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ronearoundblindly · 10 months ago

Note

ok im feeling the kiss list sm!! im feeling angsty... so steve x reader with #4 or #26?? love u <3333

#4 (a kiss where it hurts) was double requested, so this is #26-- *this* one isn't angsty although technically could be considered a wee tinybit smidgenly dark if you squint real hard. Sorry this is not even remotely edited and all over the place and just *sighs* yeah okay enjoy!

Steve Rogers x reader: a kiss as an apology

I'm So, So...Sorry, a tale for Valentine's 2024

Summary: Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

Warnings: *screams and bites pillow* WHY. WHY???? omg, this just...ack...smut. Nomad Steve being needy and touch-starved just ruined my life. 😭😭😭 DUB-CON adjacent b/c Steve loses control. Please send him help. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There's plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist, but this ficlet is for adults! WC 2022

To look at him, you’d think this dude can fuck, but it turns out that the absolutely huge man checking into your family’s small rural motel doesn’t know the first thing about flirting, much less sex.

You have no idea what ‘Grant’ and his friend ‘Tom’ were really whispering about over the breakfast table that one morning weeks ago, but later that night Grant came by the office, restless and unable to sleep.

He just talked to you. It was all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you liked on your days off. Even that seemed a struggle for him—thinking up casual questions. He could look you in the eye up until he had to respond, and he didn’t give many answers in return.

You laughed--you had to—when Grant asked if he could walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because it’s a house a whopping fifty meters down the way from strip of rooms.

“I could walk,” he shrugs. “I’ll probably do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Twenty minutes later, the craziest thing happened.

An elk walked right in front of you on the path, and you jumped back, slamming into the wall of muscle the was your escort. You were both perfectly still as it moved.

Then that thing squawked and stamped huge hoofs. You threw your weight backward and spun to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you were so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly he tried to hold you still.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hissed through his teeth for you to stop should have been your hint, but instead you clung to him harder, asking if the animal was gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle closer “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, then, “let’s get you home.”

‘Grant’ is now properly called ‘Steve’ in private.

It took a while for him to trust you. He and ‘Tom’—whose real name you still don’t know—have been back and forth to the motel several times. You don’t talk about other guests. You don’t gossip. You don’t pry because that is just the nature of your business.

Steve’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely. The first time he returned with the full beard, you couldn’t help yourself and brushed your fingers through it on your way back from handing him his key over the counter. The way he looked at you…devastating.

Tom made his own, very knowing face, and winked.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Steve cleared his throat harshly and blushed, accidentally leaving a small bag on the ground when he rushed to the door.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Steve blurted when he found you standing there to give it back.

You just smiled and said Tom wasn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you muttered.

That’s how this started.

A tentative embrace where only the top of his chest touched you led to a lovely full-body hug, and then he held you a touch longer, so your hand went to his hair and…

Steve whined and crashed you two against the wall outside his room, righting himself almost immediately, excusing the behavior, and rushing back inside. You couldn’t let that stand though. You stopped the door before it closed.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can be here, if you want, to hold.”

Steve’s eyes were one of the only things you could see in the dark room.

You took a chance and reached out to scratch at his bearded cheek again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me, Stevie.”

So he melted into your hand, eye’s rolling as if drunk on the feeling, and you stepped in to hug him.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to tell him ‘it’s okay,’ but at least Steve doesn’t stop everything to apologize each time. Convincing him not to be self-conscious of how his body reacts to touch took a while.

He humped your leg like a puppy while you played with his hair. He came in his pants while you gave him a back rub. He cried when you kissed over his arms and chest.

You’ve told him it’s all okay.

He tries so hard not to smile when he checks back in, but he waits until your shift ends to have you fall asleep in his arms.

You’ve told him it’s okay to fall asleep in your arms, too.

Genuinely, the best part of the whole arrangement is that he will let you do anything to him. He’s fine being petted and fawned over, teased for being more ripped than jeans in the ‘90s—except for he didn’t understand that joke, sadly,—and it’s okay because you get it. He doesn’t tell you any personal information. He barely told you his name. He’s probably figured out that you aren’t an idiot and have put two-and-two together, but he keeps quiet, too.

He lets you keep touching him because he enjoys it.

Aside from the average hug and a simple spooning hold, Steve only ever touches you when you put his hand somewhere. (Right, except for the leg humping, but that was adorable so who cares! He wasn’t even doing that to touch you; poor thing needed friction, is all.) Anyway, since he’s been so excited about everything you’ve wanted to do to him, you push your luck.

The recent days have been all about Steve completely naked and at your mercy, which is, of course, still focused on making him feel good, but tonight is the very first night you are also naked. It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him, maximum skin-to-skin contact—and it is.

He’s warm and stretched out like a cat in the sun beneath you, smiling, resting his eyes as dusk takes over the sky. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat but don’t notice until he’s gently shaking you awake.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare.”

Steve’s voice is husky. His grip on your arm is deliberately stationary until you shift to slide off of him.

His hand flies down to the back of your knee but not before you feel the hard length of his erection move from its perch at your ass to press flush on the back of your thigh.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

You’re surprised he’s so shy after all you’ve been through for this. How can he doubt?

You stretch up to his face, straddling his abs for stability. “Stevie,” you say with soft fingers carding through his long hair, “you know it really is okay. You know that.”

He hums, his cock jumping against your ass while he squeezes your knee. He exhales shakily when you drag the back of your nails down his arms and sit up. Too dark to see, all you can go by is what you hear and feel.

“As long as you’re okay—“ you press into his pecs to lift yourself over his hips “and this is okay for you, right?”

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how Steve groans when you settle your folds along the length of him. He clenches his ass so hard, it lifts you and sends a surge of heat to your core.

There’s a shuffling noise by his head.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Are you alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes.” He clenches again, and your arousal finally slicks his hot skin beneath you.

You keep your hands braced on his chest as you start to move, tiny pulses at first, and the poor thing is too sensitive.

He’s a panting mess by the time your slick is spread over him.

“No,” he whines, and you stop, thinking it’s too far to push him. “Too soon.”

“Shh, it’s okay to come. Remember, Stevie? That’s good. We can stop but—“

His other hand clamps onto the meat of your thigh. “Don’t. Don’t stop. I just…”

“Then we’ll do this again. Don’t worry,” you coo, rolling your hips from his root to tip.

He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan. He only lasts a few more thorough pumps. The spurts of cum graze your clit as he finishes on his stomach, shot as far as your wrists still above his chest, and for the first time with Steve you’re disappointed you can’t immediately keep going. You were getting very close, too, very fast.

It pains you to peel your sticky pussy off of him to get tissues, but you praise him the whole way.

“Please,” he rasps, taking hold of your arm as the last is wiped up, “more?” He’s breathless. “I can do better.”

You smile in the dark, excited for the possibility but afraid to push him. “Stevie, you did great. Rest for—“

“No, I—I want…I mean, can I touch you this time?”

Oh.

“Sure,” you gulp, “that’d be nice.” If by ‘nice’ you mean ‘I’ve just creamed myself at a single question’ then yes, very nice.

He wants you in the same position straddling him, but that’s so he can spread his hands and run his fingertips over the most of you. He’s softened as he starts exploring you, but his lingering fascination with your breasts makes you wetter and wetter. He likes how you purr and gasp as he pinches and kneads. He likes to pull at your thighs until he gets handfuls of your ass.

He gets hard again off of your moans and tucks his cock between you while you instinctively ride him. It’s still only him deliciously fucking your folds until the repeated swipe of his head over your clit tips you to the edge, and your nails dig into his skin to draw down with the coil in your belly.

The angle catches him at your entrance, a shallow thrust that has you crying out lewdly, and suddenly, you’re on your back, Steve’s huge body pinning you to the mattress, one elbow propping himself by your chest, his other hand brutally spreading your ass to accommodate him.

You’re overwhelmed by the power he exerts over you. He suckles and nips at your breasts, cock so deep it pushes your insides to make way, and what starts as an average orgasm just wipes you out in a cascade of sharp pleasure.

Your hand grip blindly at his hair and back, choking on screams of profanities he wouldn’t appreciate, and he wraps his arms under you, bending you in an arch, chest to chest, while his hot breath rolls over your sweat-cooled throat.

You feel his lips open wide, but Steve goes silent until spent.

Finally, his last slow pistons calmed in halted combustion, he nuzzles his head to the crook of your neck.

Your fingers are frozen where buried in his hair.

In the dim moonlight you can see his ass twitch, jolting in over-stimulation while he gently pulls out of you. He props himself up, posture small and timid for such broad shoulders.

He hovers above you while you try to read each other’s expressions.

“I…I…” he starts quietly, looking over and over your features.

His chin ticks closer, hesitates, and then descends so his lips can capture yours. It’s so quick and chaste, like any other first kiss, but all out of order.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words cracking in his guilt. “I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop.”

You pull him down to you, properly melding your mouth to his, beginning your next lesson already, then let him come up for air.

“It’s okay, Stevie. You can still walk me home.”

A/N: *drops bath bomb to froth in the pool of Tumblr* *runs away* Don't ask me wtf just happened because I don't know. It just consumed my whole day.

[psst. This became a whole series. 'Hideout' Masterlist]

Bucky Barnes and a kiss as encouragement ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: I'm also adding the people who showed interest in this concept earlier. You will not be tagged beyond this unless you ask! @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @bstorn @rogersbarber @cevansbaby-dove @nowandajenn @jesevans @justherebecausesafarisucks @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

#steve rogers fanfiction #250+#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #soft!steve rogers #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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janeyseymour · 9 months ago

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hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes.

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making.

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

“The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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xaharadesert · 1 year ago

Text

10 of my Favourite Horror (Adjacent) Movies and Why You Should Watch Them

(Not in any particular order or subgenre. TW are super vague, spoiler-free, and from my memory, but I would recommend looking up more specific ones before watching any of these if you are easily triggered. Not all triggers are listed because these are horror movies, so stuff like death and murder is to be expected.)

Let me know if y’all want a part 2, because I’ve got about 7 more! (It could have been one post if Tumblr didn’t limit my images to 10)

1. Parasite

A struggling lower class family slowly integrates itself into the household of a rich family without their knowledge.

Most of you have already seen this one, or been told to watch it. I am no different: this movie is popular for a very good reason. Divided into 3 clear acts, starting with comedy, and making its way through drama into horror. Also, great commentary on classism, very psychological at times and makes you wonder who you should really be rooting for.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 3/10

Disturbing: 5/10

Psychological: 6/10

Actual genre: Dark comedy thriller

2. The House That Jack Built

Serial killer Jack recounts some of his most influential murders.

A bit infamous and controversial for being very messed up, but still really good. Highly psychological, with a lot of narration and use of metaphor. Especially fun if you have any knowledge of Dante’s Inferno. Definitely not one to watch if you want a protagonist to root for.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 6/10

Disturbing: 10/10

Psychological: 8/10

Actual Genre: psychological horror art

TW: sexism, corpse mutilation

3. Creep (1&2)

A man is hired to help film messages from a dying man to his son.

I’m usually not a fan of found-footage, but there’s something special about Creep. On top of that, this is one of the few movies where I can confidently say I like the sequel more, which is shocking because the first one was amazing. Very funny and off-beat, with a sense of foreboding underlying the whole thing.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 1/10

Disturbing: 3/10

Psychological: 4/10

Actual genre: found footage psychological horror

Edit: now has a TV show! Haven’t watched it yet, but saw some clips and it looks great! Follows the same formula as the movies :)

4. Mother!

A woman and her poet husband live quietly in a secluded house away from society.

Very metaphorical and highly feminist; definitely not a movie that everyone appreciates, but if you enjoy analysis or just being really weirded out then this is a good for you. Starts slow and snowballs toward the horrific climax.

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 7/10

Disturbing: 7/10

Psychological: 8/10

Actual genre: psychological horror

TW: cannibalism

5. Perfect Blue

Mima is a young pop star looking to join the acting industry.

Brutally realistic to the point where I had to stop watching and take a walk at one point. Very much “female rage” and a protagonist that will live in your head rent free for the next 6 years (or maybe that’s just me). Very triggering in a lot of ways, but worth it if you’re not sensitive to the topics it covers.

Scary: 5/10

Gore: 4/10 (animated)

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 10/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: depersonalization/derealization, nudity, stalking, rape scene (she is acting in a tv show but it is still the most uncomfortable scene of the movie), inaccurate portrayal of DID

6. Midsommar

A couple and their friends go on a vacation to their friend’s remote hometown for a Midsommar festival.

Probably the best-known out of this list, and again for a good reason. 90% of the film takes place in broad daylight, and the visuals are absolutely gorgeous. Once again will bring up the question of who is in the right and who is in the wrong (I have the answer to this question and I will fight you in dms if you’d like).

Scary: 3/10

Gore: 8/10

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 7/10

Actual genre: folk horror

TW: long and graphic sex scene, nudity, close up and graphic gore, cult stuff, suicide

7. The Call

A woman moves back to her childhood home and receives a call from the woman who lived there 30 years prior.

I got really into modern Asian horror films a few months ago and this is one of my favourites. The dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist is one of my favourites, and finishing this movie felt like finishing a 3 season TV show because of how well paced it was. Really hoping there will be a sequel with the same concept, even if it is not likely.

Scary: 6/10

Gore: 3/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 6/10

Actual genre: psychological thriller

TW: abuse

8. Incantation

A cursed woman takes back custody of her young daughter and does everything she can to keep away the effects of her curse.

This one was popular on TikTok for a while, and for good reason. Another found footage in a more traditional sense, and a bit confusing at times, but overall a really solid scary story. Very cool effects as well.

Scary: 6/10

Gore: 4/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 5/10

Actual genre: supernatural horror

TW: derealization

9. Pearl

A farm girl dreams about leaving home and living as a show girl.

Mia Goth is a national treasure, but we all knew that already. I watched this one before X (the actual first movie) because I didn’t know they were connected, but I much preferred this one. The Wizard of Oz vibes combined with Pearl’s unsettling behaviour made is a really creep film to watch.

Scary: 4/10

Gore: 4/10

Disturbing: 6/10

Psychological: 5/10

Actual genre: horror

TW: porn

10. The Platform

A man is stuck in a prison where a platform of food is lowered through the layers of cells for inmates to eat as they please.

I’m a sucker for psychological movies that take place in a very limited space. If you’ve ever played and enjoyed the game Presentable Liberty then I’m gonna go ahead and say you’ll like this too. Not every question is answered, but the film is more about the human condition than the prison they inhabit, so it’s not too much of a problem.

Scary: 2/10

Gore: 9/10

Disturbing: 8/10

Psychological: 9/10

Actual genre: social science fiction horror

TW: cannibalism, suicide

#parasite #the house that Jack built #creep #mother!#perfect blue #midsommar #the call #incantation #Pearl #the platform #horror movies #horror movie recommendations #psychological horror

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unhappy-last-resort · 7 months ago

Text

Counting Minutes (Yandere Roland x GN Reader)

Warnings: Implied stalking, unstable grip on reality, bombing threat, abandonment issues, non consensual touching (basically a strip search, not in a sexy way)

A/N: Finally working through my drafts.

Status: edited

Where. The fuck. Are you?

Roland glowered at the digital clock on the wall the numbers 7:30 glowing into the dim room. Usually you'd have been here by now, tactical terminal in one hand and coffee in the other, but you're late.

Everything was already a drag when you weren't around to tease or observe, even more so since he had to sneak onto Babylonia and absolutely can't be found out so he's forced to stay within a more abandoned area of Babylonia.

He already fears that he may have alerted Lee on accident when he was exiting your room earlier this morning. What the hell was that bastard doing outside your room so early anyway? Did Lee also have a habit of watching his Commandant sleep, or was he suspicious of his presence? Roland heaved a sigh, honestly, you should be honored by his presence here, he wouldn't endure Babylonia and their lackeys just for anyone. The only thing that makes all his efforts worth it is you. Being able to hear you, touch you, watch you, see you, being able to confirm that you're real. That he's not lost himself to an insanity so intense he's hallucinating everything, that a camera crew won't jump out somewhere.

"Roland, Roland, Roland...how naive you are." Roland tenses at the familiar voice. Of all things, he doesn't want to have this talk now.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear Hermano?" Roland responds with a languidness that they all know is merely performative as he slowly leans onto the wall behind him and casts a side glance at the door. Just come here already, what's taking you so long? Did you sleep late? Are you in a meeting? Are you...

Hermano bursts into a small fit of laughter. The sound irritates the edges of his M.I.N.D. "Of course they'd sell you out! Why wouldn't they? You're enemies after all, they were always going to abandon you in the end."

Roland's fists clench, anger coming over him so strongly it's almost shocking to him. No, no, no, no! You can't, you wouldn't! You would never do such a thing! You were too loyal to those morals of yours to back stab him like this, but... if you did, would it truly be such a surprise? Would it be that shocking if you did? After all, capturing him would give you a great amount of fame and power in Babylonia. Slowly, his hand reaches down to his coat pocket, the familiar square shape of that small remote in his palm as the room starts to feel almost suffocating.

Roland stills suddenly and he smiles, a chilling clarity surging through his M.I.N.D. like a tidal wave clearing away the filth. Well, then...if you're going to betray him like this, he slowly brings the remote out of his pocket and holds it to his face as his smile widens. Then no one will be opposed to him setting off the bomb he put in Babylonia's engine systems, no? To be fair, he has warned you a number of times to not betray him. Whether you understood them or not, well, that's not his problem now is it?

His thumb brushes over the detonation button in contemplation. Yes, he may as well before he gets caught and used for Babylonia's-

Click.

His breath hitches and his eyes immediately stare at the door, pointedly ignoring Hermano's scoff. Could it be that you've finally returned to him? His mechanical heart thrums at the thought, his grip on the remote becoming shaky and weak as seconds turn into hours. Would the door open to you, or an army? Will you betray him like everyone else, or will you stay? He hated to admit it, but he was desperate that it was the latter, he was desperate for something- someone that wouldn't abandon him and leave him floundering in an endless sea of regrets.

If fate was listening, grant him this one thing and let it please be you, please be you, please be-

The door opens to you, with your tactical terminal in one hand and fresh coffee in the other, just like how you look every morning, you're too busy studying your terminal to notice how your entrance has shifted every star in the universe back to their place and made everything right again. You're here, you're here at last in this little side room you've made your temporary office, you're here with him where you belong and you're real...you're real, right?

His body starts moving before he can stop himself, his breath lodged in his throat. He has to know, he has to confirm you are what you say you are and not just a cheap copy made by some invisible puppeteer. He yanks the terminal out of your hand, knocks your coffee away and drags you to him, terminal clattering to the floor and the mug shattering just after it, spreading coffee and ceramic everywhere as you voice your confusion. He wraps his arms around you tightly, too tightly, his hands moving all over your body, needing to confirm that you are made of flesh and bone as you claim. He slips his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your ribs, pushing just enough at the bone to feel it give slightly as it should, he buries his face in your hair and neck to make sure you smell the same way you should, he pries your mouth open to shove his fingers inside and thoroughly check your mouth for anything that might feel synthetic or mechanical, he shoves you against a wall so he can put his ear against your chest to count your heart beats, all these checks and more he conducts not even so much as responding to your cries for him to stop, opting to clamp a hand over your mouth when you become noisy enough to distract him.

After an hour of invasive and painful poking, he finally feels certain that you're human and real, with a sigh he lets you go and relaxes. Roland stares at you for a moment, observing your disheveled appearance, emotion absent from his face. Your commandant attire has been thoroughly picked apart. Your navy blue turtleneck is wrinkled and pulled unnaturally in several directions, the beige coat having been discarded long ago, your buckle is probably somewhere on the floor behind him, the fly of your pants hanging open. If he wasn't so upset with you he'd help put you together again. "Don't be late like this again." He mutters coldly before turning to stand at his usual spot beside your makeshift desk, leaving your dumbfounded and agitated expression behind.

For a few seconds, there's silence. The anger radiating from you is palpable in the air. "What the fuck are you talking about? Late? It's 6 AM? If anything I'm late because of you and your freakish strip search." Roland freezes in his place. Six? But that would mean when you arrived it was five.

Seeing his confusion you grumble and walk up to him, shoving your watch in his face with a look of disdain. The LED numbers stare back at him coldly.

6:04 AM.

Your expression remains unimpressed at his stunned countenance. Dropping your wrist you glance at the clock on the wall. "The clock in here is broken, that's why I started wearing my watch again."

You were indeed, not late. For the first time in a very long while, Roland feels humiliated. He even almost apologizes to you before stopping himself. If a simple misunderstanding is enough to break him, then he might as well give you another warning. A wide grin quickly replaces whatever apology he was going to say before.

"Well then, little rabbit of mine," Roland leans down towards you, his tone was taunting but a glance at his eyes would tell you the true weight of his words. "You'd better make sure you don't keep the wolf waiting for too long. Who knows what might happen if you leave a hungry wolf unattended."

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1-800-call-ria · 1 year ago

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chenle 👏 is 👏 a 👏 thigh 👏 guy 👏

i know he loves thick thighs, he fucking go crazy when he was eating you out and you close your thigh when youre cumming, crushing his big ass head with that plump soft big thighs. he doesnt event try to hide it, hes always touching it, caressing it, biting it, shittttt. even when you guys are watching movies together with ur friend over at his apartment, he'd sit on the floor between your legs hanging from the couch, just so he can lay his head to the side on top of your plushy thighs. THIS MAS LOVES THIGHS

Chenle LOVES THIGHS

yes. yes. absolutely yes. EVERY SINGLE TIME TOO. sorry this is so short :(

warning: smut, oral (f) , not edited 😭

You’ve always known Chenle had a thing for your thighs. He would touch and caress them during car rides, pinch them whenever he was just walking by and even just staring whenever your wore anything that remotely showed them off. It was a matter of time before you would learn the true extent of this love though.

Every so often your friends and his friends gather around to have a movie night. It’s usually once every few months because if everyone’s packed schedules but every time it happens it’s always so fun. You all vote on the top two movies that what to be watched and you sit, eat snacks and just vibe.

It just so happened that this time it was at his house. His house always had the best food, TV and especially best seating.

He always, and I mean always sits at your feet. Chenle places himself right between your legs and if your legs ever feel like they’re falling asleep, he’ll move them. Opting to put them over his shoulders so he can move even further between your legs.

If you’re wearing shorts he’ll definitely turn his head every so often to nip and suck at your thighs. If you’re wearing pants he’ll go ahead and just lay his head back even further into you. Whenever you jokingly squeeze your legs together, he just laughs along bringing his hand to rub up and down your leg (even pinching causing you to purposefully have you close your legs around his head).

Remember this is a movie night. Whenever everyone has fallen asleep he goes ahead and takes you to his (your) room.

He’s been hard ever since you first let him sit down between your legs, now he wants to suffocate between your thighs.

Maybe even let you sit on his face, you know 😉 Burry him in all the glory he calls your thighs.

“Don’t worry pretty baby, I’ll take care of you…”

Now the problem is making sure you stay quiet enough while he eats you out like a starved man.

Silence has never been your strong suit, now has it?

“Shhh, you wouldn’t want our friends to hear you, now would you? But I bet you’d like that.”

He’s licking and nibbling softly, even being very deliberate in where he’s placing his tongue and nose. Chenle loves all this is you…but especially your thighs :)

#1-800-call-ria #nct #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #zhong chenle smut #chenle smut #chenle imagines #chenle blurbs #zhong chenle x reader #chenle x reader

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midgardian-witch · 1 year ago

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casings by ethel cain has so much nathan angst potential😵‍💫

I absolutely agree, anon!

I did want to write a little smth inspired by that. Not sure I managed to get the angst across as much as I would have liked but at this point I've been working too long at this and if I keep editing it will only get worse 😅

(Not) Good Enough

relationships: Nathan Bateman/Reader, Nathan Bateman/his fuckbots

AO3

"F-fuck. You're so tight. You’re fucking milking me."

This was a terrible idea from the start. You should have never opened those live feeds.

Nathan always went to bed extremely late, usually stuck working on the latest update for something BlueBook related or something for his latest personal project. Meanwhile you were lying in bed, unable to sleep. So you crawled over to Nathan's desk, because of course that workaholic would keep a desk in his bedroom, and logged into his computer.

And then you opened the live feeds.

Knowing it is one thing but seeing it with your own eyes? That hurt more than a dagger through the heart.

While you were lying in bed waiting for Nathan to join you, he was busy bending his latest android in two and ramming his dick into her synthetic pussy.

The sight would have been hot at some point, earlier into or even before your relationship. Now it just reminds you that you're not enough, never enough.

You need a certain type of confidence when you're in a relationship with Nathan Bateman. It's not easy when the man you love is building androids in his basement that look like either supermodels or pornstars. And then fucks them into oblivion for their test run.

(Ok, not his basement. His remote research facility in the middle of nowhere that he built himself and in which you both live in. Small difference.)

And it’s a certain type of cruelty when the man you love tells you not to worry, that he loves you, that you are all he needs and wants, and then he leaves to fuck his android with bigger boobs, a bigger ass and clearer skin a few rooms down.

You had discussed it beforehand, of course. Him fucking his androids was no secret even before you got together.

"They aren't human, more like a sex toy really," or so was his reasoning.

You knew what you were getting into. But it chips away at you slowly nonetheless. And while you know that you shouldn't compare yourself to the perfect little robots Nathan builds you can't stop yourself.

It's exhausting having to fight your own thoughts.

You've tried your best to be a good partner, to support him in any way you can, to please him with everything you have. You stopped counting the times you've snuck under his desk to suck his cock, to keep it warm for him while he works. Of course an android doesn't walk away from that with aching knees and a hurting jaw. No, they are perfect. And you're not.

You've tried to talk to Nathan about your growing fears, your doubts and anxiety. In his Nathan-ness he tries his best to reassure you:

"Do you really think I would keep you around if I didn't need or want you here?"

Nathan Bateman; truly a man of tact, empathy and emotional intelligence. You used to enjoy the snarky banter with him, to tease him until he finally showed even an ounce of emotion, of affection. Now it's just another thing that leaves you drained and unsatisfied.

With the perfectly pitched moans of his newly developed fuckbot as your background music you can feel yourself go numb. You're trapped, the sounds and sights of Nathan pounding into this nameless female figure looping over and over again.

With a start you wake up from your nightmare. You haven't heard from Nathan at all since you left. Instead your own mind doesn't let you rest even if the man you used to love doesn't care about you enough to look for you.

You still mourn your relationship, or at least how your relationship could have been. If you would have been more understanding, if he would have listened more. The what ifs are no comfort as you cry yourself to sleep at night.

At this point you're sure there is something wrong with you, to cry over a man like Nathan. But at least he can't see you like this. And he will never know the heartache he caused.

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman/reader #ask answered #ex machina #fran-writes #ethel cain anon

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madelinecodes · 11 months ago

Text

✿ a quick announcement ✿

Hi everyone.

I've been made aware of some drama happening within the RPC revolving around coders, and after taking some time to see all sides of the matter I've decided to speak out. My name was mentioned among a list of coders who have unfair TOS and I'd like to clear a few things up. (To those who are unaware, some people in the RPC feel coders are being unfair by not wanting buyers to frankenstein their skins.)

While I mention not to edit my skin beyond recognition, this seems to mean different things to different people. I put hours and hours into my skins to make sure they run smoothly, the codes are organized for buyers, and they include anything an admin could want (templates, isotope member list that i purchased, fonts that i purchased, coded webpages, bb codes, etc.) This can take me months, and usually does. So when I say not to edit the skin beyond recognition, I do not mean you cannot edit my codes. Obviously, I want buyers to take my skin and make it their own so each one is unique! I clearly state in my TOS that editing is absolutely okay. I have no problem with that. You can even take my templates and use them on a different skin as long as you credit me.

Where I have a problem is someone taking my skin, ripping it apart, and using my codes without credit or to the point where it doesn't even remotely look like the skin I sold and worked hours on (i.e. using my skin as a base). Someone can change the post row, member list, or some other part of the skin as long as it still looks like the skin that was bought and my credit stays intact. Totally cool. And this has nothing to do with aesthetic, my reputation, or anything along those lines. I don't care about that since people are buying my skin with their own money and acquiring it as their own. This is a moral situation. It's just respectful. My skins should not be bought with the intention of ripping the entire thing apart just to use one single part of it in a different skin. Would you buy a piece of art from an artist with the intention of painting over almost all of it to create a new piece? If this is what you want to do then create your own skin. I am happy to provide the resources that my skin has from other coders (whom provided them free in the past), as well as answer any questions that you may have!

I never want to do anyone wrong and always try and be fair. This is my view on the matter and if anyone disagrees, they do not have to buy from me. That's totally okay. That being said, if you're ever unsure of something in my TOS, or have questions... just reach out to me! I am happy to chat about this and any issues people have with me or my policies. There is no need for hostility and gossip in the RPC, we're a community that should uplift and support one another.

My next skin that is set to release very soon will most likely be my last. Everyone I have met and worked with has been so kind and respectful. I truly have enjoyed coding for y'all and hope it's brought joy at least to some.

Thank you. <3

-Madeline

#jcink #jcink codes

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kaija-rayne-author · 1 year ago

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Finished the main game with my qunari. (Again, 3rd time, this series has me so hard.) I'm very ready for this run to be done.

The 'make Solas hate me' thing wasn't even remotely easy for me. Though, I gotta admit antagonizing him was fun for a while. 😅 I'm only playing Trespasser with this character, (not the other DLCs) because I'm having painful dysphoria issues with the curvier female qunari form.

There's a reason I usually play male elves. Skinny little twinks are pretty androgynous and don't bother my dysphoria so much. Even female elves don't bother me. They're all pretty androgynous. If only I were.

Plus pointed ears. My entire family has slightly pointed ears so it's just fun.

I actually only gave Sera a Romance chance because of a tumblr post I saw. I'm glad I did. It was the hardest Romance of all for me, but it’s actually really sweet and happy. Good brain chemicals.

As soon as I finish Trespasser to get angry Solas end lines, I'm going to take another run at modding Frostbite. (Seeing bitchy Solas in game was way more powerful for me than a YouTube watch would be.)

I've been modding games since modding became a thing, so it wasn't fun to realize how bloody difficult Frostbite is to mod.

But because I really want to play DA:I with some of the mods, and because DA:DW is built on Frostbite too, I gotta figure it out. It was mostly an ADHD patience/frustration thing, I think. I expected reasonable levels of difficulty in modding Frostbite and it is an absolute monster.

I'm actually tempted to play the whole series again since I'm almost done with reading the books and comics. They added so much depth to the games and characters that I'm curious about how it'll change my perception of them.

And I've heard there's art and references to 'The Dread Wolf' in all games. Curiousity absolutely gets me into trouble, frequently. 😅

It's how I ended up on the Solavellan Hell train. I knew who Solas was 'cause I'd already played DA:I, but I still did a Solavellan playthrough out of curiousity.

Being a writer/editor/literary analyst, I didn't truly think that Weekes would snag me, much less snag me so fucking hard!

So, yeah. A day or two, depending on how much time I have to game, to finish Trespasser, and then I'll be trying again to mod this beast of a game engine.

Once you're an insider in publishing, it becomes more and more difficult throughout the years for stories to capture you. I know all the tropes and can see where things are going so easily because I've been working professionally in this field for close to a decade.

Even with that, Weekes grabbed me by the heart then proceeded to rip my heart out. (He did it in Masked Empire too, great book.) Gotta love star crossed lovers. It's one of my very favourite tropes and I'm actually grateful that Weekes reached me. So little does anymore. And to think I got into this field after leaving STEM because I love to read 🤣, oh... sweet summer child.

Once I get it successfully modded, I'll decide on a full series replay (it would give me more to write about) or not.

Right now, I'm so stressed out by my job search that I'm clinging to DA as my only real stress relief. Usually special interests aren't this chronologically long lasting for me. I tend to cycle through them more quickly.

But with the job search being what it is, and my stress levels being through the roof, I'm just grateful this one hasn't abandoned me yet.

You really wouldn't think finding a decent job (something I'm good at, salary with good benefits, ideally remote because I'm more productive from my home office) would be so difficult, would you?

Anyway, enough of me jawing about DA for now. I need to make an online portfolio for my graphic design stuff. I've been doing it as long as I've been doing editing & literary critique (24 years), and writing for 33 years, but having an online portfolio hasn't ever been a priority because my clients have always found me by word of mouth.

Sigh. I'd rather be doing many other things. I just want a job I can be good at that I'm paid a living wage for that actually uses my skills and maybe pushes me a little to increase my abilities. One that doesn't require my autistic/ADHD ass to do social things because that's probably around the 7th layer of hell for me. Why is that so hard to find?

#dragon age series #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solavellan #solavellan hell #dragon age confessions

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bakgos · 2 years ago

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7, 12 and 35!

@mightypeace. | SHIPPING QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN - SFW EDITION! | accepting.

7 : what do you think about OC x canon ships? would you play any?

honestly i’ve had a number of oc x canon ships in the past that i absolutely love & will continue to support and endorse! sometimes canons just dont fit with other canons in their same series for whatever reason, or they even work better with an oc altogether & frankly, why diminish the possibilities? i mean honestly, like, i totally have had my share of cringe stories when it comes to oc x canon ships but that’s never stopped me from loving the concept and enjoying the ones i’ve been able to establish so im all for them! as long as there’s chemistry and consent ofc <3

12 : do you ship any rarepair?

i sure do lmao , sometimes i like my rarepairs more than the popular ships lmao and those ships are : serobaku, shinbaku, bakucamie, bakumomo , and bakuiida if you can believe it LOL

35 : how would your muse react to someone flirting with them?

contrary to popular belief, bakugo does recognize when someone’s coming on to him if they’re direct enough or obvious enough about it. his usual reaction is to shrug them off with an insult or a warning to get out of his face with that shit , but if they persist & pester him about it , that’s when he’ll start getting angry & have a bigger reaction out of it. bakugo really has no initial interest in romance & the only thing on his mind is becoming the number one hero in the nation , & probably the world. his focuses are on his studies ( because a dumb hero is a dead hero ) , his training, and his hero work. even though the other person would more than likely have to initiate the confession and inclination towards intimacy, there’s no way to tell if bakugo will reciprocate or feel anything back unless he tells you directly, because he doesn’t play games. if he does feel anything remotely close to romance , he generally tends to hide those feelings & swallow them down because a shift of focus will only irritate him and distract him from what he thinks is truly important. so, if you’re thinking of flirting with bakugo and pursuing something romantic with him, prepare for a bit of a rollercoaster, if he even likes you back.

#mightypeace #thank u for sending! hes a wild card for sure LOL #☠️ 💥 ❛ WHEN I SPEAK AIN’T WASTING TIME / MY TALK AIN’T CHEAP!#☠️ 💥 ❛ SOAK UP THE RAG / LIGHT UP THE MATCH!#☠️ 💥 ❛ NUMBER 1 KATSUKI BAKUGOU APOLOGIST / OOC!

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lusilly · 8 years ago

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the ship we sail

Happy Nabil Day! I was hoping I’d finish this in time.

When Damian is 19, he graduates Princeton with a double major in Architecture and Finance, his father permits him to return to his regular nighttime activities, and he takes a trip to Europe, to meet up with his ex-girlfriend and his former teammate (the one who shot him in the back).

Obviously tucked neatly in between Restoration and Fiat iusticia. I took inspiration from the unfinished story of Damian traveling around Europe with Dick and Jay, since SO much has changed by then I couldn’t possibly hope to recover that fic lmao.

title taken from a metasciences song on this mix

Damian was working in his room, his wide artist’s desk covered with massive sketching paper on which he meticulously measured corners and bisected lines, working on his revised draft of the proposed Martha Wayne Building. In his ears were tucked small earbuds, bouncing a relaxing indie playlist directly against his eardrums.

The curtains were drawn, blocking out the fading evening sun. From his door came a gentle knock. So absorbed in his music and his work, Damian did not notice immediately; the knock paused, then came once again, louder now. If Damian noticed, he did not answer. Another, longer pause: and then the doorknob twisted and the door swung open. At the threshold, Damian’s father knocked once more against the open door, then called, “Damian.”

At the sound of his name, Damian immediately stopped and twisted around in his seat. Looking at his father, he pulled the earbuds out and asked, “What?”

“Do you have a minute?”

A hint of suspicion entered Damian’s face. “Why?” he asked.

Bruce gave a shrug, entering the room. “I need a reason to have a conversation with my son?”

It looked like Damian had a response to this, but he held his tongue. Setting aside the mechanical pencil in his hand, he gestured towards his bed, offering his father a seat. Bruce obliged, leaving the door open.

There was a small silence between them, as Damian turned in his seat to face his father. It wasn’t exactly awkward; the past year had been a long and difficult one, and there had been growing pains of the variety they both had once thought they’d overcome. And yet grown they had, and come out the other side intact and, Bruce was certain, although Damian might agree – both better for it.

Hands clasped before him, Bruce leaned forward, locking eyes with his son. For not the first time Damian wondered at how clear and harsh his father’s irises were, the steely blue of the sky during a clear winter day in Gotham. Damian had not inherited his father’s eyes: his were an earthy dark brown, darker even than his mother’s. He did not know where his dark eyes came from; his grandfather too had Talia's honey-hazel eyes. He could only assume the black of his eyes came from his mother’s mother. He would never know.

To Damian’s absolute surprise, Bruce led with this: “You’ve done very well this past year, Damian. I’m very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot upwards. He halfway glanced around him, as if checking to make sure that the rest of the family wasn’t lurking in the corners of his room, waiting to jump out and shout, Surprise!

Graciously, Bruce gave a little nod and admitted, “You had a rough start. But we made it through. I’m very impressed at how hard you’ve been working at school this past semester – your symposium was extraordinary. I had no idea how much time and effort you’d been putting into your project.”

“It’s a thesis,” corrected Damian. “Not a project.”

“Your thesis,” agreed Bruce, bowing his head in apology. “Listen, Damian. My point is, I believe it’s time to put your regular patrol back on the table.”

Bruce had expected Damian to light up at the opportunity; on the contrary, his son just eyed him warily. “On the table,” echoed Damian. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t expect you to resume your old schedule and duties all at once,” Bruce answered. “You’re out of practice.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” answered Bruce calmly, with no malice in his voice. “But you’ve served your penance, and you’ve proved to me how responsible you can be. You deserve it.”

Damian still only watched his father, a slight frown on his brow. He tapped his left index finger against his desk, in bursts of threes. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three.

“You really trust me with this?” asked Damian. “You’re prepared to allow me to return to Robin?”

“Knowing you,” sighed Bruce, “I expect you never really left.” He gave his son a furtive little smile. “But yes. It’s time. Of course I trust you.”

“Even after everything I did?”

“Even after all of that. You aren’t the first of us to make a mistake, Damian.”

“It was a lot of mistakes.”

Bruce watched his son, though kept the smile on his face. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to make a fight out of this?”

Damian’s jaw clenched as he stared at his father blankly, as if looking straight past him. Then he let out a long breath and turned back to the designs before him, fiddling with the side of the paper. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time without it.”

“Almost a year.”

“I applied to grad school,” said Damian, suddenly. He glanced at his father. “And I got in.”

Taken aback, Bruce blinked at his son. He had not known this. “Oh,” he said. “Congratulations. Where?”

“UCLA.”

Los Angeles. Far away from dark, dingy Gotham. For some reason, there was a sharp, piercing pain deep in Bruce’s chest.

All the same, Bruce managed to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Damian shrugged. “Does Alfred know?” Damian shook his head. “For an MBA?”

“MFA.”

Art. This was a lot to take in at once. Bruce took a deep breath, and sat up straight, blinking at the ground. Then he looked up at his son. “Are you going to go?”

Damian watched his father. That look of almost-boredom had returned to his expression. He gave a noncommittal half-shrug, then shook his head. “No,” he said, looking back at the designs on his desk. “Probably not.”

Quickly, genuinely, Bruce said, “If you want it, you should go. Of course you should go.”

“I don’t really want to,” said Damian, taking up his pencil again, tracing down a line. “I just thought I’d apply, in case my career as Robin was over and I had to find something else to live for.” He glanced up at his father and saw how this troubled him, so he added, “I'm joking. I wouldn’t be your son if I didn’t have contingencies upon contingencies. This was just one of them.”

Bruce was unsure about the direction of this conversation. “So…you do want to return to Robin.”

“I do, yes,” answered Damian smartly, as if this were a business negotiation. “Although I think you’re right. It would be unwise to jump back into it completely. I’d like to ease my way back in.”

“Of course. I can ask Dick to visit, if you’d like to having him patrol with you when I can’t.”

“No, it’s fine. Ellen and her team are good enough, and Tim’s in town if we need him.”

Damian resumed sketching at his desk. Somehow Bruce didn’t feel like this conversation was over.

In gray early morning, when the Batman returned from patrol and retired to bed, Bruce had sometimes lain awake and allowed his mind to wander. This was when he allowed time for his most acute fears to enter his mind, those he could not admit in the daytime nor on the job. When Damian was fourteen, and his OCD was beginning to manifest in compulsions and imagined and real violence, Bruce had spent many dawns wondering what treatment might do to his son. He had steeled himself for the possibility that with medication and counselling, Damian might not want to return to Robin. It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to Bruce that being Robin might be bad for a child, but Damian had always slipped into the role so easily, as if he had been waiting his whole life for the mantle.

In the end, treatment had only made Damian more ready and capable to take on his work as Robin – it had allowed him to connect in meaningful ways with the Titans, particularly with one young Iris West. Even though it had been over a year since the end of their relationship and the dissolution of the Titans, it was still clear to Bruce that Damian missed them terribly. He missed friendship, connection; intimacy. All these things from which the Batman had for so many years had forbidden himself.

“Damian,” said Bruce. “Listen to me.”

Damian paused in his sketching to glance at his father.

Very seriously, very clearly, Bruce told his son: “You should know that you don’t have to go back to Robin. You never have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to,” said Damian, annoyance flickering across his face.

“All I’m saying,” Bruce continued, “is that this doesn’t have to be forever. You don’t owe anything to me, and you certainly don’t owe anything to this city.”

Damian stared at Bruce for one moment. His jaw jumped slightly, then he turned back to the desk before him, then once more turned around to address Bruce. “How can you say that to me?” he asked, though it was with half-hearted venom, as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “My whole life I’ve been trained for one thing, and now you’re telling me all that was purposeless?”

Taken aback, Bruce began, “That’s not what I said.”

Shaking his head, Damian turned back to his work, though he did not once more place pencil against paper. Bruce reached out and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s all right, son. I hope you know that I value your happiness and health over anything else you could be for me. Batman and Robin, the Cave, all of that? It doesn’t matter. Not compared to you.”

“Yes it does,” Damian murmured. Bruce didn’t argue with him.

After another moment of silence, Damian spoke once more.

“I’d like to go abroad,” he said.

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Not permanently,” he added, glancing at his father. “Not – as Robin. Which I do want. I do. But if you really do trust me, then I think I should be able to spend some time…alone. Away from Gotham.”

Bruce considered this. “Where abroad?”

Damian answered immediately. “London.”

London, where he could explore the English moors of part of his childhood. London, where Damian had been handed off to Bruce by Talia in the first place. Bruce felt a dull ache in his stomach.

“Fine,” said Bruce. “You can take the jet. Or fly commercial if you like. I don’t mind either way.” He paused, then added, “I have just one request.”

Damian nodded anxiously at his father.

With a wry little smile, Bruce said, “You must stay for your graduation first.” Damian started to make a face, and Bruce continued, “No, no. You’ve spent three years at Princeton, you’ve put so much work into this degree – degrees, I mean – and I won’t let you walk away from it without being properly honored.”

With a roll of his eyes, Damian argued, “It’s just a ceremony. It’ll be boring – if you’re coming there’ll be paparazzi, it’ll be awful-”

“It will be very nice,” said Bruce firmly. “I look forward to it.”

Patting his son on the shoulder, Bruce got to his feet.

“I’m very proud of you, Damian,” he said. “And I love you very much.”

Damian just kind of shrugged him off. Bruce waited expectantly.

When Damian noticed, he let out a loud breath. “I love you too,” he muttered, like chewing glass. “Will you leave me alone to do my work now?”

—

Damian graduated on a warm, clear day in June; he wore his gown over a three-piece suit, stole and cords draped around his neck. Bruce Wayne and his family had special VIP seats, and they cheered for Damian when he crossed the stage to receive his diploma.

Because Damian did not like paparazzi, and because he had made no friends at Princeton with whom he’d like to share any final moments together at university, they left the event quickly. By nightfall Damian had one single small bag packed. Alfred drove him to the airport, and gave him a hug before he passed through security. Damian reluctantly returned the embrace, feeling slightly awkward when Alfred squeezed his arm and told him, “You cannot know how proud you have made this old man, Master Damian.”

He flew business class into London Heathrow, then drove into the heart of London to take up residence in a Penthouse flat Bruce kept on reserve as a safehouse there. It was empty and cold. There was a master bedroom, and then a smaller bedroom off the kitchen. Damian left his small suitcase in the smaller bedroom, but did not unpack.

The last time he’d been in London had been spent mostly ushering him around in tunnels beneath the city, only to release him onto the docks to meet his father for the first time. After the dissolution of the Titans, his father had brought him back to England on his request, but they had spent two days and a night there only, just enough time for Damian to visit the compound where he was raised, then leave and promise himself never to return.

Damian spent his day in London, lingering in the pews of St. Paul’s. The gigantic structure was familiar to him somehow, old and dignified. As he sat on the bare wooden pew, staring up at the stained glass before him, he thought his mother must’ve taken him here before. He was sure of it.

Before the sun had fully risen come the next morning, Damian took a taxi all the way out to London Gatwick airport, where he boarded a plane with a fake British passport (although technically he was born on British soil, and he had considered before filing for dual citizenship). He flew economy, sitting in the window seat of a row filled by an elderly couple speaking rapidly in Hungarian. Damian had been taught the language years ago, but was not overly familiar with it: he spent the flight listening to the old couple intently, puzzling together the syntax and the vocabulary from context. When the plane landed, before he disembarked, Damian turned to the older couple and said, “Remélem szép napod van.”

The first thing Damian did in Budapest was buy a burner phone and send a text to a number he had already memorized. After that, he went to his hotel and checked in under an assumed name. It was a good hotel, though not of the grandiose sort his father always picked, and it was more secure than a safehouse, anyhow – depending on from whom you wanted security.

June is burning hot in Budapest, and Damian shed his jacket before venturing out once more into the city. He rolled up the sleeves of his nice button-up shirt as he walked, eyes obscured by gold-rimmed sunglasses. Regretfully, he wished he’d thought to bring his water bottle with him – he so hated buying plastic disposable water bottles, no matter how thirsty the searing sun shining relentlessly down from the bright blue sky made him.

He crossed a bridge to the eastern side of the city, Pest, then turned immediately to descend a flight of worn stone steps leading down to the bank of the River Danube. The river was low today, and a muddy green. He sat alongside the bank, hanging his legs off the edge. His toes very nearly breached the surface of the water.

Taking the burner phone out of his pocket, he sent another text to that same mysterious number. Then he placed the phone down on the stone bank beside him, and leaned back at his hands, watching the sun glitter across the Danube.

She appeared beside him like a cool breeze on the hot summer day; one moment she was not there, and then suddenly appeared a body by his side, her red hair fluttering slightly in the gust that heralded her arrival.

Iris West sat close enough on the edge of the bank that her leg brushed against his, and Damian could not help the pang of something in his chest, as if his heart skipped a beat. She smiled at him. They had not seen one another in over a year, since Damian walked away from the Titans, and from her. Even now, Damian could not say exactly why he had left: he had been scared, and hurt, and these vulnerabilities had been too painful to touch, much less admit to the girl he loved.

The word turned over and over again in Damian’s mind in the few seconds that she smiled at him, before any words passed either of their lips. Loved. I loved you.

It felt like an eternity ago.

“Hey,” she said.

He realized he hadn’t returned her smile, but knew that it would look even more forced if he tried now. “Hello,” he answered. “Where’s Lian?”

“She’s on her way,” said Iris, nodding up towards the bridge. “She said I should probably run ahead, so you and I could get over the whole awkward-exes thing before she gets here.”

“Ah,” said Damian. “That’s wise.”

“Yeah,” said Iris.

There was a pause. It was, in fact, awkward.

“So,” began Iris, “is that not going to happen, or…?”

Despite himself, Damian felt a small flicker of anger; this was easy for her, obviously. She had spent the year or so in the arms of someone else, exploring a new world, with no one to stop her or punish her as he had been punished. He knew precisely how petty it was, but it wasn’t fair.

It hurt Damian, to still have that anger in him, that bitterness and resentment, after all the time and effort he’d put into purging it from his mind and soul. He was better now, he was sure of it: he had worked so hard, paid his price, completed his penance. And yet.

Damian turned his body to face her, but did not quite catch her eye. “Lian told me this had to do with business.”

Iris’s face didn’t fall, which Damian admired. “It does. But one doesn’t do business with one’s ex-girlfriend without feeling a little weird about it, so let’s air out some dirty laundry before my current girlfriend gets here, OK?”

Abruptly, Damian asked, “You’re still seeing Lian?”

“Yes,” said Iris.

Glumly, Damian looked out at the water. “I was half hoping you’d lie to me.”

“I told myself I wouldn’t,” answered Iris, watching him. “Lian said it was fine, but I respect you too much to do that to you.”

“You shouldn’t,” said Damian bitterly. “I don’t deserve it.”

Iris put a hand on Damian’s arm. “Yes, you do. But don’t expect me to try and console you too hard, you’re gonna have to find another significant other to take care of that one.”

“I’m trying this new thing,” remarked Damian, forced levity in his voice. “It’s called, being alone.”

“Oh? You sure that’s new, Damian? Because you always gave me the impression that was your default state of being. All dark and broody, you get it from your dad, I bet.” Her dark eyes watched him intently, with a gaze half-human, almost reptilian in focus. For one moment, consumed by her gaze, Damian thought about telling her everything: about the club, about the women and men whose names he didn’t know, about Colin, about Nell. About being banned from his role as Robin for almost a year now, a refusal of the identity he sometimes thought defined him more than being himself did.

Iris reached up and cupped his face in one hand, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

“I missed you,” she said.

Damian couldn’t pull his eyes away from hers. She was mesmerizing: he had forgotten, almost, the electricity of her touch, how she always seemed crackling with energy and power, even when she sat calmly beside him on the bank of a river. The thought occurred to him to lean over and kiss her, but the moment it rose it twisted and squirmed in his stomach, making him feel ill.

She removed her hand, and before Damian could say anything else, the burner phone on the stone on the other side of him flew in a wide arc across the water, then sunk into the depths. Pulse skyrocketing with adrenaline, Damian whipped around, ready to fight, instinctually dropping into a defensive stance in front of Iris – and then he stopped.

“Oh,” he said.

“Calm the fuck down, Bruce Lee,” Lian said, rolling her eyes at Damian. “You had to get rid of that burner sometime, didn’t you?” Ignoring Damian, who still stood, Lian lowering herself to sit on the bank, leaving room for Damian between herself and Iris. For a moment, she massaged the toe which had kicked the phone, then she dropped her legs. Significantly shorter than either Iris or Damian, Lian’s feet didn’t even come close to touching the water. She swung them up and down against the stone, like a kid in a high chair. To Iris, she asked, “Are you guys done, or is this going to continue to be uncomfortable for all of us? Because, honestly, if it’s the latter option I might as well just drown myself right now-”

“Just as tactful as ever I see, Lian,” said Damian, slowly lowering himself to sit between the two girls.

“And you’re just as annoying as ever,” she replied sharply, pinching at the sleeve of his fancy dress shirt. “Is it possible for you to just like, chill out and wear a t-shirt for once in your goddamn life?”

“I think you look good,” added Iris.

“I mean, you look good,” continued Lian pointedly, “but that shirt is way too expensive to sweat right through. Why don’t we go find someplace to eat?”

Gesturing at the empty riverbank around them, Damian asked, “Didn’t you want somewhere clandestine?”

“Yeah, but that was before I realized you were going to die of heatstroke. Come on,” she said, getting to her feet, then offering a hand to Damian. When Damian looked unconvinced, she waved her hand impatiently at him. “Come on, it’s not like anyone genuinely followed you all the way out here to Budapest. Who gives that much of a shit about a kid who isn’t even Robin anymore?”

Something stabbed through Damian’s heart, constricting his lungs with iron wires. In disbelief, he glanced around at Iris, who offered him an apologetic smile. “We might have been…keeping tabs on you.”

“I happen to have a contact with insider knowledge about your whole family,” said Lian, causing Damian’s head to snap around to look at her once again. She grinned at him. “I know all your secrets, little bird.”

“She’s kidding,” said Iris, over his shoulder. “Every once in a while Dick tells stuff to her dad, and her dad tells her. Like, I heard you graduated college! Congrats!”

Numbly, Damian answered, “Thanks.”

After a moment’s uncertain pause, Iris got to her feet, and with Lian’s help they managed to tug Damian upright. “C’mon,” said Iris, leading the way. “We passed this yummy place earlier, it smelled so good…”

It was a small café, and they slid into a booth in a corner. Damian sat with his back against the wall, so he could keep his eyes on both entrances to the place. Iris sat next to him, and Lian across from them both. Iris ordered appetizers as soon as they sat down, starting with an order of calamari and prosciutto e melone.

After the waiter went away, Damian looked at Lian and asked, “So would you like to tell me, finally, why this isn’t a conversation we could’ve had within the borders of the United States?”

“Mostly ‘cause I figured you could use a break,” answered Lian, with a shrug. “Isn’t good for a young kid like yourself to be stuck inside that shithole of a city for too long.”

“Young kid,” repeated Damian, with just a hint of venom. “I’m older than you are.”

Lian didn’t protest, but replied, “Barely. Anyhow, Iris and I have been busy taking down big crime rings all over Europe, and we didn’t exactly have time for a trip back home just to talk with you.”

“Iris is a,” began Damian, but the waiter appeared again, bringing the calamari and prosciutto-wrapped cantaloupe. He waited until the server was once more gone, then lowered his voice and restarted. “Iris is a speedster, and you’re trying to tell me you didn’t have time to come back?”

Lian’s half-smile didn’t falter. “Not if we were only coming to see you, no.”

This did not hurt, because Damian had preemptively steeled himself against Lian’s harshness, and also because it was almost like some kind of a relief to have someone here with him who didn’t put up with any of his whining. And not in a patronizing way, like his father – but just because she didn’t care. It would be nice, Damian thought, it would be a blessing, if he could learn from Lian how to care less.

“You two haven’t seen your parents in over a year,” Damian said, leaning back slightly in his seat. Beside him, Iris dipped the calamari generously into the tartar sauce she had requested. “You wouldn’t return home to reassure them you’re safe?”

“My mom and dad actually visited us a couple months ago,” Iris piped up, holding a calamari ring in hand; then she paused, made a face, and corrected, “Well, not at the same time – my mom flew in for a few days in Paris, but my dad visited when we were in Berlin.”

Damian glanced at Iris, then his gaze flickered back to Lian, who said nothing. He knew for a fact that Lian had not seen her father since they left. She had not seen anyone, really, since the disaster with the Titans the previous year.

He wondered if she felt guilt, like he did. After all, he may have been the one to trigger the psychic control in Iris’s mind, but Lian had been the one to implant it in Iris’s head in the first place. And last time he and Lian had seen each other, she’d poisoned him, dislocated his jaw, broke three ribs, and shot him in the back.

So: yeah, a normal person should be feeling a little bit of guilt, even if she had been mind-controlled by her assassin mother at the time. Damian figured Lian was just good at hiding it which, again, was another thing to begrudgingly admire her for.

“Why me?” asked Damian, his voice low. “What could I possibly do for you that you couldn’t get more easily from someone else?”

“It’s not a matter of ease,” answered Lian coolly. “You’re here right now not because you’re the only one who can help us, but you are the only one who’ll keep his mouth shut about it.”

Damian’s pulse quickened slightly. His first thought was that they were about to ask him to join them, to utilize the skills he’d been taught for years now to repress. In that split second, he made his decision: Yes. I would kill for them.

Then, disgusted at himself, he immediately drove that thought from his brain.

“Damian,” said Iris, nudging him, holding up a piece of cantaloupe. “You want some?”

Barely glancing at her, Damian replied, “I can’t, I’m vegetarian.”

“I know,” replied Iris, with a dopey grin. “I took the prosciutto off. Seriously, Damian? We dated for two years and you think I don’t remember you don’t eat meat?”

She held the cantaloupe up to his face, as if to pop it into his mouth; he plucked it out of his fingers, then said to Lian, “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Taking a calamari ring off the plate, Lian replied bluntly, “I need fifteen thousand dollars and enough weaponry to pass as a small arms trafficker.”

Damian watched Lian as she popped the calamari into her mouth. He, too, took a thoughtful bite of his cantaloupe. Iris said, “Do either of you want the spaghetti? I kind of do but I also kind of want the schnitzel. You can get the spaghetti with a mushroom sauce, Damian, no meat.” Neither Damian nor Lian replied.

Iris’s gaze flickered from her girlfriend to her ex, and then she added, “It’s for a good thing, y’know. We wouldn’t be asking for it if it wasn’t.”

Sharply, Damian said, “I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?” asked Lian, leaning in across the table. Clearly she and Iris had been staying in sunny regions, for Lian’s skin was deeply tanned such that she was within a shade or two of Damian’s own coloring, which had darkened over the past few months as he spent more time outside tending to his garden, and less time in uniform in the dark. “If you trust us, a loan and some tech shouldn’t be a problem.”

Staring at her, Damian asked, “Is it really a loan, Lian?”

Almost before Damian had finished answering his question, Iris nudged him in the ribs and offered, “It could be if you wanted, though I know you’re more generous than that.”

“With a billionaire daddy like yours,” Lian added wryly, “it’d be pretty selfish not to be.”

“If you wanted a grant from my father, there actually exists an organization for that,” Damian said curtly. “I’m sure Batman, Incorporated would be happy to help you with your missions.”

“Sure,” said Lian. “But we didn’t go to Batman Inc., now, did we? We came to you.”

“Why?” demanded Damian, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s not like you don’t-”

The waiter returned again, this time asking for entrees. Lian got a hamburger; Iris ordered the schnitzel. Damian got the mushroom linguine, and a Manhattan.

Voice lowered once more, Damian leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Lian. “You don’t need money,” he whispered. “You’ve got the entire Queen fortune behind you if you wanted, I don’t know why you think you have the right to drag me out here-”

Rolling her eyes, Lian began, “Oh, my God, Damian, I didn’t drag you out here, I sent you one goddamn text. Besides, obviously this is the sort of money I can’t ask my dad for, but I’d hoped you’d be tactful enough not to point that out. I already feel bad enough about leaving him as is.”

“You could always go back,” suggested Damian, feeling cold and angry inside for reasons he could not accurately define. “You could, oh, I don’t know, go back to being a regular fucking nineteen-year-old instead of backpacking around Europe under the guise of crime fighting.”

Coolly, Lian correctly, “I’m eighteen.”

“Oh, don’t be condescending,” sighed Iris, reaching out to paw at Damian, pull him back across the table so he no longer leaned threateningly towards Lian. “All of us needed a break after what happened with the Titans, you know that. We’re just using our break to do some good.”

This struck at Damian’s heart, as if deliberate. “As opposed to me,” he shot back at her, “who spent the past year feeling sorry for myself, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No,” said Iris, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “No, of course not-”

Flinching violently away from her touch, Damian continued heatedly, “I didn’t ask for this, you know. I never asked to be Robin and I certainly never asked to quit. So you don’t get to sit there and judge me, Lian, pretend like you’re doing the world some great service while I sit at home and twiddle my thumbs – you don’t fool me. This isn’t about saving the world. It’s about indulging yourself.”

“Maybe it is,” answered Lian, her eyes glinting, knife-like, but she goaded him no further. If Damian realized that him speaking loudly and openly about his dual life as Robin was the most unsettling thing about this conversation so far, he made no indication of it.

There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence, then Iris leaned back in her seat and sighed, “That’s a little bit unfair. Pretty much all we ever did with the Titans was self-indulgent bullshit.”

Lian added, “Except for trying to kill each other, that is.”

“Nobody ended up dead,” Iris pointed out, with a nod towards Lian. “So it’s fine.”

Damian turned to Iris and, pitilessly, he said: “Your brother is in a coma, Irey. He’s on life support. It’s – fine?”

All warmth immediately evaporated from Iris’s expression. She looked, suddenly, steely and frightening, so quickly and completely that it made her smile seem so insincere.

Lian glared at Damian.

Quietly, she told him, “I’ve been tracking my mother for eight months now. We’re almost there, but I can’t get to the finish line alone. I need your help, and I’m not too proud to ask for it.”

“Yeah, right,” Damian shot back derisively. “As if you would’ve ever come to me, had Iris not been here with you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Iris shortly. “I didn’t want to call you.”

This hurt Damian, and he suspected that she intended it to do so.

Food arrived. It smelled delicious, and none of them spoke any more than a mumbled, “Thank you,” to the server until their meals were distributed.

Lian dragged a French fry through ketchup as Iris cut into her schnitzel. Damian did not touch his food; he could not, he felt ill. Passing through time zones had caused him to sleep at odd hours, and somewhere along the way he had missed a dose of medication. He could not stand the idea of eating. Any other symptoms, for the moment he buried them deep, refusing to feel their familiar sting.

Tightly, as the girls ate, Damian said: “So you’ve tipped your hand. You need money and resources to go after Cheshire. Is that it?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” said Lian, hardly looking up at him. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“You could’ve led with that.”

“What, and stir up your own assassin-based mommy issues? No thanks.”

This felt like a lie, but Damian couldn’t tell. “Fifteen thousand dollars,” he said.

With an exaggerated shrug, Lian said, “That’s nothing. A drop in the pond for the Waynes.”

Or the al Ghuls. Perhaps out of spite for Lian’s crack about mommy issues, Damian’s mind went immediately to the offshore account his mother had opened for him last year, when he turned eighteen. He had never touched a cent of that money, ashamed and angry at his mother for it. But…there was no sense in leaving a growing bank account there to rot.

“And weaponry?”

“Basic stuff,” added Iris. “Nothing too fancy. We could probably buy our own with a little more money, but that leaves a paper trail, so. You know.”

“Ironic,” said Damian, his dark eyes focused on Lian, who ate her food methodically, without looking at him. “That a girl named Arsenal would be looking to fill up her stock.”

“I have enough of what I have,” said Lian. “What we’re looking for isn’t tasers and boxing-glove arrows, Damian, it’s firearms. Real stuff. The kind of things we’re not allowed to use in our line of work.”

“So, what, you’re racketeering like Red Hood now?”

“We just need enough to front, it’s not like we need to make a profit on this.”

Clearly troubled, Damian muttered, “Certainly if it’s not a fucking loan, anyway.”

There was a silence. It was cool inside the restaurant, despite the windows thrown open to allow fresh air flowing through the small space. The place was entirely lit by natural light which spilled in from the windows, with high ceilings and a wrought iron spiral staircase up into a concealed second floor. Lian and Iris had checked the place out earlier, searched for bugs, set up dampeners. It was safe to speak here. Damian did not know this, and yet he had been the most reckless of the three of them in their conversation, paying no regard to keeping secrets he had been raised to treasure above all else. Vaguely, Lian wondered if this was because he had been out of uniform for so long, or if there was something else going on, something that had changed Damian more than she knew.

He tapped his fingers against the dark wood of the table. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three.

The girls ate in silence. Damian’s Manhattan rested sadly before his plate, untouched.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

Lian stopped. She exchanged a glance with Iris, then looked back at Damian warily.

He held up one finger. “On one condition.”

While Lian made a face, Iris nodded. “OK,” she said. “OK, what’s that?”

For a long moment Damian said nothing. He placed both of his hands on the flat of the table, then curled them both into fists, as if gathering up the courage to hit something.

Then he said, “Don’t contact me. Don’t talk to me, don’t call me or ask me to fly across an ocean to see you. We don’t make this,” he gestured between the three of them, at their food, “a thing that happens anymore. You don’t tell me what you’re doing, whose contracts you’re taking, what missions you’ve completed. I don’t want to know any of it, and I don’t want to hear from you.” He cast a look, almost apologetic, Iris’s way. “Either of you. It’s time – it’s time I moved forward. No. It’s time I moved on.”

Damian did not know this, because the only way he had learned to protect his heart was to pretend he could not tell what others felt, how badly he could hurt them, but he had misjudged, terribly, how much he meant to both of the women beside him. And yet there was no safe way to tell him otherwise. They needed him; and if this was the only way he would fulfill their need, then they did not have much of a choice.

“OK,” said Lian, taken aback. Half-sarcastically, she asked, “Am I allowed to hit you up for more money, or is that like, also a thing we’re not going to be doing?”

He considered this, then answered, “Message me when you need more. You know my number.”

Another long, hard silence.

Iris lifted her hand and reached out for him. “Damian-”

He pulled away. “No.”

After a moment’s pause, he slid out of his seat, getting to his feet. Taking a wallet out of his pocket, he took out a few bills and dropped them onto the table. “Just send me your information and I’ll wire you the money when I get home,” he said. “I’ll see you two.”

“Damian,” said Iris, as he turned away and headed towards the entrance of the restaurant. She too got to her feet. “Damian-!”

Without looking back, he left the restaurant and turned abruptly down the street, and then he was gone.

Iris and Lian were left alone in a mostly-empty restaurant, three plates of food still before them. Lian picked at her plate while Iris slowly sat back down.

For a solitary moment, Lian watched Iris. Then she said: “It’s fine. He’ll get over it.”

Iris sat at the table with her girlfriend, passive and regretful.

—

Standing in Heathrow airport a few days later, Damian looked up at the Departures board. In another few hours there was a flight out to Los Angeles. Something tugged at him deep in his body. He could go to California; accept the offer of grad school at UCLA, study sculpture or painting or whatever exactly it had been he’d applied for. One plane ticket, and he could walk away from it all.

He boarded his flight to Gotham with no incident. On the plane he watched a sad movie. When the dog died, he cried.

Damian returned to Wayne Manor in a taxi on Thursday morning. He paid the taxi driver and tipped him 200%, then fished a key out of his bag and placed his thumb against a scanner to unlock the door. Trailing his single suitcase in hand behind him, phone held in his other hand, he passed by the sitting room on his way to his room.

His father sat in an armchair, reading the paper; when Damian passed by, he blinked in surprise. “Damian,” he called, and Damian stopped, then headed back to stand before the entrance to the sitting room. Bruce regarded him with a degree of disbelief, as if he was unsure this was the same boy who’d left just a few days ago. “You’re home.”

“I am,” agreed Damian. “I just flew into Goodwin International.”

Lowering his newspaper, Bruce replied, “I didn’t realize you were coming home so early. You should’ve called; I would have picked you up.”

“It’s fine,” said Damian, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all. Welcome back.” There was a slight pause, and then Bruce asked, “What made you leave London so soon?”

Damian stood there before his father, his suitcase beside him. In his other hand, his phone buzzed: confirmation, as he had requested from Lian, that his bank transfer of fifteen thousand dollars had gone through.

“No reason,” answered Damian with a shrug. His grip tightened on his phone. “I was lonely, I suppose.”

#has absolutely not been remotely edited at all as usual #damian wayne #bruce wayne #lian harper #irey west #fic #earth 28

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catgirlforkaeya · 3 years ago

Note

if you wrote kaeya domestic headcanons my heart will MELT 💓

domestic kaeya hcs

kaeya x gn!reader

fluff + modern au

warnings: all lowercase + not proofread + slightly suggestive (it’s not a lot just very vague implications)

a/n: ask and you shall receive anon 🙏

i’m gonna use the friends to lovers roommate edition here because i absolutely love that trope

you and kaeya have been friends for quite awhile. in college you both were sick of living in your dorms so you decided to rent an apartment together

kaeya is actually a really good roommate. ik a lot of ppl will probably disagree with me but i feel like he’d be great— very respectful of your privacy

he cooks breakfast for you. like even before you two got together he started making it for you. if you weren’t awake yet he would come in and wake you up. little did you know it was him trying to send hints that he likes you

literally the most flirty roommate there is i swear to god

he does your laundry for you. this doesn’t need anymore explaining LOL

you two definitely fight over the remote and what to watch on a weekly basis. you tried a thing where you two take turns each night but that always fails because you forget who’s turn it is

if one of you is swamped in work then the other will bring them stuff life coffee, tea, snacks, that sort of stuff

before you two started dating & sharing a room, if one or both of you were wide awake you’d go to the other’s room and give each other some company :,)

coincidentally enough the night you two confessed to each other it was when you couldn’t sleep. you’d gone to kaeya’s room since you couldn’t sleep and he was also awake. you two got into a deep conversation and he eventually confessed his feelings to you. that was the first night you two actually slept together (kehehehe)

once you two started dating kaeya got very clingy. sometimes he’d text you in the middle of the night to come over because he missed you (even though his room is literally right next to yours 💀)

other times he’d just crawl into bed with you. it scared the shit out if you the first time but you didn’t mind it afterwards. it was actually kinda nice randomly waking up in his arms LOL

after awhile you two decided on just sharing the same room and bed. you two went with using your bedroom as the new one since it was bigger. you two got rid of a bunch of unnecessary items (some were sold & others were put into storage) then bought a brand new bed that was bigger. ever since that day you two have woken up next to each other every morning :D

i feel like kaeya has rly bad insomnia so he’s awake most nights— if you suffer with it too then it’s perfect because you can keep each other company in the night & distract your minds from everything. you’ll usually turn on the tv and watch a show while talking to each other until you wear each other out

you two shower together a lot. kaeya was the one to suggest it (ofc) saying that it would save water and cut down your water bills. you knew he had ulterior motives but agreed anyways because you actually wanted to shower w him for awhile

honestly i feel like you two wouldn’t really get much done in the shower because he’d be too busy covering you in kisses but it’s fun nonetheless 💀

aside from all of his teasing he’d be helpful— like putting shampoo in your hair & giving small scalp massages, lathering you w/ body wash and giving you small praises :,)

lots and lots of cuddling and hugs at basically all times of the day. first thing in the morning right as you woke up? at least 15 minutes of extra cuddling. washing the dishes after breakfast? kaeya will come up behind you & wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. watching tv on the couch? you’ll always end up resting your head on kaeya’s lap or in his arms. working on stuff for your job? kaeya will come in and pull you against his chest & play w your hair as you work, or vice versa and you’ll do that to him.

these are very scattered but overall moral of the story kaeya is a very clingy roommate but also the best one (& best boyfriend)

i will probably add onto this occasionally!!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin domestic hcs #domestic hcs #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya fluff #catgirlforkaeya

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sevikasmainwhore · 3 years ago

Text

TimeBomb w/ Puppy!Reader

i’ve seen too many edits of them and how fine they are so yea-

!!MDNI!!

Requested ⇢ Yes/No

Type ⇢ Headcanons ❥

𝗦𝗙𝗪 ⇰

You’re like their little ball of energy.

Since they both create things your either playing around with the prototypes or they’re yelling at you about how dangerous it is.

Ekko and Jinx came together and said it’s best if you stay home whenever they’re away

It’s only a matter of keeping you safe

A collection of collars. Either made by one or the other or even bought but that’s rare

Ekko has a really bad habit of grabbing your tail.

This comes in handy sometimes when your running off and he needs a leeway so he’ll grab it and yank you

But other than that he’s getting better and not doing that

Jinx is a huge cuddler and so are you.

Ekko is usually the victim of all this lovin’ but he doesn’t mind it

You have you’re own little area in their shared workshop with a dog bed and everything

However, when you’re being a brat they’ll put you in a cage. They only do this if you ever pushed them past their limits

Of course they always apologize about being too harsh

A very bad biting habit.

You and Jinx would be resting on the couch with you on her chest and all of a sudden you just take a big bite out of her arm.

Ekko would be dangling something over your head and all of a sudden your gnawing at his wrist.

You had to wear a muzzle for a month until they just decided to get you a chew toy

They really REALLY liked how the muzzle looked on you.

𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪 ⇰

Absolute MENACES

Jinx could be working on something and if you’re feeling needy she’ll let you hump her leg.

Later she’d tell Ekko how much of a distraction you were and he’d put you over his lap to spank you.

Jinx knew she was in the wrong she just enjoyed seeing you in pain.

Ekko would let you cockwarm him while he’s drawing out blueprints.

You’d be aching begging for him to move and Jinx would come out nowhere and kiss your forehead and tell you how good your being and just disappear again.

Speaking of Jinx, she has no shame at all.

You’d be reaching for something in the kitchen or even just looking for food and she’ll come in and bend you over so she could take you.

You were afraid that Ekko would come in but that wasn’t her problem

“W-wait..what if Ekko sees us?” “Let him watch”

They always have you covered in “LoveBites”

Some in the healing stage and some new ones.

Jinx has a problem with biting to hard and making you bleed though

When that happens she always licks it up and kisses you

Says it’s to “give back your nutrients”

If you’ve been bad depending on the situation they’ll either have a really heavy make out session in front of you or fuck in front of you.

You wouldn’t be able to touch yourself either. Even if you said it hurt

Of course they always take care of you after.

They’d make or buy toys for you that they’d have a remote for so you wouldn’t be bored.

Some days you’d be home using it and either one of them would put it on the highest setting it had and would leave you a mess

Other days it wouldn’t even be on and you’d use it however you wanted.

Ekko absolutely loves fucking your throat. He always finishes in your mouth

Jinx would come and kiss after he does and kiss him because “Sharing is Caring”

They each have their own chair they sit in while you play with yourself on the bed.

They liked how embarrassed you got knowing they were watching you

Call you all sorts of names

“Your just a hole for us to use huh?” “Is dick all you ever think about?”

Jinx would spit in your mouth and tell you to drink

note: since i wrote this a while ago here’s something while i work on request again, please forgive me ❤️

#timebomb #arcane #ekko x reader #jinx x reader #tw pet play

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intonightcity · 2 years ago

Text

"And I told you to eat." Lavinia argued on something she knows is irritating. Of course Alice is worried sick. They all are. Tonight she arrived to see the blonde on her own. Landon's mother had some things to attend. She did call earlier. Leaving a positive message, hopeful that all three of them would contact each other at the drop of a hat. In case any sort of information slipped through. Except there was none. No matter how many times she checked for messages there is nothing. It was only a day or so ago they found Landon's phone. Left somewhere outside his home. Dropped in bushes as if it meant very little. What if Landon has been left this way? Left like he meant nothing to anyone? He meant a lot to her. He was always genuine from the moment they met. Lavinia had been a fan of his work for a time. Then they met while she did one of her usual segments on Toxic Talk. Ever since he's been - family. A big brother she never had from a family not fully kind towards her. People like Landon - people like Alice define what family actually is for her. So to see one missing and another starving herself? "I will get plenty of things delivered here and I will cook. There's no getting out of it, Allie." Throwing it back firmly is with tough love. Honestly what would Landon think if he knew she let Alice waste away? It's not happening.

"Here," the brunette picked up a remote control to flip through channels. Cable is terrible these days but at least it's a distraction. "Maybe we can find something." An entertainment access network popped up on cue:

"Hello and welcome to another edition of Starline Scoop." A proper introduction from a woman seated in pinstripes. "We are here with Tobias Fairchild. Auteur of production company Majestic Studios. Thank you for being here."

"It's my absolute pleasure." The man smiled, accent ringing cordially. Perhaps a little too put on but TV appearances sell. As did particular topics and this one suddenly became obvious on current events.

"Some may say your studio is encroaching on Cosmic Vault Productions turf."

"Oh that's a bit heavy handed," the producer shook his head, a bit of a laugh about the idea. "This business is built on competition. After all a little rivalry is good for the soul. It's what Hollywood is about. Friendly fire in a way."

"And, if may divert a little, Mr. Fairchild." She hardly gave him fair warning as she did so. "Speaking of Cosmic Vault… what are your thoughts on Landon Wynter's disappearance?"

A long pause followed her question. Tobias seemed put on. "…bloody sad affair," he managed. "Landon is a talent. Quite the visionary. A consort to cult classic cinema. The man has a way of shining up dirt. When it comes to horrors, exploitation - the man's a gem. Truly. I doubt he will find that humoring wherever he is. Hopefully not too dark and dreary." Tobias' bit of laughter is hardly cheerful. Ironic. Downright devoid of compassion he's sure some will say. But he's serious. As well as he can be. "Haven't had the opportunity to work with him. One day when he's safely returned. Indeed will be ripe for a celebration when so."

"So you believe he is alive?" Straight to the point. Clenching the throat she goes.

Tobias' smile melted away. His eyes shifted quickly off screen attempting to find his publicist. Clearly this is going south. Not what he signed on to entertain today. "Of course," he answered affronted. "Isn't that what we're all bloody thinking? Landon Wynter is a man who would be gravely missed from his medium. When he is found happy endings all around… now we were talking about Majestic Studios, weren't we dear?"

"Yes, of course. Moving on…" @txnnesseehoney // prev

#txnnesseehoney #ic [lavinia cortez]#ic [tobias fairchild]#plot [misery loves company]#connected plot [txnnesseehoney & wynterlanding]#kidnapping tw #long post tw

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years ago

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#17. blue hydrangeas — lee taeyong.

“𝘀𝗼 𝗿 𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗺 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯 𝘂.”

SUMMARY. wherein this time, it’s your breath that gets taken away and not the other way around.

PAIRING. florist! lee taeyong x contract-killer! reader (f). GENRE. romance, humor, light angst, and of course the overall theme of the event — dumbassery (this time, by y/n). realized that this was inspired by healer only after i finished editing. WARNINGS. murder, death i mean lol, violence, swearing, mentions of blood, knives, & guns. WORD COUNT. 2.2k words.

REQUESTED BY. @lebrookestore hi brooke!!! absolutely unsure whether or not you’ll enjoy this, but take it anyway, i have no idea!!!! TAGLIST. @blossom-rea @nctdom @melonadeski @sweetjaemss @wooyoung-a @byunfirstlady

NOTE. you may be wondering: allex what the fuck?? murder??? but funny??? light angst??? yes idk what this is either it just happened. also if you feel like there are things missing, that there are questions still hanging in the air — that’s the point of this event HAHA. to just give a few glimpses of what could be a bigger story (and also because i have Zero Time to write a million gigantic fics).

anyway, first fic for the event!! this is weird n unlike my usual writing n all over the place, but i hope u like it nevertheless!

hoy, tanga! kinikilig ka naman ba? (hey, dumbass! are you falling again?)

“SO ARE YOU GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH ME or am I gonna have to stab you?”

“Maybe before you start throwing threats against his life, why don’t you try talking to him first, yeah?”

You flinch at the loud voice speaking directly into your ears.

“Idiot.”

Considering how long you two have been working together, you should have been used to Renjun acting as if he were your nagging subconscious (that occasionally instructed you the quickest escape route from the cops). But the situation at hand is different. No external force could have prevented you from nearly dropping your binoculars from twenty-five feet above the ground.

“Renjun, are you stupid?” you hiss into the mouthpiece of your communicating device, readjusting yourself on the dusty, concrete floor, right in front of the wood hammered window of the fifth story of an abandoned building that sits across the street from a small, quaint flower shop in downtown Seoul. “How do you expect me to do that?”

He doesn’t expect you to do that at all.

Well, neither do you, obviously.

“Have you forgotten your job here, dumbass?” he nags, like usual. Actually, he never used to do this— his nagging only started two weeks ago, when you first got your current assignment. Renjun has been growing gray hairs ever since. “Ten o’clock. The person that you should be watching is over there.”

There he is indeed. Kim Doyoung. Twenty-seven years old and working for the Intelligence Division of the South Korean Government. It’s no wonder so many people are willing to pay nine digits for his head— he’s lucky that the highest bidder wants his safety, instead. Otherwise, he’d already been dead two weeks ago.

Well, you click your tongue, examining the male through the scope while he exchanges greetings with the florist you’d been, ahem, watching instead of him, and all of a sudden you can feel the tiny organ inside your ribcage pull somersaults all around the broken beams of the building when he smiles and lets Kim Doyoung in.

You hold back a squeal, but a sliver of a squeak slips through. Renjun is remotely sighing while looking at you from a nearby CCTV camera.

If the underground finds out that their go-to cold-blooded, notorious hired gun would be on her knees for a pretty boy in a pink apron, your reputation would be ransacked overnight.

“Renjun,” you speak. He slides up the volume of your microphone, hearing the sudden drop of your voice.

“What? Did something happen?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much of a chance do you think I have with Lee Taeyong?”

Renjun regrets giving you his information.

“Ever considered washing your hands and getting a normal job and being a normal person?”

You don’t even get to reply.

“Yes or no, your chances are still zero,” he flatly says. You silently grumble, placing your binoculars in front of your eyes once more. It isn’t as if you didn’t know that. Kim Doyoung and Lee Taeyong are sitting on the tables and chairs by the window of the latter’s shop, a multitude of flowers and leaves and ferns that you’ve never had a reason to know the names of framing them from every corner. “This has nothing to do with you being a wanted criminal, by the way. You just have zero guts.”

You grunt and glare at the empty space where you imagine your partner to be.

“He waters plants while I water the ground with the blood of my clients’ enemies!”

“Okay, edgelord. You sound perfect for each other, or whatever.” You can hear typing sounds through the earpiece. Why can’t this guy just humor you? “But keep your eyes on the target. Kim Doyoung is leaving the store.”

Renjun stops tracking Kim Doyoung through the cameras when he hears your scream.

“What?! What’s wrong?”

His hands and fingers are quick to move, switching over to your location in a single, panicked instant. “Oi.”

“He’s petting a dog!”

Renjun’s fingers freeze above the wires and keys. Through one of the monitors, he sees Lee Taeyong kneeling down with a retriever (the owner was looking at his flowers), Kim Doyoung long gone. He feels a vein threatening to pop.

“Oh my god, he’s like a Disney princess. Kim Doyoung is the best thing that has ever happened to me since learning how to shoot a gun.”

If Kim Doyoung dies— Renjun thinks— his best friend would be the indirect cause.

“LEFT.

Go up.

Straight ahead.”

It’s nighttime. You were just about to retire for the day when Renjun caught three suspicious men lurking around Lee Taeyong’s flower shop. A month had passed since you were first hired to shadow Kim Doyoung and protect him, and this isn’t the first time you had to stop an abduction. However, this is the first time where someone else is getting involved.

That someone else being the owner of the flower shop himself.

You swear under your breath and pull a mask over your face, running to the scene.

Remember when you said Kim Doyoung is the best thing that has ever happened in your life? Well, you’d like to take it back now. If he were dead, no one else’s lives would be at risk tonight, or maybe that’s just your personal emotions getting in the way. Who knew that watching a guy for three weeks straight would be enough for someone to develop feelings strong enough to cloud your judgement— or maybe this just happened because you are you and he is him; had it been a different set of people, this might have not been possible.

What can you say? It’s the veracity of polarity— your calloused fingers yearn for the hands that caress flower petals all day. It’s different from the things you involve yourself in on a day to day basis.

“Hey,” you start. “Directions.”

“Go right from here,” he replies. “Gray building, ground floor.”

You nod and close in, and it’s checkmate when you enter the building.

Shots are fired. Metal clatters to the ground. They should have hired more people, because it took you less than seconds to take two of them down and with a crack! you step on the larger person’s hand. “Fuck!”

On the floor is a cracked phone screen in the middle of a call— the number you know well and had to memorize.

“Your friend is safe. Don’t go anywhere unless you want yourself dead.”

Quick shots were taken of the scene: two men on the ground, one cowering in the far left, and evidence of his friend, alive, are sent to Doyoung in the half instance before the phone screen collides to the concrete. You make quick strides over to the last person, pointing to your hands, smoke emitting from the mouth.

He pulls the trigger again and you’re right behind him.

Godammit, you mentally swore. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This isn’t what you hoped for.

It’s only for a split second that he looks at you for the first time, that the man you’d been admiring from afar looks at you instead of being looked at. But it is not in the way that you’d imagined and replayed in your head over and over again— sparkly-eyed, smiley-faced, like the way he greets his customers after the jingle of the bell in his store. That isn’t the case right now.

You’d just thrown a body into the floor, slashed a blade through the tender skin of the person’s neck, and red burst all over when you looked up to the wide eyes looking straight at you with alarm, panic, and fear.

This definitely isn’t how you pictured your ‘meet-cute’ occurrence.

“I called a chauffeur to take him home. You better leave now before he takes a clearer look at you.”

“I’m already screwed,” you hiss.

“You only did your job.”

You take one look back at the scene, Lee Taeyong still staring with those large, pretty eyes at the side profile of your dark figure looming over the massacre, and you feel sick to the stomach.

“I hate this job.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said that from your ten years in the business.”

THERE’S A YELLOWISH TINT IN THE MIDDAY SKY, the shadows of clouds sliding down the sidewalk of Seoul’s streets from the overpassing sky. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air from the building next door, and beeps and whirs from passing vehicles flood into your ears. You can see the sight with your eyes closed— even after only staying here for a little more than a month.

To your right is Moon’s bakery. To your left is an alley leading up to the next street. Behind you is a building in the middle of redevelopment. You don’t have to think to know what’s in front of you.

“I know you have the habit of taking away lives, but can you at least spare some mercy to the poor leaf you’re desecrating?”

You shoot your eyes open, yelping at the poor leaf of an orange tulip from the stands that had somehow managed its unfortunate way into your hands. “Shit,” you mumble, staring down apologetically at the scrunched up droopy leaf. “Renjun, I don’t think I can do this.”

“I think you can.”

“I killed a man right before his eyes!”

“He doesn’t know it’s you!” Renjun scolds you for yelling too loud. “You saved his fucking life.”

“He doesn’t know it’s me!” you retort, releasing a croaky groan and running your fingers through your hair, a permanent frown and grimace stapled to your face. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Don’t you dare. It took me so long to convince you to wear that dress.”

Right now, you’re in front of Monroe— the flower shop owned by the pretty pretty florist who you most likely scarred after that scene the other week— wearing a pastel pink cotton dress with a cream cardigan on top. For once, you look like a normal law abiding citizen. Someone who probably studies in the morning and works at a cute cafe in the afternoon.

The only reason you haven’t been shooed away or had the cops called on you is because Lee Taeyong is on lunch break.

“Look, Y/N,” uncharacteristically, Renjun wears a comforting tone. Your frown just digs deeper when you hear his voice enter your head. “This is your only chance of meeting the alleged love of your life and if you blow this, you’re never meeting him again.”

You want to. You know you want this at the very least to replace the last picture you have of it inside your head into something softer— something kinder, more tender to your sensibilities just like you’d imagined, but at the same time it’d feel like you’d be cheating your own fate.

“You know that you’re leaving in a few hours, right?”

That’s right. It’s dangerous to linger in the same city after a job, after all. You’re set out for Daegu in the evening. Someone filed a request to clean up a mess back in Jung-gu.

“I never said he was the love of my life,” you huff, pulling down the ends of your cardigan. “I’m just— you know—”

The cast iron bell fumbled with the swinging of a door.

“Sorry! Were you waiting long?”

It’s all familiar. The bell sound, the perfume scent of roses leaking from the inside of the mint walls and blushing copper lights strewn around the living vines, and the gold lines in his eyes— welcoming, a little bashful too, after letting a customer wait outside his store since who knows when. A completely different look for the exact same undeserving person, a familiar feeling despite never feeling it yourself.

Maybe your throat set up a trap for itself because the air simply would not breathe past it.

“Oh—! um—”

Calm down, you breathe in. Is this really okay? Is it alright for you to be doing this?

“Hey, sorry to cut your moment short but we need to leave in thirty. You fine with that?”

“Hydrangeas!” you suddenly yelp. “I’m—I’m looking for hydrangeas?”

Three blinks. Then he smiles. “Come in.”

When’s the last time you entered a room full of daisies and orchids and azaleas and roses? Never, because this is your first. A sight so common to most, yet awe striking to someone like you. Out of place, that’s how you feel— like an autumn tree in the middle of a field of sunflowers, the roots unsuited for the dirt in the ground, yet you bury and bury yourself anyway until the time comes where you’ll be forcefully uprooted.

“Wrap it up, Y/N. It’ll be dangerous for you to stay longer.”

“Do you have a specific arrangement in mind?” he asks. Your eyes stay on him curiously. “Like a message you want to convey?”

A message. There’s a piece of paper tucked into your cardigan pocket. A cheat note you prepared for today. “Can you just…make a bouquet of nothing but blue hydrangeas?” You never even knew that different colors mean different things to different flowers and different people. Taeyong smiles— it’s the first time you see his nametag up close.

“You must be really thankful, then.”

“Y/N.”

“Is it— is it okay if I come back for it later?”

“Of course,” he replies while taking a white wrapper from his stand. “But I hope your later isn’t too late. The flowers can’t wait forever.”

“It’s time to go.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply. The bell clangs. It’s the first time you hear it make this kind of tune. “I’ll come back for them soon!”

AFTERWORD. there’s still so many to develop from this HAHHAHA does taeyong recognize her? what’s her history with renjun? how the fuck did she even get in this business anyway? when the fuck is she getting the flowers back — but i digress, brain hurty HAHAHAHA. niwey! hope u enjoyed this unscheduled dumpster fire! pls send me ur thoughts think u sew much.

#HT.KKNB: fic.#NCT-WRITERS #ankathia #neowritingsnet #lee taeyong x reader #taeyong x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #taeyong scenarios #lee taeyong scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct fanfic #lee taeyong fanfic #taeyong fanfic #taeyong x you #lee taeyong x you

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gojology · 4 years ago

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Let Me Spoil You. (18+) (NSFW)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I AM FEEDING U GUYS SO GOOD ???? holy mother of a goose i poured my blood sweat and tears into this, bumping to yung gravy as i write this so u alrdy know this is gonna be a banger!!! also i didn’t edit at all and i got so lazy at the end n i didnt wanna scrap this so uhh sorry if its bad 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom Gojo x Sub Female Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3683 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Dub-Con (I think?) Inexperienced Virgin Reader, Somnophilia, Degradation, Dom/Sub, Edging, Begging, Spitting 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s your one month anniversary, and you really don’t like Gojo spoiling you, Gojo gets frustrated, he teaches you a lesson. A soft orange filter glazed the bathroom, a humid breeze blowing in weakly from the window that was always open, no matter what. The shower head lightly sprinkled on you, mumbling curses to the shower head, you swatted, and lightly tapped it a few times before you realized you had to change the water pressure. Facepalming, you hadn’t realized that you had changed the water pressure to ungodly levels. It was too late when you had realized, the water shot at your face, practically pushing you back. Water droplets adorned your cheeks, and your hair suddenly decreased in volume. Gasping for air, you used your arm to wipe your eyes and quickly turned the temperature up to anything other than the freezing bitter cold, you stretched, indulging in the refreshing, hot water. You had just gone out with Gojo for a luxurious dinner, even though it wasn’t quite your style, Gojo had insisted on taking you out to a fine-dining establishment. Small cuts of steak, with absurdly expensive champagne on the side, and of course, Gojo’s favorite, absurdly expensive desserts. It had been almost a month since you had began to go out with him, and he had tried treating you like a princess ever since. Anything you set your eyes on, he offered to buy it, whipping out a black leather wallet that was close to snapping. Thick wads of cash sat untouched, and you always politely declined. He had always argued with you, telling you that it was a given for significant others to spoil their loved ones. You always brushed it off, but in the latest argument between you two, Gojo was persistent, insisting that you were to dress in your finest and so that he could, “finally spoil my babygirl.” You could still remember how the conversation went. “No, Satoru.” you scoffed, turning to face him, leaning on the counter. Your arms crossed over your chest, “We can get JUST as good food if we order take out or some shit.” “Listen, sweetheart,” he immediately rushed over, his hand on your ass, rubbing up and down, his other caressing your neck. “It’s nothing on me financially, I can handle it, I want to spoil you princess.” You shook your head, looking down. He took his hand off your neck and rubbed his. “I rarely get to spend time with you, between the meetings and the missions and training Yuuji, so let me do it just this once, is that okay, pumpkin? Besides, what do you lose from this? I made the reservation too, so we don’t have to wait. It’s a win win~” You glanced up, before looking down again, ruffling your hair. An awkward silence grew between you two. What did you lose from this? Even though Gojo was absolutely loaded, you still felt terrible spending money for unnecessary shit. He looked at you, placing his hand on his chin, he looked like he was thinking, which was unusual, because the guy was as dumb as a snail sometimes. He let out a small “hm” stroking his chin as if he was debating with world renowned scholars before finally opening his mouth, “Oooooooooh, I get it now!” You sighed, so dramatic. He leaned forward, you always forgot how ridiculously tall he was, and how much he loomed over your figure. “Babe, don’t feel bad.” he tipped your chin upward so he could look you in the eye, even though he was quite literally wearing his blindfold, “this has been our 1 month anniversary, and what’s an anniversary without spending money on unnecessary shit?” “I mean, I guess..” Hesitantly agreeing, he shoved you upstairs into his room (and yours as well!) to throw on the best formal looking outfit you could find last minute. Digging through the drawers, you found a skin-tight black sundress that you had paired with a layered delicate necklace Gojo had gifted you on your second week of dating. Hastily throwing on gold rings and a gold anklet just for the fun of it, you fluffed up your hair. You looked at your black high heels. Hey, if you were gonna be so lavish looking, why not go all out? You regretted that train of thought later on, and wondered why you didn’t just pull up in a simple white t-shirt. Regardless, it was worth it at the end. Gojo looked stunning that night. Swapping out the regular blindfold for a pair of black sunglasses, it accentuated his chiseled features even more. His hair wasn’t what it was usually, it wasn’t spiked up at all. Instead, he wore it down. It looked much softer, and it framed his face perfectly. He wore a buttoned down dress shirt, and you felt your heart swell when other woman watched him walk by, their faces faltering when they realized his arm around your waist. He even went to the extent of pulling the chairs out for you, and opening the car door, as if you were truly a princess. Admittedly, you found yourself enjoying the fine dining, even with the ridiculously small portions. The atmosphere, and the pampering from the waiters had grown on you. While thinking about the events of your anniversary, the door creaked opened, Gojo’s head peaked just above the foggy glass doors of the shower. You slightly slid the door open just a crack, you knew that most couples would immediately open the door and have their arms out, waiting for their significant other to immediately pleasure them in the shower, but you hadn’t done anything like that with Gojo yet. Instantly met with his incredibly toned body, glowing in the hazy amber light from the window, you gulped. A towel draped over his veiny arms, and an incredibly large t-shirt with panties in the other. You quickly realized the t-shirt as the one Gojo often wore, you had never worn one of his t-shirts before. The endless missions had obviously done him well, he looked like he was sculpted from marble, a gift from heaven. Arms strong enough to hold the world, you wondered what it would be like to have him carry you around. Your face flushed a bright red, you didn’t even know what it was like to be carried by him, the furthest you both went was making out, and even you had found yourself being too bad at it to do it consistently. Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize what Gojo was saying. “Sugarplum? I got your clothes.” he murmured softly, setting the towel and clothes down. Your breath hitched, watching his head turn to face the shower. Instantaneously looking down at your face peeking through. You were never gonna hear the end of this one. A small smile spread across his face, before disappearing into a large cocky smirk, now that he had realized what you were looking at. “It’s okay, I understand, pumpkin. Not many have the courage to tell me face to face that I’m the best. In terms of strength, and looks, and everything.” You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry. “Fuck off, idiot, I’m trying to shower!” “Ouch! I didn’t say that when you were ogling at my body, didn’t I? That really hurt my feelings, weren’t you ever taught the golden rule?” His hand wove through his hair, and you couldn’t help realize how soft it looked without all the gel holding the iconic spikes together. “Treat others how you want to be treated.” he winked. Your mouth sealed shut, accepting your defeat, you slid the glass door shut loudly. You heard loud booming laughter go down the hallway, gradually getting quieter and quieter before exhaling a sigh of relief as you continued to shower. You couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend’s body once more, it seemed like a dream. Was he really yours? He had the body of a super model and he settled with you and not some ridiculously pretty girl? Anyone would take advantage of such a handsome boyfriend, showing him off for the world to see. You felt an unfamiliar throb between your legs, you looked down, head tilted to the side while also simultaneously furiously washing your hair. You hadn’t felt this throbbing too much, it was almost like a yearning, and you were almost sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t quite want to admit it yet. Shaking your head furiously, you wanted to finish your shower before anything else. Ignoring the obvious. ‧₊˚✩彡. Rubbing your hair with your towel, you had thrown on the t-shirt and panties, cursing Gojo silently for not giving you a pair of shorts. Rummaging through the drawers in your room, Gojo suddenly appeared in the hallway. “What are you looking for, love?” he leaned on the doorway, cocking his head to his side with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you ask yourself, considering that you were the one who gave me my clothes.” you scoffed, pushing the drawer you were searching for back and moving on to the next. You had forgotten which drawer had your pants, vivid images of Gojo’s body echoing through your mind. “Your pants are on the left of the drawer.” he strode over to the king-sized bed, the mattress sinking down as he sat. “What are you thinking about?” You scoffed again, looking at him with a side eye. “I’m not thinking of anything? What are you talking about?”

“Whenever you think, you forget literally everything around you.”

Cursing the Gojo clan for ever birthing such a smart yet stupid child, you twirled around with a pair of shorts now in hand. “I do not!”

“Yeah? Okay lil girl. Oh no, you’re not wearing those.”

You felt a throb yet again when you heard him call you lil girl. He snatched the pair of shorts up, dangling it just above your head. “Can’t I ever have my girlfriend wear something remotely sexy? I love your body. I want to see it all in its glory.” He placed it back into the drawer neatly.

You froze. He was being incredibly straightforward, which wasn’t unlike Gojo, but you didn’t think he would make such large advancements. His arms snaked around your waist without you even realizing, breathing heavily as he placed your ass on his lap.

Readjusting to the new position, you looked up, fear and excitement brewing inside of you, was this going to be your first time having sex? You leaned in for a kiss.

Just as he was about to give you a taste of his lips once again, a loud ringtone sounded.

“Fuck.” he cursed to himself, digging into his pockets and whipping out his phone, he gestured for you to be quiet. You whined a little, you had now realized what you were throbbing for.

“Hello?” Gojo cocked his head to his side, placing the phone right next to his ear as it dangerously rested on his shoulder. A disgruntled look in his face, one hand squishing your ass.

“Mmmmmm, yeah, okay.” he placed the phone down on the covers, looking down to you, eye to eye.

“That was a call from Ijichi, there’s some crazy shit going on somewhere, I have to take an emergency business trip.” he kissed your forehead gently, “I love you okay?”

Disappointed with the outcome, you nodded. He gave you a gentle few pats on your back before standing up, gently rolling you over on the bed, and rummaging through the drawers for his work uniform.

“As he casually undressed in front of you, you obviously stared, savoring the last few minutes of his body before he would disappear for the next few days, or maybe even weeks, or a month.

He looked back on you, just as he was entering the hallway.

“You forgot to say I love you.”

Looking up, you cursed to yourself, he didn’t have the usual playful cocky grin, now replaced with a worried one.

“I love you too.”

‧₊˚✩彡.

It had now been a week since your 1 month anniversary, you had been blue balled so badly, it almost hurt. You were laying down on your bed, looking at the curtains flutter as a casual wind blew into the room. The sun was setting, and a beautiful dark blue canvas dotted with stars was sure to appear.

You had tried holding off, ignoring your walls desperately wrapping around something that wasn’t there. Constantly looking down, seeing that your panties were obviously soaked. The dreams weren’t helping either, Satoru had been appearing in your dreams and doing things that even he would be weirded out by, and he had seen some shit.

Your arm snaked down to your panties, hand underneath the fabric. You breathed a sigh of relief as your unexperienced fingers circled your entrance, enjoying the slight tease. You heard the slight suckle of your walls around your fingers, enjoying the full feeling.

Yet you knew that this wasn’t the extent of things, you knew that there were much bigger, capable of reaching places you wouldn’t even dream of reaching. But you enjoyed the small amounts of pleasure anyways.

You pulled your panties down, throwing it into the laundry basket and cursing yourself for making it so wet. Slowly thrusting in and out with the finger, you sighed a breath of relief.

“Fuck.” you gasped, as a white fluid pooled out of you onto the sheets. You cursed harder to yourself, realizing now that you had to wash them.

“Shit.” you couldn’t quite stop there though, you had even more aching between your legs, and you had to satisfy your cravings, you didn’t even know when Gojo would come home.

You gasped more, a second round of white fluids flowed out of you. The yearnings now gone, you yanked a tissue out of the tissue box, wiping your finger on it, too lazy to get up, you would worry about the cum later. Drifting off into a heavy sleep, dreaming once again about the ungodly things you wanted Gojo to do to you.

‧₊˚✩彡.

“Gojo, s-stop.” you looked up at him as you sat on his lap, his fingers coated with your slick. His other hand played with the hem of your skirt. Not responding, he continued to quietly fingering you.

You quickly put a hand over your mouth, letting out a muffled moan, he snickered a little, before pulling out his fingers.

You whined a bit, earning a stare from a few people. Looking up at him with puppy eyes, you felt yourself wrapping around air.

He sadistically smiled. You wondered how his eyes would look right now, unable to look at him because of his blindfold.

“Beg for it, slut.” he silently whispered, teasing your entrance. You let out a little whimper again, how were you to be quiet when he was doing all this to you?

You opened your mouth slightly, about to beg, before being shut down completely as he shoved 3 fingers into you.

You let out a loud squeak, the whole restaurant now staring at you, eyeing you even across the room with displeased faces. You looked down, embarrassed.

He was now laughing at you, you looked up to him about to silently chew him out. Before opening your mouth, you were transported into a bright room.

‧₊˚✩彡.

Your eyes blinked, readjusting to the brightness. You realized that your legs were slightly colder then your upper half, realizing that you were completely naked down there. You blinked furiously, looking around, seeing someone’s incredibly muscular chest, with unmistakable white hair.

Rubbing your eyes, making sure that you weren’t seeing things, you mumbled, “Gojo?”

You felt something squirm around inside of you, letting out a loud moan as it pulled out.

“Hm?” he murmured sleepily, you looked down.

Putting two and two together, his incredibly long fingers were glistening with a wetness. He shuffled a bit before finally sucking and licking his fingers, looking at you directly in the eye while doing so.

“What’s wrong, slut?” he smiled deviously again, resting his chin on your shoulder before thrusting 2 fingers back inside of you again. Curling them inside of you, indulging in the toe curling scream you made.

“Gojo! You’re...” he pulled his fingers out before you could finish, adding another finger, he was now up to 3.

“FUCK, SATORU!” With a lustrous glint in his eyes, he shoved his thumb and index finger into your mouth. “That’s daddy to you, and look at your body. It’s practically begging for my cock by now. Oh princess, did I play with you for too long?” he slipped his fingers out of your needy pussy, smiling into your hair. “Want daddy to fuck you?” Your mouth suddenly dry, you looked at his neck. Not knowing how to respond, you nodded vigorously, sucking on his fingers. He tipped your chin to look upwards at his face, staring directly into his aquamarine eyes. “Use your words, whore. Or you’re not getting shit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. You coughed and spluttered into your arm, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. His eyes went softer, pulling you into his chest. “Oh sweetheart, did I go too rough on you?” You shook your head, before shakily replying, “I-I was just surprised y-you came e-early from the mission a-and...” you took a deep breath in, “I was... unp-prepared. Before he could reply, you blurted out, “P-please, daddy, use my tight l-little holes. I’m all yours to u-use.” He smiled, “What a cute slut. You want me to spoil you, don’t you?” You nodded, now rubbing your thighs together. Your slick coated your inner thigh and your breathing was getting hot. “How come when I offered to, you didn’t want to obey me?” “Y-you can’t compare the two-” He spat into your open mouth. Smiling a bit when he realized that you had swallowed it, looking at him with even wider puppy eyes. “No talking back, repeat after me, lil girl. When daddy wants to spoil me, I will let him spoil me.” “W-when daddy wants to s-spoil me, I...” you took a shaky breath in, “I’ll let him spoil m-me.” “That’s a good girl. Now turn to look at the wall.” he calmly replied, you obeyed, looking at the wall, anticipating for whatever happened next. You felt something big touch your entrance. Something unnecessarily big, you whimpered. Realizing it was Gojo’s dick. He chuckled a bit, smiling into your neck and then giving it a light suck. “It’s okay princess, this is your first isn’t it? I’ll make you into my cumslut afterwards. I’ll go nice and easy.” Heaving a bit, he thrusted a little inside of you. You held your breath. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all. Even with the contrast between his incredibly thick and large cock, to your inexperienced, tight walls. “Missy, you’re so wet.” huskily muttering into your ear, “almost like you’re milking my cock. So tight.” He grunted, repositioning myself and letting out a small, “Fuck.” as he did so. You whined as he gradually put more and more of him inside of you. You tightened around his cock, drooling as you did so. You didn’t realize your mouth was open. “Babe, I can barely fucking pull out.” Gojo said, while he played with your hair, stroking your cheek. “W-why not?” “Nothing other then the fact that, a) you’re too tight around me, and b) you’re clenching incredibly hard for no real reason.” he once again, shoved his thumb and index finger for you to suck on, the other playing with your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple. “Just relax, baby. Let daddy do all the work, okay?” You weakly nodded, as he finished shoving the last of his length inside of you. Whimpering, and yanking your pillow out from its normal position to hug it. You felt him pull out, and he slammed back inside of you once again. You swore to God that you saw the light, a wave of pleasure and your body going numb as he did so. Letting out a shrill squeak, you hugged your pillow as hard as you can, your juices flowing down into the bed now, leaving an evident trail of where it once came from. Gojo grunted, snuggling deeper into your body. There was barely any space between the two of you, but you still didn’t feel close enough. The room was filled with the sound of sticky skin against stinky skin, panting, and moans. You felt every. single. bit. of him. Now, he had begun to quicken his pace, slamming into your body more often, sending waves of pleasure inside of you. His hair stuck to his neck, sweat pouring down his body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, I want to cum inside of you so badly, love.” he panted out of breath. You whimpered, still unable to speak due to his fingers you were harshly sucking all this time. He laughed in response, before finally pulling out. In a blink of an eye, he shot ropes of cum on your stomach, panting. You had finally gotten a good view of his cock, big was an understatement. Veins decorated the side of it, and the tip was a rosy pink. “Lick some cum off of your pretty stomach, princess. I wanna see how pretty you look while doing so.” Both of you breathing heavily, sweat dampening the sheets, his eyes bore into you. You gulped, even though you had done something so intimate with him, dominant Gojo was nothing to mess with. You scooped some of his cum up with your finger and sucked on it, looking at him the whole time. He grunted with approval, giving you a nice headrub. “Well would you look at that.” he glanced at the wall, “it’s already morning. Wanna take a shower together, lil girl?” On any other day, you’d make up an excuse, but you figured that you’d get fucked even harder if you told him you didn’t want to. “Okay, daddy.” “Good girl.”

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