and you made it your mission to seduce him, wanting to have some fun and spice up your summer.
Quickly, you asked around since you knew the staff well, finding out his name is Hyunjin, he's your age and here on a student job, and most importantly single (though you have no idea how no one has snatched him up yet).
You came to the pool every day, happy that you bought some cute swimsuits that revealed more than they covered.
You made sure to be right in his view as you put on sunscreen, slowly spreading the thick liquid all over your body.
You saw him staring and gulping, before averting his eyes and acting unaffected but the tips of his ears matched the red color of his swim trunks.
Of course, you amped it all up with bending over as you spread your towel over the deck chair, showing Hyunjin your cleavage.
Giggling to yourself when you saw his eyes twitch as he adjusted in his lifeguard chair, you lay down with your sunglasses on so you can feast your eyes on him the whole time.
Hyunjin did his duty well and you watched him like a hawk, any time he had to jump in, he would toss his shirt off and you loved to admire his muscles.
He was made to be in water, looked so natural as he swam and he did his job perfectly, making it obvious why he was hired.
By the fifth day, you got fed up with exchanging looks and nothing else so you decided to take matters into your own hands.
If he wasn't gonna approach you, you were gonna do it yourself.
It was a nice sunny Friday, not that you really cared what day it was since you were on vacation, the day was only important because you planned on having Hyunjin all to yourself today.
As per usual, you watched him work and he stole glances at you as much as he could.
After some kid was making a mess in the water and Hyunjin had to jump in to stop them, you watched his wet body, the clear droplets of water running down his back and shoulders as his muscles flexed.
The summer heat was nothing compared to the heat erupting inside you.
You waited patiently for another hour before his shift ended.
The other lifeguard then came to take his shift and you saw him and Hyunjin talking, which was your cue to stand up and run to the pool house where lifeguards usually leave their things and change.
You made sure no one was there and waited for Hyunjin to make his way to you.
You heard footsteps and with bathed breath you hid behind the wall like some stalker and almost laughed at yourself for doing so much for just some dick.
But it wasn't any dick.
You've never wanted anyone as much as you wanted Hyunjin.
Ever since you set your eyes on him, you couldn't stop fantasizing about him, every night when you touched yourself you imagined different scenarios and they all included Hyunjin.
You peeked and saw him get in and then you waited a few moments before knocking on the door and coming in just as he called out.
He probably thought it was one of the staff members, judging by the shocked look on his face when he turned around and saw you.
You giggled, as he gave you the elevator eyes, you were wearing your skimpiest bathing suit yet.
He quickly looked up as you cleared your throat, struggling not to look down at your breasts again.
"D-did you need something?" he stutters, clutching the towel in his hand.
Oh he is simply adorable, you just wanna devour him whole.
"Yes, you." you answer without even blinking and his face becomes red.
"Excuse me?" he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down deliciously.
You chuckle and make your way towards him slowly and he takes one step back, colliding with the table behind him.
He quickly looks back at it, and you find the way he put his hair up in a little ponytail so endearing.
"I think you're hot." you state, standing in front of him now and his lips open and close a few times before he laughs awkwardly.
"Thanks. I- um think you're hot too." he says rather shyly, driving you even more crazy to taste him.
Your hand lands on his arm and you squeeze a little, before slowly dragging it up and down.
"Then, there's nothing else to discuss, is there?" you smirk and lean in, so close to his lips that you feel the shaky breath he lets out on your face.
"I- I- someone could walk in." he whispers and you chuckle.
"I don't care." you're quick to cup his face and crash your lips into his.
A surprised exclaim from Hyunjin gets muffled as you start kissing him and his eyes go from wide to fluttering closed as he returns your kiss eagerly.
Yes, he saw you by the pool every day and he knew what you were doing.
He wanted you just the same as you wanted him but he enjoyed watching you struggle and try hard to get his attention even though you already had it.
He smirked to himself as your bathing attire became more revealing every day and he knew you were slowly losing patience.
Hyunjin wanted you to hunt him down and now that you were here, he decided to reciprocate and show you how much he's been wanting you too.
As the kiss deepens, Hyunjin's tongue swiping over yours and tasting you, his hands slide to your waist and he squeezes before gripping you and swiftly moving the two of you until you were pressed into the wall.
You gasp as he leans back to look at you, a sly smirk on his face.
"You were tempting me on purpose, weren't you princess?" he said in a sultry voice, his hand caressing your cheek, fingertips sliding down to your neck to touch your sensitive spot.
"Was I that obvious?" you tease, letting your hands finally roam free on his hot shoulders, arms and chest.
"Mhm. Waving those tits in my face constantly. Wiggling your ass. What if some poor soul drowned because of your distractions, hm?"
"That wouldn't happen, you're too good at your job." you smirk and he chuckles.
"Sweet talking me won't get you out of this. You're gonna get exactly what you wanted, princess." Hyunjin smirks.
Before you could even realize what's happening, he grabs the strings of your bottoms and swiftly undoes them, letting it fall down and reveal your wet cunt to him.
You gasp, your heart beating hard in your chest in thrill as he hoists your leg up and you hook it around him.
"Is this what you imagined, hm?" he asks with the same smirk as he runs his fingertips on your wet folds, pressing them into your clit every time he comes up.
"Y-yes." you moan, chasing his touch as you rub against his hand and he chuckles, his other hand gripping your breast harshly.
You slide your hands back and undo the strings on the top part of your bikini and Hyunjin helps you with the strings around your neck, the item falling down on the floor as you keep staring into his eyes.
Hyunjin hovers over you, leaning in to kiss you passionately, his lips are so soft but desperate against yours, his tongue is wild like he is trying to remember the way you taste forever as his teeth nip into your bottom lip.
You moan when he starts pinching your nipples and playing with your tits, his fingers pressed into your sensitive clit, massaging it in circles.
You're going crazy as his lips lower to kiss your neck and you can't help grinding against his hand, your wetness spreading all over his fingers as Hyunjin bites into your skin, squeezing and fondling your breast.
"You want my fingers, princess?" he says into your neck before licking a stripe over the bite mark he left on your flesh.
"Yes." you whimper, gripping at his arm.
"Beg." he leans back to look at you and you want to slap him but you know you're too far gone to be snappy.
"Please, fuck me with your fingers." you bat your eyelashes at him and he smirks again, pushing his fingers into you immediately.
"Ah!" you moan as you take him in easily and he lets out a low chuckle.
"You're such a desperate slut. Letting some stranger finger you in a pool house." he laughs, fucking you semi-fast immediately and you moan loudly, meeting his thrusts and not giving a single fuck about someone hearing you.
"So good that you can't even speak?" he fucks into your sweet spot, his thumb pressing into your clit as he presses you against the cold wall, a contrast to your heated body.
"H-Hyunjin." you moan and he chuckles, of course you know his name.
"Say my name louder." he looks at you with a cocky smile and you stutter for a moment as he fucks you harder and faster.
Your legs shake and you hold onto him as he keeps scissoring you open for him, nothing coming out of your lips except his name.
"Cum on my fingers, princess." Hyunjin whispers in your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders, your whole body shaking against him as he keeps plunging into you, the squelching sounds of your arousal filling up the room.
"Ah! Hyunjin!" you whimper loudly as you squirt all over his hand, grinding against him to ride your high as he observes you.
"Taste." he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty as he brings them to your trembling lips.
You wrap them around his digits instantly, sucking on them and licking them clean as he keeps eye contact.
As soon as he pulls his fingers out, his lips are on yours again, kissing you hungrily as he grabs your other leg, effectively lifting you up and making you squeal as he leads you to the couch.
You're thrown down on it, albeit gently before he quickly takes his swim trunks off and your mouth waters at the sight of his dick.
He is perfect everywhere, you think as your eyes roam all over his sexy body.
Hyunjin is quick to kneel between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips.
"I don't have any condoms." he chuckles at the reality of the situation.
Even though he knew you were trying to seduce him every day, it's not like he thought you were actually going to come in after him today and kiss him so he wasn't prepared.
"I'm clean. Please." you whine, your legs wrapping around him and bringing him closer.
Hyunjin chuckles again, he can't believe you are so desperate to have him.
"Okay, princess. You think you can take it?" he gives you another smirk, sliding the head of his hard cock on your soaked folds.
You whimper as you look at his length and nod quickly.
"Yes, I can take it." you're almost breathless and Hyunjin pushes in, making you moan at the feeling.
His fingers couldn't prepare you completely for his cock but the stretch is delicious and your pussy welcomes him eagerly.
"Shit, you feel so good!" Hyunjin whines as he bottoms out, pushing his entire length inside you and filling you up perfectly.
He leans down as his arms cage you, kissing you sloppily before he leans back and starts fucking you at a steady pace, making your orgasm build up already.
You gasp and moan, spreading your legs more as you take him, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you feel even hotter.
You've never been this wet, your pussy pulsating in arousal as you moan loudly, your body shaking and feeling like you're going to explode any second.
Hyunjin looks down at you darkly, low moans escaping his lips as he keeps trying to bury himself deeper inside your warmth, so close to losing control over himself as your pussy constantly clenches around him, gripping his hard cock.
Hyunjin grabs your breast and your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you whine loudly, the new angle making you feel like he's fucking his cock even deeper inside you and his eyes roll back as he fucks into you harder.
You're so loud that if someone passes by they can 100% hear you moan Hyunjin's name as you grab his ponytail and pull on it while you cum all around his throbbing cock.
"Fuck!" Hyunjin almost growls as his hips stutter, fucking you with even more fervor as he chases his high, his hand leaving bruises in the soft skin of your thigh.
"Gonna cum." he whines, wanting to pull out but you grip at him.
"Cum inside me, I want it so bad." you groan, your eyes filling up with tears of pleasure as the head of his cock keeps brushing against your cervix.
"Fuck, you're so dirty, princess." Hyunjin pants, the sight of him all sweaty and flushed above you takes you over the edge and you cum again, clenching hard around him, his name slipping off your lips once again.
His eyes widen as his cock twitches and he unexpectedly cums hard inside you, spurts of the hot liquid painting your insides and filling you up.
Hyunjin collapses on top of you as he feels you still clenching around his now soft member.
It's quiet for some time and just then you realize that you can hear all the sounds from the pool and some people walking and talking next to the pool house, making you realize that everyone probably heard you fucking.
Hyunjin lifts up to look at you and something tugs at your heart, making your stomach fill up with butterflies.
"What's your name?" he asks and you burst out laughing, realizing you never even introduced yourself properly.
"Y/n." you answer and he smiles.
"Y/n. Pretty name for a pretty girl." Hyunjin leans in to kiss you, his cock slipping out of you and you feel the trickle of his cum seeping out of your pussy.
"Are you free tonight?" he asks, his lips traveling on your cheeks, you jaw and your neck, making you shiver as you caress his upper back.
"Depends what you're offering." you smirk and he looks at you.
"Dinner, movies, a walk on the beach?" he asks and you giggle.
"With a happy ending, of course." you say.
"As many happy endings as you want, princess." Hyunjin chuckles.
"Then I'm free." you say and he smiles before kissing you again.
This is going to be a fun summer.
taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun
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heightsofmadness · 2 days ago
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In fairness, generational spinoffs are fraught by their very nature.
"I want to make a sequel," you say. "A lot of people liked the first one. I want to make another one."
But all the characters in the first one have finished their journeys! They don't have as much room to grow anymore.
"That's fine. This is about their KIDS. That means we get characters who are real real close to the ones everyone already loves, but we get to watch them do different adventures and stuff!"
Except that's hard, because if their parents are the original cast, then you're basically telling your audience to get invested in characters who are those-guys-you-like-but-not-as-good-yet, and also those guys they liked are still presumably in the picture. Not only that, but you're fighting an uphill battle to convince the audience that these are conflicts your new cast needs to solve, rather than something Mom or Dad can fix.
So we're living in the long shadow of previously-successful characters. How do we get out from under it?
Kill the parents.
Physically separate the kids from the parents somehow.
Make the parents shitty parental figures.
The first one is risky because not only have you told your audience to care about somebody else, but you've unceremoniously removed the characters they DID like.
The second one is doable, but not every plotline lends itself to this, and you also risk the audience asking why they aren't watching a DIFFERENT show, one where the main conflict is about the parents trying to make their way to the kids.
The third, in theory, solves a ton of problems! The parents' original skillset doesn't necessarily map to parenthood, so it's justifiable. On top of that, not only does it give your former-protagonists-turned-supporting-cast a potential arc: they need to learn how to fix their parenting style! And if the kids want to fix the relationship too, then they're suddenly trying to resolve the same conflict that the audience wants to see resolved!
...It's just that it can be hard to convincingly make a character kind of bad at parenthood without making them seem awful overall, and that means it's easy to accidentally do a character assassination.
Generational spin-off media is like “okay, what would be the most in-character way for the previous show’s protagonist to comprehensively fail as a parent?”
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 days ago
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Ever Since We Met
Spoiler: Jason dies in the warehouse. ~1.5k words
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Jason Todd is six years old and snot nosed when he falls in love with his best friend. Sure, he doesn't exactly know what love is, but he makes sure he's standing next to you when the class lines up so he can hold your hand.
He gets a weird feeling in his stomach (he’s not completely convinced that it’s jealousy, despite what the teacher tries to explain) when you follow other kids around the playground instead of him.
But, he does recognize the excitement he feels when you seek him out to be coloring partners during class instead of the girl sitting next to you.
He loves you as much as a six year old can. Especially when he gets to sleep over at your house and you turn your bed into a fortress of blankets and pillows for you both to sleep in. Those nights are his favorite, and you both drift off to whispered stories and hushed giggles.
Jason Todd is ten years old and getting used to growing pains when he develops a crush on his best friend. At least, he thinks it’s a crush. It feels different than being in love, even if he hasn’t quite grasped the fact that he is in love.
He's more hyper aware of what he does now, how he treats you. Sometimes, the way you smile makes him stumble over his words, and his face go hot. He distracts himself and you from it by asking about homework or that one TV show you that you watch on Saturday mornings.
Jason decides he likes that you’ll press to his side when you’re reading, lost in your own worlds together without a need to fill the silence, crush or not.
He likes that you’ll trade half of your sandwich for his and sneak him doodles and notes during class. (He won’t admit it, but he keeps them in a box under his bed. Sometimes they’re the only reason he doesn’t run away from it all)
He doesn’t bother to mask his obvious preference for you, even when the other kids try to tease him for his crush.
You’re always quick to threaten anyone who tries to put him down, anyway, and he’s more than happy to do the same for you. And when you offer him a high five for scaring off some of the older kids, He decides it doesn’t matter if it’s a crush or not, as long as you stay his best friend.
Jason Todd is twelve when he becomes Robin. It’s hard, well, not being Robin, that’s a magic entirely its own, but being away from you.
He lives in a manor that's bigger than the entire floor of the apartment building he used to live in. He's learned how to do a backflip while throwing a punch in midair. He has more at his fingertips now than he's ever had in the entire first eleven years of his life.
But he misses you. Sometimes, it feels like a phantom limb. Something he's always reaching for, but never quite grasping. It helps that you've gotten a scholarship to his new school, but it's still not enough.
He can't explain it, but he gets greedy for your time. You don't seem to mind the sporadic hangouts, or how often he has to cancel or leave. He kind of wishes you would, just to show that you care as much as he does.
He redoubles his efforts to be a good Robin when you tell him about the dealer that moved into the apartment next to yours. He resolves to be a better friend when you tell him the fancy suits he has to wear to galas look good on him.
His feelings don't change once, even if he hasn't quite found a balance between vigilante and civilian, he knows you're the one thing he can't let go of.
Jason is fifteen years old and about to die when he realizes the person he wants to see most is you. He's always known it, in the back of his mind, but as the blaring red numbers tick lower and lower, he just wishes he could hear your voice one more time.
It's you. Always been. And he's never said it. Never let you know.
His body aches. His leg is twisted the wrong way. His breathing is shallow and raspy. His vision is blurring, and he wants to live. But his mom is still trapped in this warehouse with him, and he's Robin. Robin helps, and that's what he'll do.
Jason drags himself to his mother's side to help, moves despite the gnawing, indescribable pain with every movement.
He's still trying to help, trying to sheild her from harm, as the numbers drop to zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.
What happens next doesn't hurt more than anything else did. And he has enough time to picture the color of your eyes before it all goes to black.
Jason Todd is eighteen when he dons the name Red Hood and becomes Gotham's biggest crime lord in a matter of months.
He stays far away from you, even if your memory has haunted him since the moment he woke up in that cursed pit. (and if he tries to remember, the moment since he first woke up in his own grave)
He's eighteen still, when his empire crumbles and he's left without a path, a purpose. He carries the weight of his years with the league, sags under the strain of not knowing who he is anymore.
He stays far away from you, sticks to the cracks and shadows of Gotham until his name is no longer whispered in fear. Then, and only then, is he brave enough to take off his helmet in front of you.
It's a relief and a terror all at once to finally see the color of your eyes from something other than a memory, and when his heartbeat starts to stutter, he knows he's never really grown out of being in love with you.
You've gotten older. (He shouldn't be surprised, he has too. He just always pictured you growing old together)
Your eyes still light up like he's your favorite person in the room. (He thinks he's allowed to be surprised about that)
But it's when you breathe out that he's home, that he figures out you've been waiting for him. Neither of you seem to know what to say after that, but you don't run for the hills in terror. And for the moment, that's enough.
Jason is twenty-one and passing the first (legally) acquired bottle of alcohol you've ever bought. You laugh about how it still tastes the same, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the sound.
He loves you. It sings in his blood, settles on his tongue, he just doesn't know how to say it. He shows it, or at least he tries, but sometimes he's still waiting for this all to be a dream. It should have been impossible, how easily he slipped back into your life.
It was easy. So easy. Everything was easy with you. That's probably why he spills his guts.
He doesn't quite say it the right way, doesn't manage to get the word 'love' out. But he says enough to get his feelings out.
It's not poetic, not grand as you deserve, but somehow he manages to articulate the way butterflies create a hurricane in his stomach when you're around, how his gaze is always drawn to you, how he can't help but lean into the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch.
Maybe he says a little too much about how he's been head over heels since the day you've met, because you just stare at him.
He's almost ready to run, to blame it all on the one measly shot he's had. This is, until you kiss him. And oh, it's everything he never dared to dream it would be.
It's a little messy, sure, the angle a little strange as you crane across the couch to tangle your fingers in his hair. But it's perfect, it's you, and Jason falls in love all over again.
Jason Todd is twenty-three and still learning how to say I love you. It's not that he loves you any less, if anything, he loves you now more than ever. It's just still something he's getting used to.
Love is something you've given to him so freely, something he's happy to return. But it scares him, sometimes. He worries that if he says it out loud too much, the universe will realize how great of a gift he's been given, and rip it away.
It might be irrational, but he holds the word love close to his heart anyway, unwilling to test fate anymore than he already does by putting on that red helmet.
He whispers it to you in the dead of night instead, says it with touch instead of sound, shows it with soft, shine of his eye. He squeezes your hand when you say it to him, does his best to make it clear he feels the same, even if he can't get the words out.
He'll get it eventually, figure out how to get it off his tongue. He has to.
Especially if he wants to show you the pretty little band of shining, precious metal he has tucked away in a velvet box.
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dissapointu · 1 day ago
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Hello, I wanted to ask you a little drabble with all the arcane characters.
Like how they fell in love with reader ( like what captured their attention etc)
It would be pretty cool in my opinion.
Have a wonderful day\night.
Aaaugh, I made of made this a bit long-(really long, that was sarcasm) I'm splitting it into two portions
Jinx-
Jinx didn’t know what to make of you at first. You weren’t loud or flashy like the people she was used to dealing with. You weren’t trying to prove anything, and yet, there was something about you that screamed different.
She first noticed it when you didn’t flinch at one of her explosions—not the way most people did, anyway. The boom had rattled the room, shaking dust from the rafters, and yet, there you were, brushing soot from your shirt like it was just another Tuesday.
“Nice touch with the blue sparks,” you’d said, nodding at her latest contraption. “Adds flair.”
Flair? Most people would’ve called it destruction. Most people would’ve screamed or run. But you? You tilted your head, eyes bright, genuinely impressed, and for a moment, Jinx was at a loss for words.
It wasn’t just that you didn’t fear her; it was the way you saw her. You noticed the little things—the care she put into her work, the way she tinkered endlessly to perfect her machines. While others saw chaos, you saw art, and for someone like Jinx, that was everything.
The next time she saw you, it was intentional. She didn’t need to bring you a gadget she’d been working on—it wasn’t even finished—but she wanted to see how you’d react. Sure enough, you examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, pointing out details she hadn’t realized anyone else would notice.
“This is genius,” you murmured, tracing a finger along a carved design she’d barely remembered adding. “You really think through every detail, don’t you?”
Her heart did something weird then, like skipping a beat but more… explosive.
From there, it snowballed. You became her favorite person to show her creations to, the only one she trusted to see her work before it was ready. You never judged, never laughed when something misfired—just smiled and asked how you could help.
And Jinx? She realized she’d fallen for you one day when she caught herself trying to impress you. The realization hit her like a grenade: she didn’t just want you to like her inventions—she wanted you to like her.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said one night, leaning against her workbench, tools scattered around her. Her voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Most people don’t get me, but… you do.”
You’d just smiled, that easy, genuine smile that had hooked her from the start. “That’s because you’re worth getting.”
And just like that, Jinx knew there was no going back.
Vi –
Vi wasn’t looking for anyone. She didn’t have time for soft moments, not with everything she had on her plate. But then you came along, and she couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself—steady, calm, unshakable.
The first time she really noticed you, it wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment. It was quiet. You were helping some kids in the Lanes patch up a rickety swing they used to pass the time. Nothing fancy, just you, a coil of rope, and that determined look in your eyes.
She hadn’t meant to stop and watch, but something about you drew her in. Maybe it was the way you didn’t hesitate to get your hands dirty or how the kids laughed around you, their faces lighting up despite everything the Lanes threw at them.
“You’re good with them,” she said after working up the nerve to approach you, trying to sound casual.
You glanced up at her, wiping sweat from your brow, and gave her a smile that hit her like a sucker punch. “Someone��s gotta be. They deserve better than this, don’t you think?”
It wasn’t just your words that stuck with her—it was the way you said them. Like you meant it. Like you actually believed in something better, even when the world gave you every reason not to.
From then on, Vi found herself noticing you everywhere. The way you stepped up when others hesitated. The way you didn’t back down, even when things got messy. You had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway.
She started finding excuses to stick around—helping with repairs, walking the kids home, sparring with you in the courtyard when the opportunity came up. And each time, she found herself drawn to you a little more.
“You’re somethin’ else,” she admitted one night, sitting beside you on a crumbling wall, the city’s broken skyline stretching out before you.
You raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “That so?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, uncharacteristically shy. “Most people would’ve given up on this place a long time ago, but not you. You stick it out, no matter how hard it gets.”
You shrugged, your gaze softening as you looked at her. “Same could be said about you, Vi.”
That was the moment it hit her—like a punch she didn’t see coming. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t ignore.
She fell for you in pieces, each small moment stacking up until it all clicked. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. It was the way you fit—like you were exactly what she didn’t know she was missing.
And when she finally worked up the courage to tell you, your answer came with that same steady smile that had captivated her from the start.
“Figured it out, huh?” you teased, and she rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away.
Yeah, she figured it out. And she wasn’t letting you go.
Sevika-
Sevika didn’t believe in love. In the Lanes, it wasn’t something people had the luxury of chasing. Survival came first, and attachments were just liabilities waiting to stab you in the back.
But you were… different.
The first time she noticed you, it wasn’t because you were trying to catch her attention. You were too busy holding your own, stepping into a dispute between two gang members over stolen supplies. She’d leaned back in the corner of the Last Drop, watching the chaos unfold, ready to step in if things got messy.
But then you surprised her.
You didn’t raise your voice or threaten anyone. Instead, you stood tall, calm as you defused the tension with a few sharp words and an unflinching glare. You had this presence, like you weren’t afraid of anyone in the room—not even her.
“Bold move,” Sevika had said when you approached the bar afterward, ordering a drink like you hadn’t just stared down two brutes twice your size.
You glanced at her, your lips quirking into a small smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep things from falling apart.”
That was the moment she started paying attention. You didn’t just survive in the Lanes—you thrived. You didn’t let the weight of the place crush you like it did everyone else. And more than that, you cared. Not in some naive, starry-eyed way, but in a way that made you fight tooth and nail for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.
It pissed her off at first. The way you carried yourself like you weren’t afraid of the darkness around you. She thought it was reckless, stupid even. But the more she watched, the more she realized it wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.
You weren’t scared of getting your hands dirty, but you never lost sight of what mattered to you. That’s what got under her skin, what kept her coming back to the same barstool night after night, just to see what you’d do next.
She started finding reasons to stick around. Sometimes it was to share a drink, other times to offer backup when things got rough. You never asked for her help, but you didn’t push her away either, and that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.
One night, after a particularly close call with one of Silco’s rivals, you patched up a cut on her arm, your hands steady as you worked.
“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes.
You chuckled, your touch gentle as you tied off the bandage. “Takes one to know one.”
It was such a simple moment, but it stayed with her. The way you looked at her—not like she was some feared enforcer, but like she was just… Sevika. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.
Over time, she realized she was looking for you in every crowd, waiting for the nights you’d sit beside her and trade sharp banter over a drink. She fell for you quietly, begrudgingly, like it snuck up on her before she could stop it.
And when she finally admitted it—to herself, to you—it wasn’t some grand confession. It was a gruff, almost reluctant, “You mean more to me than you should.”
Your response? That same infuriating, endearing smirk. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”
Sevika huffed a laugh, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind. Because for once, letting someone in didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like strength.
Silco -
Silco had always been a man of control, ambition, and sharp edges. In the underbelly of Zaun, survival demanded nothing less. Trust was currency, and affection? A distraction. He had long since accepted that power was the only thing worth chasing.
But then you appeared.
You weren’t loud or showy, not one of those people clawing for his attention. No, you worked quietly, efficiently, in the background of the chaos he ruled. You were just another piece in his intricate machine at first—just another person serving a purpose.
What caught his attention first was your unyielding patience. Where others in the Lanes were frantic, desperate to prove their worth, you moved with a calm certainty, like you weren’t afraid of the storm around you. You fixed what was broken—tools, machines, even people—without asking for anything in return.
One night, you’d been tending to one of his injured men after a skirmish, your hands steady as you stitched him up in the dim light of the hideout. Silco watched from the shadows, curious. The man hissed in pain, and you responded with a soft laugh.
“Hold still, or I’ll sew you up crooked,” you teased, your tone warm but firm.
It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the way you carried yourself. There was no fear in your voice, no need to prove yourself to anyone. You didn’t care about earning his favor or gaining power. You just… were.
For someone like Silco, who thrived on manipulation and control, it was unnerving. People were supposed to want something from him. But you? You treated him like a man, not a king.
It wasn’t long before he started seeking you out. At first, it was subtle. A lingering glance as he passed through the room, a quiet question about your work. You always answered him honestly, without flinching under his piercing gaze, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.
One evening, after a particularly brutal day, he found you sitting by the docks, staring out at the toxic waters of Zaun. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly at the sight of you, though he didn’t understand why.
“You should be careful out here,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.
You glanced over your shoulder, smiling faintly. “And miss the chance to breathe? I think I’ll take my chances.”
It was such a simple thing, but it stayed with him. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, you allowed yourself to simply exist. It was a quiet defiance, one that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
Over time, you became a constant presence in his life, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t grand gestures or impassioned declarations that made him fall for you. It was the quiet moments—the way you never cowered under his gaze, the way you challenged him without hostility, the way you saw him for more than his scars.
One night, as the two of you shared a rare moment of silence in his office, he finally allowed himself to admit what he’d been feeling.
“You’re dangerous,” he said, his voice soft, almost amused.
You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Dangerous? To you?”
He smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve managed to do what no one else has.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’ve made me want something I didn’t think I needed.”
Your smile widened, warm and unguarded, and for once, Silco didn’t feel the need to look away.
In you, he found something unexpected: a quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect. And for a man who had spent his life fighting for control, letting himself fall for you felt like the ultimate rebellion.
Vander -
Vander wasn’t a man who fell in love easily. His life had been shaped by too much loss, too much responsibility. The people of the Lanes leaned on him, and he carried their weight with quiet strength. Love, to him, felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.
But then, there was you.
It wasn’t some grand moment that captured his attention—it was the small, steady things. The way you moved through the chaos of the Last Drop, keeping the peace in your own quiet way. The way you never demanded his time but somehow always knew when he needed someone to sit beside him in silence.
What struck him first was your kindness—not the soft, fragile kind, but the sort that had edges. You didn’t let people walk over you, but you never hesitated to offer a hand to someone in need. In a place like Zaun, where survival often demanded selfishness, you were a rarity.
He noticed it one night when a brawl broke out in the bar. Two rowdy patrons had nearly overturned a table, and before Vander could step in, you were already there. You didn’t raise your voice or throw a punch. Instead, you placed a firm hand on one of their shoulders, your calm, measured tone cutting through the tension.
“Save it for the street, boys. We don’t spill blood where we share drinks.”
To his surprise, they listened. Vander couldn’t help but chuckle as they slunk off, muttering apologies.
“Got a way with people,” he said later, handing you a drink as thanks.
You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep things from falling apart.”
Those words stayed with him. It was how you carried yourself—like you were always holding the pieces together, not because you had to, but because you chose to.
Over time, he started finding excuses to be near you. A quick conversation here, a shared drink there. You had a way of making him feel… lighter. Like he could let go of the weight he carried, even if just for a moment.
It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after the bar had emptied, that he realized how deeply you’d settled into his heart. You were sitting on one of the tables, cleaning up a spill, humming a tune under your breath. The soft glow of the lanterns lit up your face, and for a moment, Vander just… watched.
“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caught me.”
You glanced at him then, your smile warm and teasing. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”
He hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure. But then, he decided to just say it—Vander was never one for dancing around the truth.
“You. The way you care about this place. The people. Me.” He exhaled, leaning against the bar. “Never thought I’d find someone like you in all this.”
Your eyes softened, and you set down the rag in your hands, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently. “Took you long enough to notice me.”
He laughed then, a deep, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Oh, I noticed. Took me a bit longer to admit it.”
And when you reached up, resting a hand against his face, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. In you, he found something he hadn’t realized he needed—a steady flame in the chaos of the Lanes.
Ekko -
Ekko didn’t believe in distractions. The Firelights needed him, the Lanes needed him. His days were spent fixing the mess left behind by Piltover’s greed and Silco’s reign. He had no time for anything else—least of all love.
But you? You didn’t give him much of a choice.
It wasn’t a single moment that caught his attention. It was a collection of them, like the pieces of a clock coming together. He first noticed the way you moved—quick and deliberate, like you belonged to the rhythm of the chaos around you. No hesitation, no wasted motion. Whether you were patching up one of the Firelights after a mission or organizing supplies in the hideout, you carried yourself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible for him not to watch.
What hooked him, though, was your laughter. The first time he heard it, he froze. It had been after a particularly rough raid. Everyone was tense, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. And then you cracked some joke—stupid, honestly, but something about the way you delivered it had everyone laughing, including Ekko.
That was when he realized it: you didn’t just survive the Lanes. You thrived in them. You brought light into a place where most people only saw shadows.
It started small—an extra second spent talking to you, a lingering glance when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d catch himself gravitating toward you without even meaning to, drawn to the way you lit up a room with just your presence.
But it wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to sleep, that he truly understood how deep you’d gotten under his skin. You were sitting by the glow of a makeshift lantern, tinkering with some piece of tech you’d salvaged. The light cast shadows across your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the focus in your eyes.
“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.
You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”
He stepped closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “You do too much, you know that?”
“Says the guy who can barely take a break,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.
He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” For a moment, he just stood there, watching you work. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm.
“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.
You paused, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. “Do what?”
“Care so much. About all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire hideout, the Firelights, the Lanes.
Your gaze softened, and you set the piece of tech aside. “Because someone has to. And because… I believe in you, Ekko.”
The sincerity in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. You believed in him. In a world that seemed determined to tear him down, you stood beside him, unwavering.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Guess you’re stuck with me anyway.”
That was the moment Ekko fell. Completely, irreversibly.
Jayce -
Jayce had always been drawn to brilliance. Invention, ambition, ingenuity—they were the cornerstones of what he admired in others. And yet, none of it had ever prepared him for you.
The first time he saw you, it wasn’t in a polished Piltover workshop or a grand council meeting. It was in a small, crowded market on the edge of the Undercity, where the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. You stood at a stall, bartering for scraps and materials like your life depended on it—because, as he’d later learn, it did.
What caught his attention wasn’t just your resourcefulness or the sharp wit you wielded against the vendor. It was the way your eyes lit up when you held a seemingly useless part in your hands, already envisioning the endless possibilities it could unlock.
He didn’t even mean to approach you. His curiosity had a mind of its own. “What are you going to do with that?”
You turned, a little startled, but you didn’t back down from his inquisitive gaze. Instead, you held up the twisted hunk of metal like it was a crown jewel. “Turn it into something brilliant. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. And Jayce, who had spent his life chasing impossible ideas, saw a kindred spirit in you.
From that moment, you became an enigma he couldn’t resist unraveling. Every conversation revealed new layers to your ingenuity, your resilience, your unshakable belief in making the impossible possible. And the more time he spent with you, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mind that captivated him—it was your heart.
You were unafraid to challenge him, to push him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just equations and theories but people and dreams. Your passion reignited something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: a love for the why, not just the how.
One evening, as the two of you sat side by side, tinkering with a device in his lab, he found himself watching you instead of the work. The way your hair caught the light, the quiet determination in your expression, the soft smile when something finally clicked into place.
“You’re staring,” you teased without looking up.
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—how do you make everything seem so effortless?”
You grinned, glancing at him with that spark he’d come to love. “It’s not effortless. I just don’t let the hard parts stop me.”
In that moment, he knew he was a goner.
Jayce Talis, the golden boy of Piltover, had fallen in love with you—not because of what you could build, but because of what you built in him: a renewed faith in the beauty of dreaming big, of chasing the spark no matter where it led.
And it apparently led to you.
Viktor-
Viktor didn’t notice you at first, not in the way others might have. He was too focused on his work, his mind consumed by blueprints and equations. But you… you were patient, always there in the background, asking questions no one else dared to ask, seeing things no one else cared to notice.
It was one of those late nights in the lab when you caught his attention. He was hunched over a schematic, frustration etched into every line of his face. You, seated quietly at the far end of the room, had been watching him—though you’d never admit it aloud.
“Did you eat today?” your voice broke through the silence.
Viktor didn’t even look up. “I’m fine,” he replied, a rote answer that wasn’t convincing in the slightest.
You set down your work and crossed the room, standing just out of his peripheral vision. “Fine isn’t food, Viktor.”
When he finally looked at you, there was something in your eyes that made him pause. It wasn’t pity or condescension—two things he’d grown accustomed to. It was understanding, genuine and unyielding, as if you knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in something bigger.
That was the first moment he realized you were different.
It wasn’t the last.
You had a way of grounding him, of pulling him out of his own head without judgment. Your presence was quiet but powerful, a steady force that didn’t demand his attention but earned it nonetheless.
What truly captured him, though, was your mind. You didn’t just accept the world as it was; you questioned it, challenged it, sought to understand it. You weren’t afraid to debate him, to push back when you thought he was wrong, and yet you did so with a respect that made him listen.
He found himself looking forward to your late-night conversations, the way you’d linger in the lab long after everyone else had gone home. You’d ask about his work—not just the mechanics but the why behind it, the hopes and fears he buried beneath his relentless drive.
One evening, as you sketched out a rough design on a scrap of paper, Viktor caught himself smiling. Not at the drawing, though it was clever, but at you. The way you bit your lip in concentration, the furrow of your brow, the quiet hum of satisfaction when you got something just right.
“You are remarkable,” he said softly, almost to himself.
You glanced up, surprised. “What?”
His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with a wrench. “Nothing. Just… your ideas. They’re… innovative.”
But it wasn’t just your ideas. It was you—the way you saw the world, the way you saw him. Not as a man constrained by limitations but as someone capable of more.
You believed in him, not just in his work, and that was something Viktor hadn’t realized he craved until you offered it so freely.
And as the days turned into weeks, then months, he realized something else: He believed in you, too.
It wasn’t some grand epiphany or dramatic moment. It was in the quiet, shared glances, the lingering touches when you handed him a tool, the way his chest felt lighter when you were near. Somewhere in the midst of late nights and whispered dreams, Viktor had fallen in love.
Not just with your mind or your presence, but with the way you made him feel—seen, understood, whole.
And for a man who’d always fought against the odds, loving you felt like the greatest invention of all.
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sir3n-s · 1 day ago
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Steve knew that one day he wouldn't be able to refuse to play dnd. 
Especially since he was now dating a dragons master or whatever it's called. He can't keep up with all the names. 
And don't get him wrong Eddie is great and dnd sounds sort of interesting but he's been against playing for so long he doesn't want to give up the act. 
But he if was going to give up the act he was going to get something in return. 
The kids were all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. 
They had 2 different kinds of movie night, one where they all actually watched movies and the other where the movie was just there for background noise while everyone either talked or worked on something.
Tonight Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin were making character sheets for Eddie's new campaign while trying to get Steve to join as well. 
"Just play one campaign" Dustin whined for the 20th time that night. And probably the 100th time in his life. 
"Are you ever going to let this go?" 
"No! You have to play one now that you're dating Eddie. Aren't couples supposed to try out each other's hobbies?" He got him there.
"He's got a point Stevie," Eddie says finally engaging in the conversation after being glued to the TV. Despite the volume being low he was still watching it with intense interest. 
"You're right, couples should try each other's hobbies" Steve agreed. 
"Uh oh," Robin says without looking up from the puzzle she was going with Nancy, knowing what he was going to say next since he ran his plan through her first.
"I will play a campaign but!" He says before the kids could get too excited, "you all have to play basketball with me" 
They all groaned. Except Lucas who was completely fine with this arrangement.
-
It was Saturday and they were all at basketball court in the park. Most of them were wearing their gym clothes. 
Except for Lucas and Steve who actually had basketball jerseys. 
Max and el were also playing since they wanted to join despite the fact they won't play dnd either. 
And who was he to say no to them? The more the merrier.
Robin and Nancy were sitting at the bench in the shade, Robin saying she refuses to play a sport because she's too clumsy and Nancy saying Robin shouldn't have to sit alone. But Steve knows they just want to talk shit about them. 
He wasnt going to stop them, he knew it was a lost cause to try to get them to join as well. 
The only rule they had before playing was that Steve and Lucas couldn't be on the same team, 'it wouldn't be fair' Dustin said and everyone else agreed. Even Robin and Nancy. 
So they ended up being the team captainsin on each team. 
Steve's team was Max, Mike, and El while Lucas had Will, Dustin, and Eddie. 
And it was going well! Better than Steve thought it would. Especially with how unathletic most of them were. 
Steves team was winng, and despite Dustin whinning about how it was because Steve was older and had more experience he hasn't even made all the points. 
He did score the first point but El scored the last 2. 
It's was 3 to 1. The only point they had was from Lucas. Eddie couldn't throw for shit, Dustin kept dropping the ball, and Will was actually doing pretty well but was kinda being ignored because Lucas and Dustin wouldn't stop arguing.
He can tell eddie was getting annoyed with having to constantly break up their fights.
Their team only needed one more point to win and Mike had the ball.
"Pass it to me!" He yells towards Mike and he does pass it to him. Just way too hard. 
Because it goes past his hands and right towardd his face. Smacking him hard in the nose and knocking him over. 
He hears everyone gasp as he groans on the ground.
He heard the tapping of people feet on concrete, and on grass, get close to him. 
"Holy fuck are you okay?" Despite his eyes being closed he can easily tell that's Eddie's voice.
"Damn Mike why did you throw it so hard" he hears max says. He also hears a light punch but doesn't comment on it this time.
"I didnt mean to!" 
"I'm okay" Steve says while getting up, grabbing his nose when he felt something on his lip. Blood, of course.
"That would've been a great throw if I was a little bit farther from you," he says towards Mike as Eddie helps him off the floor and leads him to the bench despite saying he was okay to keep playing.
Everyone gather arounds him as El hands him some of the napkins she keeps in her pocket.
"If this is how you all act everytime someone gets hurt it's going to get extremely annoying as we keep playing" Everyone makes weird faces, except for Robin who was grinning.
And Nancy because Robin definitely told her. 
He smiles. "You guys are going to want me to play more than one campaign, so you will all be playing more games of basketball."
While Lucas smiled, everyone else groaned.
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thethingsnerd · 1 day ago
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This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut
“Your input is not necessary.”
It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.
Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.
It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.
Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.
"I didn't need help."
"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."
"No."
"No?"
"You were out of rhythm."
"I was not-"
"You're throwing me off."
She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.
The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.
"Dick! Tell Tim that-"
"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"
"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"
"You should be embarrassed-"
"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"
Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."
Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.
Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.
He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.
Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.
Famous last words.
Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.
"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"
Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"
"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"
"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"
"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.
"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"
"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"
"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"
"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"
......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.
Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.
"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.
"Yes."
Dick decides to cut his losses.
"Okay then."
"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."
"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.
Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.
He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.
Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.
Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.
The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.
It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.
Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.
__________
Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.
"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"
Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.
"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"
Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."
"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.
"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.
"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."
Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"
He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.
"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."
Donna smiles at him.
She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.
"So which straw broke the camel's back?"
"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."
"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."
Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.
"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."
"And you made the best decision."
Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."
"They have terrible decision making skills."
Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.
"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."
"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.
"You," Dick says.
Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."
Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."
"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."
"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.
Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."
Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.
__________
Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.
"I don't want to impose, Donna."
"Have you ever considered what I want?"
Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"
"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."
There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.
Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.
He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.
He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.
She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.
It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.
"Did I get it right?"
"Did you make it with love?"
"Of course."
"Then you got it perfectly right."
Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.
He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.
It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.
Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.
At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.
He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.
He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.
Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.
"Donna."
"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.
"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.
"Do tell."
"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"
Donna snorts. "A billion?"
"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.
Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.
"Lay it on me, Robin."
"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."
Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-
Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?
"Richard John Grayson."
"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."
I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."
Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.
"Good decision?" Donna asks.
"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.
"Donna, do you like my decision?"
"I really really do."
__________
When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.
It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.
Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.
Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.
They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.
Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”
Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.
“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.
“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”
“What would you prefer I do?”
“Go home.”
“No.”
That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.
“Why not?”
“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”
“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.
“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”
“Your team is there.”
“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”
“You can’t quit-“
“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”
It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.
Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.
The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.
__________
Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.
“You’re hanging out with people again!”
“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”
“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.
It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.
“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”
“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”
The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.
“Why did we disband?”
“Because we grew up?”
“Terrible decision.”
“Adulthood is overrated.”
“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”
“Nah.” “NO!”
Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”
“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”
Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.
A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.
Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?
Garth smiles brighter than the moon.
The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.
They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’
After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.
Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however
I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?
Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle
He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.
Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats
In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.
And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’
Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.
And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.
And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out
No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)
Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.
He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.
But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.
Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.
He’s speaking but not talking
And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.
Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.
Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches
Bruce and Dick were strangers
And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.
And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.
Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.
And then he’s gone
No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.
And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.
And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’
And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)
So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!
And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up
Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.
Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.
So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.
Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.
And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.
It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.
He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.
And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.
Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.
(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)
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cailinsblog · 1 day ago
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Could you write a fic where Jack is dating someone who knows nothing about Hockey? He likes teaches her the rules and is just sweet about it?
Omg I love this idea thank you 💕💕😻
A Journey of Love, Hockey, and Skating | jack hughes
Jack hughes x reader
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It was a crisp autumn day when Jack Hughes, star forward for the New Jersey Devils, found himself in a dilemma. It wasn’t about hockey, contract talks, or media scrutiny — it was something far more personal. His girlfriend, Y/N, had never been to a game of his. She didn’t know the first thing about hockey, and Jack was starting to realize that he had never really taught her the ins and outs of the sport that had shaped his entire life.
Y/N and Jack had been together for a little over six months now, and though they had spent a lot of time together, their worlds never really collided when it came to hockey. She had met him through mutual friends, and while she loved him for his personality, his kindness, and his easy smile, hockey was a world she knew little about.
One evening, as they sat on the couch in his apartment, Y/N casually mentioned, “I’ve been meaning to ask… what’s the deal with icing? Like, what does that even mean?”
Jack chuckled, surprised. “You’ve been with me for months, and you’ve never asked about icing?” He raised an eyebrow, teasing her playfully.
“I don’t want to look dumb,” she admitted with a shy smile.
“Y/N, you could never look dumb,” he reassured her. “Come on, let me teach you. I’ll explain everything. Hockey 101.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll need a lot of lessons, I think.”
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, his voice soft and patient. “We’ll take it slow. I’ll even show you how to skate. I want you to feel like you get it, like you’re part of it.”
The thought of skating, especially in the context of Jack’s world, made Y/N nervous. She hadn’t skated since she was a kid, and back then, she had barely been able to stay upright. Still, she loved Jack and wanted to share this part of his life with him. “Okay, I’m in,” she agreed, smiling.
### The First Lesson: Hockey 101
The next day, Jack decided to take her to a quiet rink in the city. It wasn’t a professional arena, just a simple outdoor rink where locals came to skate during the winter months. Jack wanted it to be a low-pressure environment where Y/N could relax and focus without the distraction of a crowd.
They arrived, and Jack pulled on his gear — the jersey, the skates — and Y/N stood by the bench, watching him in awe. He made it all look so effortless.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” Jack started, his hands on his hips. “In hockey, the objective is simple: score more goals than the other team. You have three periods, and each period is 20 minutes long. There’s a goalie whose job is to stop the puck, and there are five players on the ice at a time — including the goalie.”
He pointed to a few different areas on the rink. “The blue lines are where the players try to control the game, and the red line? That’s the center line. Icing happens when the puck is shot across both blue lines without anyone touching it, and it crosses the goal line. It’s a violation, and the game stops. But we’ll get into all the details later.”
Y/N nodded slowly, trying to follow along. She didn’t get all of it, but Jack had such a calm, patient way of explaining it. She didn’t feel dumb for not knowing — instead, it felt like they were creating their own little world, a space where she could learn and Jack could teach.
Jack smiled. “You’re doing great. Now, time for the fun part. Let’s get you on the ice.”
### The Skating Lesson
Y/N put on her skates, a little wobbly, and stood up. The moment her blades touched the ice, she immediately felt the unease of being unsteady. Her knees trembled, and she almost lost her balance.
“Whoa, careful!” Jack said, reaching out to steady her. He grinned. “You gotta bend your knees a little. Think of it like a squat.”
She followed his instructions, trying to stay as low as she could without falling. “Like this?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“Yeah, exactly. Now, just glide a little bit.”
Y/N pushed off tentatively, and for a second, it felt like she was floating. But then her legs went out from under her, and she collapsed onto the ice with a soft thud.
“Hey, you okay?” Jack skated over to her immediately, offering a hand. His expression was a mix of concern and amusement.
“I’m fine,” she laughed, brushing herself off. “I think I need more practice.”
Jack grinned. “No worries. I’ll take it slow. Just focus on shifting your weight and pushing off with your outside edges. That’s the trick.”
Over the next hour, Jack patiently taught her the basics of skating. He held her hands as she made tentative strides around the rink, supporting her whenever she lost her balance. It wasn’t graceful — her movements were jerky and uncertain — but Jack’s presence gave her the confidence to keep trying.
“Good job, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “You’re getting it. I’m really proud of you.”
She smiled up at him, her heart swelling. “Thanks, Jack. I don’t think I would’ve gotten this far without you.”
Jack skated backward in front of her, keeping her steady with one hand on her shoulder. “This is fun. I like being here with you. Maybe next time we can practice more advanced stuff, like crossovers, but for today, you’re doing great.”
She let out a little laugh, looking at him affectionately. “I can’t believe I’m skating with Jack Hughes. This is so weird, but also amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” he said, squeezing her hand. “And you’re doing way better than you think.”
### A Quiet Moment
After a couple of hours of skating, they took a break by the rink-side, sipping hot cocoa from a small cart nearby. Y/N was still a little shaky on the ice, but she could feel herself improving, and the adrenaline from skating was starting to wear off. They sat on the wooden bench, Jack wrapping an arm around her as they watched other skaters glide by.
Jack, who usually exuded confidence on the ice, looked at her with a softness in his eyes. “You know, this is my favorite part of the game — the quiet moments. The ones when you’re with someone you love, and everything else just fades away.”
Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her heart full. “I feel the same way. I may not know everything about hockey yet, but I love being here with you. I’m really glad you’re teaching me.”
He kissed the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m happy you’re learning, but what makes me happiest is that you’re here. You’re not just learning the game — you’re learning a part of me.”
They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, the cold air around them only adding to the warmth they felt in each other’s presence. The rink began to clear out as the sun set behind the city skyline, casting a soft golden glow over everything.
Jack stood up and pulled her gently to her feet. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for today. You ready to hit the ice again?”
Y/N laughed, her nerves forgotten. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
They skated hand-in-hand, slowly at first, then picking up speed, laughing as they went. Jack helped her through each little challenge, showing her how to lean into the curves and glide across the ice with more ease. As the evening wore on, she felt herself getting more confident.
By the end of the night, Y/N couldn’t believe how much she had learned. The ice no longer felt like a slippery obstacle — it was something she could share with Jack, something that had brought them closer together.
As they left the rink, Jack turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “You did amazing today, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”
Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I’m proud of me too. And I’m really glad I have you to teach me.”
Jack grinned. “I’ll teach you anything. Hockey, skating, life... whatever you want. We’re in this together.”
And as they walked off into the chilly night, hand in hand, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the rules of hockey she had learned that day — it was something far more important: how to trust, how to share, and how to love.
And with Jack by her side, she knew there was no challenge she couldn’t face, no lesson she couldn’t learn.
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saras-almanac · 2 days ago
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So I’ve been sitting on my feelings about the BuckTommy breakup and handling of it for a while, trying to get my thoughts in order. And after a while of thinking on it—and the recent Lou interview dropping making me feel like my feelings are valid—kind of made me want to just blurt them all out and hope for the best. So this is that.
Ultimately the entire handling of the BuckTommy breakup feels cruel. And not just cruel in an intentional way, but cruel in a casually, not even given any thought cruelty, which is worse sometimes. And to be honest, I think that’s part of why I’ve been struggling with it so much. (That and the echoes of Magicians season 4, which if you know you know).
What I mean by cruelty is just the lack of any real effort or care put into this storyline, one that they had previously been handled with so much care and concern and were praised (rightly so) for at the time. It’s the way they introduce this Tommy as Abby’s ex thing, which makes hardly any sense at all, but also feels cruel in the intention of laughing at the invisible string of fate theory between them. It’s they way that they’re 6 months anniversary and not only have they not talked about this, but Buck (Evan Buckley) didn’t get him a gift that feels cruel because that feels so wildly out of character for him. It’s the way they had the break up play into some bisexual stereotypes at best and inherently biphobic at worst by having Maddie suggest Abby turned him gay or that Buck needs to “explore” things to figure out what he wants or that Buck “Doesn’t know what pond to jump back into” of it all. (Not to mention the comments from OS about wanting Buck to fuck—which I’m not getting into because I didn’t read it and as a bisexual woman, don’t feel the need to go and try to find something that might upset me more.)
All those reasons are why the breakup itself is cruel to the characters, but it’s also cruel to those of us watching, and especially to anyone and everyone who loved and/or related to the character of Tommy, who we see walk away much much worse off than when we found him. It’s the way the story (intentionally or not) is framing it like a romcom break up – make up – pining storyline which they apparently are not doing according to interviews. It’s the way they didn’t give any sort of closure to Tommy for the character or for the audience.
There’s a reason that people lose themselves in stories—it’s because they follow certain rules and contracts. It’s expected that stories do not match up to real life because while things don’t have bigger meanings in life or they don’t work out according to plan, in stories, everything happens for a reason. Because that’s the whole point of what you’re consuming. And along with that, emotional moments are meant to feel cathartic in a way, at least eventually, because you were able to see the bigger picture, to feel the finality to things, and to really understand what’s being said and what’s happening. This breakup does none of that and actually seems to have been included and rushed for shock value and that to me, is just shitty, lazy writing.
If you were going to break them up and have no desire for any sort of reunion or closure, why not make it intentional? Tommy could be the one who wants marriage and kids and settling down and Buck internally freaks out because theoretically he wants that but maybe it’s too soon and as much as Tommy loves Buck, he’s not going to wait around and hope that Buck feels the same for him because he’s been hurt too many times like that. Or Tommy could be leaving for another state because he’s no longer going to be a firefighter or needs to go for family reasons or gets a job at a different station that he applied for ages ago and he has everything all set up and isn’t going to ask Buck to leave his entire life for Tommy, so they decide to breakup even if it hurts both of them. In either of those cases, it’s sad and devastating, but at least there would be some closure to it and understanding of it for both the characters and the audience and some peace knowing that at least these two are going to be moving toward happiness in whatever way that means for them.
Instead, what we have, is a hail-mary last-second breakup that comes out of nowhere and feels abrupt and crappy in the way we leave Tommy specifically because we might never see him again. And that is the crux of the issue. Because the way this was written, the understanding is that they are going to get back together or reunion or at least have that final closure conversation—because that’s what happens in stories. We see this type of surprise breakups, breakups where they issue is they love each other too much and are afraid to go further (Athena/Bobby and Maddie/Chimney to name two examples we saw in universe) only to eventually fight to be together and realize that if they don’t take a chance they might never know how amazing it is. So the fact that it’s set up to follow this same path while nearly every interview is telling the opposite, again demonstrates that casual cruelty as well as an inherent failure on the writing. If you have to go in interview and explain what it is you wrote or are telling, then you have failed as a writer. It’s really as simple as that.
This breakup doesn’t feel set up or foreshadowed, it just feels like they added it on because they didn’t want to do anything more with it? And that feels incredibly crappy as a decision to so many people who related to Buck and Tommy and them coming out later in life and all those other things. I’m rambling and on my phone and feeling a lot of things that I can’t fully express right now, but the long and short of it: If this was always intended to be the final time we see Tommy, this breakup is even crueler than intended.
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satorulovebot · 2 days ago
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cursed seas chapter six | the lakes
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pairing — satoru gojou x fem!reader
summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.
word count — 5.6k
warnings — nsfw (minors dni), explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnilingus, explicit smut, profanity, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, age difference
notes — this is like my second time writing smut in like 2 years gimmie a break pls. anyways. hello to my cursed seas babies, don't worry i will never abandon my og child you can be assured its my first priority, unless i have writers block which unfortunately happened and thats why this chapter is short and why i SEVERELY dislike it. enjoy ;)
series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist
♪ the lakes — taylor swift
previous chap. you're on your own, kid | next chap. (coming coon)
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The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your father's small, cozy home, casting warm light across the room as you silently folded the last of your clothing into a worn leather bag.
Your father sat at the table in the dining room, watching you with a pensive expression, his hands resting on his lap. It had been a few days since you returned to Elysport, and in that time, he had treated you like the little girl he had lost so many years ago. Considering your relationship over the last few years, the affection he had shown you was more than you had expected.
“Are you sure you want to go? There might be another way to find out what happened to your mother.” 
You paused, looking down at your packed bag before facing him. “Father I’m sure. There are things I need to know—about Mom. And I think this is the only way I will get any answers.”
He frowned, his brows furrowing. “Alright, but promise me something—promise me you’ll be safe.”
You nodded. “I promise,” you whispered.
He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You didn't want to leave, not really. This small part of Elysport, your father’s home—it was a sanctuary compared to the madness of the ship you were about to return to. But you had made your choice and you knew that you couldn’t stay here forever.
“I’ll be back,” you said softly, “Soon.”
Your father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting.” 
With a final glance around the room, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door. 
Making your way through the streets of Elysport gave you time to think about what going back to Gojou’s ship meant. And it meant diving headfirst into a world of chaos once again and having to face him after everything that had happened.
And you didn't like that idea. 
The docks soon came into view and you could see the massive silhouette of Gojou’s ship towering above the rest. You hesitated as you stood at the pier's edge, watching crew members bustling about, preparing for the next leg of their journey. 
Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and began walking toward the gangplank. You found him near the helm overseeing his ship as he usually would. When he spotted you approaching, his eyes widened briefly before narrowing in that familiar way that made your stomach twist.
“Back already?”
You set your bag down, taking a deep breath before answering. “I told you I’d be back last night.”
Gojou’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the crew.
"Well, you're just in time. We're setting sail soon. Grab your things and get ready." 
You waited for more—some snide comment, some half-hearted insult—but it never came. His voice lacked that usual bite and he avoided directly looking at you, which was strange in itself. 
It was strange, this new version of him—one that didn’t bark orders or throw insults your way at every opportunity. 
It was... comforting in a way.
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something bright—a familiar tuft of pink hair. Yuuji was perched high in the crow's nest, his energy impossible to miss, even from afar.  He instantly noticed you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically, calling your name across the deck. You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of him. His energy was infectious and his kindness was a rare comfort. You lifted your hand in return, waving back.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the railing watching the waves lap against the side of the ship. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Captain Gojou approaching.
He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between the two of you like a taught wire.
“You won’t ask why I let you back so easily?” 
You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I figured you just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” you said, your words laced with a hint of bitterness.
Gojou chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m not as heartless as you think.”
You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He winced at that, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back at you, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not good at this... at any of this. You want to hate me, I get that. Hell, maybe I deserve it. But I’m trying, alright?” His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The Gojou standing next to you wasn’t the arrogant, reckless captain you had grown accustomed to.
“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “But you make it really hard sometimes.”
Gojou let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good at that.” He paused, his expression softening. “But I meant what I said. You did good back there. And... I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”
You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the Gojou who you had kissed so desperately in that hotel room was not as far away as you thought. The waves lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, the sound calming as you stood in silence next to Gojou.
“About earlier,” he began. “When I left your room… I just—” He paused, seemingly frustrated, like he was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “You always mean to be an ass.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not like that. Not this time.”
You turned to face him, fully leaning against the railing. The fading evening light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the pale strands of his hair that moved gently with the breeze. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the infamous captain you had grown to know—he looked… tired. 
“It’s not like you to apologize. What’s going on?”
He frowned, his gaze dropping to the deck below, his hand absently drumming against the wooden railing. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just… you’ve been different. This whole situation has been different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he began slowly, as if testing each word before saying it, “I don’t know why I keep pushing you away when I don’t want to.”
Your heart fluttered at his confession. He wasn’t the type to open up easily—especially about things like this. And for him to admit that he didn’t want to push you away… it was almost too much to process.
“But you do,” you pointed out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You push me away every chance you get.”
He let out a long sigh, his head dropping for a moment before he straightened, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… easier, I guess.” His gaze finally met yours, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to take your breath away. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Crew, friends, family.” His voice grew quieter. “It’s easier not to get attached.”
“And me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Am I just another person to lose?”
Gojou hesitated, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to be.”
This wasn’t just the arrogant, reckless captain speaking—this was Satoru, the man behind the mask. And the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally seeing you for the first time, sent a shiver down your spine.
Before you could say anything more, Gojou spoke again, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re really leaving your father for this?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your bag.
You nodded. “I need to know the truth about what happened to my mother. And… I need to find that treasure and be with the map.”
A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the map, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. You knew he didn’t like talking about the map—it was the one thing that seemed to come between the two of you time and time again.
“I’ll take you back onboard. But I need you to understand something.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression serious. “This isn’t a game. Whatever you’re getting yourself into with Sukuna, it’s dangerous. It's more dangerous than you realize. I don’t trust him or whatever he is up to.”
Sukuna. 
That must have been the man with the pink hair you were talking to in the marketplace. You didn’t expect Gojou to know who he was, or at least know him enough to have that look on his face.
“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I have to do this.”
Then, slowly, Gojou nodded, as if finally accepting your decision. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “But if anything happens, I’ll kill Sukuna myself.”
Without another word, Gojou turned and began walking back toward the ship, his usual swagger returning with each step. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of what lay ahead heavy on your mind.
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Captain Gojou leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the ocean and the small port where they’d docked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and workers from the docks were beginning to head home. His crew had grown restless after days without a break, so he’d ordered a stop at a quieter port for some shore leave. But he hadn’t been completely honest about why he gave the order—it was mostly for the map. He wanted a chance to study it carefully and had recently decided they would soon start the journey it promised, especially now that you had rejoined them. The treasure it led to was dangerous, and he knew he’d need a solid plan if he, you, and his crew were going to make it out alive.
After a moment of contemplation, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you coming up from below deck. He grinned, giving you a casual wave. “Looks like everyone’s scattered,” he said. “You wanna go for a walk?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. But what’s the reason?”
“Because I asked you nicely, Y/N.”
“Fine, I could use some fresh air anyway. Your ship’s unnaturally stuffy.”
Before the two of you departed the ship, Gojou made his way to his captain’s quarters to stow the map away safely. You assumed it was for security reasons, considering how much of a pain in the ass he’d been when trying to take it from you. After he returned, you both took off your shoes and walked down the gangplank together, stepping into the shallow water and heading down the beach toward the port town. Gojou’s ship was too large to fit in the small port, so he’d had to anchor it a little way off the coast. It was a bit of a hassle, but you didn’t mind.
You and Gojou had made it halfway down the beach before he broke the silence. "You know, I wasn't born a pirate."
You turned to him, surprised by his revelation. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Although, now that I think about it, you seem like a child who was spoiled far more than he should have been."
He gave a small shrug. "Pretty much. When I was a child, I ran away from home. I had met a young pirate, the same age as me, and he showed me another side of life. The place where I grew up felt like a prison and I wanted out."
"Oh. What happened?" you asked quietly.
"My family… my family had high expectations for me. They expected me to marry another girl from a rich family, a girl I had never met, a girl I didn't love. They expected me to be the head of the family when my father died and live up to the Gojou family legacy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left in the middle of the night. No one came looking, either.” His voice softened. “Guess they were happy to be rid of me.”
"Was it hard to live like that?"
"I stole for a little while, I had no name, no ship, and barely any money. After a few months to a year, I was able to make a living for myself and I never looked back."
“You never went back? Not even to see how your family is doing?”
"No, my father was a bastard and could have given two shits about how his own family felt about him. I actually spent some time living in Saltstone Port when I was eighteen, it wasn't too bad. You used to live there, right?"
Wait how did he know that?
"Anyway, we're almost there, do you wanna find a bar? Since you know, you like drinking."
“Who said I like drinking?”
“I did,” he said with a smirk.
And that's how the two of you found yourself in a dimly lit corner of a booth, ordering round after round as a way to “unwind” as Gojou said. Somehow, unwinding meant downing enough drinks to make the room spin. 
“To—” He paused, squinting at you. “To us, and to making it through yet another day without you murdering me,” he toasted, raising his mug with a smirk. You clinked your glass against his as you sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your veins. As the alcohol loosened you up, you began telling Captain Gojou things you shouldn’t have, things you probably won’t remember in the morning.
As the night went on, the two of you began inching closer and closer to each other. At some point, he’d moved his arm around your shoulders, and you’d stopped noticing, letting yourself melt into his warmth.
“Y’know,” he slurred, eyes glassy as he looked at you. “I always thought I was fine alone.”
You tilted your head, blinking slowly as you tried to focus on his face, which kept swimming in and out of view. “That so?” you mumbled, giggling as you took another sip of your drink. “Thought you liked being all ‘mysterious and distant,’ Captain.”
“I… I dunno.”
Your heart did a funny little skip, and you glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Maybe it’s the drinks talking,” he muttered.  “Or maybe it’s just…you make things… less lonely.”
Gojou,” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.
“I like having you around,” he mumbled. His gaze flicked down to the empty glasses on the table. “But we should… get back to the ship, yeah?”
You could barely remember the journey back to the ship. When you made it back to his ship, you stumbled towards his captain’s quarters, exhausted from your night out. As you reached his bed, you tugged on your shirt, frowning. “Ugh, I can’t sleep in this. It’s filthy.” The fabric was sticky and wrinkled, and the thought of crawling into bed with it on was almost unbearable.
Gojou chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. “You’re a bit of a handful, you know that?”
Ignoring his teasing, you started to strip off your clothes, too tired and too drunk to care about modesty. You caught the faintest widening of his eyes before he quickly looked away, a strange sort of awkwardness flashing over his face.
“Better than being boring,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you ducked under the covers, the warmth of the bed wrapping around you. The soft linens felt heavenly, and you sank into them with a sigh, your eyes already drifting shut.
“Goodnight, Gojou,” you murmured, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you watched him from beneath half-closed lids.
“Goodnight,” he said softly. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe for a moment longer, before he finally slipped out of the room, leaving you to the gentle lull of sleep.
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When morning came, the sunlight filtered softly through the small window. You stretched, blinking sleepily as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, and as you shifted beneath the covers, you became very aware that you were still bare under the blanket. You stifled a groan, recalling your insistence on sleeping without your filthy clothes, and your face flushed with embarrassment. At least Gojou had seemed too out of it to really care.
Quickly, you climbed out of bed, searching the room until you found your discarded clothes from the night before. You tugged them on hastily, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to compose yourself as best you could.
You stepped out onto the deck, the salty morning air filling your lungs as you glanced around. You wanted to ask him something, and to ask him that something you needed to find him first. You managed to find him perched on a higher part of the deck. Noticing your footsteps, he turned around and before he could speak you opened your mouth first.
“I need a bath.”
The words left your mouth with a bluntness that surprised even you. You were covered in grime from the ship and smelled like salt from the sea, it made every inch of your skin itch for a proper soak. After days of being at sea, all you wanted to do was feel clean.
“Well, this place doesn’t exactly have the best facilities for that,” he said, surveying the streets. “But… I might know a spot.”
You tilted your head. “Not exactly helpful, Captain.”
“Follow me, then. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you’re willing, I’ll show you a river that’s a hell of a lot nicer than any of the baths in town.”
You and Gojou made your way out of the port city and through winding paths that eventually opened up to a dense forest just beyond the edge of town. Gojou was quiet as he guided you through the bush towards the spot, glancing back at you every now and then.
The two of you reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a serene river winding through the open land. The water sparkled underneath the sun, so crystal clear and inviting it nearly hurt to look at.
“Not bad, huh?” Gojou said, standing beside you.
“It’s… beautiful.”
Gojou shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’ll do the job. Go on.”
Your gaze looked to him as he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “What, you think I’m just going to strip down right here?” you teased.
“Not my fault if you can’t handle a little river bath. Besides, who’s gonna see?”
With a deep breath, you started to peel off your outer layers, feeling the rough fabric leave your skin before carefully folding it on a rock nearby. You kept your eyes trained on the river, trying to ignore that he was sneaking glances, but you secretly didn’t mind. You turned to meet his gaze before turning your back to him, realizing how close the two of you actually were.
Once you shimmied out of the rest of your clothes, you waded into the river, the chill of the water sending goosebumps through your body. You went deeper into the water, washing away the grime and heat of the day. When you turned back, you saw that Gojou hadn't moved from his spot; he simply watched from where he stood.
“You know, the water’s plenty big enough for two,” you called out to him, splashing in his direction with a grin. “Or are you too scared of a little cold?”
Something mischievous sparkled in his eyes. You think I’m scared of a little cold water?”
He began unbuckling his belt with a smirk, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His toned frame caught the sunlight, the faint scars scattered across his torso telling stories he rarely spoke of. “Let’s see who’ll be begging to get out first,” he teased.
Your eyes trailed down his body as he began walking into the water. When your eyes made it toward his pelvis before you had to stop yourself from going any lower, reminding yourself it was indecent.
“It's as warm as the sea,” you teased, floating on your back and letting the gentle current carry you.
“No, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter.”
The two of you were naked, but you didn’t seem to mind, and neither did he.
“So, where did you learn to be so comfortable in the water?” he asked, kicking lazily as he floated beside you.
“My father,” you replied, glancing up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “He used to bring me to rivers like this when I was a kid. Said it was the best way to wash away the world for a while.”
Gojou nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying you. “Smart man.”
​​You chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’m disappointing him by being… here.” You gestured around you. “Running off to play pirate with people that are hardly respectable.”
“You’re not disappointing anyone,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost missed them. “And, honestly, I think it’s brave. Not many would have the guts to do what you’ve done.”
“Thanks,” you said quietly.
Gojou continued to float nearby as sunlight filtered through the trees overhead. He didn't try to hide the way his eyes roamed over your body, and you could feel he was growing bolder by the minute.
"You know, you clean up real nice," he muttered, his voice lower than usual.
You let out a small chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his intense stare. "I could say the same for you."
Silence enveloped the two of you as he drifted closer, standing up when he got close to you. You were in a shallow part of the water, which made the water about waist height. It was unfortunate that it was the only thing that covered his lower half because it was see-through. His fingers came up to brush your arm, lingering for a moment too long, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.
Without thinking, you closed the distance between you two, standing so close that you could feel his warm breath fan your face. His hand drifted to your waist, feeling the soft, plush skin before sliding his hand around your back as his other hand came up to trace along your jaw. When you leaned in, you found yourself tilting your head up, your lips parting instinctively.
The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters in a way the two of you had only done once before. But then the kiss deepened, his fingers tightening on your waist as if he was afraid to let go. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands finding their way to his broad shoulders as you traced the muscles there, losing yourself in the kiss.
Gojou shifted the two of you, pressing you gently against the smooth edge of a nearby rock. One hand braced himself beside you against the rock with the other made its way down your backside.
His lips trailed along your jawline, sending sparks throughout your body, and when he kissed you again, it was like he was claiming something he had not dared touch before.
The kiss slowed as both of you caught your breath, still tangled in each other's arms as you steadied yourselves. Gojou's lips hovered near yours, his expression filled with desire.
"Hey," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If you're up for it… we don’t have to stay out here." His fingers traced gentle circles against your back. “There’s places in town. Places a bit more... private.”
You felt your pulse quicken and your heart race at his suggestion. “Yeah... let’s go.”
Neither of you wasted another second. Hands fumbling, you slipped back into your clothes, laughter and shared glances filling the space between you. Gojou helped you fasten a few buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. Once dressed, the two of you scrambled over rocks and brush, the cool evening air sharp against your skin after your bath—but in the heat of the moment, you hardly noticed.
You made your way back the way you came, with Satoru practically dragging you through town, looking for somewhere that wouldn’t ask too many questions. The sky was now dark, and the nightlife of the port had begun. Finally, he stopped in front of a modest hotel along a quiet street, breathing heavily from his excitement.
“Here,” he said.
You both hurried inside, catching the attention of the older man at the front desk. His eyebrow lifted as he eyed the two of you, taking in your windswept appearance and the clear look of anticipation you both wore. He sighed, passing you a key with a knowing look. “Just… keep it down, eh?”
A mischievous laugh escaped Gojou as he snagged the key and tossed you a wink. “No promises."
The two of you dashed up the narrow staircase, careful not to trip in your haste. When you finally found the room, Gojou fumbled with the key, his hands practically trembling as he tried to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him—a pirate captain, renowned for his cool composure, completely undone by anticipation.
“Need some help?" you teased, biting back a grin.
“Hey, keep that up and I might reconsider,” he shot back.
After fumbling with the key for a while, he finally managed to get it inside the lock and unlock the door. The room wasn't much, with only a small bed, a few chairs, and a vanity to decorate it, but it would do.
The two of you stumbled inside the room kissing fervently as he closed the door with his foot. You walked backward, leading him to the small bed in the center of the room.
“You're so beautiful to me,” he spoke in a hushed voice.
Your fingers reach up to his collar, gently pulling him down and pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Nothing prevented you from him when your fingers began to work on the already half-undone buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements.
You continued your path to the bed and before long you felt the back of your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards on the plush cushions. The desire was mutual, you could see it in his eyes, and there was an urgent need to be closer on a level beyond words. Satoru moved his hands up and down your sides, caressing the curve of your back and touching the delicate skin of your waist.
He broke the kiss before moving down to your bust, removing the layers of your clothing to reveal your supple breasts. His pupils were fully blown completely covering his cerulean eyes, wanting to submit to his carnal desires. He leaned down kissing you once more, feeling the slopes of your breasts pressed against his chest in your lip-locking exchange.
You sat up before flipping the two of you over so you could be on top, a wave of confidence overtaking you. You slowly kissed down his body before reaching his trousers and undoing the ties of his breeches. Before you knew it, you were crawling off of his lap and laying on your stomach between his legs.
To be completely honest, you had never pleasured yourself before, let alone a man.
Your eyes widened as you pulled off his breeches, releasing his aching member that revealed a size that was proportional to his height.
"Sweetheart—ngh! Don't tease me like that."
You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes he had dreamed about, and he thinks he somehow got harder.
"But what if I want to?"
"Ah fuck, please sweetheart? I'm so hard already," he whined.
"Um, I don't really know how to do this… so please forgive me."
You had a friend back in Elysport who was a courtesan for the wealthy, often having sex with married men for money. You never judged her, as she was a friend, but she had taught you a couple of things including how to give a man a hand job, but you had never thought you would need to use it, not in a situation like this with a man like him.
Satoru looked down at you, and awaiting your next move he decided to wrap a hand around his cock.
"Fuck sweetheart," he moaned. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this with you."
Something inside you awakened when he said that—something bold, you decided to replace his hand with your mouth. His deep and guttural moans were enough to encourage you to keep going and take his entire length.
Your mouth is so warm and fuck babe was all you could hear him say. It gave you a confidence boost hearing his constant praise.
You continued until he suddenly tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock. Frowning, you looked at him wondering why he did that when he seemed to be enjoying it.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I was about to cum."
Disappointed you made your way back up his body, kissing him deeply once more. He flipped the two of you over so he was back on top, kissing your neck and feathering soft kisses around the bruised skin before moving down to your breasts. He alternated between both of them, giving them equal amounts of attention by biting and sucking at the flesh and biting at your nipple.
"S-Satoru," you moaned, arching your back to meet his chest, as he descended further and further own your body to where you needed him the most. On his way down, he muttered a "Lift your legs." before removing your soaked pair of panties that he threw somewhere in the room, not caring where they landed. He was quick to dive head-first into your sopping cunt, lapping at your entrance with his tongue, exploring your walls until you were softly moaning his name.
"Fuck you taste so sweet," you could hear his muffled voice from between your legs. He encircled his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading your lips apart to look at your weeping hole. He sat up, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you to the point of tears.
"S-Satoru, Please!"
"Fuck. Good Girl," he muttered before sliding himself in.
“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you.
He was insatiable, he couldn't get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He was moaning loudly from the feeling of your warm, velvet walls milking his cock. He continued to thrust inside you, sitting up with his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside you.
"That's it, gotta stretch you out," he says. “You’re taking me so well,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.
"Satoru," you moan, your walls clenching around his length. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft hair.
He knows what he's doing, and you can feel that smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he peppers kisses on your neck before he pulls away.
"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts.
Wanting to please him, you quickly get on all fours and he immediately presses you back down onto the mattress. He lifts your ass as you arch your back even more. He palms the flesh of your ass in his hands before entering you once more.
You gasp, clutching the sheets in your small hands. When Satoru notices this he moves to interlock your fingers, pressing his chest against your back to pound into you.
"Satoru, ah—" you whine.
"I know, I know," he grunts. You can feel your walls tightening around his thick cock "Fuck—so good." you moan.
“Gonna make you cum so hard.”
His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, leaving you breathless and wanting to reach your orgasm. A couple of more thrusts against your g-spot bring you the most incredible orgasm.
“Fuck Sweetheart, I’m close.”
It takes a few more thrusts before his movements become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you. You feel his sweaty forehead drop against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath. After a few moments, he lifts his head off your shoulder and moves to lie next to you. You flip yourself on your side, eyes focused on the ship's wooden panels as your chest heaves.
You feel Satoru shift next to you, pressing his chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you.
“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”
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bringbackmaes14 · 23 hours ago
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It's fine; you just have to understand that friendships between people in different age groups don't and can't necessarily work the same as friendships between people in the same age group.
I'm not even kidding when I say that when I was a kid/teenager two of my best friends were the grocery bagger at my local supermarket, Mr. David, who was in his mid 50s, and Mr. Theodore, an usher at my church, who was in his mid 70s. I was bullied and ostracized in my own age group, so I didn't have a lot of friends my own age. But I saw these two old guys a couple times a week. Mr. David had met my mom when she was pregnant with me so he'd been around my whole life and watched me grow. And we'd been going to the church where Mr. Theodore was an usher and since I was 3 years old.
And the thing was, it wasn't a friendship where I could invite these old guys over for sleepovers or to play tag or to watch SpongeBob, and they didn't talk about politics or playing golf or retirement plans with me. But when I saw them, I'd get a great big bear hug and a "how ya doin, kiddo?" They'd ask me how school was and I'd ask them how things were at the grocery store or the church. They'd ask me how my siblings were doing, and I'd ask Mr. David about his nieces and Mr. Theodore about his grandkids. I had a secret handshake with both of them (that now that I think about it might've been the same handshake for both of them but they didn't know each other so it was fine). We'd tell each other jokes. We'd make promises to see each other again when my parents eventually dragged me off to the next errand or sunday school class.
And those were good friendships! Not every good friendship has to include tons of quality time and numerous shared interests. I'm sure tons of us have friends now, even in our own age group, where we text them or see them once every six months, catch up for a few hours, and then we don't hear from them from a long time, and that's just how the cycle goes, but you still consider that spotty cycle a friendship!
And I'll also say: I'll never forget how devastated I was when I found out Mr. David had died in an accident. I remember going to the grocery store when I was 13 and asking a manager where he was because I hadn't seen him for a while, and the manager pulled my mom and I aside and said "Sweetie I'm so sorry. I know you and Mr. David were very close, but he died in a car accident three weeks ago." That was the first major death in my life. I'll never forget how furious I was when I told teachers and therapists that my best friend had died in an accident, and when I explained that my best friend had been an "old" man named Mr. David, I was told children couldn't be best friends with old men. I still tell people to this day that Mr. David was my first best friend.
I know now that there are definitely more fulfilling ways to have friendships than the friendships I had with Mr. David and Mr. Theodore (Mr. Theodore is still alive to my knowledge, I just don't live in that state anymore), but I don't regret the friendships I had with them at all, in fact I'm very very grateful for them.
My mom was constantly stressed but very much doing her best to raise me and my 3 siblings, and my dad was around but he was an abusive piece of shit. I'd had a boatload of disrespectful and downright demeaning therapists, and 9 times out of 10 the teachers I had either brushed me off entirely or loved me right up until they didn't. Suffice to say my view of adulthood was pretty shitty.
But these two old guys were there to remind me adults can be kind, to kids and adults and everyone in between! And adults can be silly! And adults can hug people just because they're happy to see them. And adults can have fun. And adults can love- their parents, their children, their spouses, their neighbors, their coworkers, their friends, a stranger walking by who just needs a smile.
Think about all the lessons kids and teens could learn from adult friends.
We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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puckinghischier · 3 days ago
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okay so…not that anyone asked but i have some…thoughts about this discourse surrounding jack’s signing last night
and honestly….i’m sad. i’m so insanely sad that so many people who claim to love this team are so quick to assume jack is a lost cause asshole. i think so much of it is entitlement. and yeah, as people, everyone deserve kindness and overall base level social behaviors. but where is that for jack right now?
where’s the grace and understanding that he’s tired. they likely had a day full of practice and drills and workouts before this signing. i mean, did he even get to go home before he was expected to sit and sign autographs for hours? why was he alone? why didn’t they put him with someone else? i know the answer is likely because he was the most sought after signature there and they didn’t want to make his line even longer, but still. i feel like jack has been very open and intentional with the fact he doesn’t like to do media. he wants to play hockey and go home.
and yeah, he also knew it came with the territory, but it doesn’t matter. if you sign up to be a teacher, you know there’s going to be early mornings, but that doesn’t mean you have to like getting up early. if you agree to work in healthcare, you know there’s going to aspects of the job that are gross and unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean you have to like cleaning up bodily fluids. the same can be said for these guys. they signed up to be professional hockey players, they knew media and signings and events were going to be expected of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to like it.
but back to entitlement thing. i think it has become so normalized to create personas for real people in our heads that people are quite literally unable to separate the fantasy from reality. and i mean, i’ll even say i contribute to the problem. all fanfic writers do. we create these idealized and fictional versions of these men, but the ability to differentiate between the two cannot be lost in the process. but i think it has been. i think there’s this unrealistic expectation thrust upon all of them, but especially jack.
he’s popular, he’s cutie, and he’s good at hockey. of course he’s going to have a mass following. but…he’s just a guy, y’all. he’s a guy that has bad days, good days, who gets tired, who has a social battery. and last night, i think that social battery had just run out. do you know how long he’s been watched and in the media? do you know how long he’s been the most watched hughes, the expectations he’s carried on him for years?
i just think there needs to be some compassion and grace here. going back to the whole “people pay to watch me play” incident is a little excessive, imo. i mean, are we going to hold every single player to everything they’ve ever said in the box? does it define who they are and their character? i have not once seen anyone berate and question quinn’s character when he told someone they were “fucking nothing”. which, if you really want to get down to it, is worse than what jack said.
but no, jack is expected to be this guy with rainbows coming out of his ass all the time, apparently. i think the concept of social cues and situational awareness has been so lost because of the screen culture right now. people do so much communication through screens and phones that they forget, people aren’t always enthusiastic and bright, even if they add an exclamation point to their text. last night was not something jack chose to do of his own accord. he was told to do it, and he did it. he made sure the kids had a good time and felt cared for. he signed everything that came across his table. could he have been a little more chatty? yeah. could he have maybe smiled a bit more? yeah.
but seriously, he knew he was going to have to sign a million different items and see a million different people. the whole point of a signing is just that. if he was even remotely going to get out of there on time, there’s no way he could have had any meaningful conversation with every single person. and i feel like he’s said before he prioritizes/likes kids? i could be wrong, so don’t hold me to that.
but the point is, this whole situation is so sad and such a good example of how gossip blogs only care about getting likes and reblogs and attention. they don’t care about these players, no matter how much they claim to. and people are so quick to take everything they read for fact. personally, i think jack is just…antisocial.
i think he has a persona on the ice because he’s in his element, he’s comfortable, and he’s excited to be there. when he’s with his family and around his friends, he seems to be an overall happy guy. but around strangers? strangers that want to talk about his stats, how he played in this game or that game, that are shoving their items in his face to sign, people that he’ll likely never see again? he doesn’t give too much away.
and before people mention the being snippy and short with the workers, i wasn’t there so i didn’t see what happened. if he was, i’m not defending that behavior, but i don’t think it’s because he thinks he’s above them or thinks he’s “god’s gift to hockey” like i’ve seen thrown around so much today. we have all been snappy with people we shouldn’t have before. it doesn’t mean someone is this terrible person with a high horse attitude. i think it’s a combination of fatigue, stress, and maybe even some anxious energy that had been built up and made its way out.
anyways, i’ve said enough i think, and this will be the first and only time i talk about this, but i had too many thoughts swirling in my brain to just keep them there. be nice. show grace. you’re allowed to be disappointed if you attended last night and felt like he was maybe dry and dismissive, but please step back and put yourself in his shoes. not every person has a social and yappy personality. some people don’t speak unless they have something to say. and that’s okay!!!
and for the love of god, quit giving gossip blogs what they so desperately crave
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faithshouseofchaos · 21 hours ago
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Leaving it all Behind (LIAB)
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It the simple things that keep me going— Max verstappen x reader
Word count —
Fluff— 798
In the years following their escape from the shadows of Max’s past, Max and Y/N’s life settled into a steady rhythm. Each day was filled with little routines that, to anyone else, might seem ordinary but, for them, felt extraordinary—a hard-won peace that neither of them took for granted.
After dropping the kids off at school one crisp autumn morning, Max walked back to the house, where Y/N was waiting on the porch, cradling a warm mug of coffee. She smiled as he approached, and he felt his heart warm, just as it always did when he saw her, as if the months together hadn’t dulled the spark between them but deepened it.
He joined her on the porch, accepting the cup she handed him. They sat in companionable silence, watching the leaves fall around them, the trees lining their quiet street painted in vibrant reds and yellows. Max looked at her, taking in the way the sunlight caught in her hair, her peaceful expression. After so many years spent guarding his heart and soul, loving her felt like breathing—effortless, grounding.
After a while, Y/N broke the silence. “Do you ever miss it?” she asked, glancing at him with a knowing smile. She didn’t mean the violence, of course. It was the thrill, the edge that had once been his life.
Max chuckled softly, setting his cup down and turning toward her. “Not a bit,” he replied, and it was the truth. “There was a time I thought that life was all I had. But now?” He reached over, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t imagine anything more thrilling than this.”
The days stretched into a gentle routine, and as Max grew his small garage business, he found a different kind of pride in his work. He no longer fixed cars out of necessity or as a front; he did it because he loved it. The regulars knew him by name, the locals treated him like a friend, and he felt—finally—like he belonged somewhere.
One night, after the kids were tucked into bed, Max and Y/N found themselves alone in the quiet warmth of their living room. The house was filled with the smell of apple-scented candles, and soft music played from an old radio in the corner. They danced slowly, swaying together in the dim light, moving in sync with an ease born from years of understanding.
Max rested his chin on the top of Y/N’s head, his arms wrapped around her waist, their movements unhurried. “Thank you for sticking by me,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For believing I could be more than what I was.”
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Max, you were always more. You just had to see it for yourself.”
They stayed like that for a long while, simply holding each other, their breaths in harmony. Max knew they’d faced battles, they’d both endured scars, and though life would have its difficulties, they would face them together, hand in hand.
Sunday afternoons became family days—a tradition they’d started soon after settling down. They’d pack a picnic, drive out to the countryside, and spend the day outdoors. Max would chase the kids through fields of wildflowers, their laughter echoing across the open landscape, while Y/N watched with a smile that was equal parts amusement and love.
One sunny afternoon, as Max helped their youngest, a toddler with Max’s own dark hair and Y/N’s bright eyes, try to climb up a small hill, he heard Y/N call from the blanket where she was laying out lunch.
“Max! You’re supposed to help him, not hold him back!” she laughed, teasing him.
Max grinned, his gaze flickering between his wife and their son. “Hey, he’s gotta earn it, just like his dad did,” he said, giving her a wink before lifting their son up and twirling him in the air, the boy’s laughter filling the air.
They’d sit down to eat together, Max leaning back on his hands, watching his family with a contentment he couldn’t have imagined in his old life. Every laugh, every small moment they shared, felt like a promise kept.
Y/N reached over, touching his hand gently. “Look at us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We made it, Max.”
Max nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Yeah. And we’re not looking back.”
As the sun began to set, casting golden light over the fields, Max took one last look at his family, grateful beyond words. They had fought hard for this life, and he would protect it with everything he had. For the first time, he felt he could truly leave the past behind, ready to embrace the future they’d built together.
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urdreamydoodles · 2 days ago
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Hi, do you have a request? If so, could you make Bane and Scarecrow (separately) if their crush confesses his feelings to them? (You can add other villains if you want) have a nice day :D
Bat-Villains x Reader
You confess your feelings to them
Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin
Being in my Batman-Comics era, this made me so happy, thank you! Hope you like it <3
Joker
- Confessing your feelings to the Joker is a feat in itself. His mind is a labyrinth, twisted and sharp, and he hardly ever makes it easy for anyone to get close. So, when you manage to muster up the courage and spill your heart out, he’s taken aback. His smile is unnervingly wide, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—a flash of curiosity and something darker that makes you wonder if he actually reciprocates.
- Joker’s interest in you grows even more as he realizes you’re different from his typical followers. You aren’t afraid of him, nor are you drawn in by just his dangerous allure. You’ve seen past his twisted laughter and manic acts, and you still want him. This intrigues him, even bothers him a little. How could anyone see anything in him other than madness? Yet, there you are, looking at him like he’s human, and it’s both terrifying and intoxicating to him.
- He teases you relentlessly after your confession, never letting you forget the vulnerability you showed him. “Oh, darling, you’re just too sweet for me,” he’d purr with a devilish grin, leaning in way too close. He loves watching you squirm, enjoying every bit of control he has over your emotions, almost like a game. But deep down, there’s a hint of admiration. You’ve got guts, and he respects that.
- The Joker’s way of showing affection is, naturally, unconventional. Sometimes it’s an offhanded compliment; other times, it’s a madcap scheme he drags you into, letting you play a part just because he wants you close. When he pulls you into his schemes, he’s almost like a kid showing off his toys, reveling in your reactions—whether it’s awe, excitement, or even horror. It thrills him to know he has that effect on you.
- Every so often, though, you catch him staring at you with a look that’s almost soft, a dangerous vulnerability creeping into his gaze. He covers it up quickly with a quip or an exaggerated gesture, but you know you saw something real. It gives you hope, even though you know that being with him will always mean walking the tightrope between love and chaos.
- Over time, Joker starts to grow possessive. It’s subtle at first—a smirk when he sees others vying for your attention, a warning look thrown at anyone who gets too close. But before long, he’s unapologetically possessive, wanting you at his side, sometimes even in situations where he wouldn’t usually bring someone along. “You’re mine,” he’ll say with a dark, playful tone that sends chills down your spine.
- Joker will never admit he has feelings for you outright, but in his way, he shows it. The more he involves you in his world, the closer he brings you to his madness, the clearer it becomes. To him, love is chaos, control, and the thrill of having someone he can warp and twist yet who willingly stays. You’ve become his favorite muse, his inspiration, the one who reminds him that even monsters can find someone to care for, in their own twisted way.
Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn
- Harley is surprisingly giddy when you confess your feelings to her. She’s spent her life surrounded by people who see her as a joke or Joker’s sidekick, so to have someone see her as her own person—and even like her for it—makes her heart swell. She’s blushing like crazy, giggling with delight, and probably wraps you in a tight hug before you can even process her reaction.
- As bubbly and playful as she is, Harley takes your confession seriously. She’s been through enough heartbreak and knows what it’s like to be used or ignored, so your affection means the world to her. She’ll ask you so many questions, wanting to know every little thing you feel, why you like her, and what you think of her quirks. She wants to believe it’s real, but part of her is scared it’s too good to be true.
- Harley is incredibly affectionate, and once she knows you care for her, she’s not shy about showing it. Expect surprise hugs from behind, spontaneous kisses, and laughter-filled moments. She’s like a whirlwind of emotions, sometimes leaving you breathless with her enthusiasm. She loves to make you laugh and will go out of her way to cheer you up, even if it means pulling out her silliest antics.
- She also starts to show a fiercely protective side, a side of her that you usually only see when Joker’s around. Harley may be quirky and fun, but she’s also a skilled fighter, and she won’t let anyone mess with you. She’ll even pick fights with people who look at you the wrong way, shooting you a grin afterward and saying, “Nobody messes with my sweetie and gets away with it!”
- Despite her tough exterior, Harley is vulnerable with you in a way she rarely allows herself to be. She’ll open up about her insecurities, her past, and her struggles with self-worth, trusting that you won’t judge her. She’s scared of being abandoned, of not being enough, and it’s clear in the way she clings to you a bit tighter than she would anyone else. It’s her way of telling you she doesn’t want to lose you.
- Harley’s loyalty is unwavering. Once she’s fallen for you, you’re as good as family to her. She’ll bring you little gifts, things that remind her of you, and surprise you with thoughtful gestures. Whether it’s a flower she picked up or a silly trinket she found, each one is given with a smile and a “This reminded me of ya!”
- With Harley, every day is unpredictable, a mix of chaos and love. She might drag you into wild adventures or plan the most unconventional dates, but through it all, she’s committed to making you feel cherished. She’ll never hide her feelings for you, wearing her heart on her sleeve and reminding you every chance she gets that you’re special to her, her own little piece of sanity in a world gone mad.
Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy
- When you first confess your feelings to Poison Ivy, she’s quiet, studying you with that piercing, assessing gaze of hers. She doesn’t let emotions cloud her judgment easily, and she needs to be sure your words are genuine. But when she realizes your feelings are sincere, there’s a rare, subtle softening in her expression. Her walls don’t crumble easily, but for you, she might just let one or two down.
- Ivy’s affection is a quiet, powerful force. She’s not overly demonstrative, but her way of showing she cares is through small gestures that speak volumes. A soft touch of her hand against yours, vines that subtly wrap around you protectively, or even a single, precious flower left for you in a place she knows you’ll find. Every gesture from her is intentional, calculated, and rare, making it all the more precious.
- One of her favorite ways to spend time with you is in her greenhouse. She’ll invite you to work alongside her, teaching you about the plants she loves as if they’re old friends. Sometimes, she’ll even let you help nurture the rarest ones, a gesture of trust few ever receive. She finds it soothing to have you nearby, feeling like a kindred spirit amid the chaotic Gotham world.
- Ivy’s protective nature is fierce. She sees the world as cruel and selfish, and anyone who hurts you quickly becomes a target of her wrath. If anyone so much as tries to harm you, they’ll find themselves facing the fury of the natural world—thorns, vines, and deadly spores at Ivy’s command. But with you, she’s gentle, careful, almost reverent, knowing that you see the good in her that others overlook.
- Ivy isn’t one for typical romance, but she enjoys creating beauty just for you. She might grow a unique plant in your favorite color, a species found nowhere else, just to show her affection in her own way. It’s her version of saying “I love you” without needing the words. And sometimes, when she catches you admiring her creations, she allows herself a rare, genuine smile.
- Though Ivy is usually serious and somewhat reserved, she has a playful side she only shows around you. Sometimes, she’ll playfully summon vines to brush against you or weave a flower crown for you, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watches your reaction. In these quiet moments, you can see the softness she hides from the rest of the world.
- Ivy is drawn to you because of your calmness and respect for the natural world, something she finds rare in Gotham. You’re like a breath of fresh air, and she finds herself surprisingly at peace around you. She might not be able to put it into words, but she knows that being with you makes her feel connected in a way she hasn’t before, making you her safe harbor in the storm of her mission.
Bane
- When you confess your feelings to Bane, his reaction is one of quiet surprise. He’s not used to hearing confessions of love—respect, fear, yes, but love is something rare in his world. He’s silent for a moment, his intense gaze holding yours, and there’s a flicker of something softer behind his usual stoic expression. For a man like him, vulnerability is dangerous, but with you, he’s willing to risk it.
- Bane’s love language is protection and physical presence. He doesn’t rely much on words but instead lets his actions speak for him. He’ll always be by your side, a solid and unbreakable presence, making sure you feel safe in his care. It’s his way of telling you that as long as he’s around, nothing in this world will harm you.
- Though he may seem intimidating, Bane has a gentle side he only shows to you. He’ll be mindful of his strength, his touch light and cautious, always making sure he doesn’t hurt you. If you’re ever in danger, however, his calm façade drops instantly, and his fierce, unyielding side comes forward. In his eyes, protecting you is non-negotiable.
- Bane loves sharing stories with you about his life and past, opening up in a way he rarely does with anyone else. His voice is deep and steady as he recounts his upbringing, his struggles, and his victories, wanting you to understand who he is beyond the mask of strength. He doesn’t hold back, trusting that you’ll accept him, scars and all.
- Despite his hard exterior, Bane has a surprisingly romantic side. He might bring you something small but meaningful, like a flower he picked from a rare spot he found on his travels, or a trinket that reminds him of you. He isn’t vocal about his affection, but each gesture is thoughtful and sincere, a sign of the care he holds for you.
- Bane admires your calm, composed nature, finding it a perfect balance to his intense personality. With you, he feels at ease in a way he never thought possible. You’re a reminder of the peace he’s always sought but never quite found until now. Sometimes, he’ll sit in quiet contemplation with you, enjoying the stillness of your presence.
- In private, Bane allows himself to be more vulnerable, letting down his guard and showing you his softer side. He might even let you touch his face, something he rarely allows anyone else to do, leaning into your touch with closed eyes as if grounding himself. In these moments, you’re the only one who sees the man beneath the mask, the one who loves you fiercely and would do anything to keep you safe.
Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow
- When you confess your feelings to Jonathan Crane, it surprises him. He's so consumed by his own dark philosophies and fear experiments that he's not used to genuine affection. He looks at you, studying your face as if you’re another psychological puzzle to solve. But he sees no ulterior motive in your eyes, and, though he rarely shows emotion, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze.
- Jonathan expresses affection in a rather unconventional way. Instead of typical romance, he offers you pieces of his twisted intellect. He might discuss his latest experiments or philosophical thoughts with you, valuing your opinion in a way he seldom does with anyone else. If he asks you to assist him with his research, it's his odd way of showing trust and letting you into his world.
- Crane finds comfort in your calm and composed nature. For a man who thrives on fear and chaos, your grounded presence is a rare stability. He’ll often sit in silence with you, just observing or talking quietly about his theories. The quiet moments you share become a reprieve from the relentless psychological battles he wages with Gotham.
- The Scarecrow isn’t one to be overly affectionate, but he shows a dark protectiveness toward you. If anyone even thinks of causing you harm, Jonathan will unleash his full arsenal of fear-inducing chemicals without hesitation. He may not be expressive with words, but he’s ruthless in ensuring no one dares to cross you.
- One of his subtle ways of showing affection is by sharing his fears with you, something he keeps hidden from everyone else. He’ll discuss the fears he had growing up, or his fascination with understanding fear in all its forms. Sharing these secrets with you is his way of revealing the man behind the mask, trusting that you’ll accept his complexities.
- Jonathan admires your resilience and ability to stay calm, even in his most chaotic moments. You’ve become a constant in his life, and though he won’t openly say it, he finds himself feeling at peace when he’s near you. He may even develop a rare habit of reaching out to hold your hand, an act he considers a grounding tether in his unpredictable world.
- Sometimes, he’ll leave small notes or bookmarks in the psychology books he knows you’ll read, with cryptic messages or quotes that he knows will make you think. It’s his way of letting you into his mind without having to speak it aloud, and he takes pleasure in watching you puzzle over his hidden meanings.
Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face
- When you confess your feelings to Harvey Dent, you can see the internal struggle play out on his face. Harvey—the man he used to be—is vulnerable and hopeful, while Two-Face, the darker half, is wary and skeptical. It’s rare to see him so conflicted, but when he realizes you’re sincere, he gives you a small, tentative smile, one of the few true ones you’ve seen.
- Harvey’s love language is mixed with his duality. Some days he’s sweet, protective, and deeply caring, a glimpse of the old Harvey who fights to emerge. Other days, his darker side takes over, and he becomes more distant, protective but harsh. He’s constantly at war with himself, but he does his best to show you both sides, hoping you’ll accept him fully.
- A symbol of trust for him is letting you hold his two-headed coin, the one he uses for all his decisions. He’ll let you flip it, letting you “decide” for him in those moments when he’s overwhelmed. This is an enormous gesture from him, showing that he values you as a balance between his good and bad sides.
- Harvey’s protectiveness over you is intense and fierce. He’ll use all his resources to make sure you’re safe in Gotham’s dangerous world, and if anyone tries to harm you, he’ll make sure they regret it. His duality comes into play here—sometimes he’s gentle in his protection, and other times, Two-Face’s wrath is ruthless and merciless.
- On good days, he’ll reminisce with you about his life before the accident, sharing memories of who he once was. In these moments, he’s vulnerable and nostalgic, as if hoping you might remind him of his better nature. He doesn’t have many people he can trust, but you’re one of the few who sees the real Harvey underneath.
- Harvey loves to show you both sides of his life, taking you to high-end places and then to his more seedy hideouts, introducing you to the two parts of his world. He’s nervous about showing his darker side, but he trusts that you’ll understand him. It’s his way of including you in every aspect of his life, letting you in where few others ever go.
- He has a unique way of showing affection, giving you small, rare smiles or reaching out to touch your hand with his scarred one. He’s insecure about his appearance, but with you, he feels a bit more at ease. Sometimes, he’ll even catch his reflection with you in a window, seeing the contrast and finding a strange peace, knowing you accept him fully—scars, darkness, and all.
Edward Nigma aka. The Riddler
- When you confess your feelings to Edward, he’s taken aback, blinking in surprise before a smirk forms on his face. He immediately assumes you must be drawn to his intellect, as he sees himself as the ultimate puzzle. After the initial shock, he responds with a playful, “I knew you would eventually fall for my genius.” But there’s a genuine glint of excitement in his eyes, and you know he’s truly thrilled.
- Edward loves to impress you with his intellect, often challenging you with riddles or complex games he creates just for you. If you manage to solve his puzzles, it only makes him admire you more. There’s a playful arrogance in the way he’ll lean over your shoulder and whisper, “I didn’t make it that easy, did I?”
- Being with him means you’re his partner in crime (literally and figuratively), and he values your opinion on his schemes. He loves the idea of two minds working together and enjoys discussing plans with you, carefully considering any clever ideas you bring to the table. To him, you’re a rare equal, someone who can match him mentally—a compliment he doesn’t give lightly.
- Edward’s affection is quirky and, at times, even a bit competitive. He enjoys subtle one-upmanship with you, and if you can outsmart him, he’s surprisingly delighted, showing a rare sense of pride in your intelligence. He even begins to share details of his most elaborate plans, trusting you with things he wouldn’t tell a soul.
- His protectiveness comes in the form of setting traps and riddles to keep you safe. If anyone so much as thinks of harming you, they’re met with a labyrinthine trap or a series of riddles that they’ll struggle to solve. It’s his way of keeping you out of danger, knowing that his “defenses” will thwart anyone who poses a threat to you.
- Edward loves leaving you little riddles and coded messages to find, each with a hint of affection or admiration hidden inside. Whether he’s planning a date or just wanting to make you smile, he’ll slip a puzzle into your daily routine, and your clever responses only make him fall harder for you.
- Though he’s not the most emotionally open, Edward surprises himself by genuinely enjoying the softer moments with you. Whether it’s a quiet evening where you’re both reading or analyzing mysteries, he feels more at ease than he ever has. It’s new territory for him, but he cherishes every moment—even if he’ll rarely admit it outright.
Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin
- When you confess your feelings to Oswald, he’s absolutely shocked, and he stammers for a moment. Used to people being interested in him only for his power and status, he’s genuinely moved by your feelings. He adjusts his suit with a confident flourish, but it’s clear he’s flattered, his eyes softening as he says, “You…really mean that?”
- Oswald is incredibly attentive and chivalrous toward you. He’s always quick to hold doors, pull out chairs, and offer his arm with a refined yet protective air. He adores treating you to the finest Gotham has to offer—luxury dinners, elegant galas, and private rooms in the Iceberg Lounge where it’s just the two of you.
- When he’s with you, Oswald can’t help but show off his power and influence. He’ll make sure you’re treated like royalty everywhere you go, and if anyone disrespects you, they’ll face his wrath. There’s nothing he won’t do to protect you, whether it’s using his connections or intimidating someone into compliance.
- He’s deeply proud of having you by his side, often flaunting your relationship publicly as a way of reminding others of his newfound joy. Though he’s a ruthless criminal, he feels a sense of pride and warmth in being with someone who loves him for who he truly is. In his own way, he strives to be worthy of you.
- Oswald has a softer, more vulnerable side that only you get to see. When he’s not putting on his “Penguin” persona, he opens up about his difficult past and insecurities, grateful to have someone who listens without judgment. He’s deeply grateful for your presence in his life, even if he has trouble expressing it directly.
- Oswald loves to spoil you with extravagant gifts, from rare jewelry to designer clothes. He takes great pride in watching you wear something he picked out, and he’ll always remind you, “Only the best for my love.” It’s his way of showing affection and devotion, compensating for what he lacks in typical romantic expression.
- If you’re ever threatened, Oswald’s protectiveness skyrockets. He’s not afraid to use his network of henchmen and connections to make sure you’re safe, even if it means crossing dangerous lines. Though he’s often ruthless, there’s a soft, fierce loyalty when it comes to you, and he’ll do anything to ensure you’re untouchable in Gotham’s treacherous world.
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callmeagardengnome · 3 days ago
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𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 8
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w.c - 4.2k
pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x receptionist! fem! reader
genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance, slow burn
synopsis: as hell's receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.
c.w - GORE, pretty dark themes, mentions of torture and stuff oopsie
not proofread!
previous / next
masterlist
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“How did you get in here?” you scrambled behind, hitting your head against the bed frame.
You were enjoying a deep slumber before the faint sounds of shuffling pulled you from your sleep. When your eyes fluttered open, the last thing you expected to see was Wooyoung, wearing a dark cloak that hid most of his frame.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Wooyoung grinned down at you, completely unfazed by your reaction as if him being in your bedroom was the most normal thing in the world.
You stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh of relief. As weird as the situation was, you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned forward and pulled him into a short hug.
“It’s good to see you, Wooyoung,” you muttered. “But uh, what are you doing in my room- wait, what are you doing in the Palace? Halas aren’t allowed here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Wow, where’s the ‘thanks for risking your literal life to come here’?” Wooyoung then gestured lazily behind him. “I think you should ask that asshole over there.”
Your gaze followed his hand to the corner of your room, where Yunho sat with one leg over the other on the plush, velvet chair.
Yunho raised an eyebrow, along with the faintest hint of a smirk tugging his lips. “Before you ask, I disabled the gun and camera system outside the Palace. You’ve got-“ he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “-Less than 15 minutes to talk. Probably should have woken you up sooner, but you looked so peaceful sleeping.”
You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re telling me that you used up most of the time we had watching me sleep?”
“You’re welcome, by the way. One hour is the most I could do without anyone noticing. I suggest you use it wisely.” Yunho said.
“Great,” you sighed, already feeling stressed. “So what’s going on?”
“We’re all aware that the Eternals are going to get more aggressive,” Wooyoung plopped himself on the edge of your bed. “We need to find ways to talk without getting caught if we even want a chance at surviving.”
The three of you fell silent for a moment. You could barely comprehend the massacre, let alone the bombings - what more could they do? You didn’t even want to begin thinking about it.
“We could try letters?” you suggested, looking at the two demons.
“Too traceable,” Yunho shook his head. “The Palace rarely receives letters. Lord Hongjoong checks each one that comes in.”
Wooyoung scratched his head. “Any secret tunnels in the Palace?”
“The Duke knows the grounds of the Palace like no other. It won’t last long,” Yunho bit the inside of his cheek.
“What about carrier pigeons?” you joked, only to earn a glare from both Wooyoung and Yunho. “Geez, sorry.”
You sighed, fiddling with a stray piece of string on your blanket. Every idea thrown out had its own cons, ones that obliterated the idea instantly. You leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, hoping to think of something, anything that could work.
“Imagine if we got a Hala to play dress-up?” you chuckled, half-joking, half-serious. “They could pretend to be an Eternal to sneak in and out.”
Wooyoung looked at you with a ‘you better be kidding’ glare. “We would get caught instantly- our horns are completely different.”
“Actually...” Yunho rose from the chair, walking over to the two of you. “That could work.”
You and Wooyoung exchanged a look, confused. “How?” you both asked in unison.
Yunho stood just infront of Wooyoung. He grabbed the top of the Halas’ head, sizing up the stubby red horns protruding from his head.
“Your friends have horns like these, right? Similar size and shape?” Yunho asked, tilting Wooyoung’s head from side to side.
Wooyoung smacked Yunho’s hand away but nodded. “Yeah.. why?”
Yunho stepped back with a satisfied expression. “Perfect. Here’s what you’ll do..” he leaned down, whispering something into Wooyoung’s ear.
“Guys?” you raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to know any of this?”
“Nope,” Yunho straightened his back, dusting himself off before he addressed Wooyoung once more. “Expect a gift soon, along with a letter. Follow the instructions exactly.”
Wooyoung nodded, his face dazed and confused. He wrapped you in another quick hug. “Please stay safe, okay? I’ll be back.”
“You better,” you said softly, squeezing him back. “Wouldn’t want my favourite client getting into trouble.”
Wooyoung pulled back just enough to give you a deadpan look. “That’s all I am to you? A client?”
Wooyoung clutched his chest as if you wounded him. “I thought we were closer than that, Receptionist. Am I just another name in your file?”
“Stop being dramatic,” you scoffed, a small grin tugging your lips.
Wooyoung leaned in slightly. “So what am I then?”
You hesitated, looking at him then the door as if you could ignore the question. “Shouldn’t you leave soon?” you asked, but he kept silent, his eyes watching you closely. “Fine, you’re my favourite demon. Now leave.”
A smile broke out on his face. “Much better. I’m glad to see you again, Receptionist.” Wooyoung patted your back and turned away, leaving your bedroom - to what you would assume to be a route in which he wouldn’t get caught leaving.
Yunho sat on the bed, shifting closer to you. He stared at the wall across from him before finally speaking up. “Favourite demon, huh?”
“It’s not that deep,” you said, shrugging. “He’s the only demon I’ve known for this long.. what was I supposed to say?” you added when you noticed Yunho’s reaction.
His smile widened slightly as he sat up straighter. “You have an interesting taste in friends. That’s all.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Yunho said, though the grin on his face told you that it was definitely not nothing. “Some demons tend to be more.. emotionally obvious than others. But I wouldn’t worry about if I were you.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, making a ‘tsk’ sound. “Yunho, get to the point.”
He turned to face you fully, and it was only then you saw how his grin did not meet his eyes. “You know, he seems to be very territorial over you. He wouldn’t even let me get near you when you were asleep.”
“Territorial?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Yunho tilted his head, his face just a few inches away from yours. “You’re clever. Figure it out.”
Before you could respond, he stood up, adjusting his cuffed sleeves. “You should sort him out before he hogs the favourite title. Some of us take it very seriously,” he said, quickly disappearing into the corridor without waiting for a response.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.
It felt colder than normal, the air suffocating you as you glanced around the table.
Hongjoong at the head of the table, Seonghwa sat across you with his posture straight with Yunho beside him, calm as ever.
You don’t have good memories in the Palace’s dining hall. The last time you were here, Hongjoong gave you the ‘gift’ of watching the bombings. Not only that, being here meant that you were most likely going to discuss the next step to exterminate the Halas.
You could barely maintain eye contact with any of them, especially since they knew that you did betray them and leak their plans. The food on your plate barely looked appetising anymore.
From the corner of your eye, Mingi sat beside you with his head slightly down. His leg bounced restlessly under the table, catching your attention.
You reached out and rubbed his knee gently - causing him to stop almost instantly. He glanced at you, nodding subtly, though, his hand gripped the edge of the chair a little tighter.
Hongjoong’s voice broke through the silence. “Give me the status report on the Halas,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
All eyes turned to Mingi, which caused him to clear his throat hurriedly. “An estimate of 40% of the Halas have been wiped out after doing a sweep,” he said, his voice weirdly mechanical.
“Only 40%? It should’ve been 100%,” A scoff came from Seonghwa. “But guess who decided to play hero,” he said, glaring at you as his voice dripped with malice.
At that moment, you kicked Seonghwa’s leg under the table. Hard. He flinched, his smirk dropping as he sat up straighter. Seonghwa spoke through clenched teeth. “What was that for?”
“-Stay where you are,” Hongjoong raised his hand, ordering to who you now noticed were guards stationed at the doors of the dining hall. The guards who were scarily close to you retreated back to their original positions, like they never moved.
Seonghwa glanced towards the guards before shooting a glare at you, his jaw clenching. But Hongjoong didn’t spare him a second glance. Instead, his eyes were laser focused on Mingi, who looked like he wished the floor would engulf him and swallow him whole.
Hongjoong took a spoonful of the porridge that had been set aside from him. “40%,” he repeated slowly. “I expected more.“
Mingi gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “W-well, there were-“
“Save your words,” Hongjoong’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Anyone would be blessed to be in your position as a General. But it seems that you are.. ungrateful.”
Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong concerened, “Sire, what are you-“
“I didn’t know that the lives of Halas was more important than your King,” Hongjoong continued, not caring whether or not he interrupted his right-hand demon. “Helping the curses of Hell? You’ve embarrassed me.”
You clenched your fists, your heart racing.
Mingi didn’t deserve this.
As Hongjoong spoke, you noticed something. The way he completely ignored your presence, as if he didn’t acknowledge your role in the betrayal. Mingi was the target - which confused you since Hongjoong basically confronted you about your traitor tactics during the explosions.
“I acknowledged your strength during your years of training,” Hongjoong said, his words a dangerous whisper. “I took you in. Gave you a room in the Palace. Even gave you a sought-after position. Is this really how you repay me?”
“I didn’t-“ Mingi’s voice cracked, but stopped, his shoulders slumping under Hongjoong’s gaze.
Hongjoong gestured towards Mingi. “Come here.”
Mingi froze, his knucles whitening as he gripped the chair. He didn’t move. Hongjoong repeated himself, his voice low and threatening. “General.”
Slowly, Mingi got up from his chair. He moved reluctantly to the King, like he was moving to an execution. When he reached Hongjoong, he stood stiffly, his tall frame towering over the Eternal leader.
“Bow,” Hongjoong commanded, sending a shiver down your spine.
Mingi hesitated, pure confusion flashing across his face. But after a few seconds, he complied, lowering himself into a bow.
Hongjoong’s smile widened, cold and psychotic. “Let this be a warning to everyone in the room,” his looked at his fellow Eternals at the table before finally landing on you.
Hongjoong reached out, gripping Mingi’s tall horns with both hands. With a sickening crunch, he pulled and yanked the purple horns put of Mingi’s head.
Mingi’s scream ripped and echoed through the dining hall, filled with agony that would span thousands of lifetimes - making everyone but the King of Hell himself flinch. Mingi collapsed onto the ground, clutching his head as blood poured from the jagged wounds where his horns used to be, seeping into the carpet.
“What the Hell?” you shouted, jumping out of your chair.
You rushed to Mingi, kneeling beside him as he shook in pain. His hands were trembling, covered in blood as he pressed his fingers weakly into the open wounds. Your stomach twisted at the side of the two gaping holes where his horns used to be.
“What is wrong with you?” you cried out, looking up at the King with tears welling up in your eyes.
Hongjoong laughed, the sound wicked and maniacal. He tossed the detached horns onto the table, landing into the big pot of porridge, the red blood mixing with the white meal - letting both Seonghwa and Yunho watch in shock as the horns bubbled and float.
“He’s not dead,” Hongjoong said dismissively, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine.. physically at least.”
You glared at him, your chest heaving. Hongjoong’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched you cower over Mingi. He tilted his head slightly.
“Don’t tell me you feel bad for him..” he said, his voice mockingly gentle. He walked towards you, crouching infront of you.
Hongjoong’s hands found your face, leaving a trail of blood on your cheek. “It’s cute, really. How protective you are over him. Wish you had the same energy for our cause,” he squeezed your face. You flinched, feeling the cold metal of his ring touch your jaw.
A small smile appeared on his face - completely ignoring the other Eternal that is heaving in pain beside the two of you.
Your jaw clenched and you instinctively swatted his hand away. You moved towards Mingi, shielding his body. “You’re insane,” you spat out.
“Careful,” Hongjoong replied. “I still need you. I wouldn’t want to kill you over that sharp tongue of yours.”
Hongjoong pushed himself off of the ground. He wiped off the excess blood on his hands using a napkin on the table. “Oh yes,” he spoke up, turning to Mingi’s weak body. “Eternal, you’re fired.”
Mingi’s head shot up, his face twisted with pain. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.
“I was going to keep you… despite your unfaithfulness,” Hongjoong continued. “But it seems I no longer have any use for you.”
“Wait, Sire. Who will command our troops?” Seonghwa abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “We never discussed any of this.”
Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to Seonghwa, his lips pressed into a line. “I did. Just not with you.” He then turned to Yunho. “You said you had someone, yes?”
Yunho nodded. “He’ll arrive tomorrow.”
Hongjoong’s grin widened, the light in his eyes gleaming with craze. “We’ve found someone far more trustworthy and stronger than this.. rat,” he emphasised, turning to Seonghwa, as if that would reassure him.
Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, his usual cocky demeanour cracking as a sliver of betrayal crossed his face.
Hongjoong looked towards Yunho, then Mingi. “Dispose of him.”
Yunho rose from his seat, walking to you and Mingi with a blank expression. When he reached you, he crouched down, his strong hands lifting Mingi with a surprising gentleness.
As he moved to stand, Yunho leaned slightly closer to you, his lips barely moving as he whispered, “Don’t worry.”
The words were so soft, so subtle and so reassuring that you almost thought that you were imagining things - though, the look in Yunho’s eyes said otherwise.
Yunho carried Mingi out of the room, leaving you alone with the demons you hated together with the bloodstained floor. You turned back to the table, your eyes locked onto Hongjoong.
“What?” he asked. “Did I hurt your feelings?”
Hongjoong cackled, turning to leave but paused at doorway where the guards stood rigidly. “Seonghwa,” he called out, gesturing for the older Eternal to follow.
Seonghwa hesitated. His eyes darted to the blood pooling in the carpet, then to the horns gurgling in the porridge, resting like a trophy, then you.
The eye contact between the two of you lasted just long enough for you to register the reluctance in Seonghwa’s gaze, before he quickly whipped his head around and scurried to the Eternal leader.
The sound of the door shutting echoed through the room and you were now left alone with the aftermath of Hongjoong’s cruelty.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.
Your heart pounded as you searched the endless halls of the Palace. After that traumatic ‘meeting’ you immediately ran out of the dining hall to find one demon - Yunho.
With a few wrong turns and whispers from passing servants, you finally spotted him on the other side of the Palace, overseeing a housekeeping team cleaning the marble floors.
You tapped on his shoulder. Yunho turned around, looking slightly annoyed - but that quickly vanished when he saw your face.
“Ah, Miss ‘____’. It’s nice to see your face once agai-“
“Where’s Mingi?” you interrupted.
Yunho’s eyes looked over your figure up and down, his face unreadable. “What are you talking about? I got rid of him.”
“You and I know damn well you didn’t,” you snarled, narrowing your eyes. “So where is he?”
He sighed, glancing around to make sure that none of the servants were paying attention. “Lower your voice unless you want both of us killed.”
Silence hung between the two of you - with Yunho fidgeting with the edge of his pocket while you stared him down, your eyes never leaving him as your frustration boiled beneath the surface. Finally, Yunho muttered, “Give me ten minutes.”
You stood off to the side, arms crossed as you watched him direct the Eternal workers. You had to admit that it was pretty hot impressive to see him take charge. Even though he seemed pretty uninterested from most - if not all of the workers, he still treated them with a strange kind of respect that you hadn’t seen from the other Eternals you knew.
After a few minutes, the workers finally dispersed, going off to do their respective jobs. Yunho turned back to you, sighing as he adjusted his sleeves. “Follow me.”
Without another word, he led you through the Palace. He took long strides as he maneuvered down corridors you’ve never seen before. Chandeliers turned into torches and the walls became darker, the pristine marble turning into a damp stone. Sounds of faint whispers and groans started to get louder and it echoed through the corridor.
Yunho stopped infront of a rusted metal gate, pulling it open with a screech that made your skin crawl. The room was dimly lit, the scent of decay and blood overtaking your senses.
Your heart dropped as you took in the sight of beaten Eternals scattered across the floor, some chained to the ground and some chained to the walls - Yunho brought you to a torture chamber.
“Why- why did you bring me here?” you asked, gulping.
“He’s not here,” Yunho clarified quickly, seeing the worry in your face. “But there’s things we need to discuss.”
You looked around the room. “Is it really safe to talk about this here? What if one of the Eternals here.. I don’t know- rat us out?”
Yunho shrugged. “They’re all halfway to death. They might hate me but the King and Duke tortures them way more than I do.”
He began to walk ahead, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.
Groans and pained whimpers filled your ears, the sounds unbearable to even be around. You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching the tortured Eternals beg for mercy or cry for help.
“Yunho..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He paused, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”
You shook your head, unable to form words. The sounds of suffering pierced your ears, getting louder by the second.
Yunho’s eyes softened slightly, a hint of understanding crossing his face. He walked towards you and stopped, rummaging through the inside pocket of his blazer. After a moment, he pulled put a pair of earplugs.
“Here,” he said, his voice softer now.
You blinked, surprised by his offer. Before you could even say anything, Yunho stepped closer, tilting his head.
“Hold still.”
His fingers gently brushed against your hair, tucking it behind your ears as he fit the earplugs in. His movements were slow and carefull, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. The warmth of his fingers stayed on your skin as he adjusted the second earplug, stepping back once he was done.
“Better?” his deep voice muffled, though you could still hear him.
You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered, causing Yunho to smile slightly.
“I recommend keeping those in the whole time we’re here,” he said, gesturing you to follow him as he walked further into the room.
He eventually stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t be scared,” he said, causing you to raise an eyebrow.
You watched in horror as Yunho approached a chained Eternal slumped against the wall. Without hesitation, he ripped the Eternal’s purple horns from their head.
The scream broke through the sound barrier of the earplugs, causing you to jump. You ran towards the Eternal - was this really happening again?
“What are you doing?” you exclaimed, examining the Eternal’s injuries. Besides the fresh wounds on his head, one of his eyes were gouged out, his face swollen and a bleeding mess.
“Are you trying to be Hongjoong?”
“Don’t say his name out loud,” he replied sharply, almost like on instinct. “You might hate him, but you should still show some respect.”
You glared at him, waiting for an explanation. He inspected the horns in his hands like they were tools instead of pieces from another being.
“You shouldn’t feel pity,” he shook his head. “That one withered our basil plants.”
You stared at him, unamused.
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. He also killed an Eternal child and mother, if it makes you feel better. Just thought the basil part was important.”
Your disgust was evident, but Yunho continued to examine the horns.
“These,” he said eerily calm. “Can be capped around a Hala’s horns. You know, if they fit.”
“…What?” you blurted.
“If one of your Hala friends can fit these horns over their own, they’ll be the ones doing your ‘dress-up’ plan,” Yunho explained. “It’s risky, but it’ll work.”
“Are you serious?” You stared at him in disbelief.
“He’ll arrive tomorrow..”
Your eyes widened as you understood what he meant. “..As the General..”
You ran your fingers through your hair. “But what about Mingi? Where is he?”
“I sent him away to find your friend. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” Yunho said, wiping the blood on the horns with a handkerchief.
You let out a sigh, finally feeling relieved - but unease came back once more when you looked over at the tortured Eternal.
“If the King or Duke come looking for Mingi’s body,” Yunho gestured to the limp body infront of the two of you. “They’ll find this instead. I’ll make sure his face is unrecognisable.”
Your stomach did jumping jacks when you realised what he meant. The Eternal had a disturbingly similar build to Mingi, and as long as the face wasn’t seen, it could genuinely pass off as Mingi’s body.
You stood up, dusting yourself off. You walked side-by-side to Yunho, staying close to him as you approached the exit.
“You’re really doing all of this to help the Halas..?” you said, the words coming out as more of a statement than a question.
Yunho’s glanced at you for a moment before muttering under his breath, “More like helping you.”
“What?” you asked, stepping closer. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’m just evening out the playing field.”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.
Tense couldn’t even begin to describe the air in Hongjoong’s office.
Stacks of files and papers taken from your office were scattered across Hongjoong’s desk. The sounds of his pen scratching against the paper filled the room.
Seonghwa sat across from him, helping the King sort out and sift through the documents, his movements sharp and impatient.
The silence stretched for too long. Seonghwa’s eyes continuously darted from the papers to Hongjoong - before he sighed and broke the silence.
“Was it really necessary?”
Hongjoong paused, his pen hovering over the page. Slowly, he set it down, his sharp gaze lifting off of the paper to meet Seonghwa’s. “What was?”
“Mingi,” Seonghwa replied simply.
Hongjoong leaned back into the chair, his face blank as he considered his question. After a while, he finally answered, returning back to his papers. “Yes. It was necessary.”
Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. The room fell back into a silence, but this time, it was even suffocating. Seonghwa shuffled the papers in his hands, trying to distract himself from the frustration bubbling within him.
“Why are we keeping the Walker when we have plenty of other ways to acquire information?” Seonghwa blurted out.
Hongjoong tilted his head slightly. “Are you really in a position to question me?”
“I-“ Seonghwa opened his mouth, but instantly cut himself off. He knew better than to push the issue. Though, his anger was obvious, especially with the sharp inhale he took through his nose.
Hongjoong focused back onto the documents on his desk, ignoring the fuming demon infront of him.
Eventually, Seonghwa stormed out of the office, the door swinging shut harshly before slowing down as it closed with a click.
Hongjoong glanced up at the closed door. He could have easily gone after Seonghwa, maybe explain himself or God forbid - apologise for leaving him out of the discussion he had with Yunho, but did he really care enough to bother?
His eyes landed on his hand. He slowly fidgeted with the ring on his finger, the small, cheap piece of jewelry catching the light.
His fingers traced over the the delicate engraving on its surface - a name. Your name.
His lips curved into a sick smile, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “‘____’,” he murmured softly to himself, the sound of your name lingering in the quiet, lonely room.
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author’s note: I’M BACKK yall i swear i will be writing more especially cuz my exams are over.. please stick around its getting good 😭😭
series taglist [OPEN] - @binchanluvrr @hiddlestandom @avantalem @hecateslittlewitchling @iara-ya @thunderous-wolf @jaerisdiction @mallielovssyou @syzygyweeb @dimeb29 @marsofeight @doitforbangchan @shotaswife
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laswells-ashtray · 2 days ago
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Your writings are so good that I’m entrusting you with this simple prompt: Dragon Hybrid Price and (Any Hybrid) Nikolai.
Do what you will dear wizard writer.
For the sheer sake of you never implied how silly I could get with this, I'm sillying it up:
Bear hybrid Nikolai [because it's too fucking good] and dragon hybrid Price standing about one day, the two sergeants and the lieutenant are training together while the older two men watch. They're on someone else's base, a hybrid-less base but they're making do with what the have.
John's leaning back against the wall, wings pressed up against the brick in a way that has to be uncomfortable or at least that's what everyone assumes. He's rubbing at the base of one of his horns as if trying to soothe a headache and he looks quite frankly exhausted when another Captain appraoches.
John decides that in comparison to this man, he looks like Marilyn fucking Monroe.
"Captain Givens, you look about as good as I feel." John is at least trying to keep a good relationship with the other team even if they have a habit of pissing off each of them.
"Too fuckin' right. Just got off the phone with the Missus and had to help her convince my little boy not to shove his Batman figure up his nose. It's exhausting." The man complains, running a hand over his face tiredly.
John makes a sympathetic noise but doesn't hide his amused look. "Oh, I'm all too familiar with that feeling." The other day he'd had to convince a group of rookies that Soap is indeed a liar and that oil paint is in fact not edible just because it has oil in the name.
"You have kids?"
"Yes." John should've been smarter than to think that Nikolai's silence was a good thing, he doesn't get a chance to correct the bear hybrid before the other Captain asks:
"How many?"
"Three." Nikolai tells him while watching the boys train in the distance.
For a brief moment, John wants to tug on one of his fluffy ears and tell him to quit it. On the other hand, fuck it, why not?
"Yeah, three over there are mine. Different mums but I was a bit of a tart back in the day." He's reliant on the fact the human knows nothing about hybrids, specifically dragon hybrids for it to work. It's no secret that dragon hybrids can live a lot longer than the average human if they're careful about it but to those types of hybrids, John is still a toddler, horns still in one piece with wings that are still vibrant and healthy.
He can see the amusement in Nik's big brown eyes, he likes it when John sinks down to his level of teasing humans. The only one exempt was Kate, they respected her too much and she wasn't an idiot, she'd never believe half of the stupid shit they've all told people throughout the years. Besides, Kate is family. She has five hybrids protecting her back and the average CIA agent is still more scared of her.
"Riley, MacTavish and Garrick? They're yours?" The human asks in disbelief. Simon was going to kill him for this later, Kyle and Johnny would inevitably laugh themselves hoarse.
"Aye. Didn't find out about Riley until he was a teenager and his Mum got in contact. Looks fuck all like me but he's certainly mine. Lad certainly wasn't a chipper wee thing but I managed to win him over, SAS was his choice, I just put him on the task force because I owed it to his Mum to keep an eye out." He's talking out of his arse now and he knows it but the captain seems to be hanging on his every word. Nikolai is making the conscious decision to look away from him but he can see the faint shaking of the bastard's shoulders, he's laughing.
"MacTavish was from an eventful night up in Glasgow one evening, we didn't know if he was mine or Nik's until we saw the little blighter's eyes."
Good on Nik for how quickly he sorts himself, turning around and nodding approvingly. "Ah, but young MacTavish has always favoured me. Would've been a good bear cub, very grizzly."
The captain looks over to the three men training with wide eyes, tilting his head as he stares at them all, surveying them before he looks back to John.
"And Garrick is yours too?"
Kyle had been ripping on him for being old earlier so maybe he plays it up just that little bit more.
He nods, looking over at Gaz with the most proud look he can muster, it's real but he can pretend it isn't just for the bit. "He was an angel when he was a tot, good sleeper and learned to talk quick. Was always a little grumpy that he didn't have horns too but he got over it eventually. Got him a blanket with a dragon on it when he was two and he didn't get rid of the thing until he was fifteen. Big Mumma's boy though, spitting image of his mother and more than proud of it."
It almost saddens him that the interaction ends when a sergeant whose name he can't remember calls over the captain about something but the sound of Nik's deep, gruff laughter is anything to soothe his short-lived annoyance.
Truthfully, he forgets about the entire interaction within a few hours until Soap barges into his temporary room on the base with a positively gleeful look.
"Price, I don't know what the fuck you did but Gaz is due to kick yer heed in."
"Excuse me?"
"Givens won't stop asking him about his dragon blankie."
Shit.
"And what's this about you and Nik playing who's the daddy when I was born?"
Shit.
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beef-brisket · 6 hours ago
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Adam was sitting at the bar, watching Charlie and Vaggie gush over the babies, Lucifer, of course, was right next to them. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off them. But that's usual for him. He always picks up the baby duties, he doesn't need as much sleep as Adam, so he's more than happy to stay up.
Adam sips his juice and chuckles at Vaggies expression when one of his little girls grabs her finger.
Angel's sitting next to him, with a juice of his own.
Angel: Are all your kids just a carbon copy of Lucifer? Like, your hair and eye colour manage to push through sometimes, but their definitely his kids.
Adam smiles: He's an angel. His DNA is a bit stronger than mine. But as you say, my hair sometimes beats out his. But they're very different when they grow up.
Adam turns to him: Any trouble with Valentino?
He eyes the way Angel shifts.
Angel: I mean... it doesn't matter. You should be worrying about you, babies. I don't want to get in your way, you've already done so much for me.
Adam: Angel, I told you. I love kicking ass. I'm basically healed, just a few more days, and it'll be like the whole baby thing never happened! I bounce back~.
Angel eyes Adam's curves: Yeah, no shit. Look- he's been a slight cunt- but it's nothing! Really!
Adam: A slight cunt? How can you be a cunt but not a full cunt?
Angel laughed: He's sent some goons round- Alastor took care of them pretty quickly...
Adam: Hm. Well, that's good. But don't worry, it sounds like o need to have more of a personal meeting with Valentino.
Angel: ...You know, I've never held a baby before... and I have two sets of arms! Three, technically!
Adam watches as Angel waved his arms around.
Adam: Are you trying to change the subject?
Angel: N-No...?
Adam sipped his juice and stared Angel down, which was making him very uncomfortable.
Adam: Alright. Luci! It's Angel's turn with the babies.
Lucifer and Charlie beamed, they softly picked them up and handed them to Angel, who made them comfortable.
He looked down at them with wide eyes: H-Holy shit-! I mean, fuck! Wait- shit- I mean- their beautiful!
Adam laughed: They can't understand words, Angel, you're fine.
Angel blushed and looked at the girls. They looked exactly like Lucifer, blonde hair and red cheeks, but they had Adam's golden eyes.
Angel: I mean it... their gorgeous.
Adam: Well, look at me. None of my kids are uggos.
Angel laughed: Ha! You're not wrong. You got a single son?
Adam eyed him: Two actually. They run a rach in Wrath. Why? Want to join the royal family~.
Angel blushed: M-Maybe.
Adam: Well, they'll be up to meet their new siblings. Maybe one of my boys can finally get a price of ass that isn't a sheep.
Angel: T-They fuck sheep!?
Lucifer quickly came over: Don't listen to him! He's being a smart ass!
Adam winked: They don't fuck sheep. It's just an inside joke.
Lucifer: No, it bloody isn't!
Obsessed with Bimbo!Adam in Eden
XxX
Adam awoke to feeling how he always felt. Turned on and in need. He whimpered, feeling his nether regions burn with desire and how he curled into a ball.
Where was Luci? His angel? He wanted relief so badly.
Unfortunately, he knew he might not get it today. Lilith would never touch him, unless she wanted to tie him down and tease him until he was crying for relief before leaving him to suffer, and Lucifer had duties as an angel. He didn't quite understand what Lucifer did but it made him super busy.
Adam whimpered again and he hugged himself.
Adam: Luci! Need you!
He was drooling and shaking with need.
Fortunately, he heard the sound of wings.
Lucifer: Oh...my poor dumb bunny. Do you need some relief again?
Adam: Please!
@beef-brisket
Lucifer: And so polite! At least you know your manners.~
Lucifer removed his robes and knelt between Adams legs, his pretty bunny looked up at him imploreably.
Adam got so excited when his angel touched him and got him ready to get some relief at long last.
Lucifer placed Adams legs on his shoulders before giving him what he knew he needed. Adams wanton moans echoed and bounced off the cave walls.
Lucifer: So pretty, so perfect, not a single thought in that head of yours.
Adam: Ooh Luci!!~
He loved his angel so much, he was always so good to him by giving him relief.
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