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fanfic-gallery · 2 years

Text

More touch, less talk [NSFW MDNI]

✎ Zhongli x Reader

✎ It was a fair exchange, his time for your money. Your hands never wondered, you kept to yourself.. yet he wanted something more than a shoulder for him to lean on..

✎ Tags: f! reader, modern au, sugar baby x sugar mama dynamic, friends to lovers

✎ CW: smut, porn with plot, dom! reader, sub! zhongli, panty stealing, secretly filming, pillow humping, thigh riding, dacryphilia, mommy kink, mistress kink

: ̗̀➛ Manager's/Author's note: Imma say it again.. minors do not interact! This is not a drill- the tameness of this is in the negatives, I repeat, minors do not interact- also this is my first time ever writing smut sooo, please don’t kill me in the comments-

“You really need to get a job, man- I can’t be paying for you for like, I don’t know, everything??”

Those words swirled his mind as Zhongli strolled his way through the bustling street. He was on a site that his roommate had recommended for his broke ass to make some easy cash without much effort, all he needed was his pretty face and cha-ching, dollar bills right on his front door step.

He was curious yet a bit skeptical but with the constant boasting of the hard stacks his friend has been earning from his “donor” just by smiling prettily, he had to see what the hype was about. And boy, did it deliver. He didn’t know he was getting a beauty alongside his many earnings. His pretty mistress, one of the many tops in her company, fully loaded, generous too.

“All you have to do is, spend time with me~ no need to act like my baby boy, just be yourself, like we’re just friends!”

He stared, flabbergasted. Ajax had told him the many stories of his “donor” doing the most ridiculous things with him [but of course he enjoys it] and Zhongli couldn’t help but feel concern flooding through his body. It was quite a surprise yet a real relief that his “donor” isn’t going to do anything to or even with him, but he can be a little defensive about it, can’t let his guard down after all, especially jobs like these.

But as time passes on, he was hoping for “it” to happen soon..

Every passing day he craved your affection more and more. Even the slightest touch of your fingers grazing his skin, sets his nerves on fire. Some days he throws quiet tantrums to have your attention, only to have you speak in soft tones every time and nothing else. He wanted your warmth enveloping him, he wanted you to squish him into an embrace. Just, TOUCH HIM, in SOME way-

He acts spoiled and bratty so you would put him in his place. Yet nothing. Only a disappointed smile and a verbal smacking are all he gets. He wanted you to throw him on your mattress and fuck him till tears were flowing like waterfalls, his lips trembling, not even a single word was hearable. He knows it’s wrong to wish that upon you, but who told you to be just that irresistible???

Friends, you said. No, he wanted more...

It started with just innocent photos of you in clothing that show more skin than he’s used to, like the many bikin shots he took when you brought him to the beach one summer. Now borderline excessive, taking short even long clips of you showering or heavy, breathy moans escaping from behind the doors to the master bedroom.

Panties every now and then missing from your wardrobe? They must have gotten lost during washing. Wait, why are your undergarments soaked even though they had been in the dryer for an hour now? Must have not been long enough. They have a lingering scent to them? Must be the detergent going sour.

Why is he doing this? Well, he hasn’t been caught yet, so why stop now?

Well, he can’t exactly say he hasn’t...

“Zhongli, I’m.. home.. what the fuck-.. ”

You mumbled under your breath, his gentle groans getting stuck in his throat as he continued to rolled his hips on the soft and fluffy pillow that still has your addictive scent, fiction growing, movements even faster with that shock gaze of yours on him.

“M-mistress, m-mo-mommy, pleaseee!”

His hand reaching before retracting as he flinch at the immense pleasure coursing through his veins. Puffs of warm exhaletes mixed with the drench of saliva filling the room. You stood there, stiff as a rock. He paused. Has he overstepped his boundaries? Did he take it too far?

“My, my, puppy.. you really don’t know what self-control is, huh? Does my pet need to remember who’s in charge here? Need me to put him in his place?”

You chuckled, hand swooping up your front strands of hair, pushing them back. Slowly but steady, walking towards the mess in front of you. Yes. Yes yes yes. This was the feeling he wanted, the adrenaline, the thrill of what you were gonna do to him, he doesn’t just wanna be a companion, he wants to be yours.

“Has mistress been neglecting too much, hm? Tell me puppy, what do you want from mommy?”

Fingers trailed his jaws, setting your chill palm against his burning cheek. Lusty eyes closed, snuggling closer into the embrace of your hand. You giggle again, drawing him closer, your faint perfume making his eyes slight roll under the layer of skin.

“Don’t keep quiet now.. if not, I won’t know what you want from me~”

He bit his lip, features flushed as ever. Without saying a word, he places a palm on your covered thigh, index drawing swirls and squiggles on the pair of trousers. You sigh, your smile never leaving your lips.

“You want to do something to my thigh? What is it darling, do you wanna ride it or eat me till I break?”

“Ride... ”

“Louder sweetheart~”

“Please.. let me ride.. you.. ”

“Please who?”

“Mistress.. ”

“Good little puppy~”

You lift yourself up despite your desperate the little pet gently pawing at you. You glance back down, the puffy eyes of his, gloss of his tears shining in the yellowish undertones of the room. His pearly skin exposed, large dress shirt doing nothing to cover up his clean, pale neck, collar and plush thighs.

“Do you want me to have them up?”

He shakes his head.

You peeled away your tight cloth draped over your lower half, teasing the already huffing Zhongli, begging and pleading you to hurry up with those innocent and pure golden pupils. Sitting back down, hand drawing towards his back, pulling him on, the feeling of his already flushed dick rubbing against your warm flesh.

“Someone’s a little too excited~”

He steams in embarrassment, but the leaking of pre from his hot, red tip says otherwise. Slender fingers hold onto your shoulders with a strong grip, unexpected from his figure and physique. Nice and slow, he started rocking back and forth. Your touch wandered, one hand treading through his pretty long locks, another holding his slim waist.

Face pulling in closer, lips touching before you push your palm further, smushing you both together. Tongues in a heated dance, both of you lost in the favour and taste of each other. Only pulling away with a string of saliva connecting your drenched lips as creamy and white fluids flowed down your thighs, messing up the sheets below you.

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chainelunaire · 1 year

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“you really don’t need that.“

touya smiles at you. him smiling is a rare occasion, and it’s usually not out of joy, rather mockery. he never laughed at you, like, directly in your face, and yet you still know he finds you ridiculous. when he actually needs to acknowledge your existence, which is quiet often, sadly.

“like, right fucking now or in general?”

��in general it’s your ‘right fucking now’.”

“that’s rich. i’m not gonna agree on that. now, take the money, i don’t have that much time.”

he never does, by the way.

not that you care that much - see, surviving on the streets is a whole thing, and you’re not that naive or kindhearted as he may see you. you’re doing it for far more than he can ever imagine, and you do good because you provide something everyone needs here. you’re one of the lucky ones - if you really, really wanted, you could become a decent member of a society. maybe even a hero.

yet, you’re not a hero. far from one - if we talk about book-like heroes. you have a lot of clients, and some of them are heroes - you know very well, they don’t do heroic shit with buying from you, but you don’t judge. heroes have some good money, they’re great clients - dutiful, polite and they pay in cash. they’re a lot better than poor angry scum, like small villains or angry homeless kids.

touya is an interesting case for sure: you know you’re not the only one he’s buying pills from, and you’re not blind, you see why he needs it so badly. his rotting flesh - violent purple on some places, and still kinda pinkish on others - is his very obvious reason why he wants every painkiller in a city. with how much he needs, he alone would probably suck your quirk dry, only if you’d let him to, so you don’t. you’re friendly with him - you’re poilte with all of your clients - and you let him mock you, smile at you, but still, you charge the guns. not your problem sometimes he forgets that.

and again, even if you’re asking some stupid questions, everyone generally let you be, because you have the powder, and they don’t, so who’s the real boss here? touya, for example, hates to be asked - what’s his real name (touya is his real name), where’s he from (he was too high to answer, and later you just dropped the subject alltogether), how old is he (he hadn’t answered that one) - he hates shit like that, but he told you almost everything you wanted to know, because you have the pills, and he doesn’t. you’re making rules here.

so he can smile all he want, but here’s the real threat, and he feels it - you may actually not be in the mood to give him pills, and this is bad, very-very bad. you need cash, of course, but you don’t need it that badly, you know? you have enough. it’s friday, late in the night, he called you not on the schedule, and you may be slightly pissed, because all you wanted was a peaceful night, not his usual shenanigans.

for once, he’s right.

“nah, i spare” you say, stepping back under a roof of a night club, where you usually spend your friday evenings. “g’nite”.

“wait” you turn back to him - he’s a bit angry, you think. “that’s not what we agreed upon”.

“of course not, since you stalked me here out of the blue” it’s your turn to smile - you afraid it might look a bit wolfish with how annoyed you are, “you should be grateful i talked to you. i don’t have anything on me right now anyway and i want to rest.”

“c’mon, make it. i’ll pay you double”

“sounds nice, but still no” something changes in his attitude. you’re so calm and he knows you’re not playing. you’re not that type of person - he thinks you’re naive, but he also knows for sure you don’t do anything you don’t want to do. and your quirk, while being so handy, is very tiresome. that’s the core reason why you busy being here and not being a decent member of a society - you help only on your terms and only if you want. he can’t change your mind, not really.

“my, my, you look horrified, don’t you have a backup plan?” you’re starting to worry because now he’s shivering, studying his hands in almost horror. you feel a bit bad - you know that he really needs it.

but it’s none of your business at the end of the day.

“you were my backup plan” he says quietely, not so smug anymore. “already been everywhere”.

“i’m really s-”

“please” you don’t like that desperation in his voice. you absolutely hate when clients do that, play your emotions. you’ve always respected touya for not doing that. that’s why you were so friendly and calm with him. but here he is, trying to play you. “please, i really need it.”

“everyone does” now you truly do sound tired. touya looks at you, eyes glisten with something more than just desperation and terror. you can smell burning flesh and you prefer to ignore why.

“i can give you more, if that’s what you need” he speaks after a long pause.

“i already told you, i don’t need more cash”.

“didn’t talk about money”.

you feel cold in your limbs. he looks straight at you now - no spark in his eyes, not any reflection. his gaze now remind you of a dead fish - it’s this empty, this fucking gross.

you know for a fact, he doesn’t like you. for what you know, he doesn’t like anyone. he hates to be touched, he completely ignores any attempt in flirting, even innocent playful teasing, even not from you. he doesn’t like to be around people, and he sure as hell doesn’t like you - in that sense at least. you never asked him where he got the money. you never asked him why everytime he needed just a bit more. you’ve grown too comfortable with the fact that it’s a neverending circle: he needs more powder to kill his pain to go through a day so he can get money so he can pay you - and not only you - for a powder to kill his pain-

he sinks on his knees, looking down, and you want to run away, to scream, to jump into a hot water and scrub this disgust away. you shiver when you feel hot lips even through warm tights you put on today’s morning.

“don’t touch me”

“don’t worry” he mumbles not looking at you “i’m clean. checking every month. promise”

you’ve truly never been so terrified in your entire life. you’re begging him to let you go - his hands are gentle, not inruding in any manner, but still he doesn’t listen. you can’t move a muscle. you don’t feel aroused in a slightest.

you wanna throw up.

“wait”

you feel warm hands on your hips.

“touya, wait”

no response. you’re starting to think he’s zoned out - you know, people do that when they do something they hate to do.

“touya, stop!”

you feel bad for kicking him. you feel bad that he thought so of you. you feel even worse, because of how easy it was for him to go in this direction. it’s like he’s used to do it again, and again, and again.

“what” he asks flatly. you hate his eyes now, without his usual boldness and pride. it hurts you, it hurts you so, so bad.

you feel growing pain in your chest. you feel your entire body trembling with tiredness and something more. you feel like you need a lot of powder, to kill this pain.

he doesn’t look in your eyes - his gaze is locked on your hands.

“take it” your voice is hoarse from anxiety. you don’t have the strength in you to make this powder neat and nice, it’s not his usual pills, it’s something different, but it should work. you fear that he might want to finish what he started, and you see him opening his mouth. to ask, probably “shut the fuck up and go home. do it before i changed my mind.”

“i scared you?” he asks instead. you look away. “i see”

“take it and go!”

“sorry. didn’t want you to fear me. don’t feel bad-”

“please, just go away. please” you feel your voice crack, and hide your face behind your free hand. you feel warm fingers on your skin once again, and then you can tell he’s gone.

there’s a tiny bit of powder still on your skin. you’re licking it off of your palm, and you know how strong you are, it should be enough for you, you should feel better now. the thing is, even after making yourself painkillers again and again and again, until you’re almost lying on the ground from tiredness, that terrible pain is still here.

and you probably still really need more.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x you #touya todoroki #dabi angst #bnha oneshots

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shuttershocky · 1 year

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Yknow I really want to think that folks at Hypergryph want to make Good Viddygame in addition to making mad cash off of it but as time goes on its kinda getting harder and harder.

My dude, every damn game developer wants to make a good video game. With all the unnecessary bullshit in the industry you don't really work here unless you really, truly love it and are willing to take much lower pay and horrendous work hours vs jobs with similar skillset needs. No artist dreams of making bad art.

However, as long as the endgoal is increasing company profits, making a good video game free of bullshit also becomes increasingly difficult.

If you're an older gamer who has seen how the industry's changed over the years, you would know that capitalism has ruined so much of what video games once were. Unfinished games releasing with a whole roadmap of DLC planned out and armies of developers crunched to their deaths to keep up with a ridiculous annual release schedule so the flow of money never stops, all of this was unthinkable years ago, and yet was inevitable given the path the industry set out on.

As video games went from niche nerd hobby to a real industry, all the moneymen spotted a goldmine and set up shop. It's not enough that a company turns a profit, it has to turn a profit larger than last year's to show that it's still growing. That's why nobody ever sells a complete, medium budget, single-player package fully polished from start to finish anymore (barring the odd surprise like Hi-Fi Rush), because that only makes money once, while a live service game with paid battlepasses and DLC will keep the money rolling in for years.

Back to Arknights, you can see for yourself just how much this pressure to keep growing profits has affected the game. There used to be no limited units at all, a breath of fresh air in the mobage space, until Nian came to much pushback. HG tried to compromise, made this whole system of a free roll every day and a free ten roll ticket to make the idea of limiteds suck less, but they already broke the dam. Limited units went from once every 6 months to once every 3. Then in the next year they introduced Operator Alters, because every gacha game knows you can sell harder by making a different version of an already popular unit rather than convince people to like a new one. Even the very nature of Alters made an attempt to go from "An alternate take on your favorite characters" to the extremely familiar "Its this character but in a bikini" type of cashgrab. Skin prices also went from 18 prime to 21 once Live2D skins entered the picture, and the originium prime store introduced a one time refresh of the first time purchase bonus, just to try to convince people who have never bought prime before to take advantage of the first bonus.

This is the sad reality all online games must face one way or the other. A company can't just be sustainable, it has to keep growing, and that means constantly looking for the cheapest way to squeeze out more money.

It's only going to get worse for many games unless major changes are made, the industry goes through another disastrous crash, or both.

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tiffanytoms · 1 year

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Helloooooo, I know you’ve been having a break (deservedly so😌) however….. I went to a magic Mike show in London today and all I could think about was “imagine James and Lily in this situation” I mean I’m no writer so I don’t know how the story line would go, obviously James dancing on stage and then lily in the audience, maybe Sirius tries to set them up after the show because he sees how much James fancies her? And we all know Sirius would love to show himself off so he could of course be on stage too😍😂 so my question is, would you ever consider writing maybe a one shot based around this? Or know anyone who would be willing? As I can no longer get this out of my head and will be thinking about this for dayyysssss😂😂

Girl, your request possessed me today 🤪 Next time save me a seat!

I give you...

🕺🏻 Magic James ✨

Fic below the cut!

James

“Pads, I’m going to fucking murder you—“

“How is this my fault?”

“Because all of this was your bloody idea!” James Potter cried out to his best friend while covered in baby oil and wearing ridiculously tight football shorts. James loved playing football, and he was good at it too, so he would know that wearing these shorts would actually not make any sense at all in the real world. How were you supposed to properly tackle if you were afraid you’d tear your kit and accidentally show everyone your skivvies in the process?

But that was neither here nor there. Because these were exactly the kind of football shorts you wore if you were a stripper at Magic Mike in London — because that was exactly the point. The more skivvies you showed off — or better yet, bare arsecheeks — the more popular you were.

“I didn’t hear you complaining when you voluntarily signed up with me and made a shit ton of cash every weekend for the past—”

“I just wanted to be supportive!” James rebutted, his voice going up an octave. Okay, so that wasn’t the whole truth (he’d always been a bit of a showoff and he knew he had the body to match), but it was at least partially true. Ever since Sirius’ terrible parents had cut him off financially, Sirius had needed to find inventive ways to make money so he could stay in university with James. James had offered to just pay his tuition for him, but Sirius had been much too proud to accept that. So James did the second best thing — he went to his jobs with him.

So that was the story of how James Potter found himself stripping on a Saturday night, some 30 or so odd kilometers from campus, presently losing his goddamn mind. You see, while James had a ton of fun dancing for cash while making ladies of all ages incredibly giddy — he still sort of wanted to keep his naughty little hobby a secret. So imagine his horror when he spotted his crush, the gorgeous redhead from his organic chemistry class that he hadn’t been able to shut up to his friends about for weeks, sitting front row in the middle of a bachelorette party. (Not hers at least — thank fuck.)

“Tcha. Sure,” Sirius teased, adjusting the silly, leather, fingerless gloves he was sporting. While James had been branded the jock of the performers, Sirius’ ensemble had more of a ‘bad boy’ vibe. James had doubled over laughing for a solid five minutes the first time he’d seen him backstage in it. “Look, maybe she won’t even recognize you—” It was the wrong thing to say to poor, frazzled James, because the only thing worse than Lily recognizing him would be if she didn’t even care enough about him to remember his existence and didn’t. Sirius, best mate that he was, realized his mistake and pivoted. “Okay. Remember that thing you’re always telling me about how you get in the zone when you play football and nothing else matters?”

“Yeah?” James asked confused, really not seeing the correlation here. It wasn’t like he could just dribble around Evans and score.

“So… just do that. Don’t overthink it, just do what you do best: perform, fuck your opponents up, show no mercy, and dominate.”

James felt like his brain had just melted hearing all his usual sports tricks being used in reference to… her. “You want me to dominate Evans?”

“No, not like that!” Sirius’ expression changed from exasperated to contemplative. “I mean, maybe. If you think she’d be into that—”

“Okay, worst pep talk ever—”

“Prongs, mate,” Sirius said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Stop stressing. You love this gig; I know you do. And you said it yourself that you don’t know how to break the ice with this girl, right? Well, guess what?” James groaned at the inevitable conclusion to this thought process. “This will be the best icebreaker ever.” Sirius gave James a good ol’ spank on the bum. “Have fun, go wild.” He winked. “Give her a show she won’t forget.”

Fuck my life.

Lily

“Is that… Sirius Black?” Lily’s friend and roommate Mary asked, far too excitedly, by her side after a boy their age walked on stage. The corny, overdramatic announcer had just proclaimed that it was actually, ‘PAAAAAAADDDDFOOOOOOTTTT!’ but everyone knew that was just a silly stage name.

“I doubt our classmates have secret side gigs as strippers, Mare,” Lily sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Truth be told, she really hadn’t wanted to come here. These kinds of shows just weren’t her thing, but Frank was her best friend, and Alice was the love of his life — so she was trying to put in the effort by attending her bachelorette party.

Mary had also given her a pep talk after Lily had lamented how degrading this was to the men, saying, ‘Lils. Are you serious? These guys love their jobs. They get paid to have women ogle their physiques and go crazy over them. Even the gay ones get a massive ego boost and get paid to dance and then check out their boyfriends when they perform. It’s really not that deep. Leave your gender studies minor at school and have fucking fun! I promise you, none of them had a gun pointed to their heads when they took this job. Stop being so judgy and let the men do what they wanna do!’ Truthfully, that had put Lily in her place. Just because she wouldn’t be caught dead stripping, didn’t mean that other people felt the same way and couldn’t find it liberating.

“No, that’s definitely him. I’d recognize that bum anywhere,” Mary responded, eyes still glued to the stage.

“Oh my god, I think it is him,” Lily agreed, hiding her giggle behind her hand. Black was a bit of an enigma across campus, being one of the best looking students there, but always seeming too brooding and untouchable to approach. One of the only things that softened and humanized him was his best friend, Potter. With bright eyes, an easy laugh, and a presence that could light up even her most dreary of least favorite classes, Potter was hard to miss. So if Potter, an endless ray of sunshine, found Black to be a good best mate, Lily found that it spoke volumes of his character.

The crowd started going wild as Black, definitely the hottest dancer they’d had yet, started walking around the stage, clearly feeling at home in tight jeans and a vest. Was the look a lot? Yes. Was it simultaneously hot and showing off every inch of his gorgeous body? Also fucking yes.

Lily giggled as she felt herself loosening up, slowly becoming just as invested in this sexy little game of make-believe as all of her friends. She knew Black. He was one of the most stubborn men she’d ever met. No one would ever tell him what to do… so if he was here… He wanted to be here.

When he passed by her and practically twerked his ass in her face, she laughed her own ass off and put a five pound note in his g-string.

“There we go, Lils!” Mary cheered next to her, already having slapped his butt twice like she was playing the bongo drums. Lily guessed it was the reason Sirius seemed to be spending so much time on their side of the stage.

“I’m going to get another drink! Want one?” Lily yelled over the screams as she excused herself, needing a small breather from all the action. Mary was far too enthralled by the show to pay her any mind.

As much as Sirius was a great dancer, Lily was a bit embarrassed about where seeing him on stage was making her mind wander. Because, if she was being honest, she didn’t want to see Sirius up there, she wanted to see her goofy, ridiculous (-ly fit) lab partner strutting his stuff. For the first few weeks of class, she’d found him too cocky and a bit annoying, but the more she hung out with him, the more she realized all that arrogance was a mask for how adorably frazzled he got around her. It was a completely insane scenario, because he looked like a hero straight out of a Greek myth, but whatever. She’d often find him staring at her during lectures (and then kick himself) and making up the most ludicrous reasons to talk to her. She knew he was smart, but he’d still ask her for help with lab work. Of course she’d help him, but both of them knew it was all a secret rouse to hang out. Lily just hoped he would eventually work up the nerve to ask her out soon.

(And in the meantime, she was going to the university football games just to catch a glimpse of him playing. He was good. Like really good. He also seemed to go into some sort of fugue state when he played, completely in the zone, so Lily never even had to worry that he’d spot her in his crowd of admirers.)

Basically, Lily was a chicken. And she knew it.

Alas, that’s a problem to sort through another time, she thought as she returned to her seat, exorbitantly expensive drink in tow.

She’d just sat back down next to Mary, who was fanning herself off, when the announcer’s voice blared through the speakers once more: “And next, we have the incredible, looking damn edible, PRRRROOOOOONGGGGSSSSS!”

The next few seconds passed in a weird sort of blur as a few things happened in rapid succession. Firstly, the fittest crush she’d ever had walked out on stage to Sam Smith’s “Unholy” wearing a generic football uniform with a ball tucked under his arm causing Lily to think that perhaps she’d fallen on the steps and hit her head — now dreaming about what she actually wanted to see. Secondly, Mary turned to her and exclaimed, “No fucking way!” the most pleased grin ever plastered on her face. Mary had spent far too many drunken nights hearing Lily lamenting over her crush of the nerdy footballer, so as far as she was concerned, the sooner the two gave in to their obvious attraction to each other and actually went out, the better. Thirdly… damn, Potter was really good at doing little football party tricks. Never letting the ball touch the ground, he’d bounced it on what seemed like every one of his delectable body parts, all while ripping off his shirt.

Oh. My. God.

Who the fuck did he think he was? Lily swore time stood still as the thin — obviously pre-torn, but who the hell cared — fabric of his top gave way to reveal his glistening (why is it glistening?!) chest in the dazzling lights of the stage as he kept, miraculously, bouncing that damn ball. Honestly, Lily didn’t know what to be more impressed with: his fucking toned as hell body, or his obvious skill that came from years and years of loving the sport. It was hot that he’d committed so much time and effort into something. Lily really wanted to be the next thing he committed effort into — his next fucking obsession.

She also really wanted him to get off the stage so she could ogle him all by herself, preferably in the comfort and privacy of her own flat. Now. Please and thank you.

“Put your panties back on…” Mary drawled at her side, completely over the moon to have caught Lily in such a horny state.

“Shut up,” Lily shot back, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. She still wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t dreaming. Her throat had gone dry as all of her body’s moisture had somehow all drained… elsewhere. Get it the fuck together, Evans. He’s a human. Show him a little respect.

But looking at his body as he did a bicycle kick to rid himself of his prop ball and then somehow jumped forward onto his feet when he’d just been laying flat on his back… maybe she wanted to retract that statement. This man was many things… but a damsel in distress in need of her honorable gaze in order to protect his virtue was not one of them. This man was hot as fuck — he knew it… and he wanted her to relish it.

And who was Lily to not play along with that?

His eyes landed on her a second later, and Lily swore that she felt her heart as it skipped a beat. His almost shy smile to his trainers as he threw himself into a daring front flip and landed into some sort of unnatural humping position, held up entirely by his upper half, only amplified all of her stomach’s butterflies.

“Are you fucking… Lily. Lily fucking Evans…” Mary hissed beside her. “Look at him. LOOK AT HIM! If you don’t shag this man in the next five minutes, I swear to—“

Mary didn’t get to finish her sentence, because in the next moment, right after James had finished making Lily desperately pray to the heavens above that she could be reincarnated into a very specific section of laminate, the DJ had switched the song. The whole vibe of the club changed as a very sultry beat came on, Ashlee’s “Alone With You,” and James walked right to the very edge of the stage, and offered her his open palm.

Her. Offered her. Lily looked at his hand like it was a ticking time bomb.

“Go!” Mary roared as she shoved Lily forward into James’ awaiting grasp.

Lily allowed James to pull her onto the stage, eyes wide and heart thudding madly. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he responded in kind.

Sure, she’d been around him plenty of times before, but chest to (oily, glistening, fucking naked) chest seemed very different. He still had the same eyes off course, promising mischief — but now it was impossible not to know exactly what sort of mischief he was foretelling with those golden specks, glowing in a sea of hazel warmth. His smirk that she’d interpreted as perfectly wholesome before was downright filthy now, and his hair that had looked so windswept in the past currently mocked her former innocence with how obviously it screamed sex. She wanted to run her hands through it, she wanted to pull it, she wanted to absolutely destroy it as she rode him, forcing him to look up into her eyes as she came around him.

Who the fuck was she and what did this magical place do to her?

“You okay with this?” he asked her as he walked backwards, leading her to the center of the stage, clearly about to incorporate her body into his routine if she’d let him.

She couldn’t wait. “Do your worst,” she answered, deciding, fuck it, she was all in.

James’ face contorted between shock, glee, and unmitigated lust all in the span of two seconds. “You sure?” he whispered, body lithe and bare and hers. So hers right here in front of her. He had this errant, dark lock on his forehead, all but challenging Lily to sink her fingers into his hair and muss everything up even further. Why are you so obsessed with his hair right now?

“Yes. You can do whatever you want to me, Potter.” Lily wasn’t sure where it came from, but she was sure she’d never meant a sentence more.

James smirked, coming completely into his element as he swung Lily around by her hand and caught her spin right in front of chest. “Just keep your body limber, okay?” he hushed into her ear as she was pressed up against him.

Before she even had time to ponder his request, Lily felt James’ large hands — the same ones she’d only briefly touched before as he’d passed her notes and pencils in class — close in around her waist before hoisting her up in the air. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she supposed that was the point, because a moment later he had her pinned up against a prop wall. There wasn’t an encouraging yell louder than Mary’s in the crowd… and an unknown man’s whooping from backstage.

James did a tantalizing body roll into her, making Lily gasp as she felt his hips lighting up every inch of her core. When she’d put on leggings earlier in the night, she’d been thinking about her comfort during an uncomfortable night out on the town — not donning the perfect clothing to feel her crush’s pelvis as it crashed rhythmically into her own in front of an entire audience.

“All right, Evans?” James asked as he pushed his hips into her further, making her eyelids flutter closed and keeping her steady against the wall so he could grab her left wrist, and then her right, pinning both of them next to her head. Lily didn’t know she needed this rough manhandling in her life until she was literally experiencing it. He was tossing her around like she was a rag doll and she was loving it. His breathing was coming in hot and heavy on the side of her throat, and she had to wonder if it was club protocol for dancers to actually start kissing their marks. Sure, it was only the soft, gentle start of a neck hickey, but the sensation still had her squirming against him, trying to fight herself from moaning his name as his clutch around her wrists tightened. He had to be getting off on this move too. He had to be.

The lyrics of the song talked about not letting him stop right there, and Lily vehemently agreed. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. She couldn’t wait to see what she could push him to do next. “Is that all you got?”

He smirked at her goading, pulling back before sliding her upwards against the wall so he could sneak his shoulders underneath her thighs, pulling her knees behind him as he propped the apex of her legs right in front of her face. Her hands instinctually dug into his unruly locks — in order to steady herself on this precarious perch, or because this move was clearly meant to simulate oral sex and that’s exactly where her hands would find themselves if he’d been doing this for real, she wasn’t at liberty to say. All she knew was that a few seconds later, she felt one strong hand gripping her thigh, keeping her safely in place above him, and another on the small of her back for balance as he spun them from the wall, bringing them back to centerstage. Damn, he’s strong… And fuck did she want to actually be feeling this. As hot as the tease was, as warm as his breath was soaking right through the thin cotton fabric of her leggings, she wanted more, she needed more. She could so easily imagine him tearing her clothes off, ridding her of these pesky barriers, and plunging his tongue deep into where she really wanted it.

How was he making her feel this way? How was he getting her all hot and bothered like this in public?

Her consciousness broke through her lecherous thoughts as she realized just how blinding the stage lights were. It was very different to be staring at James — whose aura could completely drown out the screams of horny ecstasy roaring all around them — than at a white wash alerting her that she was currently a main character in this spectacle happening on a stage being illuminated from above.

As if sensing her concern, James shrugged her off of his shoulders immediately, catching her around his chest before lowering both of them to the floor. For a second, it was just them again, Lily’s mind traveling to some far off scenario where she’d actually had the nerve to ask James out on a date, it had gone well, and they were celebrating together in her bed. She bit her lower lip as she looked down. He was holding his upper body weight off of her making his biceps bulge, caging them in together, but his hips were back to resting against hers as if he truly couldn’t resist her. She had to wonder if the growing hardness she felt there was all a part of the act, or if it was actually just him.

Her eyebrow raised as she caught his gaze, a smirk forming on her lips. “You all right, Potter?” Staying still, just staring at each other, had to be bad for business. She had a growing suspicion that neither one of them cared.

He looked almost sheepish. “Shut it, Evans.”

In a mortifying moment, Lily realized he’d seen just how envious she’d been of the floor earlier when he started repeating the same damn humping motion, holding himself up above her as he used his ab muscles to lower his hips and legs down over her body in a snaking motion again, and again. The coordination it took… the core strength… the way it’s rubbing his clearly hard cock against me over and over.

Lily Evans was a fucking goner for this man. Just as she was admiring one of his football injuries on his collarbone, wondering if she’d get kicked out of the club for kissing it (what could she say? Mary’s yells from the sidelines were making her feel awfully brazen), James fully dropped his body weight on top of her and rolled them over so Lily was straddling his lap. One of his hands found purchase on her hip, encouraging her to grind on him.

“Ride me, Evans,“ he cooed as he found his footing beneath him, bucking his pelvis up and down in waves.

He was so fucking hot. Lily’s hands started on his abs, his unnaturally well defined abs, as his first action had taken her by surprise and she’d needed to stabilize herself (okay, fine, and she really wanted to touch those perfect, perfect abs), but she found herself wanting more intimacy the longer he kept rocking her on top of himself. Even though his free hand was pushing one of hers up his chest, urging her to feel every cut ridge and ripple of his oiled up body, she had her own ideas of what she wanted. Grabbing the hand on her hips, she peeled his fingers off of her and trailed them up her waist, grazing the side of her breast, before she interlocked her fingers with him between their bodies. Their eyes locked, understanding dawning on his face, as he switched up the positioning of their other hands and did the same, squeezing her palms into his own. Something changed in his eyes then, she guessed in both of theirs, as if he too was suddenly living the exact same scenario as she was where this could be real, she could be saucily rolling her body on top of him for real — if only they had the balls to do something about it.

“Go out with me, Potter,” she panted. She didn’t know if it was her actual feelings, or the booze, or the nerves, or her fucking riled up hormones (so ready to fuck the shit out of this boy), but whatever it was, she was so friggin’ glad she’d finally had the guts to just ask.

James’ hips stilled, dropping Lily flat on top of him with an ‘Oof!’

“Are you serious?!” he cried out, oh so fucking happy. He didn’t let her wallow in the terrifying possible connotations of that question for too long, because before she knew it, he’d pulled her the rest of the way down to his level, and kissed her soundly as one of his hands buried in her hair.

“Ehhh… let’s give it up for PRRRROOOONGGGSS!?” the announcer’s voice declared as chaos descended upon the club. About two hundred women had just witnessed one of the sexiest dancers planting a life-altering smooch on an audience member and were now clamoring to be next.

“Oy, shit head! Get off the stage!” Lily broke free from James’ kiss and looked back to see Sirius staring at them incredulously behind the curtain. A moment later, James jumped to his feet and dragged her backstage with him. “What the hell were you—” he stopped himself short and interjected a jovial little, “Hi, Evans,” for her sake.

“Hi, Black,” Lily replied awkwardly, not really knowing where things were supposed to go from here.

“Glad you finally threw this guy a bone. Things were getting pretty desperate,” Sirius said casually before turning back to James. “You’re probably fired, you know that?”

“Yeah…” James replied, cutely running a hand through his hair. Lily noticed his other hand remained firmly interlocked with hers. “I don’t really care though?”

Sirius rolled his eyes before walking back to the dressing room to get ready for his next set. “Tosser!” he yelled over his shoulder.

James turned back to Lily, his eyes glowing with possibilities. “So…” he began awkwardly. Cutely. Wonderfully. “You wanna maybe get out of here?”

“Yes.” Lily nodded, fighting off a shit-eating grin herself. “Absolutely.”

✨✨✨

I hope it was everything you hoped for! ♥️

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catfoodsminmo · 10 months

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Happy DFF Bestie!!!!! A little challenge: write a 300 word (triple) drabble about J/D…can be superpeaks if you want!

HAPPY DFF as we know I went Fucking Insane and actually did....three of these because superpeaks has me so bewitched

Putting these behind a cut so it's not super long on the dash

Dean ambled through the door of their room at the Pine View, a stack of envelopes in his hand. “Ran by the post office, the box was damn near full.” The room was a haze of cigarette smoke, common during the day when Sam was at school. With the weird case he’d been on, he’d been spending the days holed up in the hotel smoking cigarette after cigarette on Dean’s dime as he tried to draw connections between the dead girls - grasping at straws if you asked him.

John barely looked up as Dean threw the stack of letters on the table, fake names in barely legible scrawls, some of the envelopes floppy and over-soft from the sweaty hands that had sent them. “And?” He said, his voice a tired growl. He was deep in the weeds of the case bullshit.

Dean snatched the cigarette from his fingers as his dad exhaled a drag and put it between his own lips, smirking cockily as John looked up at him “How about you take a break?” He asked as he scooted John’s chair back the couple of inches he needed to sit on his dad’s lap. “We’ve got the time to answer some of those real quick, make some cash for your-” he paused to take a drag of his own, “habit here.” The smoke leaked from between his lips as he spoke.

He smiled as his dad leaned past him and grabbed the first letter on the pile and opened it, splitting the side of the envelope with one quick jerk. As John read the letter, a desperate plea to meet the luscious-lipped boy perched on his lap, Dean trailed smoky kisses across his jaw. He could feel his dad’s cock stiffen through his pants, pressing gently against his thigh.

The tacky lingerie thong chafed between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, the fabric painfully cheap. There hadn’t been a whole lot else at One-Eyed Jacks that was fit for a boy besides a couple of thongs that strained to fit his cock in them. He’d seen the thick fold of cash Laura had come out with the last time they’d been together, and she wore the ridiculous card-themed lingerie that the patrons were so obsessed with. So he’d wear the stupid thing, black satin with red lace, dotted with little heart and diamond beads around the waist.

The lights in the room he’d been shown to were dim, casting a dull golden glow over the red carpet, the wood panel walls, the over the top decor. He couldn’t believe anyone could get off to this, let alone enough people for the place to stay afloat. But old dudes had weird taste, he’d seen that firsthand.

Dean looked up as the door opened, his second patron of the evening. The first had been a quick blowjob, his knees still pink from the time he’d spent kneeling on the carpet. Old guy, weird french accent. He’d scared Dean.

John. His eyes slightly lidded, he’d been drinking, probably been gambling too. Dean hoped he’d won the money he was paying for this with, otherwise those were funds he'd gathered. “Never seen you in something like that before,” John said, his words just on the edge of slurring, “looks cute on you baby.” Dean gulped and nodded as John crossed the room and grabbed his chin hard, pulling him up into a rough sloppy kiss. “I don’t think-” he nipped at Dean’s lips roughly, prompting a shocked gasp from his son, “I mind paying for it if I get to fuck you in this.”

Dean heard the door to the bathroom open, the footfalls instantly identifiable as his dad. He sniffed the bump of coke off the motel room key quickly and followed it up with a cough, hoping John hadn’t heard him doing coke in the bathroom of the Roadhouse.

“I know what you’re doing in there,” John said, still loud to compensate for the bar noise. In the silent room, it startled Dean. He dropped the key on the floor, a disappointing amount of powder still clinging to it as it fell. “That why you’re so okay with whoring yourself out, Dean?” John saying his name was an accusation, a pointer finger jabbed into his chest through the door of the lone stall in the bathroom.

“You’re one to talk,” Dean said as he bent to pick the key, sticking the dirty metal in his mouth to suck the stuck remnants off, “smokin’ me out of house and ho-”

The door banged open, John’s eyes dark as he stared down his son. “What did you say to me?” Three steps and he had Dean back against the wall, looking down at him with rage and hunger in his eyes. “I’m your father, you little slut,” he said, voice a growl, “you oughta treat me with some respect.”

Backed against the wall like that, Dean barely recognized his father. Since coming to Twin Peaks, there was a new darkness Dean saw in his eyes sometimes, not the usual simmering rage of having lost his wife, his life. This was hungry, a predator in the shadows, stalking Dean as its prey. He shivered as John leaned in and placed a wet kiss on his jaw, his father’s teeth on his ear prompting a high yelp. “What,” this John’s voice was different, even darker, more distant, “thought you wanted to play with fire.”

#dadfucker friday #johndean #i shant say #superpeaks #i think about the things twin peaks would do to john and i feel so bonkers its great

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warriorofthesky · 9 months

Text

starting this with the disclaimer that im a newish player (started in march) and am mostly here for the story. and i'm not a destiny doomer and am in fact counting down the days for the showcase, pretty happy with the seasons ive played so far and deeply in love with the game's world and characters. i'm having a lot of fun, i'm usually pretty annoyed at how negative this community is and ignoring destiny players on reddit and twitter was probably the best decision i've made since i downloaded the game.

HOWEVER

(tldr: destiny is a great game but a frankly terrible product. also i will compare it to ffxiv bc it is my frame of reference, sorry in advance).

(also very, veeeeeeeery long. see this as less of a "this is what i think about the state of the game article" post and more of a "i've played this game for 4 months, here is what i think about it" one.)

i dont even know what to think about the state of the game article bc i feel like im here only by happenstance, i dont care about what 95% of the player base does (that being, you know, the looter shooter part of the game) so for me the only bad thing is gambit's funeral

the whole more rewards thing simply doesnt work with me, it does not tickle my brain, im usually excited about stuff i get only bc it was hard and/or fun to get them. you will never catch me dead farming anything. you will, however, catch me dying 123123 times trying to solo spire of the watcher bc im too socially awkward to find a fireteam and overall allergic to using a mic🫠so, you know, i just dont care about 70% of that post. i acknowledge that.

but it DOES feel bad to see them go "oops, we couldnt make a new set of armor this time. btw, we arent making any of them anymore" like bruh, read the room💀is now really the time to not deliver on promises. esp when you go out of your way to shove micro transactions on our faces

it is fortunate that im also mostly immune to microtransactions bc they are all too expensive for me but they are just EVERYWHERE. i come from ffxiv and i dont even remember the store exists while im playing there. sure, ffxiv is subscription based while destiny is free to play but i'm sorry. ffxiv's free trial has more content than destiny's free to try ever will (i'd even go ahead and say ffxiv's free trial has more content than destiny ever will since destiny is fond of cannibalizing itself). especially now that they extended it to stormblood/lvl 70. depending on how much you play daily, you can spend months in ffxiv without spending a single cent.

i began playing destiny in march and immediately had to pay for shadowkeep bc what the hell was i even going to play after the first week otherwise? i keep trying to get my brother into destiny, but it is hella expensive, not to say anything of ridiculously confusing story-wise. the other day we had a big oof moment bc im trying to use dungeons to lure him in and didnt realize we had to pay for shattered throne or grasp of avarice. he didnt have the forsaken pack or the anniversary pack. i was out of money, he was only vaguely interested, and we only learned later that prophecy is the one free dungeon in the game. destiny is not free to play as far as real content is involved.

so it feels shitty to have the store shoved in your face SO much ALL the time. you have season passes and then events with their own season passes (so to speak) and then most of the cool stuff is also paid and like, ok, this is already bad, but you gotta remind me of them all the time, game? really?

it creates this massive dissonance between that the game is showing me and what i see from the many devs i follow on twitter. they are passionate people, they love what they do, i 100% believe they are doing great work within the structure they are in. but the game feels like a cash grab. its absolutely bonkers to me that the game goes out of its way to tell you that you can now buy stuff in its store. aren't you proud that now you can spend who knows how many dollars in this product of ours?? arent you??

????? okay?

and it's not just the microtransactions, it's the timegating too. my first weeks of destiny were spent with me having the thought of "god, imagine if it was like this in ffxiv. people would be SO mad squeenix would be apologizing until 2030" every other day. out of cores? too bad, you have a daily limit at rahool. out of prisms? same thing. like sir. i'm a new player. i want to at least have one set of armor masterworked. you are not convincing me to play more, you are convincing me not to give a shit. im broke af in game and out of game now lol congrats to me!

and there is more! want to do this weapon quest thingy for witch queen? too bad, not today. want to not be fool with stasis in pvp or pve? too bad, come back next week for more aspects. this chafes, yall. especially as a new player who barely has any idea of how any of these 1231231 systems work. you are not convincing me to play stasis next week. you are convincing me not to touch stasis for the next 3 months.

i will keep sighing and complaining about ffxiv's weekly capped tomestones but by god i've seen hell and it is not in ffxiv.

this state of the game that is basically telling pvpers and all four of us who enjoy gambit that they can't and won't do more feels like shit even to someone like me who actually likes gambit right now (i couldn't care less about maps lol) and who barely plays any pvp. where is all the money going? why are you shoving eververse on my face all the time then? why are you timegating me to hell in an attempt to get me to play more and spend more? why?

i do not agree with the idea that this money is going to marathon only and that is why there isn't much pvp development to speak of. that would be really stupid because destiny is bungie's main source of income and it will only be okay for them to not give a shit about it anymore when and if marathon becomes a hit and a not a moment before. however, i'm also a league player and even though i play much less now i've kept up with it and it's pretty obvious that after 10 years of being riot's only game league isn't the priority for the company nowadays. valorant is.

poor one out for legends of runeterra while we are here.

this does not mean league is abandoned. it just isn't the focus anymore. it has a consolidated player base. people are used to how it works and how content (champions) is released. there is very little financial incentive to do more than necessary. whatever is going on with bungie is... honestly normal, even if it isn't fine by our definitions. and again, i don't think it's even marathon. i think it's the executives' pockets honestly lol because what does "we don't have the resources" even mean? i know hiring more people and throwing them at the game is not the answer for quick solutions. i'm not a gamedev, but i'm a webdev working in a startup. last year we had a small influx of trainee devs and it was HELL for a few months. i'm a junior myself and i was about lose my mind if i got interrupted one more time to answer a question from the trainees again. new hires mean everyone's work will be slower for some time. but the thing is that it usually goes back to normal. i havent had a trainee interrupt my work in months now. it feels pretty incredible.

so why doesn't bungie hire more people? it will slow things down for months and months but it will pay off eventually, right? except i don't know if that's true. are more pvp maps going to bring in more money? is not shooting gambit dead going to bring in more money? probably not. again, the executives' pockets are the issue here. what i think is happening is that it isn't worth it to hire and train more people to make content for something that doesn't bring in money. and we could argue about how pvp and gambit being healthy is good for the game, how that would bring in more people or make people play and pay more, yadda yadda, but i don't believe the decision makers at bungie believe this and they might have good reasons, so what can be done? nothing, i guess. it's not like i know better than them.

so, on one side, i understand why people might be a bit miffed at the game. it feels like a cash grab. it feels like is trapping you into playing. however, i believe you are still responsible for your actions and perfectly capable of not playing if you are not enjoying it. i wish the destiny subreddit would take a chill pill and touch grass bc those people are not okay right now. but i think it's disingenuous to act as if the game isn't ridiculously greedy. because it is. this game is greedier than league and league is super greedy already (and league actually is free to play, unlike destiny).

raging at the devs will not change this. harassing the devs won't change this. they are not the ones making these decisions, especially the devs you find on social media going about their day and taking care of their lives, which are none of our business.

in the end, you kinda have to make peace with destiny-the-product or you will have a miserable time playing destiny-the-game.

i've made my peace with it. i engage with the content that brings me joy and ignore everything else. and look, the state of the game wasn't all bad. it was actually fine overall. i still find it weird that it doesn't address the real issues people had with the season (deep dives doing triple duty as simple deep dives, exotic quest and catalyst hunting was the big oof of the season for me, honestly. sometimes i just want to do a deep dive and not get roped into whatever else is going on - or the opposite, i guess. i still havent gotten the catalyst) but i gotta believe they will take the feedback when making the next seasons/expansions.

and they are finally getting rid of the ridiculous nonsense that is acquiring stasis. right after i managed to drag all my characters through all of that, sure, but at least now i can finally delete my awoken titan and make an exo one because i won't have to go through it all again. and they teased changes to the seasonal model or at least how seasons work. i'm pretty okay with what we have now, honestly. if anything i just wish the story stuff wasn't so... short. there was also something about making sure new players are caught up and that made me perk up because, please, bungie. i'm trying so hard to get my brother into this game. help me out. please.

and, the most important thing for me, final shape will conclude the saga, no seasons necessary!

just that made the whole state of the game post worth it for me. once again, my condolences to pvp players and i will mourn you, gambit, but i'm here for vibes and the lore and story, and 10 years of league of legends made me immune to shiny things on the store and 2 years of ffxiv made me too lazy to be tempted by timegated stuff. you can not kill my joy in any way that matters @ bungie's executives

the one thing i wish bungie would change (since i believe the game is too deep into microtransactions to ever be free of it) is how they communicate with players. it's not even the frequency (we have twids, as the name says, every week after all) it's just... the tone. i don't want them to give a piece of their mind to the insane people frothing at the mouth on reddit and twitter and youtube, but it's like they are speaking to an imaginary player and the (normal, well-adjusted) players are speaking to an imaginary bungie. we are not in the same wavelength at all. riot and rioters speak more to league players. of all companies out there, out of all communities out there, and riot does it better.

i understand keeping the devs safe, especially after the clusterfuck that happened recently. but it's still weird that bad actors are the deciding factor when engaging with the community. i don't know what the solution is but it does feel pretty bad overall. and its hard to take bungie seriously when most stuff they spit out is riddled with corporate speak. very little of it feels genuine.

again, i love the game. i love the characters. i love the universe and i love how queer friendly it is. ive spent the last weeks soloing dungeons and having an absolute blast, even if spire is kicking my ass really hard right now. getting the new exotic felt magical. and i've spent an ungodly amount of time theorizing about final shape and reading, watching and writing about this game. getting new veil containment stuff every week and theorizing with the community is really fun. i got the first book of the destiny anthology and i love it so much. hell, the game got me to write fanfic and only two pieces of media actually managed that (pretty easy to guess the other one at this point). i love my time here. i'm not leaving unless the story takes a nosedive of epic proportions and no, i don't think lightfall is as bad as people say. in fact, it's the second best expansion and i will fight you on that.

but destiny is not a good product, not by a long shot.

#destiny 2 #really really long #ren.txt

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bighitfics · 2 years

Text

CEO CHARACTER PROFILE [2]

dynamic with their oc's (you can imagine yourself if you want to, however you like)

Taehyung and Oc

virtuous ray of sunshine and her hot headed guy

loud extrovert and shy extrovert

sensual love

always gossiping about the most random and bizarre things together.

would over pretend to be more in pain because he's just obsessed with the way she tends to get worried, he basks in the attention she pays him.

appears unapproachable and disinterested but he's already picturing to fuck her.

is wary of male friends, he has passive aggressive interactions with them. he can't help it but he ends up overreacting quite violently everytime a male would romantically want to approach you. will obsessively hold onto your waist and ask for kisses.

he's at your service at any given time, be it those anxious bad days, the chicken ball and blueberry ice cream cravings at midnight or picking you up from work, he wouldn't let you do the littlest of things by yourself.

would stare intensely.

calls you love/pretty girl all the time.

"mhm, sure"

"can I touch you there?"

"can we like fuck? right now?"

"open the door, I'm standing outside your apartment"

intensely keep staring at you, and make you nervous with the much details he would point out.

will have your messy morning head selfie as his lockscreen.

mutual fascination.

silent treatment as a way to cope when they have a fight, but never the type to scream or get physically violent.

will prevent his cunning family members from reaching out to you, if they ever try any of their ancestral ways with you, he'd bring them to shambles.

Hosoek and Oc.

overthinking delinquent and his book nerd

poised extrovert and clueless introvert

obsessive love

Hosoek tends to be practical and rational as a partner, it will take much time for him to bare his heart. Whereas she's full of life and the plumpness of youth. (at least that's what he has in his mind)

the kind of lover to send you luxurious presents out of nowhere, BUT mind you he'd die than admit that in front of you.

would unintentionally become controlling in the beginning, which would lead to arguments in the upcoming time.

habitant to admire you discreetly.

"oh really?"

"that's my girl."

"come back, I wanna see you"

will mentally freak out when he sees you cry, would make ridiculous dad jokes in attempt to make you feel better.

he'd never let you pay for bills at dates not even split

calls you sweetheart/babe but only in private, he doesn't like any sort of phd in public (that doesn't even count as a phd) but things like that matter to him.

would feel turned on when he'd observe you picking on his habits.

one touch starved, one can't stop touching.

both get defensive if anyone ever hints at something negative about each other.

lots of yearning for each other.

Jungkook and Oc.

strict giant and his little bundle of smartness

calm and collected introvert and talkative introvert

unconditional love

grumpy and smiley.

intellectual and wise conversations at midnight.

always eager to give oral down there for the longest time, quite impatient and sexually active when he's around his lover, and you find it amusing because that's unlike his normal self to be so horny most of the time.

normally force him to watch brutal crime stories with you which ends with you getting scarred for life (just for that particular episode), and he always needs to reassure and cool you down if you get too panicky, as if you didn't insisted on watching it in the first place.

they get caught making out (almost eating each other's tongue off as they say) multiple time.

your real name is your pet name (is not really the sweet talker) calls you angel/my healer when he's not sober.

"fuck yeah"

"you like that?"

"make sure to eat."

fuck everyone else I only care about you.

owns up to the fact that you're his total, absolute, and infinite opposite, would shyly smile thinking about your silly antics.

would give you cash money as a gift.

will exceedingly devote his time to get to know your family, he's more of a "your family is mine" kind of guy. he'd create a rocking bond with your father, and a playful fellowship with your mother he's gonna have that "run away with me please, I like you more than your daughter" and he'd spoil your younger brother with expensive gifts even when you'd give him an ear about it, from the latest x-box to the latest balenciaga and prada shoes he'll take full responsibility of your little brother.

his wealth will overwhelm you sometimes.

will sneakily smoke out of your sight, would feel apologetic whenever he'd be intoxicated and take marijuana (after countless of anxious resistance he'd just give in), he'd most probably avoid you on days like that which might cause misunderstanding from your side.

both fatigued and need a break away from the society.

both hopelessly in love with each other.

one wouldn't hurt a fly, another one wouldn't hesitate to kill someone hands down.

my note :

hello, everyone.

I'm basically writing after a year. a lot of things happened in just a year and it cost me to loose a lot my ambitions, my dreams, my desires they are ruined and it was self destructive in many ways. I couldn't work on anything nonetheless let's not get more into this topic because it's tiring atp.

How have you all been?

Did you like it? I have no idea where I got the sense of motivation to make this at five am in the morning but I think I liked the outcome.

Which one is close to your ideal type of dynamic? I'd be very delighted if I get some feedback.

tagline | @99liners @sweetwolfcupcake @dazed--xx @dearbambideer @raynom

#bts fanfic #fanfiction #jung hosoek #jeon jungkook smut #kim taehyung #jhope smut #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jhope x reader #bts angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #jhope fluff #bts fluff #bts scenarios

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ridiasfangirlings · 2 years

Note

In a ridiculous twist of irony, Fushimi puts his foot down and tells Yata, "You have to stop overworking yourself. It's not healthy."

Can you imagine Fushimi saying this to Yata and even he's like I can't believe I'm actually the one saying this. Maybe this is like post-ROK and Yata and Fushimi are planning to get an apartment together. Fushimi offers to pay for it since he's got so much cash from his job but Yata's determined to pay his part, even if he doesn't make a lot at the skate shop. He's worried that Fushimi will think Yata only wants him for his money or that Yata's like freeloading, Yata really wants to show Fushimi that he can take care of Fushimi too even if he doesn't have a fancy job. Yata decides to start taking on some side jobs, doing deliveries for Kusanagi and taking on extra hours at work. He's really focused, like he's going to pay his part of the down payment on the perfect apartment and help Fushimi buy new furniture for it too (and maybe if he has some left he can stow that money away for a ring later on). Fushimi keeps trying to tell him that it isn't a big deal, Fushimi has plenty of money, but Yata's determined – maybe he's internalized this a bit, that he's an idiot who won't amount to anything and he's determined to show that he's not going to just piggyback off Saruhiko, he's going to do this right and pay his part of things.

At some point it becomes clear that this is exhausting Yata but he's still stubborn and determined not to quit. Fushimi's still mostly living at the dorms but he stays at Yata's place sometimes too and it's getting to where he feels like he never sees Yata and half the time when he does Yata just looks all tired and distracted. It's getting to the point too where like Yata will make food for Fushimi but he isn't really making any for himself, just buying a Caloriemate or something and Fushimi is suddenly feeling very uncomfortable when he realizes this. Imagine he's really preoccupied by it and the squad notices that something's off, Akiyama asks him what's wrong and manages to get Fushimi to admit that he's concerned because Misaki is working long hours, barely sleeping, living off only Caloriemate and coffee...the more he talks the more the squad are like wait this sounds oddly familiar. Fushimi tries to defend himself like it's normal when he does it but it doesn't feel normal for Misaki and Akiyama asks him well what does Yata-san say when you do that kind of thing, does he just let it go. Fushimi’s like of course not he makes me eat food and go to bed on time and it's like a lightbulb moment that Fushimi is actually suddenly in the position of telling someone else to stop being so unhealthy.

The next day Fushimi goes over to Yata's place and imagine he pulls up a recipe online and makes some like filling, healthy, vegetable-filled meal (holding the vegetables as far away from himself as possible, as if they're poisoned). Yata stops in looking all exhausted, saying that he's gonna make Fushimi something to eat real quick but don't worry about me I'm just gonna grab something at the convenience store. He's surprised when he smells food cooking and even more surprised when Fushimi forcibly sits him down and brings over the food, serving it to him like and you'd better eat this stupid Misaki. Yata says he has to get back to work and Fushimi clears his throat all awkwardly as he's like you need to stop overworking yourself, it isn't healthy for you.

Yata stops and then just looks at him incredulously like really you're saying this to me. He tries to blow it off as no big deal but Fushimi grabs his hand and leans in close, very serious as he says he means it. He knows that Yata wouldn't let Fushimi do to himself what Yata's doing right now, like Fushimi lived that way for years and all the people who cared about him were constantly trying to get him to see what it was doing to him. Fushimi doesn't care if they can't move into a new place right away or if Yata doesn't have money, he cares about Yata and it's worrying him to see Yata like this. He adds that if Yata saw him doing this kind of thing wouldn't Yata be worried and so he shouldn't be surprised if Fushimi's acting the same, they're partners and Fushimi wants Yata to take care of himself for Fushimi's sake if no one else's. Yata stares down at the food Fushimi made and realizes that maybe he has been a little too obsessed lately, like he knows what it feels like to be worried that your partner is hurting himself and here he's doing the same thing to Fushimi. He sighs and says maybe Fushimi has a point, smiling as he's like besides you made me food with vegetables, I can't let that sacrifice go to waste right.

#sarumi #Talking K #poor Saru it's like looking in a mirror XD #imagine him trying to repeat some of the things he remembers Misaki saying to him #also I imagine this gives Fushimi more of an awareness of how much it hurts when someone you love is harming themselves #and he actually becomes more conscientious about eating well and going to bed on time #bc now he knows how Yata's been feeling about him all this time

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invisiblegarters · 7 months

Text

Dangerous Romance Ep 9

Last week, Kang tried to make the soccer team and yay! He succeeded. Only it turned out dad was very likely buying his way in, which led to an argument and a slap. So now Kang and Sailom are running away together. Saifah was accused of stealing but did not, and then later Dad gave him the very watch he accused him of stealing as 'extra payment' for his services, and I'm sure there's nothing suspicious at all about that.

Kang. Kang no that is not what Sailom meant.

Rich kids. *rolls eyes*

Chimon really does make the best wtf faces though.

Kang stop flashing your money around good god man. He would deserve getting jumped.

Kang. Babe. When have you ever not been super rich you little weirdo? Please be serious.

And he does this on the regular? Kang. Buddy. Sweetie. Darling Dumbass.

I wonder if Sailom would actually be more relieved if Kang lost everything. You know the money thing is going to wind up being a problem at some point. The fact that he's entertaining this bullshit kind of gets to me, though. Simply because I can't see someone super poor not wincing at every wad of cash Kang throws away on nothing. But that might just be me.

Oh yay more flirting disguised as fighting with Nawa and Guy! I genuinely love this portion of the show. Just make out already you two.

Pffft Kang what did you expect?

Jeeze. It must be so nice to just be able to just sell an expensive bike like that. I guess Kang knows he can get a new one. He should have let Sailom haggle though. He definitely could have gotten 130,000 baht out of that guy.

Here are drinks kids. But we have to pause holding the can at just the right angle because they're the ones who are really paying for this shit (translation: I have gone from hating the product placement to enjoying it. I have hit rock bottom).

OH that was a face Sailom. Please explain that face.

Pfft of course Nawa and Guy are gonna be roommates. Did we think it would go any other way?

Wow Kang way to make it weird. LOL these two. I believe they are trying but I almost feel like there would be more sexual tension here if they just went the bromance route.

Aw, I say again I love the scholarship boys' friendship. They're so great.

They are both going to sneak off to bust up Kang and Sailom's little honeymoon aren't they? Pffft these two are so ridiculous.

Oh just go with him. I'm mostly watching for you two anyway. And Auto Apparently Not Appearing in This Episode.

And right when I say it, he calls. Auto this is why you are in fact my favorite. I do hope he shows up at some point.

Wow. So the shop owner is demanding more money for the bike than he bought it for. Who could have guessed this would happen (besides all of us)? Quit trying to sell it with the sad music, show, I'm not buying. And if he doesn't get the money, neither is Kang (badum tiss).

Ooooh will we really get a Saifah/Name pairing or are they just gonna tease us? Because I'd be into it, guys.

Um, maybe don't be a debt collector then, Name. Just a thought. Don't look at him like that Saifah he's still gonna come after you at the end of the month. This isn't Even Sun (and honestly thank every deity for that I don't think I could handle another Even Sun).

My problem with pool is that I can actually see the angles but I am still bad at it. I imagine snooker would be the same.

NO SAIFAH NO. I was suspicious of Dad but Saifah what the hell are you doing.

Be less loud when you're running away from people boys.

The face again! Sailom what. What is that face you are making.

Oh Saifah no.

Even if we didn't have the preview I'd have seen this coming. This show man.

Oh. Oh this is interesting. Kang getting a taste of his own shittiness in a very real way. Unfortunately there's actual danger here but seriously. I'm not even mad.

Huh I did not expect him to beg though.

Hey is this the first flashback today? Not bad, show.

Look, I get that I'm supposed to feel some kind of way about what just happened. But I don't. Guess I am still irritated by how bad the bullying got. Or maybe I'm just failing to connect with this show emotionally, because I'm not really feeling the daddy issues either.

Oh is that what the looks were for?

Hahahaha I am dying at how romantic they're trying to make this. I just can't. I'm sorry but they are not selling this to me. They're trying hard, I will give them that much. But nope.

I'm sorry.

I do enjoy Kang's cheesiness though. I have to admit. I like Chimon's hair wavy too, huh.

Still don't trust Dad.

#dangerous romance #episode 9

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fantastic-wiles · 2 years

Text

Incomplete Drafts I’m Never Posting

Damian thought it was a ridiculous sentiment.

Yet, he’d reached out for the conch shell anyways, and now he was waiting in the check-out line. Maps was somewhere behind him, ogling at all the souvenirs she couldn’t have, but Damian was didn’t pay her any mind. His fingers were digging into the ridges of his item, and his mind was drifting off into different places.

Damian knew that he wasn’t the most adept at communication. Yes, he could deliver his thoughts well, and yes, Damian knew how to negotiate, but that didn’t mean he knew how to maintain his sibling relationships. Damian wasn’t the best at reading in-between the lines. He knew that his siblings all wanted different things from him, but Damian just couldn’t wrap his hand around what it was they wanted. It was always left unsaid. So, once he saw the conch shell, he thought it might be worth a try. Damian wasn’t particularly superstitious and, quite frankly, he was aware the shell might be a scam. Yet, he’d swiped it off the shelf anyways, carrying a tinge of hope that the sticker laid across the surface held some truth.

Strength your relationships, the sticker claimed, put me up to your ear after talking to a loved one.

“Is that something you really want to spend your money on?”

Maps peeks over his shoulder with a nosy demeanor that he wished she had left at home.

“It is my allowance,” Damian sniffs, straightening his posture, “I can do what I want with it.”

“Yeah, but it’s a shell, Damian.”

“I am aware.”

Maps takes a step back out of his space to stare at the back of his head. Damian wasn’t in the mood to continue a conversation. He is grateful for the distraction of the cashier, a tall woman with youth in her face, brown hair, and gentle brown eyes. Damian puts his conch shell on the counter before whipping out his wallet. The woman grabs the shell, swipes it over the barcode scanner, and then taps away at the touch screen. Damian watches her grab brown paper to wrap the shell up in a protective layer. After she’s done, she deposits it carefully in a plastic bag, and then pulls it off the rack for his safekeeping.

“$15.89,” she says.

Damian gives her a twenty-dollar bill.

“That’s expensive,” Maps says.

Damian opens his mouth to make a dry comment, but the cashier speaks before he can form any words.

“Actually, it’s pretty cheap, considering the fact that it’s the real deal,” she hums, shifting through her cash drawer for the proper change. “It’s a steal.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a fake shell that was made in a factory,” Maps says.

“Nope, it’s one-of-a-kind,” the cashier corrects. “It tells you think you wouldn’t hear anywhere else.”

“It tells you things?” Maps asks, skeptical.

“I guess you didn’t see the sticker?”

Maps looks curious. “Damian?”

“I’m not unwrapping it until I get home,” is his answer.

“You don’t have to unwrap it to tell me what it said,” she insists. “Is there something different about the shell that you bought?”

Damian collects his change. Once he’s finished, he turns, and gives Maps a look.

“I won’t tell you because you’ll make fun of me for it,” he explains.

Maps looks dumb struck because, quite frankly, that wasn’t within her character to make fun of people. Damian might understand that to some extent, but he didn’t trust others enough to give them ammo for potential mocking. Damian wouldn��t be degraded for his decisions. It was bad enough that someone was always questioning him at home. Damian didn’t want to hear it from his friends.

“I’m going to join the class outside,” Damian says.

Maps barely gets a word in as he brushes past her, making a path straight for the push-doors ahead.

Damian joins the line with the rest of the students in his class. Their teacher, Mr. Spencer, gives them constant lookovers since he was responsible of keeping all students accounted for. It wasn’t often that they went on fieldtrips. Gotham Academy was not hands-on when it came to learning. Its primary focus laid in academics. History, which was Mr. Spencer’s subject, did not seem quite as important as math. It was a miracle that Mr. Spencer managed to convince the academy to go on the field trip to begin with. Though they might be loaded with money, mostly due to the generous donations of bribing parents, they weren’t willing to part with it. Damian suspected there was some money-laundering going on.

“I’m going to buy my own pirate ship one day,” a boy claims to his friend.

Damian’s eyes drift back to the Gotham harbor where a historical vessel was docked. It was akin to a floating museum. At some point, it must’ve transported hundreds of people across the sea, but now it was simply a sign of what used to be.

Damian tears his gaze away just in time to move in line.

It was time to put his shell to the test.

Damian’s first test subject is his oldest brother, Dick Grayson.

It’s easy to find him lounging around at home. After being picked up from school, Damian hunts his brother down, and then locates him in the living room. However, once Damian realizes that Dick is not alone, he begins to doubt his own intentions. It seemed that everyone had something to say. It was why they were all yelling at the television set.

“Oh, come on, Tim! I almost had it,” Jason complains.

Damian’s presence is hardly noticeable when everyone’s intense concertation belonged to Mario Kart. Jason was dead set on beating Tim’s first place, and Tim seemed just as focused on keeping it. Cass was also surprisingly competitive, even showing frustration on her face, but Dick?

Dick was leisurely driving along the screen as if it were a relaxing mid-day stroll.

“Jason, you better not,” Tim warns as Jason tries to pin him down on the screen.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jason grits out.

Damian ignores all of them in order to come up with some sort of plan. If he wanted to figure out what Dick wanted from him – then he needed to somehow single him out – lest someone else decided to join their conversation. Damian just didn’t know how to go about it. It seemed counter-productive to remove Dick from the living room. He’d probably end up asking Damian if something was wrong, and Damian wouldn’t be able to tell him anything of value. Damian didn’t want to waste his time when he had an item to test.

Damian makes the decision that the best way to get Dick’s talking was to surprise him.

So, with silent footsteps, he quietly creeps towards the couch.

When Damian’s close enough, he throws his arms open, and then hugs his brother’s neck without warning.

Dick’s vehicle stutters and falls off the map. Dick asks, with a confused tone, “Damian?”

Damian understands his shock. It was not usual for him to hug Dick. It was an atypical experience that was only reserved for private moments.

Regardless, figuring that one word was enough, Damian draws his hands away to make a swift escape.

Dick props himself up on the couch, twists, and calls out again.

“Damian, hey, hold on, kiddo! Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Grayson,” Damian says before slipping out into the hallway.

Eager to test his conch shell out, Damian runs for his room. Once he’s inside, he locks the door, and then crosses the room to grab the shell of his desk. With a skipping heart, Damian pulls the shell up to his ear, and then-

Nothing.

Damian keeps the shell pressed to his ear in hopes for a reaction. Yet, the longer it’s held against his ear, the more ridiculous he feels. Damian’s heart drops sadly when he realizes that he’d been acting like a foolish child who didn’t know how the world worked. Of course, the shell wasn’t real, of course it was a scam, and of course it wouldn’t work. It was just an ordinary souvenir made to attract a tourist’s hand. Damian had fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Disappointed, Damian lowers the shell, but his hand falters when he hears a whisper.

“I don’t want to have to worry about Damian,” it says.

Damian draws back in shock.

Not only had the shell just whispered to him, but it had whispered to him in Dick’s voice.

Damian pulls the shell back to his ear for more, but nothing else slips after the surprising confession. Lost in thought, Damian lowers the shell back onto the table, and then stares at the soft pink color painted on the inside.

Grayson doesn’t want to have to worry about me?

Damian wasn’t sure how he was supposed to interpret that. If Dick didn’t want to worry about him then how was he supposed to help him fulfill that desire? It wasn’t as if he could control what Dick was feeling. Besides, he didn’t know why Dick would worry over him in the first place, especially since Damian thought he was well off.

Damian struggles to come up with any ideas to solve this problem.

I guess I just have to-?

Damian hears a knock on the door.

“Damian, you okay?”

Damian turns to look towards the only exit in his room.

“I’m fine, Grayson.”

Damian would have to find a way to stop Grayson from worrying about him.

Dick would like to take Damian’s word for it, assume that he really is fine, but this was Damian he’s thinking about here, and Damian happened to have a record for burying his problems. Dick knew something was off the moment Damian wrapped his arms around his neck. Damian didn’t hug him out of the blue, ever. Not in the public. Dick couldn’t help but think that something distressing must have happened to him. Damian was not the type to seek out comfort even when things got bad, so if he came to Dick out of his own volition to give him a public display of affection? Well, Dick wasn’t going to lie, he believed it meant that Damian had gotten himself into some deep trouble. It might as well be a silent cry for help.

Dick finds an abundance of worry after the next few weeks pass. He tries to approach Damian, multiple times, but the kid starts avoiding him like the plague. Starts saying things like: “It’s fine, Grayson, don’t worry about me” and “I don’t need your concern” and “I’m not looking for your help.”

When Damian starts disappearing altogether, Dick resorts to technology by calling him over the phone.

Damian never answers a single call.

Dick has enough of the ignoring by trying to pin Damian down on patrols, but Damian had a knack for slipping out of Dick’s fingers. The only time he manages to see Damian for more than a few minutes, it’s in the cave, and his behavior disturbs nearly everyone within their company.

“Damian. I need you to file your report after I’m finished writing up the timeline,” Tim says after a long night of patrolling.

“Yes sir,” Damian returns.

Tim freezes, his fingers stop typing, and after a moment of shock, he slowly turns to face Damian with wide eyes.

“Uh, hold on, did you just call me sir?”

Damian nods.

Tim stares at him as if he’d grown a second head. Bruce looks up from the lab table, Jason stops cleaning his pistols, and Dick holds himself still for a singular moment. Alfred decides to break the silence by dropping his platter altogether. It echoes through the cave, disturbs the sleeping bats, and has Dick moving forward. Dick reaches out with the intention to check Damian’s temperature, but Damian expertly dodges him by making a wide side-step. It was as if he was anticipating him.

“Okay, brat, fess up,” Jason sounds from the sidelines. “Is someone threatening you?”

Damian ignores Jason entirely and bows in Tim’s direction.

“I apologize if I have offended you. I will dismiss myself as to avoid further displeasure.”

Bruce’s tools fall out of his hands.

Damian turns sharply to escape the cave. Dick isn’t going to let him go easy. He tries to reach out again, tries to grab Damian’s arm, but Damian quickens his pace to avoid being pulled back. Dick is left stumbling after him like a clumsy child.

Dick watches as Damian heads up the stairs. Dumbstruck.

Bruce’s lips fall into a serious line of concern.

Tim leans back in his chair with his breath stolen out of him.

“I didn’t make him do that, I swear,” he says.

“I think he might just be playing a prank,” Jason suggests.

Dick would like to think that was the case. Tim seemed relieved at the prospect, but Dick wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Not when Damian had been avoiding him all week. “No, he’s been acting weird this whole week,” he speaks out, crossing his arms against his chest. “I don’t know why, but he’s been avoiding me. It’s like he’s trying to put some distance between us.”

“Well, damn, Dick. I thought he was just ignoring me, but I’m glad that I’m not the only one,” Jason says.

“Huh?”

“Every time I ask him a question, make a joke, or some sort of quip, he doesn’t say anything. I thought I did something to piss him off.”

Dick pales. The idea of Damian, the king of bickering, keeping quiet when Jason was making a quip, made him feel sick to his stomach.

Bruce surprises everyone with his own input. “Damian has been giving me daily hugs.” He looks down at the lab table, frowning. “I thought he was opening up - acting his age - but I should have known better.”

Dick feels sympathy pull at his heart. Bruce should’ve been the first person to realize something was wrong, but he must have craved a close relationship with Damian enough to disregard it. “It wasn’t wrong to have been optimistic about it, Bruce,” Dick reassures. “I wish we didn’t have to suspect him for acting out of his comfort zone. However, knowing our line of work, it’s hard to take things for face value.”

Bruce doesn’t give him any sort of response, withdrawn.

“I suppose we’ll have to open a file for him,” Tim announces, dread dripped in his voice. “I’m worried.”

“I’m worried, too,” Dick admits. “I hope Jason is wrong. I hope no one is threatening him.”

Tim frowns in thought. “I don’t know what someone threatening him would call me sir. I think something paranormal must be involved.”

“Possession,” Bruce agrees.

“Okay now, I think that’s jumping the gun,” Dick says.

“No, it makes sense,” Jason says. “It would explain why he’s acting so out-of-character.”

“We might have to call in an expert,” Tim hums in thought.

“Okay, hold on, before we go around calling any ‘experts,’ let me talk to him,” Dick mediates. “I’m sure this isn’t what everyone’s thinking. Damian might be acting off, but I don’t think he’s being possessed.”

Jason looks skeptical, Tim looks unsure, and Bruce?

“Tell us what you learn,” is Bruce’s answer.

Dick feels the tension leave his shoulders. It was nice to have Bruce’s trust.

“I’ll get on it,” he promises.

Damian thought he was doing a pretty good job of avoiding Dick. In theory, it should help him stop worrying because, with time, Dick would find other priorities to care about. Once he realized Damian wasn’t interested in being around him, he’d eventually give up, and voila, Damian’s plan would have been executed with perfection.

Now, with Tim, Damian would like to think he’d gotten a good start. After speaking to Tim in passing, Damian had listened to the conch shell, and found out that Tim wanted to be respected. Specifically, the conch shell whispered, “I wish Damian would just treat me with some respect.” After hearing Tim’s secret, Damian decided to do some research via internet, and lo and behold, the internet was wise with her advice. To show respect, Damian had read, address everyone as sir and ma’am. Apologize if you bring them discomfort, keep true to your word, and show your admiration through compliments.

Jason’s secret was not nearly as difficult to fulfill. When Damian had found him in the kitchen, a place that Alfred had forbidden him from entering for the week, the two spent about five minutes of bickering before Damian ran off to his room. After putting the conch shell up to his ear, Damian learned that Jason wanted him to shut up, and, well, Damian was no stranger to keeping his mouth closed. It was like Grandfather all over again. Damian could accomplish this most basic task.

Damian rolls his shoulders as he walks down the hallway. It was a Saturday evening and, after giving his father another daily hug (which was strangely received with less eagerness than usual), Damian had yet to run into his siblings. It was truly strange that he’d yet to hear anything of Dick hunting him down. Damian feels a spark of hope at the prospect. Maybe, he thinks, he’s finally given up.

Damian would soon learn otherwise when he steps foot in his room.

“Jason,” Dick’s voice sounds from where he sits, atop Damian’s desk.

“Yep,” Jason says, grabbing Damian’s shoulder, and then throwing him onto his mattress.

Damian opens his mouth to say something, but then remembers that Jason wanted him to be quiet. So, instead, he keeps his mouth firmly shut. Jason gives him a look of concern before leaving the room. He closes the door, leaving Damian alone with his eldest brother.

“Don’t think about escaping,” Dick says. “Jason’s keeping the door barricaded and Tim is protecting the windows.”

Damian furrows his brows.

“Oh, and, in the case that you decide to knock me out, Cass is guarding the vent system. It’s time for a talk.”

Damian sits up into a cross-legged pose. Stubbornly, he frowns.

“Damian, something’s up with you, and I’m not leaving until I figure out what’s going on.”

Dick leans back on a hand as he gives Damian a calculative gaze.

“First, you’ve been avoiding me like I’ve got cooties or something, second, you’ve been ignoring Jason, and third, you’ve been calling Tim, sir? I don’t get it. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Damian responds stiffly. “I don’t think you should concern yourself over such trivial matters.”

“It’s not trivial.”

“It is,” Damian argues. “It’s below your radar.”

“Damian, everything that involves you will always be on my radar,” Dick puts out flatly.

Damian did not want to hear that.

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You could be free,” Damian says.

“Free?” Dick repeats with confusion.

“Free from worry, free from concern,” Damian insists.

Dick’s brows screw together with deeper confusion after Damian’s confession. He leans off his hand, lifts it up, and then moves to put it into his lap. Damian watches Dick’s hand skim over his conch shell. Dick feels the ridges, looks down, and eyes the shell in distracted thought.

“Damian, have you been avoiding me because you want to, what, stop me from worrying?”

Damian nods. It was best to be honest. Maybe, since his other plan didn’t work, Dick could be convinced through an explanation.

“Is that why you’re ignoring Jason?”

“I don’t want to annoy him,” Damian corrects.

Dick lifts his gaze looking as if someone had just pinched him.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight. You’re avoiding me because you don’t want me to worry, you’re ignoring Jason because you don’t want to annoy him, and you’re calling Tim sir because…?”

“He deserves respect,” Damian says.

Dick searches Damian’s face as if he was trying to understand a complicated puzzle. After he searches long enough, his shoulders slump, and then he releases a huge sigh. “Thank goodness,” he exhales. “I thought you were being black-mailed or something.”

Damian’s offense is obvious in his stiffened posture. What? Why would Dick ever assume Damian would fall for such a thing?

Dick lifts himself off the desk, approaches the bed frame, and then kneels.

“Damian, I’m glad that you’re thinking of others, but you don’t have to change your whole personality just to make people happy. I’m always going to worry about you, kiddo, because you’re my little brother. I love you. I wouldn’t ever ask you to pull yourself out of my life.”

Damian’s face twist.

“I… don’t understand,” he admits. “I thought you would enjoy being separated from me.”

Dick grabs Damian’s hands in his own. “No, buddy, it’s the opposite.”

Jason apparently has enough of standing guard outside in the hallway because he swings the door open.

“Okay, listen up, brat,” he demands, stomping over to the bed. “I might think you’re annoying sometimes, but that’s normal between brothers. I’d rather be annoyed that get the silent treatment.”

Damian turns to look at him. “But Todd-“

“Nope,” Jason denies. “I’m not listening to whatever excuse you’ve got. I’m not looking to being ignored. Not now, not in the future, not ever. Got it? How’s a big brother supposed to know what’s wrong if you don’t even say anything? Huh? What if something happened to you? How’d I know who to shoot if you refused to speak to me?”

Damian looks confused. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It’s not,” Jason grounds out. “Also, since Tim isn’t here, I might as well speak on his behalf. Don’t talk to him like he’s some sort of authority figure, it disturbs him.”

“I thought he’d appreciate being my superior,” Damian says.

“Wrong, he just wants to be your brother,” Jason returns.

#incomplete draft #draft #fanfiction #damian wayne #incomplete #unfinished #unfinished draft

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