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firemenenthusiast · 2 days

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Can you plzz do a farleigh smut where he only rubs the readers clit bc the reader is too scared to finger herself, but then she gets the courage to finger herself and charles shows her how to do it??

—“spell”

farleigh start x innocent!reader

summary: farleigh had trouble resisting you since the first time he saw you so he laid his trap to which you walk right in, starting from agreeing to spend the summer at saltburn with him. the fact that you’ve never done anything with yourself boggles his mind, so he decides to lend a helping hand

warnings: boy where do i start. 18+, porn with plot, reader is innocent, naive and kinda stupid (bear with me), fingering, mirror kink, corruption kink, panties kink, posessive kink if you squint, size kink, praise kink, farleigh calls ready baby & princess, blowjob, face fucking, pussy job, panties job (?), cum eating, facial, dry humping, thigh riding, jerking off, p in v, let me know if i miss anything

a/n: we hit another milestone thank you everyone !! this is me showing my love to yall mwah. innocent reader finally out whoohoo. idk who’s charles but thank you anon for this request ! i hope it fits with what you’ve imagined

summer could be too hot at times. sweaty. sticky. but nothing could make you hate summer. you love summer. your favourite season ever. the blossoming flowers and clear skies are one thing, but summer also means that you get to wear the flimsiest, flowiest, thinnest fabrics ever. sometimes almost see through, because of the heat. maybe if you wear thin enough short dresses the heat won’t get to you. what other perfect time one could be wearing the cutest dresses around if not in summer ? atleast that’s your excuse. wonder if there’s any other reasons. i mean, your short skirts and flimsy tops surely dont have anything to do with how nice farleigh is to you, do they ? you’re just so— pure, even naive at times that he doesn’t have the heart to treat you how he does others. delicate fragile little thing like you should only be handled with care

farleigh start is really nice to you, he’d helped you picked up the books you accidentally dropped when he bumped into you. he even offered to help carry them while you walk to class, which had drawn you to him. you’d given him the cutest, most doe-eyed little “thank you” for helping and he could just feel his cock twitch in his pants. it’s not easy to find a decent man around here so when he often showed up to your convenience you believe that he’s just a good person, with nothing but pure intentions. sure, farleigh thinks you’re such a pretty little thing.

that’s why when he first saw you on college fields, licking away at your cherry popsicle that was dripping down your fingers, giggling about something with your friends, he couldn’t get his eyes off you. he couldn’t stop thinking about things— things that he could be doing to you. for every day of summer you would put on the nicest short dresses that you’d saved just for the season. the type of dresses that cling onto your skin if you sweat through the fabric. those dresses that look like they could get one hard tug and would rip easily.

it’s funny how such silly first meeting could lead you to farleigh. the both of you aren’t necessarily friends, he’s more of the nice guy you know and would greet whenever you see him around the faculty. he’d smile and wave at you across the halls. he’d offer you a seat at the cafeteria if he sees you looking around. he helps you with stuff around campus, like returning your books to the library and carrying your stuff. though you do find it weird that you couldn’t find the books he said he’d help return on the shelves anymore. and because he’s so tall, he serves as your guardian, protects you from other boys that try to bother you. he doesn’t ask for anything in return, just a smile from you would suffice, the smile that leaves him smitten. farleigh also knows about the love you have for summer, the way you always mention how great of a time you would have in summer. just casually telling him about that time you wandered into a hayfield and just laid there looking at the sky. or about that time when you were little you had just received a gorgeous little floral dress as a present that you wore everyday because you liked it so much. sometimes you just couldn’t shut your mouth when it comes to summer. you’re sentimental about it, and the fact that he would sit through your stories every time, no wonder how random it can be or how busy he actually is

you jumped when he asked you to spend the summer with him. “really ?? are you serious ?” you beam at him with uncontainable excitement. your toes springing up and down, his eyes follow yours as you jump and squeal, a huge grin plastered across his face. farleigh had told you about his saltburn home. the most perfect, ethereal place to be spending summer at. you love to listen to his stories about what they do at saltburn in summer. basking under the sun at the lakeside, playing tennis, rolling in the hayfield naked— so when he invited you to spend the upcoming summer in saltburn, with him, you couldn’t be more excited. it’s gonna be the best summer ever. “yeah it’ll be fun. besides, elspeth is always thrilled to have a guest. she loves a pretty face like yours” you feel your cheeks heat up at his words as you push him away. he smiles at your reaction, sometimes it’s almost too easy for him to get what he wants with you. it’s always been felix who would bring his friends, toys- over so he figured this time he’d do the same. he chuckles at you twirling around in excitement, eyes trailing down to your ass peeking out under the skirt. he could see the bits of your panties if you would just jump higher.

thinking about spending the summer at saltburn, you cant help but imagine how it would be like. you’ve heard people talk about the greatest parties that took place there, and how sex infested it can get. people do all sort of wild things there, the wildest you could imagine. the type of crazy that you could say what happens there, stays there. trailing your eyes along the corners of your ceiling, you let out a heavy sigh. you’ve always had a positive attitude towards sex and well, other sexual stuff. you’d hear crazy stories from your friends, about stuff they did or would do in the bedroom with boys. it’s understandable for people your age to be acting like they don’t have a second to spare from reproducing. their stories intrigue you cuz you’ve never done the things they’d talk about.

they would mention playing with themselves, you struggled to understand at first, thinking what is there to be played with yourself until you learned what it actually means. you’ve never done it though, you’re too scared and it feels so crude to be doing such thing. sounds like a sin. every time you would try to rub your dainty fingers between your folds, you’d retreat though it felt so good. you heard that you’re supposed to be stuffing your fingers inside, and that scared you even more. they’d mention being wet, as in aroused, but you remember the conversation you had with your mom when you were going through puberty. the one you went through at a very early age. she had told you that it is possible, and that if you ever become wet because of someone, it means that they’ve done something bad to you. like they have put a spell on you so you would succumb to the fantasy of pleasure with them. you believe her. she may had just wanted to protect you then but it fucked with your perception towards arousal so bad that when your friends told you stories about it, you’d feel bad for them. you feel bad cuz they’ve been put under a spell yet they seem so happy about it. you wonder if they knew.

it’s not like you’re a virgin. you’ve had sex when you were younger, with a lanky boy who suggested you to do it with him like it’s just another invitation to go hang out. not thinking much, you agreed to him. you didn’t feel any pleasure when it happened. it was just a weird sensation and shitty experience overall. you’ve been pretty avoidant when it comes to sex since. you feel like people talk about it too much yet it’s not that great. you think sex is overrated, so no one has ever touched you in years. boys would try to get close with you, talk nice to you but you see right through them. not farleigh though, he seems genuinely nice. or so you thought. you’ve asked farleigh about sex seeing that he frequents it along the course of you knowing him. he thinks it’s overrated too and he only does it for fun. he’s fucked a number of people you know here and he said none of them makes him want to come back for seconds. when you told him about that experience you had he laughed, “dont sweat it baby, he just sucked at it. probably got too turned on by you he couldn’t last more than 5 seconds” maybe he’s right. alas, farleigh wouldn’t lie to you would he ? no, he’s too nice for that. so when you told him you’ve never done things with yourself and that you haven’t been touched for years it came off as such a shock to him. girls he know not only would play with themselves, they even practically throw themselves at him just to get fucked. knowing that you’re so— reserved, he felt like you just got purer, more precious in his eyes. sometimes he feels like a predator eyeing its prey. the way he would think of ways to corrupt you. but those are just bad silly thoughts at the back of his head. he’s too nice to act on them, right ?

your first day at saltburn could be easily described by the word ‘crazy’. everything is just crazy around here. from the towncar the cattons had sent to fetch you from the train station, the butler and footmen standing still at the huge beautifully carved doors welcoming you, the green carpet spread out as far as your eyes can lay upon, the greek sculptures scattered along the garden trails, to the seemingly nice people that are farleigh’s aunt and uncle. he was right, elspeth called you pretty. like bambi she said. you met venetia, the only other girl around your age living in the enormous estate. she seems happy to be getting a girl company for the summer, showing you around the house and always borrowing you from farleigh. he paid no mind towards the friendship that is forming between you and venetia, as long as you’re having the best time ever. he wants this summer to be able to compete with your previous amazing ones. you’re walking alongside venetia with your knitted beach totebag across the field, towards the lake when felix greets you. he’s just as tall as farleigh, maybe a little shorter by an inch but you can see the genes connecting them both. “heard you’re farleigh’s friend, how’d you know him ?” you smile at his question before giving a quick answer. “he helps me around campus, he’s always so kind to me—“ before you could say anything further, he scoffs in disbelief. “farleigh ? kind ? think you got the wrong bloke there mate” he shakes his head before skipping away towards the yellow hayfields, his hair flopping messily. you look at venetia who’s giggling at you, also shaking her head while raising her shoulders. frowning at her, you couldn’t get to bask in your confusion any longer as she takes your hand and drags you towards the boys.

seeing her strip off, you look around to see the boys already laying comfortably, clothes off. most of them are covered by the tall grass but you can tell that they’re not wearing anything. particularly cuz you spotted the discarded clothes that they were wearing at breakfast not far from you. as you start to lift off the hem of your top, you feels venetia’s hand on your arm. “you dont have to, it’s just a stupid thing we do” you nod at her words, a little relieved yet you feel like you’re gonna miss out from the real saltburn experience if you dont do it like them. so you follow venetia’s actions before settling on the ground, in between the tall grass. she starts giggling at you as you slowly burst into laughter, not noticing the burning glance trailing along the outlines of your body. the grass covering the most of you teasing him, depriving him of the sight he craves the most at the moment. thankfully felix is too caught up in his cig to notice him practically eyefucking you, putting his imagination to work like he’s some prepubescent horny teenager. you felt your saliva caught up in your throat when you noticed his naked body in the grass when you were looking around earlier, and you’ve been trying to shake off the image of his tan broad shoulders, glistening in sweat, beads of it dripping to his defined collarbones since. as he seems busy flipping through the pages of his harry potter book, you hope for his focus to stay on the lore as your eyes continue to scan his beautiful face, his luscious curls bouncing off his forehead. his shoulders propped up against the ground, looking firm and shiny from the sun

weird tingling sensation crawls across your body as you struggle to take your eyes off him, or his body. he looks so flawless in his glory, basking under the sunlight, the sweat clinging onto his skin making him glisten. the tingling you felt turns into heat, seemingly most prominent around your core. the more you try to ignore the heat, the weirder it feels until you notice the forming stickiness in between your folds. fuck. you wanted to panic badly yet you keep your composure around venetia, not wanting to let her know what’s happening. you look at farleigh who’s still laying on his chest, your eyes widen at the fact that it’s happening to you. he’s put a spell on you. he must have, cuz one second you were looking at him and now you’re wet. just like what your mom had told you about. internally panicking, you quickly grab your clothes and try to put them on without having to stand up, to avoid flashing the boys. just as you’re done, you abruptly get up on your kneews before venetia notices. “what’s wrong ?” you look at her, offering a smile to convince her nothing’s going on. “nothing, forgot my sunscreen” she gives you a look of approval before sliding her shades back down. your swift movements and walk back to the house catches farleigh’s attention as his eyes follow your disappearing figure into the distance. he puts his book down as he slowly reach for his clothes before patting felix at the back, to which he pays no attention to. he’s too busy listening into the earphones connected to his walkman with his head settled on his crossed arms. farleigh’s eyes notice your small figure stepping into the foyer before taking the turn leading to your assigned bedroom, the men in suits along the corridor eyeing you as they stand still. hastening his steps, he tries to catch you at the coridor before you got into your room but failed. you’d planned to check yourself out in the bathroom, see what’s actually going on down there, hoping that maybe it’s your period though that’s not for another 3 weeks. pushing your underwear down your thighs, you notice the colourless wet patch at the crotch. trying to make sure, you dip your fingers in between your folds to collect some of the stickiness. holding your fingers up, you feel your breath caught up in your throat. you feel like you could cry, you couldn’t believe farleigh would do this to you. he’s supposed to be nice and kind unlike other boys—

just as you step out of the bathroom your eyebrow quirks at the tall figure standing just infront of the door, his linen yellow polo tshirt hanging loosely on his shoulders, his fingers fiddling with each other. “w-what are you doing— you shouldn’t be here” your eyes struggle to find something to settle on, trying hard to avoid his direct gaze. “is something wrong ? why’d you leave ?” his eyes trail to yours, trying to catch them as you make way to the wardrobe, opening the doors to see your clothes that have been neatly arranged by the maids. looking through the compartments and drawers, you’re actually trying to find a fresh clean pair of underwear to replace your soaked ones. seeing you suspiciously try to run and avoid looking at him, you leave him no choice other than to grab your arm. his action makes you turn to face him, he steps closer before crouching so his face levels with yours, his eyes searching into yours. pursing your lips shut, you didn’t want to confront him for what he did just yet but now that he’s standing infront of you- you decide to finally look at him

“i- i cant believe you did this to me farleigh” he cocks his head, taken aback by your words, not having any idea what you may be talking about. before he asks you decide to spare him the pretending. “the spell” you continue in a stern voice. “what the— what spell ?” his voice pitch higher as his eyebrows quirk. you let out a sigh, “i looked at you in the fields, now im- your spell, now im— wet” he looks like he’s still trying to puzzle the pieces together. rolling your eyes “you must’ve casted a spell to get to me, otherwise how am i this- wet ?” you wince at your struggle to explain to him, having to say the word ‘wet’ so much cuz you don’t know how else to make him understand. his face drops in realisation, finally getting to guess what you’re trying to say, yet he’s still weirded out. “so…you think i casted a spell on you that makes you wet..?” you squint your eyes at his slow response, is he pretending to be innocent or what ? “who told you that ?” he asks. “who cares ? i thought you were nice” getting defensive, you’re starting to feel that you’re being ridiculous. you notice his shoulders drop, his stance softening as he throws his head back with a smile on his lips.

“oh poor baby,,” he starts, before stepping back towards the bed, sitting on it.

“—come here” he ushers you, to which you compliantly follow. he grabs your arm to position you so you’re facing him, as he looks up to find your face. you’re now as silent as a baby deer, waiting for him to say something. he begins to chuckle lowly as he shakes his head. “so you think because you’re wet from watching me in the fields, i’ve put a spell on you” he tsks, before continuing with his dark eyes boring into yours “how cute.” his hands start to touch yours, ghosting his fingers along your wrist, trailing up your arms. a shiver travels down your spine at his touch, your eyes search into his, multiple feelings creeping into your head that you struggle to focus on one. one thing you’re sure of is you don’t want him to stop doing whatever he’s doing. suddenly his hands start smoothing over the hem of your skirt, his fingers carefully playing with the waistband against your navel, maintaining eye contact the whole time with an amused look on his face. “maybe i should take a look at the affected area, see it it’s curable hm ?” he suggests, both his index fingers already hooked beneath the waistband. you nod at him, your mom never told you what to do if one gets put on that spell but it makes sense if he needs to be the one to heal you. as he was about to pull your skirt down he changed his mind, he has a better idea that is to just leave your cute frilly little skirt on. slowly bunching up your skirt from the hem, he has his bottom lip between his teeth. you feel heat finding its way on your cheeks as you hear him curse under his breath. “oh- you’re really wet baby” the nickname makes you lightheaded. “all this because of me ?” he says proudly at which you frown at his stupid words. why is he acting like this is an achievement ?

“yes now can you cure me ?” you’re becoming restless the way you can feel yourself getting wetter. that’s not a good sign, it just means it’s getting to you. you’re worried that it might go beyond curable and you’re stuck living with the spell forever. not giving you any response, his hand still holding your bunched up front skirt as his fingers graze the fabric of your panties. he trails his finger at the top, where he can feel his cock pulse seeing the tiny ribbon. your panties had turn a shade darker from its original colour from your wetness clinging onto it. suddenly you feel his thumb press at your crotch, earning a gasp from you. you quickly pull your skirt higher to look at what he’s doing. the thumb that was pressing against your sensitive nub now rubbing at the wettest part of your crotch, pushing and rubbing the fabric in between your folds. he’s making you feel so good you wanted to tell him to keep going. his fingers are now grabbing the fabric together, before pulling it up against your folds making you moan. you look at him with wide eyes, he’s not looking back at you as he’s busier tugging and rubbing the fabric against your pussy, an amused look on his face. he could just see you getting wetter and practically drenching your panties. “fuck,, you have such a pretty cunny” his words making your pussy tingle before you decide to urge him, “help me, farleigh”

he lifts his head, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “i can cure you. but you have to be good for me” you listen to his words carefully before nodding, “i can be good” he smiles as his hands slowly grab at your arms, turning you to face the full body mirror mounted against the wall infront of him before pulling you down to settle on his lap. he rests his chin in the crook of your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the reflection on the mirror. his fingers creep up to your thighs, playing with the hem of your frilly white short skirt. as you try to breathe steadily around him you feel your breath hitch at his fingers’ sudden movement smoothing along your inner thighs. your eyes instantly shoot to his fingers now disappearing under your skirt before getting the clear view of his fingers playing with the side hem of your flimsy panties after his other hand had bunch up your skirt to your waist. you feel his plump lips plant soft kisses on the crook of your neck, his eyes gazing directly into yours. as you feel his lips, you can’t help but look into his eyes in the mirror, not breaking eye contact as he continue his kisses and his fingers grazing very lightly on the wet fabric of your panties. “farleigh-“ you let out a soft moan. “you told me you’ve never touched yourself ?” you shake yout head at his question, head too hazy to give him actual words. “that’s a pity” you dont really get what he meant by that but you dont think you’re missing out much.

he takes your hand in his, guiding it to your core. “here” you crane your neck up to him, looking into his face. he looks down, meeting your gaze. “i’ll show you” you keep silent as you let him pull your thighs even further, placing them over his. you can see yourself sprawled out on his lap in the mirror, showcasing your glistening panties clad cunt. farleigh’s fingers pull the side hem of your crotch, holding them to the side as his other hand bring yours over. “try grazing your fingers over the little nub there” he instructs and watch closely as you do what you’re told. you moan as you feel the pressure against the sensitive part. he continues to guide you through touching yourself the way it would feel so fucking good, that you’re a whiny moaning mess. you feel heat on your cheeks the whole time, embarrassed by the fact that he’s watching you touch yourself. “now try one finger inside” he suggests, your head shot up to look at him. “it’s okay, it’ll feel even better” his large hand grab yours, showing you to your cunthole. you obey him, prodding a finger at the hole, yet you feel nothing but discomfort. “it doesn’t feel good, farleigh” he pushes your hand further, your finger now fully inside. you bite your bottom lip trying to hold onto yourself. “now curl your finger�� you take a minute to steady yourself before doing what he told you to. once your finger hit that spongy spot, you let out a high pitched moan at the newly discovered sensation. farleigh smiles at your reflection in the mirror, “there you go” you experiment with the all new experience for you, you try curling your fingers multiple times against the spot as it gives you pleasure each time. farleigh watches you get lost in the sensation in the mirror, fucking yourself on your finger. his eyes darkened as he feels a dark, lust dripping need form inside him.

as you rapidly fuck your finger into your pussy, you feel knotting in your stomach, a weird tingling making you feel like you were gonna pee. “farleigh-“ you call out to him, your free hand grabbing his arm that were resting on your waist. “you’re close baby ?” you knit your eyebrows at his words, unfamiliar with the feeling. “keep going, you’re doing so good” he encourages, his lips kissing against your neck, trailing behind your ear. he sucks the skin at the back of your neck as he feel your breath getting faster and heavier. all the overwhelming pleasure is new to you yet it feels too good for you to stop. “you can cum princess, cum for me” you can feel yourself chasing after something, until it all comes crashing down, the orgasm washing over you as the sweat making your hair stick onto your forehead. he looks at you through the mirror, offering you a smile as he pushes the hair out of your forehead and wiping the sweat from your rose tinted hot cheeks.

“you did such a great job, baby” your breath hitch at the new nickname, yet your head is too clouded to say anything about it. he let you catch your breath in his lap, his hands roaming at your waist. “that should cure you” he says before pulling you up, he gets up himself as he places you carefully on the bed, you sit at the spot he sat in just now. though you feel relieved, you feel like you wanted more, you wanted more of him, more of whatever that was happening, the pleasure clouding your better judgement. “farleigh,,” you call out just as he was about to walk away. “let me do something for you” he turns, his lips pursed to hold himself back from smiling at the fact that you’re about to walk right into his trap. he walks back, standing right in front of you. “yeah ?” he says, as you start reaching up and tugging at his belt. your eyes notice the huge bulge at his crotch. “you’re- hard, boys like it when girls suck them off when they’re hard, right ?” you ask him, he moans at your words. “well yeah, but you don’t have to” you shake your head at him, “i want to” you’re quick to respond as he bites his lower lip to suppress the strings of curses he wants to let out. “you’re the sweetest- fuck,,”

you begin to unbuckle his belt as he watches you carefully. he could cum right this second just by looking at your pretty innocent looking face. “god, you’re so breathtakingly pretty” he compliments, earning a giggle from you. you’re gonna look even prettier with a huge cock stuffed in your mouth, he thinks. his eyes follow your hands, that are now taking out his cock from his briefs, your hands barely covering the size of his length. you take a deep breath before looking up at him through your lashes, batting them at him with your doe eyes. he smiles at you before throwing his head back once your tongue start kitten licking at his tip. his hand automatically reach up to rest at the back of your head as he watches you suckling his raging red wet tip. “am i doing it right ?” you ask him, worried that you might doing it wrong for your first time.

“fuck, right- its your first time” “just- try squeezing your hand around the base while you suck at the tip, fuck-” he suggests, his head getting light from all the blood rushing to his cock. his hand involuntarily pushes your head down, his cock fucking into your mouth. letting out a whimper, he struggles to keep his hips from buckling, his length hot and heavy on your tongue. your plump lips now wrapped around his cock, perfectly fit for you. smothering saliva all over it, your hands squeeze at the base, and the rest of it that you can’t fit in your mouth, his tip already prodding at the back of your throat. “so good baby, you’re doing so good- look so pretty with my big cock stuffed in your face, mhm” he says, sending familiar heat down your cunt, you feel it getting wetter as before. you try hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head back and forth, your lips wrapped nicely around his cock. you hear him let out a low guttural moan. you look up at him through your lashes, he’s throwing his head back from the pleasure, his hips slightly buckling into your mouth making you pull away.

catching your breath, you feel his large hands cupping your cheeks, smoothing over the skin. “you’re a natural, princess” you smile up at him, before trailing your eyes down to look at his length. he’s huge, his tip raging red with precum trickling down his length. you lean in to catch the drop of precum at the underside of his base, earning a curse from him, before he moans. “how are you already so good at this, fuck-“ you cant help but smile at his words before continuing your licking and sucking on his cock. its not long until you notice him twitching, cock jumping as his face contorts in pleasure. his hand reach up to wrap his fingers around him before he starts jerking himself off, his hand moving rapidly with his jaw hanging low, mouth agape. his voice cracks as he’s letting out a loud moan, before you watch him shoot ropes of sticky white mess, landing on your face, most covering your lips and cheeks, some on your collarbone. you’re shocked, a little weirded out by his cum sticking on your face but cant help letting out a giggle while looking up at him. he was catching his breath as he noticed you giggling, before letting out a laugh himself. He reaches up to your face, fingers collecting the cum before prodding them at your lips. You frown at his action, weirded out that he wants you to suck at his cum covered fingers. He nods, encouraging you, “you can taste” he offers, before you decide to give in, trusting him has been giving you bliss until now. You open your mouth as he pushes his fingers past your lips, your tongue lapping at the sticky substance. Humming, you look at him, “‘s sweet”

“well im glad” he chuckles

“you okay?” he asks as you nod before gaining the courage to tell him about the wetness forming again in your panties. “farleigh im- im wet again” he lets out a chuckle, “your cunny’s wet again ?” heat rushing up to your cheeks at his words as you shyly nod, embarrassed. “you do realise that just means you’re turned on right ? nothing to do with me putting a spell on you” he chuckles at the silly concept you believe in. you’re taken aback by his words, realisation hits. the first time was maybe explainable by your mother’s words, but the second time around, now that you’re wet again, he might be right. he sits on the bed before pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs settling on either side of him, straddling him this time. your eyes roam across his face, appreciating his beautiful features, his long lashes, his dark brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, they’re all so pretty to you. you reach your hand up to graze your fingers along his lips, feeling every lines and crooks, slightly pulling at his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him.

he lets out a breath as he leans into the kiss, pressing his lips softly against your plump ones, savouring your flavour. your lips dance against his, pulling him closer to you with his large hands grabbing at your waist. the kiss is soft, and pure in some way, it feels like there’s only the two of you in the world at the moment. your first ever kiss with him. his lips moulds perfectly against yours, making you want to kiss him forever. he’s a good kisser too, effortlessly returning your kiss and offering his own, his tongue swiping across your lips. his hand on your waist start grabbing firmer, moving you back and forth against his thigh and crotch. he lets out a sigh as he pulls away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down to see the tent in his pants forming again. he continues to lean into you, kissing you once again while he guides you to hump at his crotch. the material of his pants serving you a little bit of pleasure as you try to chase that orgasm you had discovered from earlier. “you can go faster if you want” he says, offering you his lap to help you get off.

“use me” he continues

you wrap your arms around his neck, your boobs pressed up against his chest to steady yourself. his hands continue to guide your pace by your waist as he plant soft kisses along the crook of your neck and your shoulders. the bulge in his pants rub against your soaked panties before you accidentally angled yourself that you’re humping against your clit. the tingling of pleasure spreading all across your body leaves you a moaning mess, causing him to buckle his hips against your pussy. “you’re doing great princess, does that feel good to you ?” he asks as his hand roam across your back, encouraging you to get yourself off on his lap. you nod at him, too caught up in the pleasure now that you’ve found your sweet spot. “can you use your words for me baby?” you whimper at his request as you arch your back against him. “feels- feels so good far’” you manage to let out before letting out a whine.

“that’s my girl” he smiles.

you continue to work yourself on his lap yet you feel like you need more. grabbing at his polo, his eyes search into yours before trailing down at your hands pulling up the hem. he helps you take of his shirt as you marvel at his toned chest, fingers grazing along his collarbone. your pace on his lap becomes stuttered, interrupted by you trying to undress him. his hands grab your roaming ones, stopping your eager movements. “what do you need ?” not responding to his question, you grab the hem of your top instead, pulling it off of you. farleigh’s breath hitch as he moan at the bouncing tits in his face. he grabs at your waist to get you to look at him, his eyes pleading for your permission. you return his gaze, looking into his eyes for a moment before slowly nodding. he maintains eye contact with you as he slowly poke his tongue out, licking at your nipples, looking at you through his lashes. the warm wet tongue against your sensitive bud makes you moan, as you feel the bulge underneath you twitch. he’s now mouthing at your mould, his tongue spreading saliva all over it, all while looking into your eyes. pulling away, he grabs at both of them “such pretty tits, fuck”. you moan at his words, beginning to rub your clit against his crotch again. “need- need more farleigh” you plead him, before he grabs your waist to lift you up and lay you on the bed. now that you’ve had a taste of him, you can feel your body crave for more. for all of him.

“yeah ? that sweet cunny needs more huh ?” a sudden rush of hear creeps up your cheeks as you raise your hands to cover your face from embarrassment. you feel like you’re all exposed to him, like a platter waiting to be devoured. “you’re so small, i don’t think i can fit-“ he begins, as he leans down to plant soft kisses under your boobs, trailing down to your stomach with his hands roaming across the soft skin. “i’m gonna try something” he slowly takes out his cock that was covered by the crotch of his pants, his belt clacking as he winces at the friction against his length. he rests his cock on your soaked panties, his length heavy and throbbing. you look down to see his size, his tip reaching your lower belly. “such cute panties, shame it’s all ruined now” he smirks at the flimsy fabric of your panties that is now drenched in wetness. tracing his fingers at the cute ribbon at the top, he uses both hand to lift the fabric, stickiness stringing in between it and your pussy. he pushes his cock underneath the fabric before pushing it down with his fingers, creating a tight friction for him. he hisses at the feeling, before looking up at your eyes attentively following each of his movements, curious to see what he’s doing.

“‘m gonna fuck this panties okay ? rub my cock against your little folds. it’ll feel good” he informs, to which you nod. after that pleasure of riding in crotch earlier at his orders, you’re excited to see what this one’s gonna feel like. you wear him let out a moan as he starts moving, his hips fucking into your panties, his wet throbbing tip prodding against your sensitive nub, earning a whine from you. he’s right, it does feel good. and he looks so hot doing so, his face contorting and eyebrows knitted. his mouth agape as he lets out moans while looking at his cock going in and out of your panties, the wetness making the fabric translucent that he can see his cock fucking against your folds through it. he pulls the edge and pushes the hem further down, creating an even better pressure against his cock, pretending he’s fucking into your tight pussy. “fuck,, bet your cunny’s tighter baby” your eyes widen at his dirty words, your hands covering your mouth as you bite the skin on your thumb. not knowing where or how you gained the sudden confidence, “y-you can feel it for yourself” you offer, eyes carefully looking at his face, nervous anticipating for his reaction. his cock twitch underneath your panties before he throws his head back at your words.

“fuck princess,, you can’t say things like that”

“like what” you’re borderline panicking that you might’ve said something weird

“i might not be able to stop once i get a taste of your cunny”

you’re silent at his response, not really understanding what he meant by that. you continue to let him fuck your panties, his tip bulging through the material with each thrust. his length against your folds and his tip prodding at your clit makes you moan in a high pitch, the shivers travelling down your spine making you arch your back. grabbing at his hands, he looks at you while he struggles to halt his movements, his eyes searching into yours. “can you put it inside ?” you shyly asks, wanting to feel what it’s like to have his cock inside you, wondering if it’s gonna be the same as your first time. “what ?” his eyes widen at your request. he wasn’t planning on stuffing you full, you’ve already given him so much than he’d planned. “yeah- wanna, wanna feel your cock inside” he swears he almost busted at your words, his cock now painfully hard. “are you sure ?” he asks innocently. he’s been wanting to fuck you ever since he first saw you, so saying this is just a fucking cover for him. a manipulator he is, and you’re like a bunny foolishly trapped. “yes please” you bat your lashes cutely at him making him smile. making you say you want him inside you is one thing, but making you say please ? he fucking won.

he takes out his throbbing wet cock from your panties, his length bouncing as he settles on his knees, his face now infront of your pussy. he kisses at the fabric clinging onto your folds, moulding against your every crooks perfectly. he reaches the waistband of your panties, his lips kissing at your inner thighs on either sides of his face before pulling the band off your legs. his hands grab at your thighs as he looks at you through his lashes, smiling. he looks at your pussy infront of him, “thank you” he says before leaning in to kiss at your clit softly. you giggle at his actions, saying thank you to your cunt like he’s grateful for the meal. he chuckles against your pussy before getting up to put the weight of his cock on it, your wetness spreading onto his length, covering it with your juices. he moves backwards a bit as he positions his tip at your entrance before pushing his head in. you whine at the feeling, even with only his tip you can feel its bigger than you remember. who are you kidding anyways ? he’s 6’5, of course he’s gonna be huge. you whimper as he continue to push into your pussy, you push through the sting, taking his length like a champ. biting down at the skin of your thumb, he didn’t bottom out before he starts pulling out slightly, and pushing back in again. it’s a tight fit, your walls wrapped perfectly around his length as you hear the squelching sound from all the wetness. you offer him a soft smile shyly making him throw his head back.

“you’re so cute- oh” his words stumble as he feels you clenching down around his cock. “oh fuck” as his slow thrusts become stuttered, you giggle at his reaction before clenching down again. and again. and again- that he’s now crouched down against you, his face settling in the crook of your neck. “you okay ?” you tease him, at which he lets out a strained chuckle. “y- cunny’s so tight baby” you hold onto his shoulders as he starts thrusting again, bottoming up in the process. moans and skin slapping bounce against the walls of the room, the overwhelming pleasure making you forget that you’re in saltburn, having notably the best summer. you let him continue fucking into your pussy, letting out whines and moans ever now and then at him founding and hitting at your sweet spot. it was easy for him to find, every spot is basically so sensitive to you, he could thrust at any spot and you’d cum instantly. which is what’s happening now. your high pitch moans and legs shaking against his tells him that you’re close. “you’re close princess, cum for me” you whine at his words, his fingers reaching down to toy at your clit, helping you chase that orgasm.

the added pleasure makes you moan louder, your eyes searching his for encouragement. he looks into your eyes, his soft brown gaze makes you feel safe before you look down at his fingers rapidly rubbing at your clit. screaming his name, your orgasm finally crashes down on you, your breath heavy as your chest move up and down. “that feel good yeah ?” he asks you, he’s also catching his breath from watching you riding out your orgasm before you feel his thrusts getting faster and sloppier. sounds of skin slapping all so dirty to you as you hear him let out uncontrollable moans before he takes out his cock. his fingers quickly wrap around his length before he starts jerking off rapidly while moaning. his eyebrows knitted and face contorts in pleasure as he lets out a loud moan before you see thick sticky ropes of white land on your stomach, and settling on your pussy. he catches his breath while looking at the mess he made on your body. he looks up at you, offering you a smile before mouthing a ‘sorry’. his hand reaches down to move the strands of hair sticking on your face away, before leaning down to kiss you. you smile at him as he says “you’re mine now you know that right ?” your eyebrows quirk at his words, sure you’d wanna be his but you don’t quite get what he’s saying.

“good girls fuck one cock, you’re stuck with me”

taglist: @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @themoonchildwhofell @fuckshitslover @radioloom @love-me-pls @szapizzapanda @khxna

divider creds: @rookthornesartistry

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mazzyfawn · 1 day

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im a multishipper. i ship buddie and bucktommy. but if im being honest one side is being incredibly more hateful and toxic than the other side. (aka the one thats been around longer) maybe i’ve taken off my rose-colored shipping glasses, but seeing ppl make hate posts abt tommy/lou gives me the ick. it makes me actually realize why oliver left twt. bitterness will get you nowhere. if buddie is meant to happen then it’ll happen. you cannot force it to happen. everything i’ve seen and read tells me buddie was more of a consideration pre-s5 than it is currently. and that fucking sucks but just because things aren’t going your way doesn’t mean you need to get on the internet and be a bully. it’s truly mind-boggling to see people so intense in their hate for a character that has righted his wrongs, who is now friends with the people he wronged, is well-liked among said characters and is now being a positive influence on buck’s newfound sexuality. their dynamic is also nothing new, pessimist/optimist ship dynamics have been around forever and it’s only a problem because it’s not eddie.

i would be happy for buddie to go canon as much as the next guy. getting buck canonically bisexual is mind-blowing enough in itself, i’m glad we’re witnessing it at all. if ryan doesn’t want to do buddie because he feels its important they stay friends then so be it. platonic friendships between a queer man and straight man are important, especially one that runs so deep like buck and eddie’s. sure, their friendship could be read as romantic throughout the show, but partly because oliver and ryan truly share a great chemistry on screen which helps lean into it but also because these shows are not written with an endgame in mind. 9-1-1 is very much a go with the flow show, and if bucktommy is where the show is flowing then that’s what is meant to be. invisible string theory isn’t because ppl think it was always planned from the beginning, it’s because it’s amazing how well buck and tommy becoming a couple comes together so perfectly out of pure coincidence.

we know buck was supposed to be made queer long ago. we also know maddie originally was brought in for eddie but was put with chimney instead. if tim minear hadn’t left after s4 i truly think buddie could have been already established by now, but unfortunately that isn’t how things work. perhaps the idea of tommy and eddie was pitched but ultimately ryan didn’t agree it would work for these character nor the story being told at the time. buck was already supposed to be queer, so turning it to tommy and buck instead makes total sense.

no one is saying you aren’t allowed to continue to ship buddie. most ships in the world are ships that have never gone canon. buddie is valid even if it’s non-canon. god knows i will continue to read and write for them and enjoy them whilst also enjoying buck and tommy together. the behavior i’ve been seeing though is just weird, especially from larger creators who i understand are very passionate for buddie, but it’s weird when you flip it into tommy/lou hate instead of just talking about buddie itself.

perhaps the theories will be true. we don’t know! maybe buck and tommy won’t last and buddie will be endgame. i’m happy either way because buck’s sexuality is so important for him and at the current state of the show eddie is absolutely not ready for anything romantic because he’s still grieving shannon to a point where he is not ready to move on romantically just yet and we’re literally shown this. even if buddie is happening, it is not happening by the season finale nor is it probably happening by the beginning of s8 considering the current storylines and where they’ll be at by the end of this season. lou probably isn’t going anywhere and from the looks of it, we’ll probably be bumped up into a semi-regular character in s8 like karen. he’s easy to write into the plot, he’s got connections to people and emergencies outside of buck that would integrate him well into the plot. their romance is supposed to be “romcom” esque, they’re taking things slow but they’re obviously happy together at the moment.

im just really tired of the nasty attitudes ive been seeing. sure theres are som toxic people on both sides, but to me its obvious which side is being the bigger bully. reality checks needs to be put in place for some people, go outside and realize you are getting way too worked up over a tv show where plotlines are out of your control. if the show is ruined for you over one relationship then stop watching it.

#911 abc #bucktommy #buddie #venting #maybe some will read it and actually reflect on themselves

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devilfic · 2 days

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❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

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

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

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resident-idiot-simp · 1 day

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I couldn't do it justice but I REALLY want a MW and TWD crossover like I have the plot but there is no way I could write it.

(once again copy paste from discord conversations)

Plot the 141 are in the US because well Laswell told them something is going very wrong. Soap and Ghost of even all of the 141 are in Atlanta maybe to go to the CDC.

Apocalypse happens and they end up at the quarry camp. You can have everyone there being very confused and giving the soldiers a wide birth that pushed them to hang out with the Dixon's. Alternatively, they're liked but still hang out with the Dixon's because the brothers are the only other people who are competent.

So there's this weird duality where everyone else hates the brothers except for single handedly the most competent people in the camp. Also we can have ghost beating the shit out of Ed.

More people survive, Ghost theoretically hack his way out of the CDC if they end up killing Brenner. Sophia lives and the whole plot is them trying to get back to their team or to the main base if it's all of 141. I can go into more detail I have thought a lot about this

They're all very confused by the relationship between Soap and Ghost. Carol clocks it as do the Dixon's but everyone else is kind of like 'huh good friends' and if you go the girls try desperately to get with Soap.

Ghost finds it hysterical. Soap is not amused.

Anyways they are always together and eventually are caught kissing or something and the camp is shocked. There are slightly homophobic comments but the two shut it down immediately. Because no they are not dealing with that. (Ironically most of the comments would come from the Dixon's so that's interesting thought)

Also Merle was in the military so I wonder if he's heard of them

Anyway I just want soap and Ghost to take the kids and Carol under their wings speed up the badassnes process. Also, I need caryl

Another thought. CDC someone knocks on their door (Lori or Andrea maybe) (Shane's reaction would also be funny but he's trying too well.... Anyway) and Soap comes to the door with just shorts on.

He's covered in hickeys and scratches his face is flushed and he looks less than pleased to be interrupted. The Girls are shook because WHO IS IN THERE WITH HIM?!

Then Ghost appears behind him mask on and only that the rest of his body is hidden behind the door. It however is the most skin they've ever seen.

News spreads like wildfire (hehe if ykyk) and by morning everyone knows Soap and Ghost are fucking.

They couldn't give a shit and act as if nothing changed the because nothing has.

However, no one else can look at them the same way.

(I will be back soon with a 09 version of this)

Edit we back

Ok so the Captain makes his way into the camp Roach and Ghost next to him. All of the girls are just drooling because hello?! Exotic Scottish man that just oozes sex appeal. He doesn't even bat an eye at them. Merle about flips shit because HOLY THAT'S FUCKING CAPTAIN MACTAVISH THE GUY WHO STOPED WW3! He tells Daryl and both of them try desperately to get on the soldiers good side.

The first peep out of Ed gets him threatened and beaten within an inch of his life Ghost was restrained before it got worse. Mainly because the civilians didn't need to hear about how Ghost has and will again use someone's intestines to hang them. Roach knows EVERYTHING that goes on around camp. He's the one that set up the defense lines helping the Dixons.

He knows Lori and Shane are fucking had actually caught them and reported back. They just ingest information and use it for future leverage. It's not necessarily for blackmail but I mean if it happens to be used as such ¯⁠⁠⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠⁠/⁠¯ Ghost and Roach have no shame when it comes to each other and the Captain they will cuddle right up and make themselves comfortable.

Roach stole Carol and she now stays near them and Roach insist on teaching her BSL. Shane got pissed one day when MacTavish took over directing the camp only for the captain to just drag him completely for his incompetence.

The world isn't going to get better It's only going to get worse. And Shane needs to stop acting otherwise. Dale probably hates them Glenn is in awe. One day when Riley was helping Daryl butcher whatever animal he dragged in they bonded and became inseparable. Two sides of the same coin honestly those two.

Roach is with Gleen all the time teaching him survival tricks because they are also very similar. And at the end of the day with no care they all curl up in their tent like puppies and sleep. I can see Rick and MacTavish being good friends. Also CDC absolutely doesn't happen MacTavish doesn't even let them Consider that as a possible thing.

He knows full well that place is fucked. Just directs them towards the military base in the middle of bum fuck nowhere they had been placed at. Everyone in the camp suspects Roach Ghost and MacTavish are together but it's never confirmed. Not until they are somewhere like a storage locker place sleeping for the night and MacTavish exists the next morning covered in marks.

(more)

#call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #john soap mactavish #soap x ghost #ghoap #simon ghost riley #twd #the walking dead #09 mactavish #09 modern warfare #09 soap #09 soapghost #09 ghost #soapghostroach #captain mactavish #caryl #carol and daryl

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ivyblossom · 13 hours

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I have been watching a tv show based on a set of books about a woman who goes back in time to 18th century Scotland and lives there for a while and has lots of sex (which she's very good at, btw, the text really wants to make sure I know that, she's SUPER good at sex), I'm sure you know the one I mean.

And my question is: is this writer whose name I am deliberately not typing into this post a narcissist? Because what is even going on with this story?

I realize I'm watching the tv show and not reading the books and surely that's different, but the whole universe of this story is warped around this woman and how amazing she is, and it just stinks of a personality disorder. It's not just that she's good at stuff or important in her own story, it's that everyone she meets is obsessed with her and follows the details of her life and thinks about her all the time, she is so important to everyone, no one else really has a life that doesn't have her as a focus. The belief that total strangers would take this much of an interest in your just smacks of narcissism to me.

And every damn character has a scene with her at some point where they're like, "Yes, I tried to fight you/hated you/wronged you, but it turns out, you were totally right the whole time and I trust you completely now and love you and you were the best thing that's ever happened to me, I die now." This main character would be sorted into Sparklypoo.

Everyone is super hot for her, everyone wants her advice, even her daughter is like, "omg you should totally abandon me now that I'm just barely a legal adult, you need to be with your hot Scottish man! Sure, the man I knew as much father recently died and you leaving would leave me 100% alone in the world, but WHO CARES? Go back in time to be with historical dude!" I...yike.

Then there's the guy who's like, yey, my dad just died, we are currently at his funeral, but you know what's really interesting? This woman and her daughter and their whole life story! I am really here just to serve their needs, I was getting bored at this funeral for my beloved father figure anyway, let's go focus on YOU, ladies!

It feels like the author has very strongly identified with her main character and everyone else are just functions to serve her. I know how fiction works, I know all characters are technically functions in service to the story, but I feel like a writer really shows their whole ass when they see other people as just sort of appendages that exist to support their self-insert character, with no inner worlds of their own. (Plotting against the main character is not an inner world of their own, no it is not!)

This story has all these weird conversations where people are making choices that make zero sense from their perspective, but they are great and meaningful from her main character's perspective, and that's all that matters, they just admire and respect that main character so so much that they will ignore their own will and their own life experiences and knowledge in favour of whatever she thinks and feels, and we're supposed to take this as normal or good somehow?

So...I have to ask. Has anyone met this writer? Is she a piece of shit? Is she actually a super nice lady? I just feel like you cannot be a super nice lady and write a story like this.

#sorry if you like this story I'm talking about and I'm offending you #I've just never seen a narrative that so clearly feels like the product of a narcissist before #Well except for Harry Potter

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scarasimplysimping · 20 hours

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All In

Part 1 (might be two parts idk)

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Summary: A bet is placed to see if you can get the Summa Cum Laude to fall in love with you. (Scaramouche x Reader) (College au)

Contains: Idk. So it's one of those love stories where there's a bet. Hu Tao and Childe are kind of assholes for the sake of this fic, I am SORRY. Reader is also kind of an ass. Ooc. Some plot holes because I don't go to college or drink or smoke. Just roll with it.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

2,822 words 15,518 characters

What a stuck-up prick.

That's what you thought of him anyway. He was *the* Summa Cum Laude of your year. He was snobby, self-centered, friendless, and to top it all off, he just so happened to be your partner for your big thesis.

It was not by choice but he had no partner because people were afraid of him and you had no partner because well... people hated you. It wasn't a project that could be done individually either, lest you wanted to die before you graduate.

"He's such a bore." You complain to your friends on the lunch table, Hu Tao, Childe, and Xiao. "I tried to make plans with him, really. I asked if he was free, and you know what he said?" You slammed your hands on the table for dramatic effect.

Hu Tao leaned in closer, strands of her hair falling onto the table, and alarmingly close to Xiao's food, making him scowl as he moved his tray.

"He said," you began, putting up a silly impression of him with a snobby expression. "I don't need bottom feeders like you dragging down my work. I'll handle everything. Pay me if you want."

Childe snorted. Hu Tao doubled over in laughter, mainly because you're impression was so on point.

"God, what a freak." Hu Tao mused as she wiped her tears from her face, she never passed on the opportunity to talk shit about someone she didn't like. Childe agreed with her but he was partly not paying attention. He jabbed his fork into Xiao's food.

"Fucker." Xiao muttered under his breath.

Your silly clique was a ragtag bunch of misfits in their own ways. Hu Tao was your childhood friend who always had something vindictive to say or some storm to stir up. She lived for the drama.

Childe started tagging along around highschool. He was a charming, silver-tongued ginger ball of sunshine, he started developing a negative reputation over time as as somewhat of a satyr, though.

Xiao was above all the petty and immature antics whichever one of you had the gall to cook up. In all honesty, he was only there because his older brother, Zhongli had asked Childe to help him settle in to the college life. Childe owed the man a favor so he dragged the poor emo wherever you guys went and you kind of just got used to his company.

Then there was you, there was one thing that set you far apart from them all.

Money.

They were filthy rich and you, an independent college student, had not a penny to your name after you decided to up and leave your family to follow Hu Tao to college. You didn't really have to work though, your friends pretty much covered most of your college expense as casually as a friend would by you lunch.

"I know I can't really help him, I mean, my grades are dogshit right now but like I don't know how to pay him either," You said, burying your face into your palms.

Childe scoffed. "I don't even think he means it. Plus, it's nothing to worry about. We've got you covered if that greedy little nerd actually demands shit from you."

"Yeah, just let him do everything by himself," He continued "Watch him or something, in case your professor wants updates.."

A small smirk formed upon his lips. "I bet he's not that hard to watch anyway."

You playfully punched him on the shoulder "Gross!"

"You gotta admit he is kinda cute," Hu Tao chided in. "Right, Xiao?"

Xiao shrugged, far too focused on actually having lunch.

Childe snaked an arm over you. "Tell you what, (Y/N). If you can somehow bed the prudish bastard before the end of this semester, I'll fork over some money for this month's rent."

"Hu Tao pays rent."

"I'll fork over some money for anything you want."

"Hmm... I want VIP tickets to La Signora's concert."

"Done~"

"Oh my archons! Like actually?" Hu Tao couldn't tell if you both were serious. "(Y/N), your charm is above average but I don't even know if you can pull this one off."

You roll your eyes." Have faith in me. I bet he's easy."

Hu Tao leans back thoughtfully, a mischievous smirk playing on her face. "Alright, (Y/N). If you manage to pull this off I'll give you a grand.

You gape at her. "Seriously?

"Absolutely."

You know were only entertaining the idea because they had no actual faith you'd pull it off, but to you. This was easy money.

You slowly turn to the brooding emo on the table. "What about you, Xiao?"

His eyes narrowed at you. "What about me?"

"You gonna offer anything?"

He scoffs, groaning internally and being the only one with a moral compass. "Only an asshole would find bets such as these any type of fun."

Childe flicks his wrist dismissevly. "We are assholes."

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was hard enough convincing Scaramouche to work on the project and your (and Hu Tao's) place but now you had to deal with the emanating silence from you both. You've barely ever talked to him but the tension in your room could be cut with a knife, or maybe that was just your imagination.

He was sitting cross legged on your bed, typing away at his laptop with several papers surrounding him. You were sat across from him in the same position, nursing a cigarette in between your fingers.

"Do you want something to eat?" You finally break the silence.

He doesn't look up from the screen as he responds. "What do you have?"

You look to the ceiling, trying to recall what you and Hu Tao had last shoved into the fridge. "Uh... Pesto... Pizza... Dumplings. Probably some leftover vegetables."

"Bring me them all." Talk about shame.

"Alright." You say, putting out the cigarette on your nightstand. You couldn't help but notice the tiny scowl on Scaramouche's face as he glanced at the ashtray.

You come back balancing a bowl of pesto, a bowl of dumplings, and a bowl of salad on a box of pizza. Scaramouche pats on the side of your bed, indicating for you to drop the offerings there.

You light another cigarette as you take your previous seat in front of him.

"The weather is pretty nice today.." A sad attempt at conversation on your end.

Silence

"So... Childe's hosting a party tomorrow night, would you like to come?" You try once more.

Scaramouche still doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look up from the screen.

You blow a puff of smoke on his face. He coughs a bit before glaring at you with cold judging eyes. At least he was actually looking at you now. "I have no time to indulge in that crap."

"You have plenty of time. That thesis isn't due for another month."

"Well not exactly, since I'll be doing the work for both of us."

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"I have a problem with people like you." He glowers.

"People like me?" You raise your eyebrows.

"People who just have everything spoon fed to them by luck or by birthright and take that as a reason to slack off for the rest of their life since everything just magically works out for them." Scaramouche wasn't wrong, you really fucked around and never found out but still, what right did he have to judge you?

"Didn't know you knew me so well." You say, blowing out another puff of smoke but this time it's to the side.

Scaramouche opens his mouth to respond, then closes it once more. You had a point. It was hypocritical of him to listen to judge you based on gossip.

Finally, he speaks after a few minutes of silence.

"I was out of line." It's an apology although he doesn't outright apologize.

"Yeah." You decide to take advantage of his momentary guilt as you inquire about what he's working on. "So, do you mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Well, I'm looking online for research papers related to the topic were studying. I'm taking snippets I find interesting and I'll save them for later to expand on them in our thesis."

Scaramouche speaks a bit more but you're hardly listening. You take this time to really observe his physical appearance. Hu Tao was right; the man was cute. His eyes, his mouth, his lips. If you took a meat cleaver to the center of his skull, you'd have matching halves.

Even his hair looked softer than unicorn fur.

"(Y/N)?" He snaps you out, a displeased expression creeps upon his face upon noticing that you aren't even paying attention.

"Your hair looks softer than unicorn fur," you blurt out.

His eyes widen slightly, and you could've sworn he turned a shade pink before he feigned a disgusted look to save his dignity. "What the hell?"

You caught on immediately. There it was. Scaramouche had a weakness. The Summa Cum Laude, the bridge troll with a big brain and purple hair (as Hu Tao once described him) is someone who gets easily flustered .

"You're kind of cute." You push on.

"Shut the fuck up." His head lowers, he dares not look into your eyes.

"Come to Childe's party with me?" You ask once more.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scaramouche hated you. He hated your face and your voice and your personality. He hated every single atom you were made up of, but most of all he hated the way you were able to persuade him to come to this stupid party. And for what? Just because you were the first person to ever call him cute? He'd curse you and all your descendants to come.

Childe's party was just a gathering of drunks and trouble makers. His house was practically a mansion that could fit 60% of the university's student population.

He hated the blaring lights and unbelievably loud, repetitive, and distasteful music.

"I hate this!" He has to shout for you to hear.

"I know!"

"I'm going home!"

"You can't! You're my ride home!"

"We walked here, dumbass!" Scaramouche wanted to leave you truly he did but something, wasn't letting him. His moral compass or his growing fondness of you?

Childe finds you, placing an arm around your shoulder. "Hey!" He hands you a shot glass which you graciously accept and down in a couple of seconds, much to Scaramouche's dismay.

Childe pays no attention to your companion until he does a double take and realize it's Scaramouche.

"Holy shit! Is that Scara!?" Childe grins hazily. He was drunk drunk.

Scaramouche does not respond. He is frowning while Childe handed you half a bottle of gin.

You drink it within a couple minutes as you chat with Childe.

Scaramouche stands there, awkward, cranky, and out of place as the only person he's aquatinted with in this party is getting absolutely inebriated.

At some point you don't know when or from where but you get your hands on another shot glass.

"You're not drinking that," Scaramouche states firmly.

"I am." You bring the cup to your lips but Scaramouche is faster, he snatches it from you and lets it fall to the ground.

"What gives!?"

"I'm not carrying your drunk ass home just because you drank away the capability to walk!" He shouts at you.

People are staring now. Is it because of the commotion or because Scaramouche was the last person anyone would expect to see at a party?

Scaramouche didn't like the staring or the attention. "I'm going fucking home." He says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past the crowd. "So are you."

Childe is left there, impressed. He takes out his cellphone.

To: Hu Tao

She's actually gonna pull it off. Wtf

From: Childe

You stumble and trip as Scaramouche drags you through the night. It was a miracle you could keep up. (It wasn't, he slowed his pace on purpose to match yours but it still wasn't slow enough for your drunken ass.)

"Scara, slow dooown~"

He ignores you until he feels you slip from his grasp, landing with a thud. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? Do you not have the smarts to walk!?" The boy scolds.

You decide to rest your knees a bit as you stay on the ground.

You hear him sigh sharply before crouching in front of you. "Get on."

"What? Like piggyback style?"

"Yes, damnit just get on." His face wasn't facing you and it was dark. Scaramouche was eternally grateful to the archons that you couldn't see the way his ears reddened.

He carries you like that until you're at the front door of your place. Scaramouche gently drops you off. Miraculously not panting. (He wasn't that athletic.)

"Can I trust you enough to tuck yourself in?" The boy asks, his tone was calm this time.

You nod in response.

"Alright." Scaramouche turns his heel to leave.

"Scaramouche." You call out.

He turns back to you, a little too quickly.

You try to take a step towards him except you "accidentally" trip on air and crash onto his chest. He barely moves an inch but his hands instinctively wrap around you. You can see the exact moment he scrunches his nose as well as the moment before that where his cheeks flush.

You'll blame this on alcohol later. You'll also blame alcohol for when you pulled his collar to place a quick peck on his lips.

This was the night Scaramouche nearly passed away.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scara paced around his room. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would you do that? His heart still raced as fast as it did when you kissed him.

He replayed the kiss over and over in his mind. Why? Just why? He mussed his hair in frustration as he plopped himself on the bed. If Scaramouche focused enough, he could still feel their lips on his, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Why had a drunken asshole decided to take his first kiss? Why was he reacting so weirdly?

And why did he just tuck tail speed walk away right after it happened without saying shit about it?

(Y/N) will probably tell their friends. They'll gossip and laugh at how the smartest person in their program was turned into a blushing, sputtering mess at the mere kiss of some drunk. Some overly confident, obnoxious, attractive drunk who's lips were soft as velvet.

The thought has him reeling. Rolling to the side, Scaramouche pulled a pillow over his head and groaned into it.

"I'm done guessing. What's wrong with you?" His inner monologue was broken by his cyan haired roommate.

"Nothing. Fuck off, Dottore." His words still muffled by the pillow.

"All your ceaseless brooding is keeping me distracted. I suggest you stop whining if you don't want me to give you more reasons to whine."

Silence.

That came out wrong, but it got Scaramouche to shut up so who would complain?

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was a crush. That's what Dottore had said to him. It made jackshit sense though. Why would he like you? You were just someone he perceived as a slacker. It's possibly because you were the only one who ever showed interest in him. He'll probably get over it when he finds someone else to adore, but he couldn't.

Scaramouche was once again working on the thesis, on your bed. He didn't bring up the kiss. Maybe you'd forgotten about it? A small part of him hoped that you didn't though.

Finally, he decides to speak up. "I demand compensation."

You shoot him a confused look.

"What? Don't you remember?" Scaramouche scowls.

"You kissed me..."

"Did I?" You feign innocence.

"Do not make me repeat myself." He orders. "That was my first kiss. I demand some kind of compensation." His cheeks were heating up as it became harder and harder for him to look you in the eyes.

"Oh?" You bring your index finger below your lips in an expression of mock thoughtfulness.

Scaramouche's scowl deepens at your mocking finger below your lips. "Do not toy with me," he warns. "You took something and I want fair repayment."

You chuckle, enjoying his ruffled feathers. " And what is a first kiss worth these days?" Leaning back on your hands, you look him over appraisingly. "I'm not convinced it was really your first. You seemed to know what you were doing..."

His cheeks redden as he scrunches his nose at your audacity. "You're insufferable."

"And yet you enjoyed kissing me." You smirk. "Perhaps you even want more?"

Scaramouche's embarrassment only grows at your bold insinuation. "You presume too much, fool," he bites back, though his resolve seems weakened.

You shrug. "Suit yourself. I was just about to offer a date."

He narrows his eyes at you, as if trying to ascertain if this is some sort of trick. "A date?"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi

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t0ast-ghost · 1 day

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S3 EP23 (All Our Yesterdays) this one sounds romantic, hoping for some good McCoy, Spock, and Kirk encounters

Getting on with it:

- Starting with McCoy, Spock, and Kirk beaming down to a planet

- I have a feeling that “people going” means dying

- Why does Spock take off his tricorder and hand it to McCoy?

- Oh wait a minute this is the magic library

- McCoy don’t mess with shit

- Oh shit Kirk got transported. And his boyfriends went after him!

- Kirk gets to immediately sword fight. Nice.

- “Leave me here, Spock.” “We go together or not at all.” I swear to- oh my goodness- what is wrong with them

- Ohhh so this is where they got the idea for that Odo and Quark episode

- “Unfortunately, he is the doctor, not I.” Spock taking care of McCoy omg omg omg

- Spock’s ears frosted at the tips, I love details <3

- Can’t believe I have to say this, DO NOT KISS HER SPOCK

- This is just a normal winter???

- Kirk getting condemned as a witch was not something I’d expect

- Deforest is defrosted (I am so sorry. I am so sorry. Oh my goodness I am sorry)

- McCoy is more worried about Jim 🥺

- How does she have less clothes on right now

- Spock has to choose between his boyfriends and is getting emotional

- Hi guys. What is this?

- Kirk not afraid to knock out a bitch

- “Then I’ll repeat it for you. Get this through your head. We can’t get back. That means we are trapped, here, in this planet’s past, just as we are. And we’ll stay here for the rest of our lives. Now do you understand?” Intense…

- OMG THIs is crazy

- “Now you listen to me you pointed eared Vulcan!” “I don’t like that. I don’t think I ever did, and now I’m sure.” “What’s happening to you, Spock?” “Nothing that shouldn’t have happened long ago.” I agree with this and think McCoy should back the fuck up

- Literally thought they were gonna kiss for a second

- Kirk not afriad to attack an old man

- MR. ATOS NOT AFRAID TO SHOOT KIRK

- “Do you know what it’s like to be alone? Really alone?” “Yes. I know what it is like.” “I believe you do.” Okay but this episode with the idea that Spock does not find companionship with anyone on the crew, even if he is close with Kirk and McCoy, he is still alone. This is sadness.

- Spock with that rizz (please delete this) (edit: nope)

- I love his smile so much oh lord

- HE TRIED TO SHOVE KIRK THROUGH THE PORTAL ON AN IKEA CART LMAO

- Kirk will NOT mess around when it’s his boyfriends

- “Are you trying to kill me, Spock? Is that what you really want?” I don’t care what’s happening right now just kiss holy shit

- Spock leaving her to go back with McCoy >:)

- Normal way to hold your first officer and CMO

- “But it did happen, Spock.” “Yes it happened, but that was 5000 years ago.” Okayyy.

‘McCoy and Spock arguing again. Fuck about it I guess, just shut the fuck up’ had that in my drafts for awhile but it fit plot of the episode

Masterpost

Episode written by Jean Lisette Aroeste

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #james t kirk #tos kirk

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norazingrid · 17 hours

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Testmic analysis because people don’t get their relationship, like, at all

I’ll go over these points below

why test tube and microphone aren’t actually toxic

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

their great potential and similarities with each other

conclusion

OKAY FIRST UP I WANT TO GET SOME THINGS CLEAR

I do NOT ship these two because they’re both “girls” and I am NOT picturing them as “what if they didn’t hate each other”

I've always considered their complex relationship and so called “hatred” towards each other, but I’ll explain more of it below

Test tube and microphone don’t actually have a “toxic” relationship

Now the word “toxic” can be a very strong word when describing a dynamic and I personally think that it is not the right one to use when describing their relationship because the both of them haven’t shown actual deep hatred towards each other. Sure, their dynamic isn’t exactly on “good terms” and test tube has made it pretty clear that she hates microphone, but has microphone actually shown any hatred back? No. She has always stayed quiet whenever test tube complains about her, which could be a sign on guilt. That means microphone knows the reason why she hurt test tube and understands why she’s upset about that. The lab and inventions were very dear to test tube, and microphone was convinced to steal from her and somehow “leak” her secret lab, but its pretty clear microphone regrets all of those things, and therefore she does not hate test tube.

And I would like to talk about how test tube would actually be able to forgive microphone at some point in the future, I’ll go over it in-

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

Test tube’s character is very interesting to me because it has changed a lot during the seasons, but I’ll try to summarise it as quickly as possible. In s3 she has been seen to be pretty average and calmed down from the events that happened in episode 14, which is understandable since it happened a long time ago, but this started to change when cabby and test tube started to develop their rivalry. I’m not gonna dig too deep into this but I want to focus on how test tube STILL forgave cabby after learning her true intentions at the end of the season and I believe this could be a sign of how test tube stars acknowledging that she could learn not to judge everyone right away if they did something wrong, and I believe test tube could be starting to feel guilty aswell, not only for how she treated microphone but basically all bad moments she has had in past situations with other contestants. May I also remind u guys that test tube is stated to be socially awkward, so I don’t want to blame her for the way she acted with other contestants, but there’s always room for improvement and I would be happy to see test tube prove herself more, just like she did after forgiving cabby and voting for her to win iii.

their great potential and similarities with each other

Now I personally think that their arc could be one of the most interesting ones in the series if just given some more chance, because these two are actually very similar if you think about it. They both have been somewhat been turned down by their teammates, which gives them more willingness to prove them wrong. Test tube has been seen to be too “into the role” especially in episode 14, which might also be because her best friend was literally kidnapped by aliens, but when fan was saved, she was still not satisfied, which destroyed her respect she had from others. And the reason why she wasn’t satisfied is because microphone got all the credit. But microphone didn’t mean to steal her reputation, since she was against hurting anyone in the first place. The plot-twists in their arc’s are so entertaining, it makes it even more fun to study. And if we get to see these two characters making up somewhere in the future, it would complete their arc perfectly. Happy ending yay

Conclusion

Microphone doesn’t hate test tube, but rather feels guilty for what she did to her.

Test tube has now proved us that she is willing to forgive someone if knowing all point of views.

Their arc hasn’t ended yet, and much more depth could come out in the future between these two characters.

thanx for reading please correct me if there were any mistakes in my takes 😁

end of analysis✌️

#inanimate insanity #testmic #ii testmic #Inanimate insanity analysis

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regressionschool · 2 hours

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Getting laid

In the dimly lit living room of the frat house, the smell of pizza and stale beer lingered in the air. The walls were adorned with posters of rock bands and scantily clad women, typical decor for a fraternity. Two frat boys, Jack and Mike, lounged on the worn-out couch, half-empty beer cans in their hands.

"You just need to get laid, dude," Jack said, a smirk on his face. He took a swig from his beer can, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, easier said than done. Did you see how Professor Collins looked at me today? Like I was some kind of bug she wanted to squash."

Jack laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the room. "That old hag? She’s just mad because no one wants to bang her. I mean, have you seen her? She’s got that permanent scowl."

"Yeah, true," Mike agreed, his voice dripping with disdain. "But did you catch a glimpse of Sarah in class? Man, those tits... they’re like... gigantic. I can’t even focus when she’s around."

Jack nodded, his eyes gleaming. "I know, right? It’s like she’s got a couple of melons under her shirt. She probably uses them to get what she wants. You know how girls are."

Mike snorted. "Yeah, always playing the game."

Jack leaned back, his gaze turning thoughtful. "You know, we could always mess with her a bit. She needs to be taken down a peg or two."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Jack’s smirk widened. "You’ll see. Just follow my lead."

As the two boys plotted, they didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway, a small, discreet smile playing on her lips. Professor Collins had overheard their entire conversation, and she had plans of her own.

A few evenings later, the frat house was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles. Jack and Mike moved through the crowded rooms with a sense of purpose. Their mission was clear: get laid. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cologne and sweat, mingling with the ever-present scent of pizza and beer.

Jack nudged Mike, pointing to a group of girls by the makeshift bar. "Target acquired," he muttered, a sly grin on his face.

The two boys sauntered over, their swagger exaggerated by the alcohol coursing through their veins. "Hey ladies," Jack said, leaning against the counter with what he thought was a charming smile. "You girls look like you could use some company."

One of the girls, a petite brunette, rolled her eyes. "We’re fine, thanks."

Undeterred, Mike leaned in closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to have a good time. How about a dance?"

The girls exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe later," one of them said dismissively, turning her back to the boys.

Jack scowled, but before he could say anything more, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Sarah, the girl with the 'gigantic tits' they had ogled in class, smiling at him.

"Hey, Jack. Hey, Mike," Sarah said, her tone warm and inviting. "Enjoying the party?"

Jack’s eyes lit up. "Sarah! Yeah, it’s great. How about you?"

"I’m having a good time," she replied, her smile widening. "In fact, my roommates and I are throwing an after-party at our place. You guys should come."

Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. "Seriously? We’d love to."

Sarah laughed, a sweet, melodic sound. "Great! Let’s get a taxi."

The boys followed her outside, practically tripping over themselves in their eagerness. They piled into a taxi, squeezing in beside Sarah, who gave the driver her address.

As the taxi sped through the city streets, Jack and Mike exchanged triumphant glances. This was their chance. They were sure of it.