#if you have thoughts about bits or want to correct my assertions please do; i haven't worked in a barn in 5+ years now

[girderednerve]

got nostalgic for being a camp counselor at a horse camp, i guess??

there is a tutorial going around right now about how to draw horse tack, which is very nice because people do often make the mistakes the post points out. however, in the privacy of my own blog, can i just say: the flash noseband image is clearly over-tightened & affecting the horse's ability to breathe (disturbing to see? in my opinion?) and also that's not a good explanation of what a curb bit is!!!! curb bits are a category of bit: it's any kind of bit that has that little chain that goes under the chin, and almost all modern curb bits can be used with two sets of reins. curb bits can be very harsh, although i think they are less dangerous than a bit with a port (that is an inflexible mouthpiece with an upward curve in it). the tutorial mentions briefly that the shank of a bit (the part that stretches downward beneath the horse's face, to which the reins attach) becomes more severe the longer it is, which is true: a longer shank allows a rider to exert more leverage, so that even light pressure from the hands can have a very significant pull on the horse's mouth. the kinds of bits that have shanks are also designed to rotate in the horse's mouth; generally, these are bits with curb chains or ports, so the pressure from the rider's hand exerts slight pressure on the top of the horse's head, as the bit twists in the bridle, moves the horse's lips, and presses on the underside of the horse's chin or the roof of the horse's mouth (curb and port, respectively). hackamores, the bitless option, also have shanks & can exert strong force on the horse's nose.

i bring this up because a) i spent my entire adolescence a giant nerd about bits (only have experience with english bits, including some funky experimental jumper bits), to the degree that i was occasionally tasked with explaining them to my fellow youth and b) there's a long-simmering concern about horse abuse in equestrian sport, and bits are an obvious area of concern particularly to lay people. bits seem to many people like a cruel compromise, & i get it! the kind of bit you have helps set the terms of communication you can have with the horse you are riding, & although careless riders can abuse any tack (e.g., hackamores in abusive hands can break facial bones), some equipment makes it easier to be kind. from my own experience, i have a deep dislike of bits with ports; i knew a retired polo pony who couldn't feel the roof of her mouth any longer, after years of being ridden in one by rough hands. perhaps in the hands of a skillful western rider a high port is useful, but they make me nervous. they demonstrate an interesting set of priorities, though; if you look at, e.g., surviving fifteenth-century cavalry bits (a reasonable referent for a fantasy setting), you see that they are often ported with long shanks, because people who rode into battle needed to be able to make strong commands with small movements in high-pressure settings. there are trade-offs, though! consider our polo pony above: she spent her life functionally as sports equipment, and a renaissance warhorse, however beloved by its grooms, lived & died as materiel. that feels uncomfortable to many people, including me. most people that i talk to now know animals as friends & companions, nuisances, or entertainment, not as coworkers & infrastructure. obviously this tells you something about where i live but i think it is broadly true for (post?)industrial societies that our relationships with animals are radically different than they have ever been, in complicated ways. also obviously you should draw whatever you want

[justmeinadaze]

I'm in Control Part 2 (Steddie X Reader)

A/N: Today may be my birthday but I bare YOU a gift <3

Warnings: Steddie relationship and all that that implies (I regret nothing!) Eddie asserts more dominance here 🤤.

Word Count: 2823

“Y/N, congratulations! Luke called and told me he got those boys a part on that fancy show!” TJ beamed as he walked into your office and threw himself down in a chair. 

“See? Told you I could do it.”, you smile over at him. 

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He chuckles when you make a face at him. “Of course, with every big deal, I’m throwing a party at my house tonight.”

“Of course, but believe it or not, I have a date tonight.”

“Well bring him!”

“TJ…”, you wince at the thought.

“Oh come on. What man doesn’t want to go to a party full of beautiful people? Present company included.”

You giggle at him as you concede. “Fine, I’ll ask him!”

“Good. Now, please, on your way home can you give these to the boys and make sure they are coming. I have some people I want them to meet.”

##############

Steve answers the door in nothing but his sweats after hearing you knock. “Hey beautiful.”

“Mr. Harrington.” You hand him an envelope with their paycheck as you push past him and enter their home. You find Eddie sitting at their kitchen table in boxers and a heavy metal shirt munching on breakfast cereal. “Mr. Munson.”

Smiling, he takes the envelope from your hands. “Sweet. Thank you, Princess.”

“My pleasure. Now TJ is throwing a party for you two since you got cast in that new show and he insists that you attend.”

 “Sounds like fun. Are you going?”, Steve leans against his kitchen counter, taking a sip of coffee from his mug. 

“Why are you both acting like it’s the morning drinking coffee and eating cereal? You know it’s 4pm, yes?”

Eddie grins as he glances at Steve. “She’s avoiding the question.”

“Yeah, I noticed that to.” He rises from the counter to take a seat next to his roommate. 

“I’m not avoiding the question! I’m just simply asking another one before I answer.”

“She’s still not answering.”

“That means either she’s not going or she IS but…bringing someone with her?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he poses the question before chuckling when you blush. 

“Yes. Jesus, yes. I am going and yes, I am bringing a date. You both can be annoying sometimes.”

“A new date or someone you’ve been seeing for a long time?”, Steve asks.

“Does it matter?” Your eyes squint in his direction as his head ticks to the side. You hate when he does that. Besides it being ridiculously attractive, it means he’s figured out something new to crack that wall you keep putting between them. “It’s a new guy. It’s hard for me to meet men out here.”

“Well, I find that hard to believe.” Eddie gets up from the table and tosses his bowl in the sink. “I mean, you’re gorgeous, smart, kind, and sassy as fuck. What men wouldn’t want that?”

“Man.”, you correct.

He flashes you a sly grin. “Man. My mistake.”

“To answer your question,” you quickly clear your throat as you try to get them (and yourself) on task. “Being a woman in the porn industry is kind of a double edge sword. Either men get intimated or they think I’m easy.”

“We feel that. I mean, of course, I’m sure it’s harder for women but,” Steve gives you a kind smile that warms your insides. “I would think though not being on camera gives you bonus points.”

“Nope.”, you shrug. “But I’m hopeful for this one. He seems really nice. Speaking of, I have to go get ready but I’ll see you two tonight, ok?”

################

TJ leans in to shake your date’s hand. “Hey there! We’re glad you could join us. Y/N’s a fine young lady. You have a good one here! Please feel free to help yourself to any food and beverages and just have fun!”

You take your dates hand as soon as your boss leaves. “I’m sorry, Malcolm! He can be a bit…energetic!”

“Oh, it’s not a problem!”, he shouts over the music. “He seems like a cool dude!”

You lead him into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers while you talk. After about an hour, you hear the music suddenly stop and your name being called into a microphone. 

“There she is! Everyone, this is Y/N. When she first moved down here, she was just an assistant running around helping me with things. Now here she is managing her own clients and I couldn’t be prouder.”

You blush as everyone in the room claps for you. “I love you, babe. Now since they were fashionably late, I can also congratulate our new talent, Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington for getting their first big part in Luke’s production which starts filming next week!” 

While everyone clapped, you felt frozen in place as you looked them over. This was the first time you were seeing them in anything that wasn’t their lazy, thrown together wardrobe. Steve was wearing black slacks with a white button up shirt underneath. His black jacket hung on his shoulders casually but perfectly. Eddie was dressed more or less the same except with a red button up with the top few buttons undone to show off his guitar pick necklace. 

God damn, they looked delicious. 

You were startled when a hand touched your back. “Whoa! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Malcolm it’s ok. I’m just jumpy.”

“So those are the guys you’re managing?”

“Yup, that’s, uh, that’s them.”

TJ wasted no time intercepting them after his speech, guiding the boys around the house to meet other big-name people that could help get them connections. 

“Let go outside and talk.” Your date smiles at your suggestion as you lead him to the area by the pool.

#################

Your boss had managed to keep Eddie and Steve preoccupied for most of the night while you talked to your date. Malcolm was a good guy and to your surprise very open minded about the setting around him. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you looked at your watch. 

“Oh wow. It’s almost midnight.”

“Yes ma’am it is. You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin, are you?”

“Wooooow. That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard.”, you giggle at him as he grins. 

“Ok, you can’t say that and then laugh!”

“Um, yes I can!”

Your laugh is cut off by his lips as he reaches forward to pull you to him. “I’m sorry”, he whispers. “Was that…?” You shake your head as you bring his mouth back to your own. 

The sound of a throat clearing immediately tugs you two apart. “Sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize the date was going so well.”, TJ grins at you as you and Malcolm get to your feet. 

“Very well, it seems.”, Steve smiles as well but there’s something about it that you can’t put your finger on. 

“Hi. I’m Malcolm.” He extends his hand to the boys who shake it. “Y/N has told me all about you and your new part. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely good at what she does.” Eddie’s smile is much more slanted than Steves as if he isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s upset. This time your head is the one to tilt. 

“You okay there, Mr. Munson?”

He narrows his eyes at you before glancing at Steve. “I…am just fine, Princess. Honestly, I am ready to relax and party. TJ, where are the other beautiful women at?”

Your boss chuckles as he slaps the man’s back. “I love this kid. Come on, boys. Let’s leave Y/N to her date. She’s earned some fun.”

I’m in control.

“Hey Eddie! Steven! You boys look good tonight by the way. Nice to see you out of your dad vibe clothes.”

They both stop, slowly turning to meet your cocky smile. 

“So do you, Y/N.” Steve sticks his hands in his pockets as he continues to follow TJ. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before giving you a wink. 

###############

By the early AM hours, you felt the alcohol doing its job as you leaned your head on Malcolm’s shoulder. He gently kisses your forehead making you smile. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” He nods as he watches you disappear around the corridor. Just as you’re about to turn into the restroom, the sound of moaning grabs your attention. 

The moaning gets louder the closer you get to a door at the end of the hall that’s slightly ajar. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Steve on the edge of the guest bed with a girl between his legs. His pants were shoved down to his ankles as her manicured nails gripped his thighs as her head bobbed up and down on his cock.

This is wrong. I’m in control. I need to leave.

As you turn to leave, you bump into Eddie’s broad chest. He quickly raises his finger to his mouth in a shushing motion as he grabs your arm and turns you back towards the door. His fingers delicately move through your hair, pushing it to one side. 

“He always looks so good like that, doesn’t he?” He whispers softly into your ear as presses his chest to your back. “That should be you in there taking his cock in your pretty mouth.”

“Why is that Mr. Munson?”

“Because you so desperately want it to be you…it’s kind of pathetic.” Your breathing stutters at his words as you feel your pussy start to drip. “And I prefer Sir.” Both of his hands reach down to unbutton your jeans. “As opposed to Mr. Munson.”

As one of his hands slide into the waistband of your panties, his other grips your chin forcing you to watch the show in front of you. 

“That’s it, baby. God that feels so good.” Steve’s hand drops down to hold the back of her head. 

“He hates it.” Your eyes turn to meet his. “Oh yeah. He’s not one to praise unless someone has earned it. They’ve barely even started.” Eddie glides one of ringed fingers through your folds. 

His hand quickly flies over your mouth as you whimper when he pushes into your entrance. 

“What was that?” The girl on her knees starts to turn her head but Steve swiftly reaches out to grab her chin. 

“Probably noise from the party. Keep going, honey. Please. I’m almost there.”

She grins up at him as her mouth wraps around his cock again. His eyes meet yours through the crack in the door as Eddie pumps his finger deeper into you. 

“Did you really think he was going to let you get away with your sass by the pool?” Your head fell back against his shoulder as he inserted a second finger into your throbbing cunt. “You’re lucky I’m nicer than he is. No, no.” He lifts your head, making you look at Steve. “You have to help him, Princess. He won’t cum unless you do.”

Your eyes lock with the mans in front of you as Eddie curls his finger inside of you. His breath is warm against your ear as he presses his face to your own. 

“Are you still in control?”

His hand pushes tightly to your mouth as your body caves into his. He holds you up as best as he can as you cum hard around his fingers. You look up just in time to see Steve groan as he cums into the girl’s mouth. 

Eddie gently pulls his hand from between your legs and zips up your pants before buttoning them back up. 

“Go pull yourself together. You’re about to go back into a room full of people who have sex for a living.” He kisses your cheek tenderly before playfully pushing you towards the bathroom. 

You quickly fix your hair and adjust your make up as much as possible. You smile at your own reflection as you exhale. Jesus. You give yourself a final once over before heading back towards the living room. The girl that had been with Steve was sitting on the opposite couch talking to another girl you recognized from other sets. 

“Hey you.” Malcolm extends out his arm and you smile as you fall into his embrace. “You were gone awhile. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I swear I can handle my alcohol.” He chuckles as he kisses your forehead. 

The boys come out from the hallway at the same time. Steve flopping down next to the girl he was with, Eddie down on the floor next to her friend. 

You watched with envious eyes as they touched their faces and kissed their lips. The girl next to Steve flirtatiously touched his chest as the other girl ran her fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

“That should be you in there…”

Suddenly a thought hit you. Eddie knew that Steve wasn’t enjoying his blow job but neither of them knew when you weren’t enjoying something. They had to have been jealous to pull a stunt like the one they just did. 

Fuck them. They think they can make me jealous to. I’M in control. 

You craned your neck to look at Malcolm with big dough eyes. “Hey.”

“Hm?” As soon as he turns your lips were on his and he was more than willing to deepen it. 

You didn’t even need to glance in their direction to know the boys were watching you. You could feel their stares penetrate through your body. 

You and your date were startled when Luke threw his body onto the couch next you both.

“Luke.”, you couldn’t help but smile as he turned to deliver you a drunken grin. “You good, buddy?”

“I am and so are you it seems.”

You roll your eyes. “I date. People act like I’m a prude or something.” 

“You’re definitely not a prude.”, Eddie calls from the other side of the living room. When your eyes find his, he places the two fingers that made you cum into his mouth. He pulls them back out with an obnoxious pop. “Right, Princess?”

You narrow your eyes at him before playfully smiling. “Correct, sir.”

Eddie’s eyes look up to meet Steve’s but his are too busy looking at you. “Oh, Eds. So polite this one.” He turns to Malcolm. “She’s always calling us by our last name. Mr. Munson. Mr. Harrington. We told her she didn’t have to.”

“It’s because they’re my clients.”

“Didn’t you call their first names by the pool?”, Malcolm asks as he gestures that way.

“I have been drinking.”, you nervously giggle hoping to play it off.

I’m in control.

“Yup, that’s probably why she said ‘Steven’. Ugh!”, Steve overdramatically shudders. “I hate that name.”

“What name do you prefer?” You close your eyes and bite your bottom lip trying to contain your smile at Malcolm’s question. 

When you open them again Steve and Eddie have wide grins of their own. 

“What do I prefer, Y/N?”

He’s challenging you to play their game and you know it. You started it by calling him Steven earlier and just now by casually saying “Sir” to Eddie in front of a group of people. But did you have the guts to say what Steve liked? Sir you could explain away but…

I’m in control. Not them.

You cross your legs, leaning forward in his direction. “Hm. What DO you prefer, Daddy?”

Your date stuttered out a sigh behind you. “God damn…”

Everyone else in the room that had heard either giggled or made an “OOOOOO” noise towards Steve. Some of the girl’s eyes swiveled in his direction as they licked their lips but his eyes remained glued to yours with a small smile painted on his lips. 

“Hey, um, do you want to get out of here?”, Malcolm asked as he tried to sneakily adjust the bulge in his pants. 

You tore your eyes from Steve’s to look at your date. “I’d love to.”

He guided you out to his car and opened the door for you to climb in. As your date hops into the driver’s side, you hear a small knock on your window.

“TJ wanted me to give this to you.”  Steve leans in and hands you a piece of paper. 

“Why can’t he just come out and tell me?”

The man softly smiles as his finger grazes your cheek. “Tonight was fun. We’ll see you in a few days?”

His gentle tone was throwing you off. Mostly because it warmed your stomach at the thought that they would be excited to see you. 

Agent. Client.

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve pated the door as he backed away from the car. “Nice to meet you, Malcolm.”

Your date grinned and nodded his head as you unfolded the note that was given to you. 

Don’t sleep with him. We promise you won’t regret it.

X Eddie and Steve X

################

@gracieluvthemoon @e-munson666

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi INFJ here. I have self-worth issues probably due to being small and petite. I'm shorter than most of my family members and many people on the street. This makes me feel insecure and unable to defend and protect myself or loved ones and look efficient and trustable. One reason is that I think it can make me an easier target to take advantage of, insult, boss, dominate, threaten, harm, punch, fight, not take seriously or disrespect.

I generally try to be peaceful and nice or at least neutral to people. But occasionally I face people or situations where I may be disrespected, insulted or provoked in some way. Or situation where I have to choose to stand my ground or be a pushover.

The problem is that I am not confident in my abilities to handle these kinds of situations correctly, and usually engage in avoidant strategies and then later ruminating and self-blaming.

In awkward situations like rude drivers or road rage, rude clerks or office workers, mean coworkers or etc, I try to convince myself that avoiding confrontation is the best and the safest. Cause I never know what these people could do. Also, having a confrontation or standing my ground may cause a terrible emotional reaction in me, which can stay in my mind as a traumatic memory forever, and it may also change people's impression of me which I may regret. Or the person may find me an easy target due to my small built and may start attacking and beating me.

I wish I were taller, stronger and more charismatic, so people wouldn't dare doing any of those things to me. I also wish I could be better at confrontation, awkward feelings, handling interpersonal issues, insults or mean people correctly.

My mind is often occupied with these kinds of thoughts and regrets. Seeing other people being used or disrespected, hearing their stories, or watching movie characters being bullied, abused, beaten or not being able to stand their ground triggers or aggravates these thinking patterns and makes me more anxious.

Even my family members want me to be more confrontational and assertive or even a bit aggressive.

So, I think my interpersonal skills are not enough for adult life. Here's why :

1_ I'm small-built and also shy and introvert, which probably makes people think of as an easier and weaker target. And I wouldn't be able to defend myself against a taller and stronger person.

2_ I'm afraid of my awkward emotional reaction towards people yelling at me or insulting me. But avoiding confrontations and not standing my ground can also make me blame myself.

3_ I tend to care about fairness, and lack of it within the society can make me furious. But society and people are not always fair.

4_ I care about what other people might think or say behind my back, and its impact on my reputation or future. So by people-pleasing or at least not bothering people, even if it means not defending or asserting myself, I try to stay under the radar.

5_ And I don't really know when I should just let it go and de-escalate or keep quiet, avoid, stand my ground, fight back, insult back, etc.

I have read books, watched youtube videos, but I still haven't been able to fix this problem or change myself. I sometimes think it means I might have mild autism and these deficits can never be fixed. Other times I relate it to high Fe and low Se (due to being an INFJ).

I really need your help. Where and how should I start?

----------------------

Do you know the story of The Ugly Duckling? I interpret the story as being about perception, specifically, how easy it is for perception to be wrong, as well as how quickly a minor flaw in perception can escalate into a majorly faulty belief system. It sounds like your perception has been distorted and now you hold faulty beliefs that need to be corrected. Since you lack self-confidence, you tend to catastrophize - your mind always jumps to the worst possibilities.

You say self-worth issues are "due to" being petite. This is a faulty belief. If being petite causes low self-worth, one would expect every petite person to have low self-worth. Is that the case? Not at all. A lot of people are below average height and live fine. In fact, you'd be surprised at how many well-known people are/were actually quite small in stature, just off the top of my head: Gandhi, Prince, Danny Devito, Sabrina Carpenter, Peter Dinklage, Judy Garland.

If being petite is not the actual cause of low self-worth, then what is? "Worth" relates to the method you use to make value judgments, so if you are always coming to unreasonably negative judgments about yourself, there is a problem with your value system. Do you believe that a below average sized person has less value than an average or above average sized person? You must believe it, otherwise, you wouldn't think that you are worth less than others, and you would not wish to be bigger and taller in order to be worth more.

Perhaps you don't personally believe that petite people have no value, so you claim that it is "society" which believes they have no value, and you are a victim of society. Is that true, though? Or is this another faulty belief? You said smaller people get bullied because they are easier targets, so, it's not because they are worthless - that's an important difference. Bullies chose you because they couldn't handle someone their own size or bigger. Therefore, the bullying did not have any relation to your self-worth; what it actually reflected was the bully's cowardice.

Why is it that many petite people don't get bullied? Some of it is down to luck; perhaps you've been unlucky in meeting lots of jerks throughout life. But some of it is down to your attitude. The impression that you leave on people plays a big role in how they approach you. For example, when you look down upon yourself, you teach others that it's okay to look down upon you too.

If you are always anxious and cowering in fear, treating every person as a potential threat, what does that communicate to people? Unfortunately, it communicates that you are an easy target. If you are always expecting to get dominated and bullied, you're more likely to attract bullies to your doorstep. Physical size isn't actually as important a factor as how you present yourself to people. When INFJs haven't developed Fe properly, they don't have a realistic view of how they come across to others.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't about blaming the victim. The people who bullied you were wrong. You don't deserve mistreatment. The problem is that bullying is a form of trauma, and trauma distorts the mind. It makes you hypersensitive to social threats, even seeing threats where there are none. And it also makes you hypersensitive to the things that you were bullied about, in this case, your physical size.

The other day, I had to hire someone to do household repairs. On the day of the repair, this tall dude arrives and could barely fit through the door. As he was walking down some stairs, he bumped his head on a lower part of the ceiling that he didn't notice because he was carrying a lot of tools. I felt so bad for him and I tried to monitor his head safety thereafter. Unfortunately, he's had lots of experience hitting his head on various things.

With your past experience, all you can see is how being petite is a "deficiency". As such, envy blinds you to the possibility that being larger can be a curse and being petite can actually be a gift. This repair guy was often admired for his stature, but he actually viewed his tallness as a "deficiency" all his life. From his perspective, smaller people have a great life because they don't always feel like they're in the way and can easily fit comfortably into any space.

Everyone has sore spots. Sore spots are things you feel insecure or hypersensitive about because of a perceived (psychological or physical) deficit. However, what you haven't understood is that what gets classified as a "deficit" is often a mere matter of perspective. The lesson of The Ugly Duckling story is that his perception of himself was wrong because he had been misled to believe that he was abnormal and deficient by others. This story teaches you that what one person experiences as a "deficiency", another person might experience as an "advantage".

Thus, the key to overcoming your hypersensitivity is to learn how to change your perspective, aka cognitive restructuring, which is something Ni+Fe can easily do. If you can't do it, then it indicates there's something awry with your function development (unhealthy Ni tunnel vision + Fe overindulgence). Your perspective seems very small and very rigid, so it's time to expand and adjust it.

Sure, people can be mean, and society can lead people to value the wrong things, and that's what you focus all your attention on. However, most people aren't mean, and society can't touch your personal values within. You always have a choice as to i) how you respond to mean people, if at all, and ii) whether you adopt the twisted values that society tries to inculcate in you. An important aspect of growing up into a full-fledged adult is learning how to think for yourself, which includes being able to challenge and change faulty beliefs/values and adjust your perspective as necessary to get closer to the truth.

Being bullied often keeps people trapped like a child, feeling helpless and powerless. "Power" doesn't come primarily from physical size, rather, it comes from the mental belief in yourself. Instead of getting lost in victim mentality, acknowledge that there are things within your power to change that would improve your situation. You said yourself that you lack interpersonal skills. Well, I have good news for you: skills can be improved through step-by-step learning, study, and practice. Start with whatever seems most pressing for you, perhaps enlist the help of a therapist. For example, I have discussed most of the following before in relation to developing healthy Fe in INFJs:

emotional intelligence: you could learn how to handle your feelings and emotions better, in order to communicate about them in a more reasonable and matter-of-fact way

optimism: you could learn to approach people in an empathetic and encouraging way, with positive expectations, in order to influence them to be positive to you in return

assertiveness: you could adjust your values to believe that you are equal to everyone else and that your existence is just as legitimate as anyone else's, which would help you stand up and advocate for your needs better

self-confidence: you could improve your communication and conflict resolution skills, which would help you feel more confident and exercise better judgment during social interactions

self-defense: although the majority of people aren't physically violent unless extremely provoked, it might help you feel more physically powerful and better prepared for confrontation by learning self-defense or martial arts

social support network: you could expand your network of friends and supporters so that you feel less alone and have people to rely on in times of stress or danger

self-work: you could use other successful petite people as inspirational role models; observe how they succeed in commanding respect and admiration and learn some lessons about how to show people the best of yourself, rather than only focusing on what you hate about yourself

It is a fact that you are petite, and facts should be met with acceptance. Trying to deny the facts will only get you lost in wishful thinking (unhealthy Ni), as well as the toxic shame of an inferiority complex (unhealthy Fe). Once you're able to accept the facts, then your mind can move forward into adopting adaptation strategies. No matter what your sore spots are, it is important to understand that they are not a curse and they are not meant to ruin your life. Confronting your sore spots and learning to live with them successfully is precisely how you grow as a person. However, you won't be able to benefit from your sore spots as long as you keep trying to reject them and wish them away. They are an important part of you. Improving self-worth means learning to accept and love yourself, which means ALL of yourself.

[todorroki]

Terrible Fathers The Series (Love Sea ep 3 thoughts)

i think this show is so funny. like i'm enjoying the beauty, the vibes, and the emotional moments for the first 50 minutes then suddenly BOOM peat's moaning then 5 minutes later i have a tear in my eye from fort's acting. i'm being swung around on Mame's Crazy Coaster. do not ask me what's going on. i'm having too much fun to answer.

also rip anyone who watches this ep on iq's web player. they're unable to display text in italics AND song lyric translations overtake actual dialogue. what is this terrible user experience. and you gotta pay for it!!!!!

if love sea is going to give me one thing, it's gonna be BEAUTIFUL SHOTS. my god i could go on and on taking so many screenshots of this episode especially.

i feel like we're getting more of the girls' relationship in the series compared to the book, which is a Good sign. last week's preview of 'will you be my girlfriend?' got me good. someone correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't remember fake dating happening in the book.

and the plot gears finally start turning this week! rak gets a call from his panicked sister about their father showing up, which causes him to hole up in his room. that in turn gives us serious mut (thank u for that.. fort looks So hot when he's being stern and assertive) and the sweet star gazing scene. i don't want to say much about rak's family because i feel like i might spoil something LMAO

one of my favorite scenes so far is when they go in the waters at night my GOD IM SO GODDAMN WEAK FOR A BRIDAL CARRY I CHEERED!!!!!! and the kiss in the water was ROMANTIC AS HELL. i'm so thankful for the entire production team for this scene. the waves were so strong yet they were all in the water doing their best to film. it must've been really challenging and difficult, so kudos to everyone. i, for one, am very proud of this whole part.

someone.. more peat in glasses please!! rak waiting for mut to fall asleep so he can cuddle him is sooo cute. i love their puppycat relationship. so many soft, heart-warming moments in this episode.

now onto the series of events in mut's house. plus points for the sunlight behind them in this kiss scene. idk anything about cinematography but it felt mesmerizing in a way.

the audible OH! i yelled when they REALLY started Kissing after mut's little trauma dump. I'M NOT COMPLAINING THOUGH comfort him every ep if you want >:) i'll take as many ncs as they wanna Give. i got duped by the first quick fade to black like 'oh ok so they're not-- NEVERMIND!'

gonna go into nc detail for a second here but i'm so glad we have nip sucking this ep. i was waiting for that. love sea Does Not miss in the nc department. ALSO DUDE WHEN DID FORTS TIDDIES GET SO BIG

AND THEN the best scene this episode: emotional mut, a showcase of fort's acting ability. i teared up a bit. it was soo so soft.

the angles, the lighting. BEAUTIFUL beautiful scene. i could not put it into words how much i adored this part. mut's difficulty in asking him to stay, rak telling him to keep being himself, them stroking each other's fingers with their hands intertwined, mut's little giggle when rak agrees, rak's laugh, the flurry of kisses after.. I LOVE ROMANCE!!!

i predicted right, we're going back to the city next episode. i can't say i'm too excited because i love the island setting too much, but the dreamlike vacation doesn't last forever!! the plot must move.

also ps they fixed rak's missing audio line in ep 2. i was rewatching a few days ago and finally heard it LMAO at least they're aware...

[zorkaya-moved]

[ quiet ] okay so i remember us talking about how kaveh would use his fingers in her mouth to make her stay quiet ... in a moment where they would ... go at it semi-publicly ... and i mean ... here it is

@avaere

A boring dinner with a boring opposite party meant little to nothing to her, but refusing an invitation would be harmful for future work and reputation. Though, it’s no longer a concern when Kaveh shows her that he, too, can be quite daring and bold in their fun. It seems he was just as bored, but never did Sokolova imagine he’d be alright with doing something so… alluring. When his warm touch was felt on her thigh, she would only show it by her small look of puzzlement on her face.

The professors notice her surprise but are fools enough to think it’s about their self-important matters, which she feeds with a polite and charming smile while spreading her legs just a bit, enough to let Kaveh’s hand have access to what he wants. Her heartbeat increases, she can feel herself becoming absolutely smitten by his actions, finding his actions to be the highest epitome of praise to her and a way to let her know that he’d do this to her. In public. Under this very table. In front of professors who are interested in the future improvements and research, wishing for two of the brightest minds to attend their meeting as they thought the combination of technology and medicine like before would make another breakthrough. 

Ah, but it didn’t really matter. The longer the talk went, the bolder Kaveh’s actions became and Zarina might have held off like a champion, only squeezing her thighs together when he’d tease her clit just a bit too much to cause her frown a bit on the outside and cover her mouth which started to worry the professors. She would only smile weakly and tell them (in a surprising stable voice) that she’s simply not feeling well from the heat. Sokolova would not deny that she loved Kaveh’s hands, his nimble fingers and bold touch. And right now, his hand and those fingers were causing her to feel her body’s temperature rise in an already warm room, wetness coating his digits as she felt closer and closer to something that’ll be impossible to ignore or to cover up in a silent manner. 

And her dearest architect? Oh, he looked as calm as ever, causing Zarina’s mind to switch to a sweeter and more submissive self. It’s like a switch has been flipped whenever Kaveh would show such assertiveness, a knowing look crossing his face when he’d glance over to her as she tried to hold back a sound, a strained smile making the professors not think much about it until Zarina let out a soft groan. 

Out loud. 

Fuck. 

“Miss Sokolova? Are you alright?” One of the professors asked, concern suddenly appearing on his face. 

Her beloved’s hand retro retreated from pleasing her. With a flushed face and just dazed enough look, she would massage temples, an apologetic smile appearing on her face. She’s an actor through and through. 

“I’m sorry but I… really don’t feel well,” she said, tugging on the collar on her dress. “The heat’s been… really bad to me.”

“Ah, yes, you are a Snezhnayan. Must be tough with such a different climate. Didn’t you say you were raised near the mountains of Snezhnaya?”

A thought flashes inside the woman’s mind: Let me go excuse myself, you old fuck. 

“Y-yes, that is correct,” she tries to keep herself from allowing a bite to appear in her voice. It’s easy, sure, but not when she knows Kaveh will catch the drift and follow her at a bit of a later date. “Allow me to excuse myself. I’ll ask the staff to show me where I can rest. I don’t want to interrupt your discussions.”

Every single bit of information already coded for her beloved to follow through: ask the staff member to which secluded room I went to.  

“Of course, Miss Sokolova! Once you feel better, please don’t hesitate to come back to us.” 

“I’m grateful for your generosity.  I hope staying in a cooler room will be beneficial for my state.” As she now looks at Kaveh, she reaches out to touch his hand. “Sorry, love, I should’ve listened to you this morning. Find me when you’re done, alright?”

More like: Finish this up and pretend you’re concerned, because I’m not waiting an eternity for you with how you made me crave you so much. 

As she would get up, she made sure to fox her skirt so there would be nothing seen before calling for one of the staff members and letting them escort her to a secluded room. Not even glancing back at Kaveh to not make it suspicious. 

Little did those foolish old geezers know that the architect would follow her afterward not to check on her well-being out of concern, but out of a similar need to get out and have true fun with each other. It took only a moment for them to reunite and kiss, hands seeking each other’s warmth, tugging clothes only until they remembered that they will need to get out of this closed room to meet once again with those fools who couldn’t help but stroke their own egos. Well, Kaveh stroked her thigh just right in exchange for their boring speeches, leading to the present where Kaveh did not help his date cool off but instead only added to the heat he started himself. An adoring event, surely, one where passion strikes again and they are insatiable when it comes to each other. 

It’s no surprise that now as the Amurta’s graduate is stifling her noises as the Light of Kshahrewar is placing open mouth kisses to her neck, his chest pressed against her back as she keeps herself upright by placing her hands against the wall to keep herself from falling down from how deeply inside of her the architect was at the moment. Skirt lifted, underwear moved aside, hips pressed against her ass flush while hands would caress her body through fabric, noting with a hum how she isn’t wearing her bra beneath this dress only to be met with a choked response of how it’s too hot but she’s wearing those nipple cover ups. It’s almost funny if he didn’t use that as a way to roughly massage her breasts through the fabric, forcing a choked gasp out of her only to be shushed. 

He must be smiling, she thinks, pressing her lips together as she finds it mind-blowing that Kaveh would initiate something like this. Happiness wells in her chest, adoration and love mix with passion and lust, creating a cocktail of warmth that makes her lower body move to meet his thrusts when she can. They need to be silent, there are still staff going around here and there and those imbeciles might come around looking for them. 

“K-Kaveh, ah,” it’s impossible to keep his mind out of her mouth, softer and sweeter mewls come out despite her wishes to keep the noises down. But he should know, he must know just how good he makes her feel with each move of his, hitting that sweet spot inside of her and feeling her walls squeeze his cock when his tip reaches that g-spot, causing her to let out those softer moans. Oh how obvious it is that she’s struggling to keep her sounds back, especially not with his hand moving down to play with her clit, making her glance back at him with surprised expression. He’s bringing out such reactions out of her. If they were fucked face to face, he could shut her up with a kiss, but like this? Oh, Archons, she’s in love with him and how bold he is today. It almost makes her knees go weak for that moment, especially when she sees that loving smile on his face and lust-filled maroon eyes. “I-I’m so close.”

Her voice trembles and her back arches as she slides down the wall a bit more, breathing heavily and holding back those mewls of pleasure. The feel of Kaveh’s warmth, his scent, his whispers for her to be quiet. It was melting her brain solely from the sheer amount of love she had for him. She’d be happy to be fucked by him in front of a party, become their most indulgent and erotic dreams from how good Kaveh made her feel. She’d moan loudly for everyone to hear just how no one would make her dearest architect would make her feel. 

“Feels, feels so good,” she can’t help but whisper, most likely noting the fact that they lacked any protection at the very moment. Fucking raw and being in this situation? Oh, he was spoiling her, driving her insane and addicted to him more. ( “We don’t have protection.” “I know, but that’s fine” “Where should I cum?” “Why not… inside me? If you’re ok with it. Or on my ass, Archons, Kaveh, I really don’t care.” ) And the way he fucked her now had some urgency to it, a sweet and pleasant urgency that spoke about their needs to satisfy each other fast to make sure they don’t disappear together for too long, else it’d become rather awkward if they are caught.

Her dazed mind doesn’t hear his soft warning, letting her know about the voices coming closer to where they are hiding. Not that Kaveh stops his movements, but he is urging her to stand up straighter so he could wrap his arm around her waist to bring her up for a kiss to muffle some of the sounds away as he knew very well that she’s close, unbelievably close, but her mind is swimming and one particularly sharp thrust makes her let out a loud gasp. If she were honest, Sokolova doesn’t quite register what happened but it seems that by pure accident, instead of turning her face to him for a kiss, his fingers would slip into her mouth, quite successfully muffling her. 

The voices she heard outside in that moment of clarity make Kaveh’s movements still, deeply sheathed into her while fingers remain inside of her mouth. 

“Master Kaveh? Is everything alright with Miss Sokolova?” A familiar older man’s voice is heard through the door and Zarin is too fucked out of her mind to reply, to answer, and stuffed in her mouth with a couple of fingers that previously pleased her under the table. 

And she’ll be honest, she’s heard fucking nothing of what her beloved said and if his voice sounded stable enough to keep them away. It seems they are away as she hears the soft sigh only, but her body is making her hear white noise in the mix with Kaveh’s voice, her only clarity. 

She feels like he’s about to apologize for shutting her up like this…

…But oh.

Zarina felt like exploding then and there when the way his pads would press against her tongue would make her clench around his cock, harder than before. His hand, oh his hands were everything to her. From hand holding to kissing to licking those fingers off her cum to just watching his write or work or tap his fingers against the table when he’d be thinking about something. She never really spoke about it to him, but this? This was perfect. This was a hidden wish of hers that’s been fulfilled by an accident. Her tongue licks the digits eagerly, and it seems that Kaveh understood that she is… very into it as he didn’t retrieve them. Instead, he moved them around, causing another stifled sound from the silverette, her pussy clamping down around him again and it seems like he groaned himself at that tight sensation. 

No, did he ask her if she likes it? Or did he make a statement that she does like this? She can’t tell, her body felt like this was the last straw to snap before her mind goes blank, white and she feels her climax hitting. Her eyes roll back from the sensation, not caring anything about how her spit would roll down her chin as she was more than happy to have his fingers inside her mouth. It’s amazing how she doesn’t sound louder but her body trembles under Kaveh, shaking from her orgasm as she knows her eyes are teary and the room is too fucking hot to breathe normally in. Their heavy breathing is muffled by each of their attempts as she can feel the architect fuck her through her orgasm, thrusts getting sloppier and she moans on his fingers, overstimulated body crying out in pleasure as she would’ve begged for him to cum inside her if not for her mouth being occupied by his fingers. 

And those fingers do a tremendous job. 

…

…

…

“M-Miss Sokolova?!” The older professor’s worried words are like white noise, too as Sokolova leans against Kaveh, putting most of her weight on him as she felt his hand wrapped around her waist to keep her stable, to help her walk. Certainly, it’s amazing how no one even questioned them, but maybe it’s because of Kaveh’s spectacular ability to look downright incredible no matter what he does. A fix to his hair, his clothes, helping Sokolova herself with fixing herself up to the best of their combined ability. 

“I-I’m sorry, everyone,” she sounds hushed, cheeks still flushed but to those who don’t know she’d look like she’s having a fever. “I ruined this dinner for everyone… with my heat stroke.” Naturally, she has the mind to make them feel guilty and to turn their minds away from trying to analyze her state and Kaveh’s state. 

“Please do not apologize! Master Kaveh, let’s continue this meeting next time. Sage Naphis won’t hear the end of me if Miss Sokolova cannot attend the next meeting,” the older man says jokingly, but also showing genuine worry for the other’s well-being. “Thank you so much for accepting my invitation, Master Kaveh. I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

Pleasant goodbyes are exchanged and the couple leaves the restaurant alone to meet the colder evening breeze. It's heard how the staff murmurs about the two leaving together, wondering if it's really a heat stroke and if maybe it was something different. However, most would shush those who'd say anything naughty, stating how worried the architect looked when he asked for a glass of water.

It feels a bit awkward to walk alone, especially in heels, but they make it possible, together.

“Kaveh,” Zarina suddenly says, still leaning against the man with a smile, holding back a pearl of laughter. “Once we’re back home, we’re fucking against the wall again but facing each other and my leg on your shoulder.”

A moment of silence. 

“Or want to repeat what we’ve done but now with letting me suck those fingers of yours better?” 

That certainly comes out as a purr, she places her hand on top of his that rests on her waist. 

They’re not done yet. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Carla Ecstasy [02]

[Prologue] [01] [02] [03] [04] [05] [06] [07] [08] [09] [10] [Epilogue]

ー The scene starts in Carla’s room in Banmaden

Yui: I’ve brought you a cup of tea.

Carla: ...Yes...

Yui: ( He doesn’t look too well... )

*Cling*

Yui: I’ll put it over on this table, okay?

Please tell me if it gets cold. I’ll brew a fresh batch...

...Well then, I’ll come check up on you again later.

*Thud*

Carla: Wait.

Yui: ( He suddenly...grabbed my arm...! )

Carla: You join me. 

Yui: ...Eh? But you should probably rest for a bit longer...

Carla: I have already rested enough. 

Yui: In that case...Sure.

*TIMESKIP*

Carla: ...

Yui: ...

*Thud*

Yui: ( It doesn’t happen often that he stops me from leaving... )

( ...I wonder if there’s something he wants to talk about...? )

Carla: ...Previously...

...You asked me about death, remember? And whether or not I was scared to die. 

Yui: ...Yes.

Carla: I have thought over your question many times since then. ...However, I simply cannot bring myself to comprehend your words.

Yui: ...I see.

( In the end...I guess a First Blood and a human just can’t understand each other. )

( Still...I want Carla-san...to live. )

( ...Ah!! )

Carla-san! Don’t you have a bucket list?

Carla: A bucket list...?

Yui: Exactly! Something you’d like to try right away...Is there nothing which comes to mind? 

I want you...to feel the joy that comes from being alive. 

Why don’t we do something together!? 

Carla: ...In that case...

ー He pins her down

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah!

( H-He pinned me down...! )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: U-Um...!

Carla: When I feel your body against mine like this...I get this strange feeling.

Perhaps it’s a human’s limited life span which makes them...no, which makes you so...

Yui: ( Carla-san...? )

Carla: Heh...A human’s skin...is rather warm, it seems. 

Yui: ( ...! H-His hand is running along my back... )

( It’s somewhat cold and tickles...But I wonder why...? )

( I don’t dislike it at all... )

Carla: ...What’s the matter? You appear to be rather docile today.

Yui: Nn...!

Selection

→ I want you to touch me more (M)

Yui: ...I...I want you to touch me more...

Carla: Heh, you are surprisingly honest. 

Yui: ...Yes.

( ...! Why am I being so assertive...!? )

Carla: Very well. 

However, this time rather than using my hands...I’ll use my tongue...

Yui: ...Ah!

→ Don’t touch me any more (S)

Yui: ...Don’t touch me...any more...

Carla: ...What do you mean?

Yui: Well...You know...It tickles...

Carla: Hmph. Oh well, I suppose it’s fine. Then, instead...

...Nn...

Yui: ...!

Carla: You do not wish me to caress you, correct? In that case, I’ll simply...!

Yui: ( I can’t believe he’s licking me...! )

Carla: ...How does that feel? 

Yui: ...Ah...S-Stop...!

Carla: Fufufu...You may say that, but you are ecstatic, are you not?

Yui: No way...!

...Aah...

ー She closes her eyes

Yui: ( Carla-san says that he is not afraid of death but... )

( Personally...Just the thought of him passing away scares me... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

[sky-berrie]

Stitch - Damian

Summary: Another favorite trope - reader patches up a wound. Warning: mentions of blood. 

The window opened behind you and you felt a cool summer night breeze brush against your neck. You didn’t bother to give the intruder any attention because you knew that Damian was the only person who could disarm the alarm and crack lock mechanism with ease. You thought the whole system was overkill but it pleased Damian to have it installed so you didn’t complain.

“Hey, Damian,” you greeted him robotically with your gaze still transfixed to your laptop screen and your back to the window. You were watching the events of the latest episode of your favorite show unfold.

You heard Damian land in your room with a grunt. He was usually quite graceful, however you guessed that his ribs and hip were still sore from the last sparing session he had with his brothers and sisters. That family took everything to a whole other level.

You heard Damian shut the window after himself. The sound of the latch being secured came next. Then you heard electronic beeps as he reactivated the alarm. “You –” he let out a sharp exhale. “You took home economics, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied, nonchalantly with a mouthful of popcorn. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen, but you heard the sound of his heavy boots carry him across your room.

“Good,” he said. A shaky breath infiltrated his normally self-assured voice. “And you remember most of it?” The bed springs creaked under his weight.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” he said. “What grade did you receive?” This wasn’t all that out of character for him. Damian was competitive in all aspects of his life. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to compare home economics grades just so he could vaunt his skills.

“I don’t know, Damian,” you said honestly. You turned up the volume, hoping that Damian would get the hint that you wanted to watch your show in peace and quiet. “I think it was a good mark.”

Damian let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Excellent.” His voice sounded less troubled than before.

“Jon did most of my assignments,” you admitted unapologetically.

Damian was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but you attended the classes, correct?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were too focused on the climax of the episode. “Oh my goodness,” you muttered under your breath to yourself as the plot twist unveiled. “Um,” you said, remembering that Damian had asked you something. “Yeah, yeah, more or less.”

“Do you remember how to sew?”

“Sort of,” you told him. You had sewn on a button once. It didn’t look great, but it definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well enough,” he said. “I need you to suture a laceration.”

“What?” you choked out. He said it so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure if he was serious or not, because a sane person would not be so stoic. You whipped around to find Damian lying on your bed in his Robin uniform. It was soiled with a layer of black, like he had been charred. It was so dark that it masked the staining of his blood and you wouldn’t have known he was bleeding if it weren’t for the pool of red soaking through your white comforter. He was holding his side with his hands at an awkward angle.

You had seen him with cuts and bruises and even broken bones, but never with the life bleeding out of him. “Oh my goodness!” you shrieked as panic filled your lungs. Your face contorted into a horrified grimace as you tried to stifle an expression of disgust. The strong stench of metal made your stomach churn and your head woozy.

You immediately felt horrible for not paying attention to him sooner. “Damian, why didn’t you say something? Holy crap! What the hell happened? You need an ambulance!” You turned around to reach for your phone.

“No,” Damian choked out. “Secret… identity,” he said with his eyes squeezed shut.

“What about your brothers and sisters? Your dad? Alfred?”

“On their way. No time to wait. First aid kit,” he implored weakly.

You ran for the bathroom and tore into the cabinet to find the massive first aid kit that Damian insisted you store. You had opened it once or twice to grab a bandage for a paper cut but you never touched the majority of the contents. You didn’t even know what half of the kit was for. You guessed that you might find out today.

When you returned to your room, Damian was moving slowly to unbutton his uniform. You helped him with the rest, trying to do it quickly without jostling anything. You tried to ignore the squishy wetness of the uniform, but your hands came away covered in a layer of crimson blood. Beneath the outer coat, his white undershirt was seeping with blood. There was a large tear in the fabric and a bit of the raw wound peeked through.  

You didn’t have a fear of blood, really. You had no qualms about donating blood or seeing it on TV. This, however, was completely different. You were more terrified than you had ever been in your entire life. You had no idea what to do - everything you knew about CPR and standard first aid had inexplicably disappeared from your brain. Silent tears began to spill from your eyes as your breaths tore in and out of your throat, ragged and shallow.

“Y/N,” said Damian, firmly. Through your blurry, wet vision, you could see him straining to make eye contact with you. “Breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Just follow my instructions.”

Normally you trusted Damian, but this time his reassuring words didn’t have any kind of soothing effect on you. Your whole body was shaking now. You couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you shook your head.

“Yes, Y/N. It is going to be fine, but you must listen to me. Do you understand?”

You tried to take a deep breath, but an uncontrollable sob cut it short. If Damian could lie there halfway to death and still be composed, then you could at least pretend to be calm for his sake. You nodded your head this time, trying your best to even out your breathing. It was no use though. You couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Thank you. Cut it,” he said, motioning to his undershirt.

You did as he ordered and cut a line right down the centre of his shirt. It was warm and wet and clung to his skin, so you peeled it off to reveal the full extent of a nasty looking wound. Even through your distorted, teary vision, you saw enough to know it was not good.

You felt faint at the sight of his insides. Or maybe it was your hyperventilating making you dizzy.  

“Breathe, Y/N. Breathe and then get the sterile solution to irrigate it.”

You returned with freshly washed hands, a pair of gloves and a jug of irrigation solution. Following his instructions, you squeezed the syringe and expelled the liquid over his wound. It ran down his side and carried even more blood into your comforter.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “There should be a small white packet with a curved need and thread and a pair of suture holders. They look like scissors but without the blades.”

Your trembling hands had a difficult time picking out the items. Once you collected the materials, you looked at Damian for further directions.

“It’s a bit deep so you’ll need to close the layer under the skin first. Can you see it?”

You shook your head. His side was a giant red mess. You couldn’t make out anything except for blood and jagged skin. It was nothing like the clean and clear-cut diagrams you’d seen in class. “This is crazy! I can’t do this,” you cried. People spent years studying and training to do procedures like this. Stitching up a body was not something that a person should wing, and definitely not on their best friend, lying in an unsterile room.

“You can,” he assured you. “Pretend like you’re sewing some fabric. Start with this layer here.” Damian pulled at his skin and pointed to the inside with a pair of suture forceps. You couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes as he prodded himself. “Y/N,” he called your attention back. “Make sure the needle goes in like this and comes out like this,” said Damian as he demonstrated.

You were shaking your head. “You are absolutely insane! Sewing fabric is nothing like sewing a wound! Can’t we just wait for your dad or someone?”

“No time,” he said.

“Please, Damian,” you begged. “Let me call EMS.”

“No,” he asserted with what little strength he had.

“Please! I…”

“No,” he repeated. You could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“I understand you have to protect your secret identity, but Damian, come on. There won’t be an identity to protect if you die.”

“Batman…Nightwing…” he said weakly.

“They’ll understand!” you argued with desperation.

“No,” he mumbled. He shook his head.

Without any thought, your next words came flooding out straight from your heart. “Damian, I love you and I don’t want you to die!” Oh. That came as a shock to you. You’d never said anything like that before. In fact, you’d never even had a thought like that, but you knew it was the truth. Your hands almost flew to cover your mouth in regret, but the blood dripping from your hands stopped you.

Damian didn’t seem to notice your confession, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Had you not been utterly distracted by the emergency before you, you might have run away with embarrassment from your sudden proclamation.

“Please try for me, okay?” His eyes were starting to close, but you could see him struggle to keep them open.

You searched his eyes, to see that his once vibrant green eyes had a dull, hazy colour to them. Seeming to find what you were looking for, you conceded. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Okay.”

It was the worst experience of your life. Damian walked you through the process, but nothing could prepare you for the nauseating feeling of piercing his skin and pulling the nylon thread through the thickness of the tissue. Seeing the inside of his body made you want to vomit but his life was at stake, and you had to be brave for him. Besides, he was the one who should be worried, not you. Your technique was obviously non-existent and you were certain that you were hurting him a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He hissed and groaned and you apologized profusely but he insisted that you continue.

“Thank you,” said Damian after you tied the last knot. His eyes were heavy and lidded and you could tell he was barely hanging on to consciousness. “Knew you could do it.”

You had no response. Now that the worst part was over, the adrenaline had left your system and you were in shock. His hand lolled out in an attempt to offer you comfort, or maybe to seek comfort for himself. You weren’t certain which is was, but nevertheless, you instinctively clasped his hand in yours.

Then he said something that caught you off guard. His voice was so faint that you barely heard him. “For the record, I love you, as well.”

You weren’t sure if he really meant it. Maybe he was delirious. He did lose a lot of blood. You pondered it for a moment and wondered if you should feel mortally embarrassed when he was fully lucid, but just then, a gentle squeeze on your hand told you that you didn’t have to worry.

[valwentinefics]

Instincts - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader (omegaverse) 18+

Plot: Y/n, an unmated omega, forgets to get a refill of her suppressants, sending her into her heat while at work. Luckily for her notorious criminal and alpha Helmut Zemo is hiding out in the backroom. (Takes place after episode 4 of tfatws)

A/n: First of all I’m sorry, second of all I’m sorry, third of all, You’re welcome. This is my first time writing omegaverse so it’s probably not the best and I haven’t read an omegaverse fic in a hot minute. Sorry my smut is always so short, I really gotta work on that.

Warnings: smut, normal a/b/o things, possessive dirty talk, mentions of omegas being harmed, mentions of fear of being assaulted. (if i missed anything please let me know)

As an unmated omega, Y/n knew well of the dangers of the world. Everywhere she looked alphas lurked around looking for their own omega, a rare thing to have in this society. Although omegas were coveted and prized they were still at the bottom of the hierarchy and were expected to be subservient to whatever alpha marked them, a thought that terrified Y/n. Stories of alphas that harmed omegas were sickeningly common, and with everyone plastering on fake kindness in hopes to place their mark on her neck, Y/n was terrified she would end up a statistic.

Suppressants were Y/n’s saving grace, an illegal method to mask her true nature from the world and pose as a beta where she could live her life peacefully, something she could never do as an omega. If she were to get caught she could face serious time in a correctional facility built just for omegas to learn their place in the world, and so every day was filled with caution and fear.

“God I look like shit.” Y/n’s heavy eyes looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes deep and only looking worse due to the harsh fluorescent light buzzing away above her. The illegal suppressants had many side effects ranging from life threatening to mildly troublesome, but the one that affected Y/n most was the inability to fall asleep. Each night was spent tossing and turning, her body feeling restless. 

Sluggishly Y/n grabbed her concealer, dabbing it on beneath her eyes, her hands shaking with exhaustion. She finished with a sigh, running her hands through her hair to remove any major knots. She didn’t have the energy to fully go through her hair, not seeing the point. She was hidden as a beta anyways, no one would give her a second glance. Y/n opened the medicine cabinet, looking for the white box of suppressants, only to not find it anywhere. Her stomach sank as she realized she forgot to get her refill yesterday. It would be fine though, she hoped. She had gone without them before and hadn’t gone in heat, surely it would be the same thing this time, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in her mind it wouldn’t be.

Y/n grabbed her perfume, spraying it on herself. The scent was cinnamon, similar to her natural scent as an omega, but it had the slight acrid scent of being a perfume. She hoped that would be enough to convince the alphas she passed by that she was just a beta wearing perfume. It wasn’t something she used often, only when her overtired brain didn’t remember to get the refill of her suppressants. 

“That's good enough, I hope.” Y/n mumbled to herself. She smoothed out her short sundress, the light flowy fabric ending at her mid thigh. It was her favourite dress, she felt and knew she looked cute in it. Y/n didn’t like to wear things like this often, she didn’t want the attention of anyone, but frankly she felt like shit and needed the joy looking nice brought her.

The walk to the flower shop had Y/n’s body feeling hot, however she assumed it was the warm weather, not wanting her paranoia to make her miss work. The flower shop she owned was Y/n’s only source of income and it wasn’t a bad one at that. It was common for alpha’s to come in and buy bouquets to give to the first omega they see on the streets in an attempt to woo them. That was another reason Y/n refused to accept her status as an omega. Every bit of romance was just disingenuous. Alpha’s only wanted to have the honour of being chosen by an omega, they didn’t care about who that omega was. However, Y/n was happy it paid her bills.

-

The day went by smoothly until closing time when Y/n turned off the open sign, the neon light no longer lighting up the darkening street outside. As she grabbed her keys to leave a sharp pain went through her abdomen, causing a gasp to escape her throat. She rested a hand on the painful area, eyes wide. She should have listened to her instincts, she should have stayed home, but she didn’t and now she was going into heat in her store. Y/n paced, her mind running at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home, walking would be near impossible for her with her heat approaching fast. She would have to wait it through in her shop with no relief. 

“Oh fuck…” Y/n groaned in pain, leaning against the wall. She knew she had to find something to eat to get the strength to get through this. With shaky steps she headed to the back, her hand glued to her abdomen as if that would alleviate her pain. As she approached the door to the back room her blood went cold, her nose picking up the faint scent of an alpha through the thick door. 

She debated opening it. Her instincts were telling her to open it and get his help with the heat, her brain told her it could be dangerous. Eventually decided to confront him, to ask what he was doing and maybe for his help getting home if he didn’t seem too awful. With her keys clutched between her fingers just in case, she slowly opened the door, her body almost melting at the scent that wafted to her.

A man dressed in a long coat with a fur collar stared back at her with shock, the scent of pine trees wafting off of him. “Omega…?” He spoke with a Sokovian accented voice. It took Y/n a few moments before the identity of the dangerously handsome man registered in her mind. She had seen him on the news. He was Helmut Zemo, the man who almost single handedly destroyed the Avengers.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. “You’re Helmut Zemo… What- what are you doing here?” She asked, fixing her posture to appear assertive and trying her best to resist the urge to submit right there. A mixture of fear and arousal was filling her body to the point where she thought she might explode.

“So you’ve heard about me?” He tilted his head slightly. “I needed a place to hide for a bit, I’ve been scoping this place out. You’re the owner, Y/n, correct?” Y/n gulped but nodded, worried about why he was hiding out. “That doesn’t matter right now. Why are you here? It’s not safe for an omega in heat to be out in public.” He scolded as if Y/n didn’t know that. It was odd, having the notorious criminal seem to care about her safety. She wondered what he was trying to achieve, if anything.

“It wasn’t my choice okay?” She snapped, a wave of pain washed over her and she slumped against the door frame with a groan. Zemo got up, moving to her quickly but stopping once Y/n had flinched, worried he was going to try something.

“You need to get home, where’s your car? I'll escort you there.” He said, his voice was strained and Y/n’s eyes couldn’t help but land on the growing bulge in his pants. He was going into a rut which explained his current caring and protective nature. Her mouth watered at the thought of having his cock in her mouth but she tore her eyes away, looking to the side to avoid him. 

“I don’t have a car… too expensive.” She groaned out, her breaths growing to pants as she started to overheat, fanning herself with her hand.

Zemo let out a staggered exhale, running his hand through his formerly perfectly done hair. “What’s your address? I’ll bring you there myself.” Y/n was impressed at the amount of self control this alpha had. Even as his rut was beginning he managed to stay calm and collected for the most part, but Y/n knew it was hard for him, sweat ran down his forehead as he strained to keep control.

Reluctantly Y/n told him her address knowing he was her best bet at getting home safely. A whimper escaped her throat as she felt her slick begin to drip down her thigh. She clenched her legs together, desire seeping into every part of her. She wanted the alpha’s knot more than anything she had ever wanted before. She could hardly focus on what Zemo was doing, not noticing he had draped his coat over her and picked her up until they were already out the door.

Zemo didn’t breathe as often as he needed while he walked, trying not to inhale Y/n’s scent as he moved at a quick pace, shooting piercing glares at every passerby that dared look their way. He felt protective over the little omega. His cock strained uncomfortably against his pants as his mind filled with thoughts of mating with her, but he pushed them back, not wanting to take advantage of her. Arriving at the apartment building he used her keys to unlock the door to the humble apartment, locating her room and placing her down on her bed. Y/n took off his coat and offered it back.

“You can keep the jacket for now, I’ll come back for it once you’re done with your heat.” He said, quickly turning around. Y/n’s hand shot out, grabbing his gloved hand.

“Please alpha, don't leave, help me.” She whimpered. Y/n didn’t know where that had come from, but she didn’t regret it, knowing it wasn’t just her heat talking. He was powerful, respectful, not to mention handsome. Everything a good mate should be, even though Y/n knew mating with a dangerous man like him was out of the question. Y/n found herself liking the man despite knowing what he had done and not knowing him long. She knew he would treat her well during her heat, if he accepted.

“Are you sure omega?” He asked, not facing her in fear that he would pounce on her as soon as he saw the desire in her eyes. 

“Yes alpha, please…” Y/n whimpered again, giving his hand a small tug. “I need you”

That was all he needed to lose control. Zemo turned around to face her, stalking to the bed as he removed his shirt, straddling Y/n’s warm needy body. Her smaller hands reached out, undoing his belt and palming Zemo’s cock through his pants. Y/n couldn’t help the filthy thoughts that flooded her mind, desire for the dangerous man’s knot consuming her.

Zemo let out a groan, taking off his pants and boxers, letting his painfully hard cock free. Y/n’s eyes were clouded with lust as she leaned forward, mouth open and ready to suck it. He tapped the side of her cheek with his cock, running his hand through her hair and gripping it.

 “No liebling, this is about you. I can wait for another time.” He let go of her hair and Y/n laid down, watching the alpha as he took off her panties and put her legs over his shoulders, running his cock slowly up and down her folds and coating itself in her slick, the tip teasing her as it came so close to going in. Y/n let out a little whine, letting him know she was growing impatient. “I apologize omega, it’s rude of me to tease.” He smirked before shoving himself all the way in easily.

Y/n’s toes curled as she let out a loud gasping moan, throwing her head back in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, the position they were in allowing him to reach every part of her with ease. His hands ran up and down her waist as he let out a deep moan. Y/n’s eyes were locked on him as he fucked her deeply, causing her to let out a whimper of pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you little omega, taking my cock so well.” He reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, rubbing circles into the soft flesh with his thumb. “Does it feel good?” His hand dropped from her cheek and began to rub her clit with just enough roughness to send her over the edge, a loud moan escaping her as she came.

“Yes, fuck! harder, please!” She said between moans, her hands tangling themselves in Zemo’s hair and gripping it as she panted.

Zemo moaned as he re-adjusted her legs on his shoulders, picking up the pace. “This pussy of yours, it’s mine now. I’ll fuck you through this heat and every heat you have next.” He growled, hitting Y/n’s sweet spot, making her cry out in ecstasy. 

Y/n felt warm inside at his words. Her pussy clenched around his cock as the stimulation from him rubbing her clit and pounding into her sent her over the edge again, panting as she came hard. He was good at making her feel good, and for once Y/n was glad she was an omega.

“Fuck, you feel so good clenched around me. Do you want my knot in you, little omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked cockily, receiving a desperate whine from Y/n.

“Please, please, please!” She begged, the only thoughts filling her mind were those of need for his knot buried deep into her. 

“How can I refuse... when you’re asking so nicely, liebling.” He spoke between grunts. His thrusts slowly became more sloppy and deep and Y/n knew he was about to cum.

With one last deep thrust Zemo buried his cock all the way into Y/n’s pussy, his knot trapping the two together as he emptied his cum into Y/n. She felt so full in a good way, her breaths heavy with exhaustion as she internally frowned at the thought of Zemo pulling out of her. His knot alleviated the worst of her heat and as she laid there sore and sweaty, her now clearer mind had no regrets about what had happened. 

Zemo pulled out after a while, his knot going away. A smile danced on his lips as he saw the cum dripping out of her as he pulled out his cock. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as she moved to a more comfortable position on the bed. Zemo grabbed his jacket from the floor, dusting it off and draping it over the omega’s tired form. Hesitantly he hovered over her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head, deeply inhaling her scent. 

Not wanting to intrude any more, he got dressed and walked over to the couch, exhaustion filling his body as he slumped down onto it, closing his eyes with a smile. He could tell he would need all the rest he could get while he rode out the omega’s heat with her. He was so happy he decided to hide out at that flower shop.

-

Tags: @peculiar-monstar​ @lovelyzabrak-meadow​ @captainsherlockwinchester110283​

[tu-sugar-mami]

So @alcinassugarbby asked for another part of my previous music drabble, where R teaches Alci how to perrear to latino music. And if you want to get the vibe you can listen to the Spotify playlist i made specifically for this.

Also, just to let you know, this was written with latino people in mind.

I took my time with this one, but please enjoy ;)

------

The castle was huge af, you yourself had gotten lost in its infinity many times, mostly when you have the late night cravings and sneakily you manouver you way out of Alcina's hold and have to find your way through the darkness of the hallways in order to find the kitchen. It was like a neverending maze, but just as it was great for parties and hide and seek games, it was a pain in the ass to keep clean.

Maids had stopped roaming the castle's halls a long time ago (more like, the family outlived them), and Alcina never bothered to hire new ones, so the chore of cleaning the place fell upon the daughters.

Your mom raised you right, you were not going to let the girls struggle with the the chores when you could do something about it, and so, you being in your right age to put music to clean but not old enough to put Juan Gabriel, you pulled out your phone, connecting it to the speaker you made Alcina buy for you, and you started to sweep and mop, with your sleep shorts on clinging to you like a second skin and an oversized shirt (courtesy of Alcina's wardrobe) hanging on your body.

You were the only one currently in the castle, as the rest of the family went out for some business stuff with MM, leaving you the entire place to do as you pleased, so you didn't hesitate to blast the music through the whole east wing while dancing around the room you were cleaning. Though you lost track of time, and when you felt a hand on your shoulder just when you were crouching throwing it back, lost in the music, you jumped 3ft in the air with a surprised yelp, only to run to the nearest couch to grab a deadly weapon, a decorative cushion, and wield it with assertive determination towards whoever had dared to put a foot inside your home.

"Whatever are you doing, dear?" You heard your lover's amused voice and you blushed, letting out a squeak of surprise at being caught while dancing like that. You didn't even hear her arrive, but then again, the music was too loud.

You quickly turned the music down, so it wouldn't hurt her ears and so you could hear her better.

"I uh, was cleaning?" You said, unsure of your answer. You went to her, giving her a welcoming hug, though it was mostly to hide your face.

Alcina, the ever teasing woman, looked at a flustered you and a smirk formed on her face. "What an interesting way of cleaning. I'm sure the floors will be sparkling when you're done." And if it wasn't enough, she added: "You're really good, my love, you should teach me sometime." Alcina could say stuff like that all day, but in reality she loved the cute way your butt bounced up and down and as cool and composed as she looked in the outside, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes (and hands) off of your lower back. Because she's a gentlewoman, and a lady, and not because her daughters are wildly unpredictable and no one could assure her they wouldn't barge through the door at any moment effectively interrupting and testing her self control.

Though what she said gave you an idea, and now it was your turn to smirk mischievously. "Oh, i can definitely teach you. I would love to, even."

Her expression went blank and her face went pale, or well, even paler if it was even possible. "No." She said without a pause.

You giggled, and she giggled too because she cherished your laugh.

"No, but really. I could teach you. I mean, i'm no master myself but i know my moves." To prove your point you smoothly swinged your hips left and right, while holding Alcina's hands to make her follow your dance.

"I don't think i can do that, dearest. Maybe is best if i refrain from doing such dance." The smile on her face was small but it made the whole room brighter and you wanted to kiss her right there, although at that exact moment one of your favorite songs, and a classic at that, could be heard from the speaker and you didn't waste a second to dance along with it.

"Watch this, Alci." You said as you started to move at the rhythm of Yo Perreo Sola. Your left leg bouncing against the floor, then you started to move your hips in a rhythmical circle with a little pause and bounce of your butt at the end of every lap. It was really simple, yet Alcina looked mesmerized. And when you bent over, with your hands on your knees, and started going up and down, Alcina's eyes were definitely glued to you.

"See something you like?" You asked, smugly.

Alcina was speechless. But her gaze fixed on your behind let you know that in fact she did like it, she did like it a lot.

You stopped and you could have sworn you heard Alcina whine. "Why did you stop?" She asked, with a tint of disappoinment in her voice.

"You didn't say anything, so i thought you might not like it." You turned away from her to hide your smirk, because it was all bs, you knew she was enthralled.

"No, no. I like it. Although i must admit, i'd rather wish you'd dance for me like this more often." When you faced her again ahe was watching you intently.

"Tell you what, you dance for me first and i'll dance for you tonight in our chambers, how's that sound?" You were struggling to keep your grin under control as Alcina seemed to seriously think about it.

"You really want to see me dance like that, don't you? You little devil."

"There's nothing else i'd wish for right now."

Alcina sighed. "Fine, i am willing to do it." She held your face with her hand and leaned to kiss you. "Just because i really like that butt of yours."

You blushed but went to choose a song nonetheless.

"Let's start with something easy." You said as you browsed through the Colores album, looking for a song that you thought fitted her perfectly and 'Negro' started to play.

Alcina had listened to your songs before, but it never ceased to amaze her how different each song was, the rhythm and lyrics, not to mention the many different languages, and seeing you so excited to share part of your culture with her– it just made her heart soar.

"Alright, how should i start?"

Your huge bright smile made it impossibe to hide how much you were enjoying this. "You see, my dear apprentice, perrear is an art where your hips are the brush and the room is your canvas. Now, with me, stand like this and try to move you butt up and down along with the beat."

Alcina was hesitant. How a lady such as herself would allow her body to move in such an... aggravating... manner? Well, the answer was that she loved you. She would do anything for you and if it was your wish to see her dance, then she'd swallow her pride and try her best.

With awe you witnessed how your lady attempted to perform the basic step of perreo, though you could clearly see she was being shy, and you didn't blame her. The first time you tried to learn in front of your full body mirror was like that too.

"How's this? Am i doing it right?" She asked, unsure.

Her posture was a bit awkward, and you placed your hands on her to correct it. "Yes, now try to lean down a bit, like this. You can put your hands above the knee for support." She did. "Now, the tricky part. Try and arch your back a bit, just a bit, while you throw it back."

"I'm not throwing anything back, dear." Alcina said, confused, and even glanced behind her to confirm.

You giggled. "Baby, i meant your butt. Like this."

Alcina followed your example, and she being an extremely smart, talented and observing woman, picked up the move real quick.

"Now try to draw a circle with your hips. Yes, just like that. You're doing great, babe!"

"I sure hope so, my love. I'm really looking forward to you dancing for me tonight." She smirked, stopping her moves and pulling you close to her, her hands on your back pressing you against her front. "I putting a lot of effort and i require praise and kisses." You were more than happy to comply to her wishes, climbing on a chair and proceeding to kiss her hungrily. Wet kisses could be heard in the room, and Alcina's hands under your shirt gently scrapping the bare skin of your back were driving you crazy. But you knew you were getting too lost in the moment, and as much as you wanted to keep drawing those delicious groans from her you still had a goal to accomplish.

With a last bite to her bottom lip you pushed yourself back and jumped to the floor, ignoring Alcina's whine of disappoinment.

"Let's move to something a little more difficult." You say, a little bit out of breath, as you change the song to Gasolina. It started with a rapid beat and you wasted no time following it.

"Oh god..."

"Now you do it."

You'd be lying if you said seeing Alcina try that specific step didn't stir something in you. Definitely her leaning down, moving her hips side to side, slightly rotating her waist, in a rapid pace was a sight to behold.

"My love, you're drooling." Her amused voice reached your ears and you got out of your trance.

"I guess i'm really good teacher." You day, the back of your hand hiding your mouth.

"Mmh, well i think so too." She laughed. A beautiful laughter indeed. "Do you happen to have more knowledge you'd like to share?"

You lit up as a new song came into mind.

"I do!" Wait a sec!"

You quickly change the song and run back to Alcina's side.

"Third step! Should be easy enough." You squat and thrust your hips forward in a repetitive smooth motion while gradually rising with every 'Tra' of the song, slowly, tempting, alluring. "What do you think?"

Alcina is staring again, and you can almost hear the Microsoft startup sound as her brain reboots.

"Would you look at that! It's already night time." She said, pointing to a half covered window that lets in a faint but clear ray of sunlight. You opened your mouth to deny it but Alcina was already hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist. "And i believe we made a deal." Her husky voice and hungry eyes left no room for arguing, though you wouldn't complain.

-----

I think i should put links to videos so you can get a reference.

If you love my work, buy me a coffee?

[highfaelucien]

for elucien: maybe some soft content of lucien and elain cooking together

send me ship fic prompts!

Elain looked up as she heard a small tap at the door of the kitchen. She glanced towards Nuala and Cerridwen, both of whom remained relaxed, though she couldn't think who would be knocking.

Anyone who typically stayed here, Feyre and Rhys and their Inner Circle, none of them would have knocked. They would just have barged in, on a varying spectrum of politeness.

Azriel was at one end, and Cassian was on the other, which felt an appropriate way of measuring the two brothers' personalities.

"Come in!" she called, looking up from her flour dusted work table.

A golden glimmer caught her eye as one mechanical eye and one of glimmering red peered owlishly around the doorway.

"Lady Elain," he said with that courtly grace, giving her as refined a bow as any she'd ever seen, "Your sister told me that I could find you here. May I approach?"

"Oh," Elain said, a little flustered, feeling her cheeks go warm for reasons entirely unrelated to the heating oven behind her, "Oh, yes, of course, my lord-" she catches herself, remembering that he's not a lord, she corrects, "Lucien."

He inclined his head slightly and approached, carrying a small wicker basket in front of him, which he set gently on the worktop in front of her.

"Your sister told me that you liked to bake down her most days," he said, watching her almost warily, as though he expected her to snap at him for merely being here, "So I brought you a gift."

"A gift?" she repeated, blinking down at the basket.

"It won't bite," he said, with a small smile, "You can open it."

Tentatively, she slid the lid open and peered inside. At once, a tart, wonderful smell of fresh, crisp apples, unlike any she'd ever experienced, emerged from the basket.

She gave a little squeal of delight and took one from the basket, holding it in her hand. It was larger than any she'd ever seen, gleaming as brightly red as a forge. And the smell, even unpeeled, she had never smelled anything so mouthwatering or delicious.

Lucien smiled a little at her reaction to them and answered the question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue, "They're from the Autumn Court."

There was a flicker in his eyes he couldn't quite read, a sadness, deep and haunted. And she felt it. She felt it, a deep pang in her own chest, twin and echo to what she saw in him. She wasn't sure if he was aware of that, as he kept talking, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"My mother sent it to me," he told her, and there was a tightness to his voice. She knew little of the other courts, but she had heard Lucien's mother lived a sad existence trapped with his father. "She told me, she told me to offer it to you, so that you would know that Autumn has more to it than the violence and brutality seen from outside."

He laid a gentle hand on the basket's lid, one slim finger tracing another of the apples. They had a meaning to him. A connection to his old court, his old home, the mother he had not seen in so long.

"I thought, perhaps, you could use them in your baking," he said, straightening up and taking a breath, composing himself, "They are best enjoyed when they are cooked."

"They smell even better than this?" Elain blurted, eyes widening.

Lucien huffed a soft laugh, and it felt, oddly, like a victory, "They do indeed. They are made for roasting, for bonfires, and mead. I think they will be an excellent treat for those upstairs. And for you."

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said, giving him a polite little curtsy, "This is very thoughtful," she gestured towards Nuala and Cerridwen, the two wraiths watching silently but, she knew, listening to every word, "We were actually about to make a pie. I think now it shall be an apple pie."

He smiled at that, then gave her another bow and made to leave. Something about the way he turned, the way his touch had lingered upon the apples, the smell of him, of Autumn, that lingered, the sadness in his eyes, the sadness in her chest, has her calling out to him.

"Perhaps you could stay?"

Nuala and Cerridwen glanced up, but kept their thoughts to themselves, as always.

Lucien turned slowly, seeming a little startled, and looked at her with raised eyebrows, "That's not necessary," he said carefully, "Please, don't feel obliged."

"I don't," she told him firmly, trying to be more assertive, "I think it would be nice to have a practiced hand to show me precisely how to, to slice and spice these apples. So that they taste their best."

He hesitated just a moment, then he gave her a smile and tied his long red hair up into a loose bun on top of his head, securing it with a leather band around his wrist.

"I can certainly do that," he told her, with a soft smile, "I've roasted more of these in my lifetime than I'd care to count."

She gave him a little smile, then turned to Nuala and Cerridwen and said, trying, and failing, to control her blush, "The kitchen may be a little crowded with four of us. I think I can manage, with Lucien's help. Perhaps you could attend to your other duties? I know you're both very busy."

It was painfully transparent, but neither of her friends made any mention of that. They just gave her and Lucien little bows, then vanished through the wall.

Lucien gave an exaggerated shiver at the sight, "Does that ever get unnerving?" he asked Elain, squinting down at her.

She giggled, "I suppose it was at first," she admitted, "I've gotten used to them. Mostly. But I still get a fright if I turn around and they're standing inside the table. I thought perhaps it was just a holdover from my being human."

"No," Lucien said wryly, "That's definitely not a human thing. Standing in tables is downright unsettling."

Elain smiled again, then added, "They've been good friends to me, despite their blatant abuse of furniture. And they're very good bakers."

"That I can attest to as well," Lucien said, washing his hands at the sink, "Their pastries are deliciously light."

She couldn't help noting, out of the corner of her eye, as he rolled up his sleeves, that his arms were corded with muscle, and well toned.

He didn't have the bulk of Cassian, or even Azriel, who was less of a 'beefcake', to use Mor's word, than his brother, but still broad-chested and muscular. He was more delicately crafted, and she bit her lip as her brain very firmly did not object to that one bit.

Lucien didn't seem to notice her ogling. Or if he did, he was polite enough to pretend that he didn't, for which she was grateful.

"Why don't we prepare the apples together?" she suggested, "The pie crust is nearly ready, after all, and there are quite a few of them. I can peel if you don't mind chopping?"

"I am at your service, my lady," Lucien replied, giving her another sweeping bow, "Your kitchen, your authority."

"I don't think anyone has ever given me authority before," she mumbled, before she could stop herself, picking up one of the apples and starting to peel it with a sharp knife.

Lucien took out a cutting board and set it down beside her, fishing a knife from the nearby block.

He smiled as he waited for her to finish with her apple. As she handed it to him, he said, "If you were given authority, over a whole court, let's say, what would it be? A court of pastries and cream? Or perhaps roses and violets?"

She considered, humming, then said bluntly, "Well, it would certainly have a lot more sunlight than there is here."

Lucien laughed, even as she blushed.

"Oh dear," she said, feeling even the newly pointed tips of her ears growing hot, "That sounded rather rude and ungrateful, didn't it?"

"Actually," Lucien said, leaning in conspiratorially, so she once again caught his scent, and trembled with it, "It was quite refreshing. I know that Rhys has an aesthetic to maintain, the dark and broody git, and there's a definite beauty to all of this," he waved his knife around airily, "But it does get a bit depressing day after day."

Elain gave a little squeaky at the mention of Rhys being a 'dark and broody git' but otherwise smiled at Lucien's assessment.

"No-one else seems to have a problem with it," she said, watching as Lucien efficiently cored and sliced the apples she passed him.

He was clearly practiced in the kitchen, which surprised her. She'd been told he was a High Lord's son, a prince - she wasn't sure why they were called princes when their father's were lords, but hadn't questioned it - she hadn't expected culinary training to be in his skillset.

"In fact they all seem to like it, even," she said, with a little sigh, "I miss summers in the mortal lands. Everyone keeps telling me I should stop thinking about it. That my life is here now, but..."

"But it was your home for most of your life," Lucien said quietly, "And that is difficult to forget, or fully escape from, no matter how long you're gone from it."

She nodded, and watched him examine the apple in his hand, that sad longing back on his face.

"Do you miss your home, too?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at her, weighing her, apparently judging how to answer, sincere, or sarcastic. To her surprise, he chose sincerity.

"I do," he said quietly, "Both of them." He sighed very deeply, "I have bad memories connected to both Spring and Autumn. Terrible memories, if truth be told, but..."

"But there are good memories, too," Elain said quietly, finishing the thought, "And other people seem to forget those. Maybe that's why it's been so easy for them to move on with their new lives."

Lucien peered down at her, holding her gaze for a long time, then he nodded.

"When I was given quarters in Tamlin's manor," he said, turning that burning gaze away from her to confront the apples again, "I chose to decorate the space as my rooms had looked at Autumn. Dark wood pannelling, oranges, and reds, and yellows, the colours of the bonfires and falling leaves. Tamlin and the others couldn't understand it. They had thought I would want to erase every memory of that court, after what had happened to me there."

Elain didn't press him to go into details about what precisely that had been. She had overheard snippets and gossip, but she had never gotten the full story. Now did not feel like the time for it.

"They didn't understand," he said, shaking his head, "I left Autumn, left it gladly. But a part of my heart still belonged there. A part of my heart will always belong there. Just as another part will always belong to Spring. My mother was of Autumn. There was a fire in my blood that called to that court. the festivals, and bonfires. The plants, and the people. The scents, and the food, and the beauty of it.

"I still remembered those things fondly. I didn't want to let myself forget. I didn't want to become the kind of person who consisted only of scars, and sadness, defined only by the terrible things that have happened to them."

He huffed a soft laugh and had to stop himself dragging his long fingers through his hair while he was around food.

"I apologise, lady," I came here to deliver you some apples, not wax lyrical on my philosophy of life," he said, inclining his head towards her.

But she laid a gentle hand on his arm and said, "No, I like to hear it. It...It's good to hear, honestly. I don't like to forget the good times, either. Nesta and Feyre, they fit in so well here, and have taken so well to being fae, on the whole. I know that whenever anyone mentions our past in the human world, they think of that cottage. They think of freezing winters, and near starvation. Of abandonment, and rejection, and sadness. So I don't blame them for finding that easy to leave behind."

"What about you, Elain?" Lucien asked, very quietly, "What do you think of?"

Elain closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, feeling a soft smile touch her lips, "I think of the cottage too," she admitted, "But I remember the way we all clustered around the fire under a big blanket, all of us.

"I remember my little windowbox, and the wild flowers I grew. I tried vegetables, but the seeds were too expensive, and the soil quality was too poor and shallow in my little box. But the flowers made me smile. They brought some colour to our dull, cold world when we needed it most.

"I remember Feyre's painting. And father's carvings. And the stories Nesta wrote and hid from us, but I still found them.

"I remember riding horses with mother when I was little. And pretty dresses that made me feel like a princess.

"I remember singing, and laughing, and living with my family. And sometimes, sometimes I feel mad for focusing on those little things, when everything else was so awful. I feel silly, and childish, and like I should think of things how they were."

"You are," Lucien said quietly, and she opened her eyes, finding him watching her with something close to awe on his face, "All of those things were real. They happened. They are true memories. I, I don't think it is childish to focus on the small things that brought you joy when the world was bleak and full of misery and pain. I think that makes you strong, and wonderful. In a world of harsh, jagged stones, and concrete walls, you find the beauty of the wildflowers growing up between the cracks. That, that is a very special, and noble way to live, I think."

"You see them too, don't you?" she said softly, "The flowers in the windowbox, and fighting to grow between the cracked stones. It's how you've survived after everything that's happened."

Lucien swallowed tightly, but nodded, "I try to," he replied, a little hoasely, "It's not always easy but...I try."

Elain nodded, "Me too," she murmured.

There was a long, intense silence, like a string being pulled taut between them. She felt herself leaning into it, both excited and afraid. Then Lucien cleared his throat and looked away.

She felt the relief, as the tension broke, but also a little disappointment, unable to discover where it might have pulled her to.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien said, too loudly, "Look at all these apples."

"Oh!" Elain exclaimed, only just taking note of the small mountain of slices between them, "Oh, yes."

"Come on," Lucien said, giving her a grin, clearly trying to put her at ease after that charged moment they had shared, "This is the best part."

It took him a moment, opening several cupboards, cursing under his breath when he caused a small avalanche of poorly stacked pots to come tumbling out of one, but he finally straightened up with a large mixing bowl held triumphantly in his hands.

He scooped all of the apple slices into it, then began raiding the spice rack. She lost track of all of the different things he tossed into the bowl. He gave it a final sniff, then nodded, satisfied.

"Alright, get stuck in," he said, nodding to her with a glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow and he stuck his hands into the bowl with almost indecent enthusiasm, mixing the spices with the fruit slices.

Smiling, she stepped up shyly and put her hands into the bowl with him.

They stayed quiet as they mixed, but occasionally their eyes met, and, even more intensely, their hands.

Finally, Lucien deemed it ready, and they began lining the apple slices at the bottom of the pie tin. He showed her how to weave a traditional Autumn lattice on the top, and even how to make some leaf patterns from the leftover pastry.

While it baked, Elain soaked in the scents of it cooking. Lucien was right, it was so much better than it was originally. As it went on, she noted Lucien was starting to shift a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Elain asked, biting her lip, "Is my pastry not good enough to contain your magnificent Autumn apples?"

He glanced to her, mechanical eye whirring softly, and did not bite at her attempt at humour. He swallowed and said, "I don't think I should partake in this particular pie, Elain."

She frowned slightly, "Why not?" she asked, confused.

"It's, it's mainly a symbolic gesture, but I wouldn't want to take any chances. When, when a woman," she noted his use of the word 'woman' instead of 'female' with a jolt of pleased surprise, "Offers her mate food, and they accept, it generally seals their bond."

"Oh," Elain said, flushing as darkly as his hair.

"I'm not saying that if I eat this it will bind us togeher forever, with no choice, and no backing out but- To be honest with you, I have no idea what it will do, and I wouldn't want to take that risk."

"No," Elain said, perhaps a little too quickly, given the flash of quickly smothered pain in Lucien's face. "I mean, I'd like to take a little more time with things, if we could."

"We're immortal," Lucien said, with a small smile, "We can take all the time there is," he glanced at the large clock on the wall and added, "And speaking of time, I realise I'm almost late for my meeting with Azriel. He gets very grumpy when his guests aren't as punctual as he is."

"Azriel is always very punctual," Elain said, a little lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"So I shall take my leave, lady," Lucien said, with another bow.

The formality felt...A little strange between them now, and she wasn't sure what she thought about that. She still didn't really know this man at all, and yet, what they had shared...

"Please tell me if you like the apples," he said, with a small smile.

"I will," she said, giving him a little curtsy in turn, "And please, give your mother my thanks."

"I will," he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes that told her he wasn't sure when he'd next get the chance to do that. If he ever did.

He turned to go, and she again found herself starting forwards, halting him once more, "Lucien," she said, and he glanced back towards her, "If, if you ever find yourself with any more fruits for baking. Or, or just the next time you're here, if you wanted to help me bake again I, I think I'd like that."

The smile Lucien gave her in answer was nothing short of a beam, something she had never seen from him before. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, and softer.

He inclined his head to her in gratitude, then winnowed into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of cinnamon and campfires, the perfect complement to their baking pie.

***

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed!! (I got carried away and I'm SORRY).

[arrowflier]

What if Debbie made them have a Halloween party with costumes. What would they all be?

In retrospect, they should have known it was a bad idea to go along with Debbie’s plan.

“Come on guys,” she had begged them. “Franny wants to do a family costume, and it won’t work if it’s just the two of us!”

“No way,” Mickey said, but Ian was already speaking over him.

“Sure, whatever,” Ian agreed, and Mickey smacked him on the arm.

“What?” Ian asked innocently. “It’s for Franny.”

Mickey relented almost immediately, even if he did keep scowling.

“Fucking fine, then,” he grumbled. “But only cause it’s for little red.”

“Thank you Mickey!” Debbie said, trying to hug him, but he hid behind Ian’s larger frame.

“Didn’t mean you,” he muttered into Ian’s back, gripping Ian’s shoulders and spinning him bodily to keep a barrier between himself and Debbie.

“You would have done it for her, too, Mick,” Ian laughed, and Mickey whacked the back of his head as Debbie beamed.

“Keep your thoughts to your self, asshole,” Mickey ordered, then sighed as both redheads snickered at him.

---

Now, standing in the living room of the Gallagher house and looking at the costumes Debbie had laid out for them, Mickey wished he wasn’t such a sucker for red haired Gallaghers. Because right there in front of him was the gaudiest outfit he had ever seen.

It was a deep blue, at least, but the color was the only thing Mickey could get behind. The rest of it was a complete travesty, with three-dimensional silver piping, shiny buttons, and leggings—fucking leggings—meant to be tucked into the silver boots currently laying on the floor.

“No,” he stated immediately. “Nuh-uh, not wearing that.”

“Mickey, it’s just for one night,” Ian tried to reason with him.

That was all well and good for him. Ian was the lucky one—his costume was mostly grey and black, with cool patterning and thin plastic bits meant to make it look like armor. It even had a helmet, and, best of all, a plastic sword.

“Why do you get to be the knight?” Mickey complained. “I could beat your ass any day, man.”

Ian just raised his eyebrows.

“Will you shut up and get dressed already?” Debbie demanded, wandering into the room with Franny. She was holding up an outfit similar in taste to Mickey’s, but pink and glittery and child-sized.

“Franny won’t wear her princess dress unless you guys do it with her, come on," Debbie pressed, and Mickey scowled at her.

“Should’ve known you were up to something,” Mickey groused. “No way the kid picked this shit out.”

Debbie sighed.

“Will you please just wear the damn costume?” she asked. “It’s too late to find another one, Lip and Tami will be here any minute.”

Ian took one look at Mickey’s sour face, and decided to try a more diplomatic approach.

“Don’t you want your me to be your prince?” Ian asked, kneeling down next to Franny and tugging on a lock of her red hair. “We could match, how about that?”

Franny pulled back, stomping her foot.

“No!” she insisted. “I can’t marry you silly, it has to be Uncle Mickey!”

“You can’t marry Uncle Mickey either…” Ian tried to reason, but one look from his niece stopped the words in his throat and he coughed.

“Yeah, okay, sound logic,” he agreed instead. “Sorry Mick, guess you gotta be royalty tonight.”

Mickey wants to argue some more. Franny never even liked this shit, why should he have to play along? If she was gonna be a princess, her mom could have at least let her be Xena or somethin'. Now that was royalty he could get behind.

But Debbie was glaring at him, and Ian and Franny were both watching him with their damned big eyes, blue and green and faintly wet.

"Whatever," he finally said, and grabbed the offending outfit from off the sofa. "But if I get a single comment about this tonight, we're leavin', got that?"

"Sure Mickey," Ian and Debbie both agreed, and he frowned harder.

Liars, the both of them.

---

An hour later, Mickey was crammed into the corner of a booth at the Alibi, nursing his third beer of the night. If one more person had anything to say about his costume--Tommy had called him a fucking pillow prince, that fucker--he was gonna take Ian's fake sword and stab them with it.

"Doin' okay over here?" Ian asked as he sat down beside him. Mickey just grunted in response, and took another sip.

"It's not that bad," Ian tried to say, but Mickey's glare cut him off short.

"At least you're not the jester?" he tried again, nodding his head toward Carl, whose multicolored, belled hat could be heard across the room.

"Fuck off," Mickey told him, flipping him off with the hand not holding his beer. "Never thought I'd be wishing I was with your asshole brother instead of you."

"What, Carl?" Ian asked, confused, but Mickey shuddered.

"Fuck no," he asserted. "The one with the badass family costume, you moron."

Ian looked around, still unsure, then spotted Lip and Tami a few tables over. Lip had on homemade Mandalorian regalia, complete with a helmet that Mickey had earlier said was a brilliant choice for hiding his ugly-ass face. Tami was dressed as a blonde Cara Dune, the fake tat on her arm on prominent display as she held Fred in his little Grogu costume.

"What," Ian asked with a smile, "you wanted to dress up like a woman?"

Mickey snorted. "A fucking badass woman," he corrected, "but no. I coulda been Boba Fett or something, man. Instead of this...," he paused to wave down at himself, almost spilling his beer in the process.

"This gay-ass thing," he finished, and Ian smirked and scooted closer.

"But you are gay," he pointed out, forcing an arm around Mickey's shoulders and ignoring the responding eye-roll.

“And besides,” Ian murmured in his ear, “your gay ass looks amazing in those tights.”

Mickey flushed.

"Yeah, well," he muttered back. "Better stay close, Mr. knight in plastic armor." He leaned closer to Ian, letting his husband tighten his hold.

"Nobody better look at my fine ass but you."

[disgruntledspacedad]

Aftershocks (1/5)

The Better Love Series 

A sequel to The Rules of Engagement 

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse. 

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 1.5k 

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, angst, hospital stuff. This one is mild for me.

a/n: unbeta’d. Gif by @javier-pena, banner by @cassandras-nest​, title card by yours truly.Takes place hours after ROE leaves off. This won’t make a lot of sense unless you’ve read Rules first.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five 

MASTERLIST 

A deep, throbbing ache in your back drags you back to the land of the living.

Ugh. 

You rub the crust from your eyes and wiggle your toes with the awkward effort that comes from heavy sleep. It’s late afternoon, the sun sinking low in the sky, falling in gentle patches over the crumpled comforter. Reality comes back to you in slow, muzzy chunks. 

You’re lying in Peña’s bed. He’d ridden you hard, then tucked you in afterward, snuggled comfortably beside you while you’d drifted off. 

The lazy smile dies on your lips as you remember just why Javier Peña had felt the need to throw you against the wall and fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

Your apartment. A blazing fireball. Smoke and ash and rubble. Emilio’s broken body. 

You choke back a sob. 

Javi.

Your chest throbs as you remember how he’d looked at you, eyes shining and desperate. 

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

How he’d held you close, tucking you gently under his chin as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Wild sex in the hallway, gentle sex in his bed. Snuggling up together afterward. His soft confession, “I’m all in, Ears, if that’s okay with you.”

Your brain spins dizzily in an attempt to process it all. Despite all of the pain, fear, drama, and uncertainty of the past 12 hours, you can’t help feeling a profound sense of relief. Sure, you’ve lost everything you’ve ever owned, but at least you have Javi. 

That thought still boggles your mind. 

You roll over, kicking your feet to untangle them from the sheets. Javi’s side of the bed is long cold. Sighing, you haul yourself up on your elbow, surprised when you have to catch your breath to do so. 

God, you’re more sore than you thought you’d be. 

Your heart races as you stand, and you press your hand to your breast bone, feeling a little woozy. Gray spots swim in your vision, and you blink hard, forcing them away. You hadn’t realized you’d stood up so fast.

Slowly, you patter naked into the hallway, following the sound of Javi’s voice. He’s in the kitchen with his back turned to you, speaking lowly into the telephone. He’s still shirtless. 

You crack a grin at the memory. 

Now that you’re standing up, you’re starting to feel a little more stable. Thoughts are still fuzzy and distant, and your pulse thrums skittish in your ears, but at least you’re not going to pass out. Your chest feels weird, though, like your lungs have been scraped raw, and taking a deep breath sets something throbbing deep in your back. Your head aches like a bitch, too. 

Fuck Pablo Escobar and his fucking bombs. 

You snatch Javi’s green shirt off the kitchen counter, still lying half-folded where you’d dropped it this morning. Javi raises his brows at you, and you shoot him a wink as you slip into it. He’s still on the phone, talking to Messina, you think, but his eyes follow you darkly as you make your way to his bathroom in search of some pain medicine.

Climbing onto the toilet to peruse through Javi’s bathroom cabinet feels like more effort than it really ought to be. Again, your heart speeds, and you double over, suddenly panting for air. 

A minute or so later, Javi finds you sitting on the toilet lid with your head in your hands. 

“Hey,” he says, pausing as he notices your position. He drops to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his. “What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern. 

You look up at him. He’s all dark eyes and somber expression, watching you warily with a deeply furrowed brow. “Just a little dizzy,” you admit, hating to see him worry over you. “I was looking for a tylenol. My back is killing me.”

Javi blinks, as if the thought of keeping medicine in a medicine cabinet has never occurred to him. 

“I can find you something,” he says, and somehow, you just know that means he’ll be sneaking across the landing to borrow from Connie’s stash. “But baby, are you sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital? You look a little pale.”

“I’m sure, Javi,” you answer firmly. The thought of getting dressed and leaving the apartment is absolutely abhorrent right now - you are still bone weary. You decide to offer him a compromise. “If it really bothers you, I’ll see somebody tomorrow after work.” 

Javi shakes his head. “You’re not going in tomorrow, babe,” he says slowly. “I already talked to Stechner.” There’s a little bit of hesitation in his tone, like he’s wary of how you’ll react. “Once word got around about the bomb, everybody was looking for you. I didn’t mean to butt in, but I really didn’t want to wake you, either.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, almost apologetically.

In a different situation, you think you might be annoyed by his interference. But Javi is staring at you with those solemn, worried eyes, one errant curl falling across his brow, and you find that any frustration you feel is buried deep beneath exhaustion and maybe even a little gratitude. “Guess I’ll let it slide,” you tell him, cracking a small smile. “This time.”

He answers you with a tiny breath of relief and a quirk of his lips. “Good.” One long thumb massages your knuckles absently. “He’s put you on leave for the rest of the week. Says get some rest and maybe some therapy, and he’ll see you on Monday to talk logistics.”

You snort. “Asshole.”

Javi’s expression is a little darker as he agrees. “So,” he says, leaning back on his heels to pin you with an intense stare. “Doctor tomorrow?”

“Doctor tomorrow,” you promise, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “Tylenol now.”

“Bossy,” he complains, reaching up to stroke your cheek like he just can’t help touching you at every opportunity.

“Assertive,” you’re quick to correct, swallowing back a shiver. All of this soft, sweet caressing is very new.

Javi grins, a gentle, fond expression that crinkles his eyes and makes him look years younger. “Have I mentioned how good you look in my shirt?” he murmurs, meeting your lips for a slow, deep kiss that steals your breath. One hand roams up to gently cup your breast. 

“You don’t have to,” you answer smugly, catching that wandering hand in a firm grip. Your heart is racing again, but for all of the wrong reasons. “Now, go raid Murphy’s medicine cabinet for me, please.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs, shaking his head at the fact that you know him so well.

That woozy feeling redoubles just as soon as Javi shuts the door behind him. You bite your lip, counting back the hours since you’ve had anything to drink besides coffee. Even that had been a long time ago. Probably you’re just dehydrated.

You make your way to the kitchen, feeling numb and detached as you shuffle through the cabinets. Javi has a startling lack of normal drink wear, but you manage to find a nice set of crystal tumblers lurking above the sink. 

Typical.

Again, climbing requires an alarming amount of effort, and something uncoils painfully in your chest as you reach over your head for a glass. You flinch, and three of the tumblers go flying, shattering on the floor with a horrendous crash.

Startled and off-balanced, you stumble to your hands and knees, heedless of the glass shards that are digging into your bare skin. Your vision is graying at the edges again, and you can’t fucking breathe. 

“What the fuck?” Javi’s voice is hard as he slams open the front door. “Babe?”

“Sorry,” you wheeze with the very last of the air that’s left in your lungs. Panic sets in, your body responding to the acute lack of oxygen in the only way it knows how. “I was -”

Speaking sets you coughing, and suddenly, you’re coughing so hard that you can’t stop, great, wrenching spasms that send pain racketing through your entire body.

Javi drops the bottle of pills he’s holding. They rattle against the floor. “Ridiculous woman,” he grits between clenched teeth, reaching down to haul you to his chest. You know he doesn’t mean it. “You are not fine.”

You press your fingers to your lips, one last rasping cough ripping its way out of your throat. When you pull them away, they are covered in tiny spots of blood.

Javi freezes as he sees it. “Jesus Christ.” 

Your teeth are chattering, your entire body shaking. “I’m -”

“Goddammit, if you tell me you’re fine one more fucking time, Ears,” Javi growls, allowing the threat to trail off.

You shake your head. “I’m not,” you manage. Everything hurts, and words are difficult right now. Your throat is raw, and you still don’t have enough air. “I’m sorry. I was, but now I’m not.”

“Come on,” Javi’s voice is terse, worried. You have the foresight to grab his sweats from the counter before he sweeps you off your feet. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

♠

notes/confessions:

I promise, promise, promise, this is going to turn into fluff. Please don’t kill me!

Originally, Aftershocks was going to be a huge one-shot, but nah. I thought I’d try smaller chapters for once (read: chaotic jay cannot plan shit to save her life). 

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my tags!

Tags: @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh

[fific7]

Cold Day in Hell - Part 1

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in future chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Logan Delos was bored. Mind-numbingly, screamingly, terminally bored. He was rapping out an irritated drum solo on the arm of his chair with his long fingers. He was shifting in his seat, constantly crossing and un-crossing his long legs. He was moving the papers on the conference table in front of him from side to side, then backwards and forwards.

The businessman who was talking through the main presentation had a voice that was flatter than roadkill and had only one tone... monotone.

Logan leant forward and propped his elbows on the conference table in front of him, using his fingers to physically hold open his eyelids as they kept closing of their own accord. He felt a yawn coming on and fought to stop his mouth opening to accommodate it... but failed.

He was aware of the door to the conference room opening behind him but didn’t even have the energy to turn and see who it was. This asshole is draining the fucking will to live out of me, he thought. He vaguely heard said asshole saying something about his colleague talking through the next section of the presentation.

Logan sat right up in his seat as he spotted a beautiful - no, stunning - woman making her way to the front of the room. She was dressed in ‘business smart’ but even those sensible items couldn’t hide her curves. Her hair was pinned up, and he had already started fantasising about loosening it and running his hands through it. He wished he’d paid attention when Asshole had said her name. Or had he said her name? Logan had no idea.

He heard her starting to speak, a melodic voice... he had to know her name! Logan tutted and picked up the meeting agenda, riffling back and forth through the pages to get to the correct one, but wasn’t even sure what page he should be on. Suddenly the folder tumbled from his hands and clattered onto the floor. The talking stopped and he became aware of everyone’s eyes on him, including hers. In fact, she was kind of glaring at him.

He gave an apologetic wave to the room in general as he retrieved the folder from the floor. She began speaking again, and he resumed his page-riffling. Finally he found the current one, and there was her name in black and white. A melodic name to match her voice, he thought.

He started paying attention to what she was actually saying.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just started your part of the presentation when some asshole dropped his agenda folder, the sharp noise bringing you to a screeching halt. When you saw a hand waving around in the air, your eye followed the arm down to its owner and noted that he was in fact a very good-looking asshole. But he was still an asshole.

You cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts and then launched back into your presentation. The asshole was now staring at you relentlessly; every single time your eyes swept the room, his dark eyes were on you. Like... always on you. Not like the others, who were at least glancing down at the handouts occasionally.

The section you were presenting drew to a close, and you now took an empty seat at the table. It was diagonally opposite the handsome asshole. Who was still staring at you.

Now that you were much closer, you could see that his eyes were a dark chocolate brown, with a wicked gleam in them. They matched his shining dark hair, which was immaculately swept back from his forehead. You boldly met his stare for a while, before breaking eye contact to listen to your colleague Craig deliver the final part.

At the end of the presentation there were a few questions which were duly answered, and then everyone was gathering up their paperwork and milling around prior to leaving the conference room. As you tucked your folders away in your document bag, in your peripheral vision you became aware of a pair of long legs making their way to you. You knew who it was bound to be so you didn’t bother looking up. A throat cleared next to you but you continued packing away your items, and then you heard your first name being spoken in a low, husky voice. This time you did look up - it would be rude not to - and yup, it was Handsome Asshole. A hand was proffered to you and by reflex you took it, your hand being crushed in a strong grip. “Logan Delos,” said that suave voice, “...it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you scoffed, “...how original!” while thinking, oh... so this is the infamous Logan Delos, whose name you’d heard all the time in connection with the projects but never actually met before. He had a reputation of being a bit of a diva. You heard him give a deep chuckle. “Yeah, that’s me - an original. Unique, in fact I’d say.” “Well, you’re super confident, that’s for sure!” You picked up your document bag and headed for the door, saying “Nice to meet you, Mr Delos,” as you started to leave. His tall frame scooted round in front of you before you could reach it, “Oh, not so fast.... I can’t let you leave before you agree to have dinner with me.” You tried to sidestep him but he blocked your way, and then a little ‘step to the right, step to the left’ dance ensued. Finally, exasperated, you stood still and put your hands on your hips. “Mister Delos! Will you please let me past!” He copied your stance, “Not until you say you’ll have dinner with me. Or lunch. Or.... breakfast, if you prefer?!” wiggling his eyebrows at you. You huffed, “I don’t date business partners!” He still stood in front of you, seemingly immovable, “We’re not business partners - technically speaking. Boring Asshole is my business partner, not you.” Your mouth dropped open but before you could stop it, laughter bubbled out.

You hastily silenced it, saying, “I admit, Craig may not be the most inspiring public speaker, but he really knows his stuff,” trying to cover your somewhat indiscreet reaction and save your colleague’s honour at the same time. “But that’s beside the point, Mr Delos, because we are business partners despite what you’re trying to say.” Logan had moved slightly aside while you were speaking and you took this opportunity to brush past him, calling out, “Goodbye, Mr Delos,” with the emphasis on the goodbye as you went.

If you’d bothered to look back, you would’ve seen Logan Delos watching you go, a very determined expression on his face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Juliet looked up from her laptop as Logan breezed into her lounge, tossing his car keys onto the coffee table and throwing himself onto the sofa, long legs spreading out in front of him as he did so.

“Good meeting?” she asked, seeing that his head had gone back onto the cushions and he was staring up at the ceiling. He hummed, “Good and bad. The presentation was the single most boring thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but on the other hand one of their staffers.... wow! It was like an angel came down from heaven and found her way into that conference room.” She sighed, “Logan... by all that’s holy... do not try to screw one of our business partners for god’s sake! Dad will go ballistic if you mess up our working relationship with them.” Logan looked offended, “Who says I’d mess it up?” Jules gave a big sigh and shrugged, “Me, for one. Dear brother, I love you with all my heart but you’re fucking awful at relationships. You’d just fuck her and drop her like a hot potato. Who is it that caught your roving eye this time anyway?” Logan said her name in a dreamy tone and Jules rolled her eyes heavenwards, “Oh, no, no, no!... no way, Logan. I know her, she’s a lovely person and also does a fantastic job - she’s one of their top software engineers, specialising in middleware.”

Logan smirked, “She can engineer my middleware anytime she likes.” “Oh, shut up and get your mind out of your pants, Logan. Stay away, okay?!!” He huffed, “Hey! You can’t tell me who to pursue or otherwise, Jules!” “But that’s it, right there - you’ll chase her, catch her, bang her and drop her! I really like her as well as respecting her work, so you better just be damn careful!”

Logan sighed. He loved his sister but god, she was a king-size pain in the ass sometimes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A week or so later, and you’d almost forgotten about that handsome asshole at the presentation. You couldn’t deny that he’d popped in and out of your thoughts since, but you’d googled him the day after you’d met him and had also made some discreet enquiries amongst those colleagues who’d worked with him before on projects. What you’d discovered had not endeared him to you.

He was a world-class player, that was obvious - and not fussy about which gender he played around with either. Not that that put you off, it was just the sheer volume of men and women he was pictured out on the town with. And alcohol and substance abuse had been there in the mix too, with some stays in rehab mentioned although the last one had been over a year ago. So no... you’d decided you wouldn’t be entertaining any further thoughts of the undeniably attractive Mr Delos.

You turned your thoughts back to the current middleware solution you were constructing, in fact it was for Delos Corporation, involving various scenarios for their Westworld hosts. You were immersed in code and structure when your phone rang, and you saw your boss’s extension number on the caller ID. Hmmm... what could she want? She usually gave you free reign when you working on a project, catching up with you every couple of days at team meetings. Answering it, you heard her assertive voice asking you to pop along to her office and so you set off on the short walk there. You knocked on her door and heard her say ‘come in’, so in you sailed and then came to an abrupt halt. Logan Delos was sitting opposite your boss; he was half-turned towards you with a somewhat triumphant smirk on his face. Your boss indicated the chair next to Logan and you quickly sat down, wondering what this was about and why Logan looked so smug.

Your boss launched into a mini-summary of what you were currently working on, and all you could do was nod. Eventually she finished up with, “So all your current projects are for Delos.” It was a statement not a question, so you just nodded. “Mr Delos here...” she levelled a hand towards Logan, “....has come up with a suggestion, and I happen to think it’s a good one.” She smiled at Logan, before looking back at you and continuing, “He thought it would be beneficial to have the person working on most of his projects - that’s you, just to clarify - to be based at Delos Destinations for the next three months, to facilitate progress.” You knew you were looking completely dumbfounded as she hurried on, “Obviously I’d like your input on this, but I’m sure you can see that it’d be very helpful for you to be on-site with our partners while you’re working through the projects?” Meanwhile you were desperately trying to come up with reasons to remain in your own office, but truthfully you couldn’t. It would be helpful to have instant access to their engineers when you needed an answer on something, you couldn’t deny that. Reluctantly you nodded, “Yes...I can appreciate that. But couldn’t we just have me spend maybe one or two days a week over there rather than be actually based in their offices?”

Logan spoke for the first time, his expression business-like now, “That wouldn’t really fulfill the brief though, would it? Because we’d be back to having a slight delay in receiving and giving responses for the time you weren’t at our offices. And I’d ... we’d... make you very welcome. There’s an office waiting for you... right next to mine.” He couldn’t stop that smirk reappearing as he finished speaking. You forced a smile, “Well, I can’t really refuse an offer like that, can I Mr Delos?” You looked back to your boss, “I guess that’s agreed then. When does this take effect?” Your boss beamed at you, “Excellent! I don’t see any reason for it not to commence immediately, do you? How about as of tomorrow?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan walked onto his office the next morning, whistling a happy little tune. He’d had a small glass of wine the night before at Juliet’s place when he’d dropped in on his way home, knowing he had to break the news to her that evening about the cunning plan he’d come up with. He was happy for two reasons; firstly, visiting Jules and his niece Emily and not having to see William’s stupid damn face any longer would never get old, and secondly, his little scheme to get closer to that gorgeous woman was coming together. As Jules worked partly from home and partly at the office, he had to let her know that a new face would be around for at least the next three months. It would give him a much better chance to persuade her to go out with him - she wouldn’t really be able to escape him given that she’d be right next door to him every day. Predictably, Juliet had issued a stern warning about what would happen to certain parts of his anatomy should he overstep, but had reluctantly accepted that it was a fait accompli. (Privately, she was looking forward to working more closely with her and also warning her about the usual antics of her beloved brother, that’s if she wasn’t already well aware of them).

He’d been racking his brains for ideas on how best to pursue her ever since she’d turned him down flat at that conference. Logan wasn’t used to being turned down. He’d had a brainwave a couple of days later and had checked into who was handling the Delos projects at her company - after all, surely she wouldn’t be at the conference in the first place if she wasn’t involved somehow? He’d been overjoyed to find out that she was handling just about all of the current open projects (so why on earth had they allowed Boring Asshole to give the majority of the presentation?! he’d thought incredulously) and had then begun to put together a plan to somehow get her into his close orbit. He was really quite proud of what he’d come up with.

His secretary knocked on his doorframe and announced that his visitor had arrived. A big smile appeared on Logan’s face.

Here I go! he thought, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The secretary smiled at you over her shoulder as she leaned against Logan’s office doorframe, “Please, go right in,” before stepping aside so you could enter.

The man himself was lounging back in his fancy office chair, which to you looked more like the type of padded seat you’d get on a private jet, waving you into the office before getting up and striding over to you. He held out his hand which you took but instead of shaking it as you expected, he pulled you towards him and kissed your cheek very softly. A waft of delicious and no doubt expensive cologne reached your nostrils before he stepped back, “Welcome on board!” he said, “...I’m so glad you’re joining us here at Delos Destinations.” You smiled, “Thank you, Mr Delos.” “Logan!” he said immediately, waving his hand and saying your first name. “Logan,” you said dutifully, “yes, thank you for the welcome ....of course I do still work for my own company.” He smiled at you, still holding onto your hand and beginning to lead you to the door, “Well, for now you do. I’ve a mind to steal you away for myself, you know. Or, sorry... for Delos Destinations, I should of course say.”

OK... seems like he’s still interested, even if that wouldn’t last longer than a heartbeat once you’d gone out (and especially if you slept) with him. You knew this secondment was going to be trouble, you thought. Three whole months of trying to resist Mr Player of the Decade. But you were convinced that you could do it.

As he lead you from his office to what was going to be yours, you were suddenly very aware of his tall figure beside you, your hand in his (he still hadn’t let go of it) and a hint of that beautiful cologne of his again. He looked across at you, dark eyes gazing into yours and gave you a mischievous grin. Annoyingly, your stomach did a little flip.

Yeah, really convinced.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

[preciousthingsareprecious]

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.