#this one might have hitched a ride on my AC when i get it from storage downstairs. Timing wise this makes most sense. But it might not have

[newkiqx]

one advantage of having mice is you'll always have perfect bait for wild mice on hand

a disadvantage is that you will often need that because wild mice will be tempted to enter your house quite often

but it's not all bad. You get to catch a mouse really fast (you have perfect bait). And you get to look at this cute little guy you caught before releasing them

[moongothic]

It is kind of funny to think about how popular the Kuja Crocodile fan theory is when you take a step back and think about where that theory kinda originates from Now to be fair, I'm not 100% certain where the theory came from, I can only remember so much of what the fandom was theorizing back in 2008, so I may be speaking from my ass a little right now

But from what I do remember, back in Yee Olden Days, there was a lot of speculation about why the Strawhats got sent to their respective island by Kuma the way they did. A lot of people did notice how each island seemed meaningful one way or another to each Strawhat and tied into their characters except for Luffy, and everybody thought that was a bit odd. Mainly because we didn't fully know HOW Kuma's ability worked. Now, nearly two decades later, we DO know how Kuma's ability actually works; People don't magically travel to islands they have a secret connection to or anything, Kuma himself has to actively choose where he sends people off to, meaning Kuma looked at the Strawhats individually and picked out islands where he thought they'd be best off at. Luffy being sent to Amazon Lily is arguably no different; Kuma knew Luffy was the brother of the soon-to-be-executed Ace, but also a target of the WG (due to being Dragon's son). Amazon Lily was close enough to both Sabaody that Luffy would be able to return there relatively easily if he wished to, or he could try to befriend the Warlord Hancock, who was also being summoned to participate in Ace's execution, to hitch a ride from her to go and try to save his brother. The only challenge Luffy would have to overcome there was indeed befriending the Kuja, at least enough to be taken off from the island safely and alive.

But indeed, we only really know and can fully understand that now. Back in Yee Olden Days, the fans did just seem to think Kuma's ability might be a bit more mystical in nature, and thus people got really curious what Luffy's Secret Ties to the Kuja and Amazon Lily could possibly be. And naturally that lead to people speculating that maybe Luffy's mom was a Kuja. Because what other subconcious connection could Luffy possibly have to the island especially when it didn't seem like it would help him reach/achieve his dreams any faster either.

But then we get to Impel Down and Crocodile gets those transgenderism allegations thrown right in his handsome face (and people start shitposting about him being Luffy's other parent) And I think that might be where the streams crossed. People noted how Crocodile has his funny little reptile motif going on, and how the Kuja ""also have a reptile motif"", transgenderism allegations, badabing badaboom Crocodile could be a former Kuja, secret past SOLVED.

But the connection there is really weak though, isn't it? Especially when you considder that the Kuja don't really have a REPTILE theme going on with them. Yes, the snake motif is important to the Kuja, our beloved Hancock being The Snake Princess and the sisters having the Gorgon/Medusa (fake) backstory, but the animal motif is limited to just snakes, not reptiles as a whole (otherwise we could also speculate that Moria is a former Kuja because he's also named after a reptile). And more importantly, the Kuja have a big FLOWER theme going on for them, namely in, well, their names; each Kuja is named after some kind of flower/plant. Sure, Crocodile could have a secret deadname but we don't know if he does, there is no evidence to suggest either way (but also, depending on when you think he would have transitioned then him just being able to have a secret deadname is kind of up in the air (see: Crocodad timeline))

So if Kuma's ability doesn't have a magical way to send people to places they have ties to (whether the person knows it or not), and if Crocodile doesn't have any obvious, thematic connection to the Kuja, then the only reason people believe he could've been a Kuja is because... he might be trans. And... yeah. That's kind of a weak basis for a theory, isn't it

[teecupangel]

Have you seen much of Stargate SG-1? Cause Desmond needs an actual good dad other than his ancestors and I think Jack would be a good one for both of them. Especially if it wasn't too long after his son's death.

Maybe a way this would happen would be that Minerva feels bad about either him dying or just being 1 upped by Juno and gets SGC's attention somehow to avoid the flare another way

Stargate SG-1 is one of my most favorite scifi series (and I have a soft spot for the original Stargate movie)!

Okay, so for this one, we need to setup the timeline first.

As far as we know, the Stargate movie is still the canon prequel of Stargate SG-1 (even though a running gag is Kurt!Jack only has one ‘l’ and might have been a different dude) which means that Jack lost his son and became part of the ‘first’ Stargate project around 1996.

At that point, Desmond would be 8 years old.

So, for this to work, we’ll tweak the AC timeline a bit and we’ll use Minerva to set it up. Minerva realized in 2012 that Desmond, as he is right now, would not let the world burn so she uses what time she has left to change the calculations. For this one, let’s assume all Isus is either a Goa'uld or Tok’ra but the distinction between the two started after the Solar Flare on Earth when many of them left Earth to escape the Solar Flare. This is also how humans started to be ‘dispersed’ in many corners of the galaxy.

With that brief explanation out of the way, Juno’s imprisonment would actually be her actual parasitical body being confined in the Grand Temple, connected to the POE network (and the Grey) and reviving her means Juno using Desmond as her host.

Back to Minerva’s plan, she realized that for Desmond to fully understand why it’s better for him if he let the world burn, he must understand the true threat of her species so she pushed forward a new calculation where an 8 year old Desmond sneaked out of the Farm by hitching a ride with one of the Assassins on his way for a ‘milk run’.

He just meant to look around for a bit then sneak back into the pickup but he got distracted by all the strange things he had never before seen. He bumps into Jack who had just returned from the Stargate mission and is trying to take a break and Jack notices the many bruises such a small boy has.

At this point, Desmond knows that he can’t say anything about the Assassins and Templars but he’d already started to think that it’s all bullshit. Still, he keeps his mouth shut because he’s scared that his dad would punish him.

That only raises more alarm for Jack and it doesn’t help that Desmond is around Charlie’s age. So he takes the kid to the police station because that’s the right thing to do (in his eyes) but he keeps checking up on him, even after Desmond gets placed into child services’ custody.

By that point, the Assassins know Desmond is missing and they find him but their ‘rescue attempt’ is thwarted because Jack was there for the first time. This would be the part where Jack and Desmond had started to form some kind of bond and Desmond has slipped quite a bit that Jack believes he’s from a secretive cult that might be training child soldiers for nefarious reasons (also, being called an Assassin Brotherhood? Always suspicious).

At the end, Jack adopts Desmond because of their bond and Desmond starts living with him. Because the Assassins haven’t given up on Desmond though, this meant Jack needed to keep a close eye on him. That’s when Stargate Command gave him an offer he couldn’t exactly refuse. In exchange of him leading the flagship team, Desmond could stay in the most secure military base in America while Jack is offworld.

Unorganized Notes:

So, in this scenario, Desmond would grow up more like Wes from Star Trek (but not as annoying).

Desmond would also grow up having Carter and Daniel as his aunt/uncle and the research team would be more or less his teachers (although it's more of a self study thing). He’d have an interest in anything he doesn’t know because of how the Farm lacked such diversity of information.

He would also serve as some kind of son surrogate for Teal'c who teaches him their way and fighting style. Desmond enjoys it because Teal'c is a kinder teacher than William Miles.

His favorite time will always be fishing with his dad though.

Let’s be honest, Jack got swindled considering how many times Stargate Command got attacked/infiltrated/had a bad day but, at that point, Jack trusts Hammond to protect his son when he’s not there. Also, the Assassins can’t get to Stargate Command which is a plus.

To be fair, the Brotherhood stopped around 2000 because that’s when Cross killed the mentor so the Great Purge was in full swing (at the same time, Stargate Command is busy with the whole ‘Russians have their own Stargate’ thing).

The Isu DNA is more or less related to the Ancient DNA in some form or another. Desmond also has an easy time understanding off-world tech (of Goa'uld origin or inspired by Goa'uld tech) but everyone just assumes it’s because he likes to listen to Carter and Daniel.

Would Desmond still get kidnapped by Abstergo at this one? Probably, considering, 2012 is around the time of SGU which meant Jack is out of the Stargate Command (sorta? Kinda?) and Desmond would be old enough that Jack would let him take his own path. Maybe he’s in the military, maybe he’s part of Stargate Command. Either way, Abstergo would have a harder but not impossible time to take him.

You know what would be funny? If Minerva’s end game had always been for Desmond to be offworld by the time the Solar Flare hits Earth. I mean, it’s highly possible that Stargate Command would find out about the Solar Flare earlier (especially if maybe a friendly like the Asgard told them about it) but a sad ending would be that Minerva’s end game was for Desmond to never learn about the Grand Temple. Maybe even make sure he can’t get back to Earth in time by ensuring the calculations would push him to be part of the Icarus Project and becomes one of the highest-ranking officer stranded in Destiny (also, since he has Ancient DNA, this means SGU’s people would have an easier time in Destiny… sorta)

[zodiakuroo]

Pretty Things Don’t Need To Think

Kuroo decides he's had enough of his smart, independent girlfriend. He wants her to be his good little housewife instead.

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Contains: 18+ oh boy... dubcon, big dick kuroo, dumbifciation, misogyny, manhandling, oral sex (deepthroating), pee in vee sex, degradation, manipulation, pwp, breath play, mouth spitting, creampie, thigh riding, slapping, spit, porn watching, crybaby reader but kuroo is a meanie so :3

Word count: 4.6k

Notes: my first time writing smut n it’s mindlessly self-indulgent i just had this weirdly specific fantasy that i need to get out byeee

Kuroo loved the fact that you were smart. He loved the fact that you could debate and argue with him for hours on the most obscure topics. He love that you were always interested in his nerdy rambles and he found it adorable that you would sometimes go off on your own nerdy rambles. When he met you, he was so used to fucking brainless bimbos that he was surprised to find a girl that he both wanted to sleep with and have a conversation with. Your intellect was one of the many reasons he wanted to pursue a relationship with you beyond sex. One of the many reasons why he planned on marrying you.

Kuroo also loathed the fact that you were smart. Not loathed exactly. He just hated your stupid fucking degree. He hated the fact that it demanded so much of your time and energy that you sometimes had to put your studies before him. You wanted to be doctor, always wanted to apparently. You wanted it so bad he felt a little ashamed for how much it annoyed him.

But he didn’t understand it. You were going to be the wife of Kuroo Tetsurou, President of the Japan Volleyball Association. Is that not enough of an achievement?

 You didn’t seem to think so.

Now Kuroo’s not a misogynist by any means. If he were, he wouldn’t even let you get this stupid degree. He doesn’t want you to be some mindless Stepford Wife who only cooks and cleans and says “Yes, dear” “No, dear.” Of course he believes in equal rights and all that bullshit but he just doesn’t see any reason for you to work. Financially, there’s no need. More importantly, as his wife you would be too busy taking care of him, his home and his children for you to even thinking about having a job. He would let you get this degree purely for you to soothe your own ego, so you could feel like you’ve accomplished something.

And this is the fucking thanks he gets.

Coming home every day to see you hunched over the dining room table, 4 different textbooks open, papers scattered everywhere. He works hard every day to make a comfortable life for the two of you but asking to come home to a clean apartment and dinner on the stove is too much to ask apparently.

You don’t even register that he’s in the room until he places two large warm hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump, quickly soothed with a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi baby” he mutters against your scalp, gently massaging your shoulders.

“Hmm. Hi Tetsurou.” you turn your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and bleary from staring at your computer all day.  “How was your day?”

“Same old.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips. “How’s it going here? Are we winning?” He glances at your notes, Intercranial mass lesions. Subarachnoid Haemorrhage. Spontaneous Intracerebral Haemorrhage. He wonders why you do this to yourself. Pretty things like you shouldn’t have to think.

You groan. “Not at all. This neuro final is gonna kick my ass.”

He chuckles, hands gently massaging your shoulders. “You say that every time and every time you ace it baby.”  Instead of asking you where his dinner is, he asks “Have you eaten today? What do you want for dinner?”

“ I’m not hungry Tetsu. You can order whatever you like.” He clenches his jaw in irritation. You can’t even be bothered to give him your full attention for 10 minutes? The man who works so hard so that you can afford to sit at home and study the whole day?

No.

He’ll get your attention one way or another.

“Angel,” he drops his voice an octave or two, leaning down so his mouth is pressed right against the shell of your ear. “How about you take a break yeah? Wanna help you relax.” He starts to kiss your neck. He hears your breath hitch. He’s got you. “You worked so hard today plus I reaaaaally miss you.”

With that he begins to leave wet kisses on your neck, feeling you melt into him. His hands move away from your shoulders, gently groping at your chest.

You suddenly go rigid. “Tetsu, not right now.” He doesn’t want you to know how pissed he is but he can’t help it, he groans in frustration. “I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly “I really need to get through these last 3 chapters.”

“Yeah right. Got it.” He storms off with a huff. He’s furious. Your little studious shtick has been nothing more than an irritation for him. But this is too far. He hasn’t come in a month, since you started prep for finals. You’ve been too busy to take care of him. You suggested porn and he laughed in your face. Why would he jerk off when you have a perfectly good pussy? Don’t be ridiculous.

“Tetsurou don’t be mad please.”

“Not mad baby. Keep studying. That’s important to you right?” He’s not convincing anyone but you don’t have the time or energy to engage.

You let out a heavy sigh before turning back to your laptop, falling back into studying like the whole interaction never happened. It made him even angrier. How you couldn’t care less about him right now.

“Just gonna watch some TV. That okay with you, love?” He says sounding sickly sweet, almost sarcastic. If you notice, you don’t make any mention of it.

“Mmhm. Just keep it down please.” You don’t even bother to fucking look at him. 

You don’t wanna pay attention to him? You want him to just jerk off? Fine then, have it your way. Kuroo throws himself down on the couch as he rips off his tie with a little more force than necessary.

This is petty.

He makes quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt.

This is childish.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his slacks down just far enough to take his soft dick out of his boxers.

 This is your fault.

 You pushed him to do this.

He takes his phone and uses his internet browser to take him to the first porn site he can think of. He doesn’t really care about the kind of video so “Busty blonde slut gets destroyed” seems like a good a choice as any. He clicks on the video and sets up his phone to mirror on the TV screen. With the volume about as loud as it can go, he presses play.

The loud exaggerated moans and gagging startle you. Your head shoots up and you see your boyfriend, lidded gaze fixed on the flat screen TV in front of him. He’s panting, letting out little moans. You crane your neck to see what he’s watching and you see on the TV a bleach blonde girl with massive tits being an absolute trooper as she gets facefucked relentlessly.

“Kuroo, what the fuck?” God he hates when you call him by his last name mostly because you only do that when you’re really annoyed at him.

“Hm? What is it baby?” Now it’s his turn to not even glance in your direction. He’s too focused on the way the girl on screen’s throat is bulging as the man thrusts into her mouth. Maybe he should watch porn more often.

“What are you doing?” He can hear the irritation building in your voice. He hears the chair scrape along the hardwood floor as you stand up to get a better look at him. He knows you can see exactly what he’s doing now.

He smirks, turning to look at you for just a split second before his attention is back to being on screen. “Watching ah fuck watching TV”. He starts to stroke himself faster now, knowing you’re watching him. He’s a little embarrassed by how turned on he is. Cock already rock hard, his tip bright red and shiny from leaking so much pre-cum.

“Do you have to do… that… here? I can’t concentrate.” You clench your fists and your sides.

Oh you’re pissed. But this isn’t exactly the reaction he wants from. He’ll make it work though.

“Not my problem babe. Shit.” He takes his free hand down to play with his swollen balls and god, if he weren’t so determined to dump this load inside you he might have come right then and there.

“Kuroo!” You shout. He’s still not looking at you. How could he when the girl on the screen is getting absolutely railed. He only hears the sound of your barefeet on the hardwood floor as you storm over to the couch. He’s not sure what your plan was when you decided to come over here, but it doesn’t even matter anymore because the second you’re close enough he yanks you by your wrist and forces you into his lap.

“Tetsu!” You thrash and struggle in his hold but it’s no use. He’s bigger and stronger than you.

He wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into a chokehold. “Oh I’m Tetsu now?” he laughs bitterly

“Let me go! Please!” You still haven’t given up getting out of this, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Shut up. I want you to watch this.” He’s forcing you to look at the screen now. “Look at that yeah? Look at how she’s taking that big cock.”

A hard palm strikes you across your cheek. “Stop squirming and watch.”

The blonde woman is bent over a coffee table while the man behind her rams his dick into her without abandon. Kuroo can’t decide if he finds her whining hot or annoying.

“Looks like it feels good huh babe?” His head is buried in the crook of your neck. “Wanna make you feel good like that.” He places a quick kiss to your temple before pulling your t-shirt over your head, your bare chest now exposed to the cool air.

“Tetsu please.”

“Please what baby?”

Please let me go.

But the way he’s hands are gripping at your breasts, pulling and twisting your nipples, you can’t form any words. Only whimpers.

“Please make you feel good? That what you want baby?” He whispers as he slots his thigh between your legs.

“Yeah yeah please Tetsu.”

Kuroo has turned his focus onto your neck. Harsh sucks, leaving bruises and bite marks in his wake. He wants to laugh at how pathetic you are. Just a few minutes ago, you were adamant on ignoring his presence and now you’re writhing in his lap begging you to touch him.

“Really? I thought you needed to study.”

“No no no Tetsu, only need you.” Just a quickie. You’re both pent up. 10… 15 minutes tops. Then you’ll go back to studying. That’s what you tell yourself.

“That’s right baby.” He grips your hips and grinds you down on to his thigh. “I know exactly what you need.” You take your cue from him and begin riding his thigh, neurology notes long forgotten as he goes back to assaulting your neck. The combination of the sensation of your clothed clit rubbing against his thigh and visual stimulation of the explicit content on your TV makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Your movements become frantic. You’re practically humping his leg at this point. He knows you’re close which is why he wraps one arm around your torso, pulling you back into his chest.

“Baby please.” You whine. Oh, you’re really crying now.

“Oh angel, you were gonna come just from that? Just from humping my thigh and watching some other bitch get eaten out? My angel must be so pent up huh?”

You can’t do anything except whimper and nod.

“Mmhm yeah my baby has been working too hard. Thinking too much. You’re too cute for that you know baby.”

You keep nodding, no idea what you’re actually agreeing to, too busy keening at the praise. You keep trying to move your hips but he just tightens his hold.

“It’s okay though baby I know how to take care of you. Your man knows how to turn off that little brain of yours.”

His hand slides into you shorts, fingers pressing on to your clit over the top of your soaked panties. The moan you let out might rival the porn star on screen, who now by the way, is riding the face of her co-star while she sucks his cock.

He slips his other hand into your panties and starts rubbing quick “Yeah that’s it. Feel good babe?” You melt into his chest. “Yes Tetsu! So good!”

Kuroo pushes his long middle finger into your dripping hole. So tight and warm, he has to bite back a moan of his own. A few slow pumps, before he lets his index finger enter you as well. He’s done going slow now, he starts fucking you with his fingers, thumb brushing over your clit every now and then.

You were so close before, it takes almost no effort on Kuroo’s part to get you there again. You throw your head back on to his shoulder, muscles tensing in anticipation of your impending release. “Tets- gonna cum, gonna cu-“ The second you feel the waves of your orgasm crash on to you, Kuroo has his hands off you entirely, reaching for the remote and turning off the explicit movie.

Ruined. He ruined your orgasm.

You open your eyes and you see Kuroo looking every bit the smug bastard and your own teary eyed reflection in the black screen. “Tetsurou… Why? Why would you-“ You can’t even get the sentence out before he delivers a harsh smack to your clit.

“You think you deserve to come?” A large hand wraps tight around your throat as he lets out a humourless laugh. “You’re stupider than I thought.”

“No Tetsu ‘m not stupid” You manage to rasp out but that just makes him squeeze even tighter.

“What was that? I thought I heard a stupid bitch say something.”

You claw at his had trying to get air into your lungs but Kuroo doesn’t budge.

“Please! Sorry! Please!” is all you can manage to get out. Just as you start to see spots, Kuroo lets go.

Airways burning, you sputter out a “thank you” but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care. “You’re sorry? Show me how fucking sorry you are.” He’s shoves you on to the floor unceremoniously.

While Kuroo removes his slacks and boxers, you try to compose yourself. You know what’s coming but first you need to stop coughing and stop crying. After a minute of deep breathing, you open your eyes and find yourself face to face with Kuroo’s monster cock.

And you’re not exaggerating. The thing is terrifying. Long and girthy, the biggest you’ve ever seen.  He’s unbelievably hard with bulging veins, the tip almost purple with arousal. You’re mesmerised by it. 

Perhaps the only thing scarier than his dick right now is the man attached to it. He’s staring down at you with so much condescension, small smirk playing on his lips. He wraps his hand around his thick base. “You good princess? Get to it.” He tuts.

You place one of your hands on his throbbing member as you tentatively stick out your tongue to lick at his tip where pre-cum is dribbling out. You slowly start to stroke him up and down as you swirl your tongue around the head. Kuroo is being kind, letting you go slow. If you think he’s doing this for your benefit, you’re mistaken. He wants to take his time with this. More importantly, he’s got about a month’s worth of cum stored up in his balls and he wants to make sure that every single drop goes inside your little cunt.

You take what you can fit (just less than half) into your mouth, lips stretched wide around his dick, the head is poking at the back of your throat while your hands work the rest of his shaft. You look up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. He can tell by the way you’re looking at him you want him to know how sorry you are.

It’s cute.

He grabs you by your hair and pulls you off of him. ”Aw baby, that’s it? I thought you were sorry.” 

A mixture of saliva and pre-cum dribbles down your chin. “Tetsu I am sorry. I’m so sorry!” You whimper.

“Yeah?” Kuroo whispers. His grip on your hair tightens as he tilts your head up to look at him. You stare up at your boyfriend, as he bends down to kiss you. Again, it’s surprisingly gentle but is quickly contrasted with the way he uses the other hand to grab your face, squeezing harshly to make you pucker your lips and keep your mouth open.

He smiles down at you, almost lovingly before he puckers his lips as well, letting a fat glob of spit drop from his mouth into yours.

It’s gross. It’s degrading. It’s cruel.

And that’s why you swallow it down almost immediately, without being asked. 

“Good girl” He whispers and gives you a kiss on the nose as a reward. The simple praise shoots straight to your pussy and now you’re greedy for more.

Kuroo leans back and assumes his previous position but this time flexing his elbows and putting his hands behind his head. He’s still wearing his dress shirt, unbuttoned so you can admire his delicious torso. Toned and tanned with the trail of dark hair running all the way to his groin. He looks completely relaxed with his eyes closed and for a moment you find yourself enamored by how stunning he is. How stunning your man is. You want to please him now more than ever. You want him to call you his good girl again. You steady yourself on your knees and prepare for the task at hand

You start off with a few shallow bobs on his cock. Then you take a deep breath through your nose before taking as much of him in your throat as you can. “Holy shit.”  He breathes out. His hips thrust up reflexively while you try to suppress your own reflex, trying to keep him has deep as possible for as long as possible. You’ve had lots of practice deepthroating your boyfriend’s dick but somehow it hasn’t gotten any easier.

You pull off of him but not completely, just enough to open up your airway to let much needed air into your burning lungs. You twist your hands around the exposed part of him. You look up at him and he’s giving you that fond smile again and it makes your heart swell in your chest. It’s all the motivation you need to take him back into your throat. Again you take him as far as you can but there’s still a good inch or so that you can’t take no matter how hard you try.

“Aw baby you need some help?” Kuroo coos from above you. You look up at him with big watery eyes and nod as best you can with his dick lodged in your oesophagus. He lets out a hum. “Anything for my baby.” He places one of his large hands on the back of your head and pushes you down until your nose meets his pelvis.

Your throat muscles are spasming around the impossibly large, impossibly deep intrusion but Kuroo keeps you there, seemingly reveling in your gags. Your drool dribbles from your lips, down his balls on to the black leather of the couch. You try breathing through your nose but you struggle. However, your discomfort is completely eclipsed by Kuroo’s moans and grunts. If it makes him feel good you’ll keep him in there as long as he wants. You’ll let him thrust into your mouth until he comes if he so choses.

Lucky for you, that’s not what he wants tonight.

You pulls you off his dick by once again but slowly this time. He watches the string of drool that connects your lips and drags you away until it snaps. He take his heavy shaft and slaps it against your right cheek. You let out a gasp and a smirk starts to play on his lips. Before you know it he’s smacking and dragging his cock all over your face, covering you in a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. “God damn. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world right here on her knees for me.” He says as he leans back to admire his handiwork.  “Open” he says. You obey without hesitation and he spits in your mouth again.

You swallow eagerly. “Thank you Tetsuro.” Your throat feels raw but you smile at him, absolutely giddy, nonetheless.

“Get up here, pretty girl.” Kuroo helps you to your feet and shimmy out of your bottoms before guiding you on to his lap so you’re straddling him. Immediately two of his fingers are inside you again, your slick cunt offering no resistance whatsoever. “You know angel, I’m still not sure how sorry you actually are.” He’s scissoring his fingers, stretching out your walls. If he were a different man, he’d thrust into you right now without any prep but he sees how fucked out you already are, there’s no need to punish you any further. His fingers move at a tortuous pace, squelching as he thrusts them in and out of you.

You’re panting. “Anything, I’ll do anything.”

The slow drag of his fingers grazing that spot inside you as he pulls out makes your eyes flutter shut. When you open them again, Kuroo is holding the same fingers in front of your face. Your boyfriend keeps is hazel eyes locked on yours as he sticks out his tongue to lick up the arousal soaking his digits.

“Hmm ‘course you will.” He slaps his fat cockhead on your sensitive clit making you squeal.

He drags his tip from your clit to your dripping slit over and over again getting it nice and wet.

You chant “Tetsu please” like some twisted prayer. You desperately want to make up for your earlier ruined orgasm.

“Wanna see you bounce on my cock, angel.”

You oblige him wordlessly, taking hold of his shaft and lining in him up with your entrance. You slowly lower yourself on to him wincing at the way he stretches you out. The prep was minimal and his fingers are no match for the size of his cock. You have to stop to breathe and blink away tears. You lift up your hips and lower yourself down slowly again, taking a little more of him inside you. You repeat the process a couple more times.

As much as watching your struggle to take his cock strokes his ego, Kuroo is growing bored. It’s time to take matters into his own hands.

Kuroo grips your hips and takes you by surprise as he thrusts up into you, making you take the whole thing. You let out a shrill cry as the tip of his cock nudges at your cervix. A heavy smack lands on your ass. “I said bounce angel.”

“So big Tetsu fuck. So big.” You whine as he pulls you up, before he sheaths his dick fully inside you, making you shriek for a second time.

God you could be such a crybaby sometimes. You were starting to piss him off again.  He pulls out of you completely and says “Turn around.”

“Tetsu no please! Wanna see you.” You pout, your eyes welling up with tears.

Another smack. This time across your face. You reach up to touch the sore skin on your cheek, it feels hot. “Don’t talk back to me you stupid slut.”

You whimper but obey his command. You don’t want Kuroo to be angry at you.

“Now sit on it.” He spanks you another time before gripping your ass and guiding his cock into you until your ass meets his groin.

Playtime is over.

Kuroo slips his hands under your thighs, grabbing the back of your knees and folding your body in half. Now he’s really fucking you. His thrusts are rough, cock knocking against your cervix repeatedly as he sinks himself into your sopping cunt over and over again. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass and the squelching of your dripping pussy make for the lewdest symphony you’ve ever heard. 

“Tetsurou ‘m close. Please” you cry. The way his dick is rubbing against your sweet spot means you won’t last long.

“No.”

Despite his denial, he doesn’t ease up on his thrusts. You’re trying to concentrate on holding back your orgasm but honestly you can’t concentrate on anything except Kuroo pistoning his fat cock in and out of you.

“Look at you.” You see your reflection in the black TV screen. “You see that?” He gives one particularly hard thrust to emphasise his point. “Fucked stupid huh?”

“Yeah Tetsu Yeah.” It’s no mirror but you can see all that you need to. You see your boyfriend using your body like a fleshlight, thrusting up into you at a relentless pace. You see your cunt split open on his cock. You see yourself being completely and utterly owned by him.

“My girl is such a fucking whore huh? My own personal porn star.”

“Need to cum nnggh let me cum please.” You’re teetering so close to the edge and Kuroo’s filthy mouth is not helping your situation in the slightest.

“Why should I let you cum hm? You’re so good when you’re desperate. Think I should keep you like this.”

“Please Tetsu. Please. Wanna be good! Wanna be your good girl Testu! Wanna take care of you! Please.”

He likes the way that sounds.

His good girl. His wife. His. His. His.

“Cum for me angel. Cum. Right now.” He says, lips pressed against your ear.

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. With the way he’s pounding his dick into your tight little pussy you have no choice but to spiral into orgasm. Your pussy spasms around his cock, pulling him deeper inside you. The hot coil in your tummy that’s been building unravels and the bliss hits you so hard you see starts. Kuroo keeps fucking up into you as you cream around him. As you come down, you go limp in his arms. That doesn’t stop him from using you though.

His grip around your thighs tightens and that’s how you know he’s getting close. “You gonna be a good girl for me? You gonna take this fat fucking load? Yeah? Take all of it deep in your cunt?” He growls right into your ear.

“Tetsu gimme pleasepleaseplease” You beg him as you cry from overstimulation, barely able to form the words.

“Take it. Take it. Fuck!” He growls as he shoots his load right into your tight, gooey pussy. You feel his hot cum fill up your womb and the sensation is so overwhelming it makes you go cross-eyed, tongue lolling out of your mouth. He grunts, still rutting into you through his orgasm. When he’s done he pulls out of you, smiling as he watches his cum leak out of your spent hole.

Kuroo loves the fact that you’re smart. But when you’re like this? Absolutely cum drunk, eyes glazed, body covered in bruises and willing to do anything he asks you to? He fucking adores you like this.

“Go take care of dinner princess, then your man is gonna take care of you some more.” He swats you on your ass.

You giggle and let your wobbly legs carry you to the kitchen with your boyfriend’s cum running down between your thighs, thoughts of your upcoming final completely fucked out of your head.

Along with every other thought not revolving around your future husband.

Kuroo reaches for his phone to text his assistant and tell her to cancel all his meetings for tomorrow. He has to go ring shopping.

[ragewerthers]

Fixed It

Summary: Something is bothering Ushijima after a Christmas get together. Hajime is keen to find out what happened and whatever it is, he swears he's going to fix it.

A/n: This is a SUPER late Christmas fic for my friend @ticklygiggles!

She gave me the Christmas prompt: “And look! Now it’s just you and me on Christmas, pretty nice, eh?”

You can read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31264853

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 4022

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

“Well… that was a nice evening. What did you think, Ushi?” Iwa asked, a small smile on his face as he chanced a glance at his partner who had stayed quiet since they’d left Oikawa’s Christmas party. Ushijima had always been a quiet person by nature, but it had felt like ever since the party the man had slowly become more and more withdrawn.

“Yes. Nice,” Ushijima said quietly, staring out the passenger side window and keeping his arms folded over his chest. The words weren’t spoken with any sort of annoyance or dismissal. Merely uttered as if in reflex, like Ushi’s thoughts were a million miles away.

Hajime frowned a bit at that, clicking on the turn signal as they made their way onto the street leading to their apartment. He honestly couldn’t wait to get back home to their small flower shop so that he could hopefully try and talk to him in a place he felt safest in. It was bothering him not knowing what was going on in the other man’s head, but he knew that if he asked right now Ushijima would claim it was nothing. That he was okay. Then he’d try to deflect any other questions and Hajime would be left no closer to the answer.

Had Ushi been like this before the party? Iwa couldn’t say that he’d noticed if he had. They’d even been joking around a bit as they put on their Christmas sweaters. Ushi had gone the more traditional route, wearing a nicely fitted dark grey sweater with a few white snowflakes dotting the front. Meanwhile, Iwa had gone with an ugly Christmas sweater in an attempt to annoy his best friend. It was a hideously green thing with an alien on the front that was wearing a santa hat. The words ‘Peace On Earthlings’ was emblazoned over the whole thing and honestly, Iwa couldn’t have felt more proud of his choice.

Thinking back on it, even on the ride over they had still been joking, though Ushi had seemed to grow a little nervous the closer they got to Oikawa’s apartment. He’d chalked it up to getting ready to be bombarded with Tooru’s intensity. While the hostility that had once been there between the two was now mostly down to small teases, he knew that his partner was still worried about doing or saying something that might upset the man.

But the night had truly seemed to go off without a hitch. There was good food, lots of laughs and it had been nice being able to catch up with old friends and old rivals alike.

Not to mention it was fun seeing who was now seeing who and watching others trying to find a holiday date.

“So… did you see what Bokuto was up to this evening?” Iwa asked with a little chuckle, hoping that maybe talking of some of the lighter moments of the night would help lift his darling's mood. “He kept trying to find ways to catch Akaashi under the mistletoe. Kuroo seemed to be doing the same with Daichi… at least until Sawamura called him an idiot and just kissed him by the snack table. Captain Kitty-cat turned so red he could’ve led Santa’s sleigh!”

Hajime couldn’t help laughing even as he spoke, thinking of how absolutely shocked Kuroo had been at the former Crow captain acting so brazenly in front of them all. “And I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard when Mattsukawa and Hanamaki kept getting in between Oikawa and Suga when they kept trying to get some alone time. I think if Yachi hadn’t distracted Issei, those two would’ve never gotten a moment together.”

As he pulled up outside their building and parked, Iwa had to stop a moment to wipe a few tears of mirth from his eyes as he thought about the look on Oikawa’s face. Glancing over he noticed that rather than getting a smile out of his boyfriend, the man only seemed to look a little more uncomfortable.

“Ushi?” Iwa murmured, turning the car off and giving him his full attention.. “Love, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you. You’ve been acting differently since we left Oikawa’s. Did something happen I should know about?” A protective spark instantly flared in the former Ace’s chest thinking that anyone would’ve said something to hurt his partner.

“No. It’s fine, Hajime. It’s nothing,” Ushi murmured, opening the car door and already stepping out into the cold night air.

“Ushi? Ushijima, hang o-gah!” Iwa called out, opening his own car door to follow, but getting hung up on his seatbelt and effectively gagging himself. After a bit of floundering he finally got himself free and quickly closed the car door behind him before rushing off after his partner. Damn the man and his long legs!

Ushijima had already made his way into the flower shop that he ran below their apartment, flicking the lights, but not so much as turning his head to check on the little plants and flowers that lined the shelves. Something Ushijima always did when he entered his shop.

“Ushijima, wait!” Iwa called out as he made it inside.

The former Shiratorizawa captain was standing just at the base of the stairs leading up to their home, his shoulders slumped and his back toward Iwa. “Ushi… please… tell me what’s bothering you. I can’t fix something when I don't know what the problem is.”

“This is something you can’t fix, Hajime,” Ushijima said quietly, the somber tone of his voice making Iwa’s chest ache.

“Hey, you don’t know that. I’m great at fixing things,” he offered gently as he closed the shop door behind them and made his way closer to Ushijima. “Remember when you said I couldn’t fix the shelf in the kitchen? Fixed it. Remember when you said I couldn’t save the dinner we made last week? Fixed it.”

“No. You ‘fixed’ the shelf by throwing it away and you ‘fixed’ dinner by ordering take out,” Ushijima murmured, though Iwa was almost positive he heard the other’s voice lighten just a bit.

“And? Just because the remedy wasn’t what was expected the problems were still fixed thanks to me being just that amazing,“ Iwa offered, now finally standing close enough to Ushi to lay his hand on his shoulder and give it a soft squeeze. “So please. Tell me what happened so I can try to fix this too?”

Iwa waited patiently for some sign that Ushi was going to give in and for a brief moment he worried that his partner was simply going to refute his question again and head upstairs. But after a few more seconds, Ushijima finally seemed to come to a decision as he turned around to face him.

Iwa felt his heart break all over again to see his expression so downcast and the way his teeth were worrying his lower lip in a way that told him just how uncertain his boyfriend was.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, sweetheart. I promise I’ll do my best to fix any problems you have,” Iwa murmured, bringing a hand up to gently cup his darling’s cheek and watching as Ushi gently nuzzled into his palm at the soft contact.

“I know you would. But… what if the problem… is me?” Ushijima said quietly and that protective spark flared up once again in Iwa’s chest, his brows furrowing as he looked over his obviously disheartened and hurting partner.

“There is absolutely nothing… nothing about you that needs fixing, Wakatoshi. You are perfect. You are the most perfect of perfect perfections. If you were any more perfect it would be illegal,” Iwa said softly with as much conviction as he could muster. “Now… tell me who told you otherwise so I can drive back to Shitty-kawa’s party and kick their ass. And I swear to god if it was Trashy-kawa himself there will literally be hell to pay.”

Ushijima’s eyes widened as he heard that, his cheeks flushing pink. It would’ve been endearing if Iwa wasn’t feeling the need to make someone answer for their transgressions against his boyfriend.

“No. Hajime, I promise that no one said anything. Nothing. At all……. to me,” Ushi whispered, slowly losing steam as he talked and letting his gaze fall to the floor between them, unable to look Iwa in the eyes anymore.

“What do you mean? People were talking to us all night,” Iwa said gently as he watched Ushi slowly drawing into himself once more.

“No. People were talking to you all night, Hajime,” Ushijima explained slowly and calmly in that precise way he did. Simply stating facts without adding any extra fluff to it. “After introductions I was not needed for much more conversation. Sawamura spoke to me a bit before Kuroo’s antics drew him away, but apart from that… I wasn’t able to join in to the same conversations as everyone else. I… wasn’t sure how to and I fear they didn’t know how to include me either.”

Iwa frowned deeply as he heard that and shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything? You know if you were feeling uncomfortable or lonely all you needed to do was say something,” he offered as Ushijima shook his head.

“You were enjoying yourself, Hajime. I do not wish to keep you from your friends and former teammates simply because I can’t be as… outgoing as the rest of you. I anticipated that there would be some hesitance to talk to me. It’s something I am used to. I just… let it get to me a bit more this evening then I should have. And I didn’t want to say anything because I did not wish to upset you, which I can see I have already done.”

“Of course, I’m upset! I just found out that I was enjoying a party where my boyfriend was being ignored by not just my friends, but by me too!” Iwa said, growling a bit for being so caught up in catching up with his old friends that he hadn’t even noticed how uncomfortable or lonely Ushi had gotten. And he got it. He did. Most of the guys there had been Ushijima’s rivals in some way or another and yeah, he was a bit intimidating, but that shouldn’t have been any reason not to talk to him.

Iwaizumi pulled himself from his own thoughts as he felt Ushi moving away from where his hand was still cupping his jaw, watching as the former Ace took a step back with his head bowed. “I’m sorry, Hajime. I promise it was never my intention to ruin this night for you,” the taller man whispered and if Iwa thought his heart had felt broken before it was shattered here and now.

Quickly stepping forward he wrapped his arms around Ushijma’s chest and hugged him close, wishing for not the first time that he was taller so he could coddle this gentle giant of a man.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Ushijima,” Iwa whispered against the man’s chest, feeling the way he was frozen against him. “I am the one that needs to apologize. I knew that going there we were going to be seeing more of my friends than yours. And I also know that you aren’t a social butterfly, which is not a bad thing in the slightest. No one can be like Bo or Kuroo in that category. But I should’ve remembered that and made sure to include you more. I was unfair to you. And for that I am very, very sorry.”

Iwa could feel the way Ushijima’s breath hitched in his chest for a moment before finding his partner’s arms wrapping around him in return. “But from now on please don’t hesitate to say something to me. Okay, love? I want you to be happy and comfortable too. Just because everyone was talking to me doesn’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you too.”

Iwa could feel the way Ushi nodded above him, effectively nuzzling into his hair and making him chuckle a little at the contact. “And look! Now it’s just going to be you and me on Christmas, pretty nice, eh? You’ll have me all to yourself. Isn’t that the greatest gift of all?” he asked gently, hoping to lighten the mood even more as he gave Ushi a soft squeeze around his middle.

“Yes. It is the best gift,” the taller man murmured softly and Iwa was incredibly grateful to be able to hide against Ushi’s chest for a moment because how could someone this sweet actually exist?! The blush on his cheeks needed to calm down a bit before he could even pretend to try and say anything back.

“There is still one thing though, Ushi,” Iwa murmured against the soft sweater once he had composed himself, trying hard not to smile too much.

“Oh? What is that, Hajime?” Ushi asked, leaning back so he could look down at his smaller partner.

“Well… I promised that I would fix this problem, but I don’t think it’ll be truly fixed until I see that smile of yours,” Iwa said gently, leaning back a little and looking up at Ushi with a playful glint in his eyes.

Ushijima’s brow furrowed slightly at that and he shook his head. “But, I’m fine? And I did smile. You were just hiding against my chest so you didn’t see it,” he stated simply, making Iwa blush. He refused to seem embarrassed by this, however, as Ushi continued to talk. “You don’t have to fix anything, Iwa. I promise I’m okay.”

“Hmm… I don’t know,” Iwa murmured to himself, letting his hands drift down to rest against Ushi’s sides. His thumbs began to soothe little circles against the soft fabric of his sweater as he pretended to be deep in thought. “Can I really take your word for that? You told me you were fine earlier when really you weren’t. So perhaps you are only telling me you were smiling when really you weren’t? See my dilemma?” Iwa could feel Ushi’s sides flinching slightly under his soft touch and he couldn’t stop his smile from growing. He could also see the dawning realization appearing on Ushi’s face and the way his boyfriends lips started to curve up into a nervous smile was one of the most precious things he’d ever seen. “Iwa? Hajime? There is no need for thi-hihis! No! I promise I was smihihilihi-nohohoho!” Ushi’s arms instantly moved down, his hands trying to hold onto Iwa’s wrists to push them away.

Hearing those wonderful giggles starting to bubble up and seeing the smile appearing had Iwa smiling in return, his fingers still managing to lightly scribble against the man’s sides. “What? What was that, Ushi? I’m sorry I can’t hear you, I’m busy trying to get you to smile,” he teased, sending quickly little tickles first to one of Ushi’s sides then the other as the man shimmied back and forth between his hands.

Ushi’s cheeks flushed at that as he tried to bite back the giggles that continued to escape him. “B-But I ahaham! I’m smihihiling, Iwahaha!” he laughed, trying to take a few steps back to the stairs.

Hajime found himself chuckling as he watched the man and decided that while his darling Ushi was definitely smiling, he wasn’t willing to stop his antics just yet.

“I don’t know. You said I’m not great at fixing things so this time I have to be incredibly thorough,” Iwa teased, his fingers moving up a little higher under Ushi’s weak grip and starting to massage into his lower ribs.

The former Shiratorizawa Ace jumped at the sensation, his arms clamping to his sides as he shook his head. “Wahahahait! Wait, Hahahajime!” Ushi laughed brightly, his cheeks now a lovely rose color as he continued to try and wriggle free. “Yo-You dihihihid it!”

Iwa couldn’t help laughing more as he saw his wiggly darling, and sadly it was enough to distract him and allow his partner to break free. As soon as Ushijima saw his chance he turned, quickly trying to make his way up the steps to their apartment as frantic giggling still escaped him. “Y-You’re a mahahahanster!” Ushi called behind him, the somber atmosphere from before dissipating in the ridiculousness and playfulness of this moment.

Standing at the base of the stairs, Iwa couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in his chest from watching his boyfriend finally smiling properly once more. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?! I’m trying to fix the smile problem!” Iwa called after Ushijima, letting him get a few more steps ahead before finally giving chase.

“I’m smiling! You don’t have to d-do this, H-Hajimehehe!” Ushijima called back, zipping in through their front door and already making a mad dash for the living room.

Iwa chuckled as he made it into the apartment, zeroing in on his darling and realizing he was trying to put the sofa between them as some sort of buffer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Iwa cried out, reaching for the back of Ushi’s sweater, his fingers just brushing the material and making the larger man squeak. Something Iwa never would’ve thought Ushijima was capable of all those years ago before they got to know each other. Now, it was something else he got to add to his list of things he loved about this man.

“I’m smiling! I’m smiling I pr-promihihise!” Ushijima laughed as he tried to get around to the other side of the sofa, but while Ushijima definitely had some power behind him he was a big man. Iwa had agility on his side and was going to use it to his full advantage!

The moment came when Ushijima attempted to maneuver himself between the coffee table and the sofa, the space just a little too tight for him to keep up his momentum. And this was when Iwa finally took his chance and pounced… literally.

With just a few large strides to get him to the right distance, Iwa launched himself at his boyfriend, tackling him down onto the sofa in one big heap. Ushijima definitely hadn’t been expecting such an attack if the loud yelp was anything to go by. But there was no mistaking the moment he realized his doom was nigh as he began to wriggle under Iwa attempting to roll him over as the former Aoba Johsai Ace settled on Ushi’s back.

“Iwaizumi! Iwa! You fixed i-it! You already fihihiHIHIHI! NOHOHOHOAHAHA!” Ushijima’s hysterical laughter instantly filled their small apartment as Iwa’s fingers found their mark, sneaking under the poor man’s arms as he’d been attempting to pull himself up by the arm of the sofa. In a matter of moment’s Ushi’s arms had come crashing back down to his sides, trapping Hajime’s hands against his worst spot.

“I already did what, Ushi? I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that?” Iwa cooed, settling himself more comfortably on Ushi’s back. His fingers scribbled lightly right in the center of his poor boyfriend's underarms, earning him a ridiculous squeal followed by the loudest belly laughter yet.

“Plehe-hic-hehehase! N-no mohohohoha-hic-hahaha!” Ushijima cackled, attempting to both curl up and flail as Iwa’s fingers began to massage deep circles right under his armpits against his upper ribs.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he cooed, ducking down to murmur playfully against Ushi’s ears and giggling a bit as the man squeaked at the slightly ticklish sensation. He’d forgotten how sensitive his sweethearts ears could be and pressed a few quick, tickly kisses against the shell of his rosy ear. Ushi absolutely jumped at each press of his lips, giggling so adorably hard between his laughter that his voice began to rise in pitch.

“Yehehehe-NOHOHohohoahahahaha!” Ushi began to say before Iwa decided to be a bit of a butt, ducking down to blow a raspberry against the back of the poor man's neck as his hands wriggled free from under his arms. In a flash they were on the move too. Sneaking down to make their way under the man’s sweater to tease and scribble against his sides and the sides of his tum that he could reach from where his boyfriend was lying on the sofa.

“No? You’re not sure? Well then I guess I should continue, right?” Iwa chuckled as Ushi shook his head, turning it so that Iwa could now definitely see that there was a smile on his darling’s face. A warm, carefree smile filled with laughter that made Iwa’s heart feel light and so full of love he didn’t know how he was able to contain it all for this man. “I’ll ask one more time… are you sure that I was able to fix this?”

“Ye-hic-hehehehes, Hahahajimehehehehe!” Ushijima squeaked one last time before his laughter fell silent.

With one last raspberry to the side of Ushi’s neck and a teasing flutter of his fingers to the man's lower ribs, Iwa finally stopped his attack. His hands began to sooth softly along Ushijima’s sides as he felt his boyfriend slowly starting to get his breath back. “You okay, love?” Iwa murmured softly, feeling the way Ushi panted and giggled breathlessly beneath him.

“I… I-I ahaham,” Ushijima wheezed, giving a little shake of his head though his eyes closed now from the adrenaline rush and the mini attack. “You… really dihidn’t have to do that.”

Iwa chuckled at that and ducked down to kiss the back of the man’s head. “I think I did. Because now you can’t keep that smile off your face,” Iwa teased gently, getting a tired chuckle from his partner in return. “But I hope you know that I really am sorry for earlier. Your happiness and comfort is one of the most important things to me, Ushi. Never be afraid to talk to me about anything or to let me know how you’re feeling. I want to make sure you always feel welcome, happy and content.”

“Thank you, Hajime,” Ushi whispered back after a moment, his voice sounding just a little thicker and Iwa moved so he could lay down on his partner, hugging him softly where he nestled against his back.

“You never have to thank me for that, Ushijima. I love you. And I’ll always be there to fix whatever troubles you,” Iwa promised softly, leaning over slightly to catch Ushijima’s eyes before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Now… why don’t we get settled with some hot cocoa and some holiday movies before bed?” he asked, pressing one more kiss to Ushi’s nose before carefully sitting up and climbing off the taller man.

Ushi’s nose crinkled at the light kiss and he smiled more as he sat up. “As long as we don’t have to watch ‘Home Alone” again. It is not the holiday classic you think it is,” Ushi said softly as he stood and made his way toward the kitchen.

Iwa gasped at that, covering his mouth in mock horror. “How can you say that?! It literally takes place during Christmas!” he asked, following his boyfriend into the kitchen.

“Yes, but it’s about home invaders attempting to break in only to be stopped by a small child who was forgotten by his parents. That is not a Christmas movie. That’s a bad parenting movie.”

“Hey! If you want to start poking holes in holiday movies, why don’t we take a look at some of your favorite, hmm? Does ‘Rise Of The Guardians’ ring any bells?”

“Yes. Christmas bells. For it has Santa as a main character. Your movie has a pizza delivery man and a tarantula.”

The rest of the evening was filled with easy banter, cocoa, movies and Iwa realizing that even though there were many things he could fix and many reasons to love Ushi… the man’s movie tastes might actually be something he would have to admit defeat on.

But as long as he could still see that wonderful smile, he would be more than happy to.

[ri-ahhh]

a continuation of smut with gray after the last concept you did with the working out!

Continuation of this concept :)

You don’t even make it out of the driveway to go to the coffee shop before you’re leaning across the console and crushing your lips to Grayson’s. The sweat has since dried in the few minutes of AC you had both gotten between going inside for the car keys and wallets, and now.

Your speech is broken, only able to escape your swollen lips between deep, heavy kisses. “Not sure...if... it was the workout,” you mumble, humming at the way his blunt nails scratch your scalp at the nape of your neck. “Endorphins and shit...” eyes roll back as his lips migrate to your neck and your hand grips his shoulder tightly, the other clutching the back of his seat. “But I — need to fuck you.”

“Shit.” His voice is low and deep and raspy and makes you shudder so violently, he can’t help but smirk into the skin just below your ear. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” you smile back, tugging on his hair to pull his face out of your neck so you can kiss him again before saying, “backseat.”

The next thing you know, you’re scrambling across the console to the bench seat in the very back of the Model X, flinching and giggling breathlessly at the sharp slap to your ass Grayson delivers as he clambers quickly behind you.

You obviously make it there first, and you plop down on the seat, pushing strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail out of your flushed face. You catch Grayson’s eye, the glint you see in his matched in your own, and stick a sneaker-clad foot out to stop him right as he’s about to reach you.

“Take it off for me,” you instruct. Grayson lifts a brow amusedly, but takes your proffered foot in his hand anyway.

“Bossy,” he says quietly, tugging off your Nike.

“Horny,” you correct. His lips curl as he lets out that disbelieving laugh, and you lift your hips so he can peel off your skin-tight leggings, too. “Ready.”

Grayson settles on his knees on the floorboard as he tosses your pants somewhere behind him, parting your legs with a surprised but content hum as he realizes you had been commando the whole time.

“Yeah, well, you can wait a bit longer. I’ve been ready since you rolled up here in that fit.”

You whine a bit, annoyed by his teasing, but fully appreciative of the view of him between your thighs nonetheless. You can give as good as you can take, though.

“I wore it for you,” you say, eyes deceitfully innocent until he brushes his fingers against your pussy. You gasp and bite your lip, legs spreading wider. The emerald green of your sports bra catches in your peripheral. “Did you like the color?”

Grayson looks up at you darkly, then without warning spits on your pussy, massages it into the slick wet already leaking out of you, and slides his long middle finger inside of you. A literal and figurative ‘fuck you.’

It’s joined quickly by his ring finger, then his tongue on your clit, and you suddenly can’t tell up from down anymore. Your eyes roll back and your knees bend, and your hand slips through his still slightly sweat-damp hair.

He encourages you to drape your legs over his shoulders, and the car is quiet after that other than the arousing noises of his mouth working you up and the quiet but continuous whimpers that escape you. After a minute or so, he pulls back just enough for you to see a string of cum and spit connect his lips to your pussy for a moment before breaking midair, and the veins in his forearm pop as he continues move his fingers inside you.

A glint of sun crosses his handsome face, illuminating his eyes a bright green as he watches you intently. The image, combined with a spot he finds deep in your pussy when he presses his fingertips upwards and the thumb he replaced his tongue with on your clit, is enough to have you right on the edge.

“There,” you gasp, chest heaving. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, do it,” he encourages, and it’s that which sends you straight into one of the best orgasm you’ve had in a while. You’re not sure if it’s his voice or the command or just him in general, but you’re not here to think about it too much even if you were capable of that right now.

Grayson helps you ride it out with gentler motions of his fingers, before rising enough to plant his knees on the seat right beneath your ass. He tucks his hand behind your neck and drags you up to kiss him, and you regain enough composure to tug his shorts down his tattooed thighs while his tongue slides against yours.

His dick is thick and hard when you wrap your hand around it once his compression shorts and underwear are bunched down as well. You moan into his mouth, then pull back so you can get your first glimpse of it.

You’re almost annoyed to see it’s as perfect as the rest of him. Long with a nice girth but not too big. You bite your lip and can’t help but start stroking him slowly, enjoying the feel of him in your hand as you follow a line with your eyes up to his face. He’s a little slack-jawed, and he meets your gaze with an almost expectant one of his own.

“I’m not sucking it,” you tell him, brow raised but tone playful. You swipe your thumb over the tip and smirk at the little hitch in his breath that it elicits. “You’ve just did a hard workout, and sweaty balls might be one of the worst smells ever.”

Grayson laughs and shakes his head, reaching behind him to whip his tank top over his head while you continue to jerk him off with steady strokes. The thin white fabric joins your leggings somewhere up front, and he grasps your wrist in his big hand so he can kick off the clothes from his bottom half, too.

“Well, some of us do more than stand there and look pretty,” he says, testing your pussy with his fingers one more time before hooking your knees over his elbows. Both of you are smiling wide when you lock eyes again, and your face softens some at the look he gives you as the moment starts to set in. “You sure?”

“Please,” you nod, gasping and clutching his thick, banded biceps when you feel the head of him push against your entrance.

You’re so relaxed and turned on, he slides in easily, filling you up with two smooth strokes. Despite the somewhat awkward way your body is folded up, the angle allows him to already hit an amazing spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back for a second.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Grayson rasps into your ear, his hips already pulling back and thrusting forward again.

“You’re big,” you return. He grunts softly in appreciation and dips his head down to meet your mouth with his again, lips slippery and breaths hot and tongues exploring as he finds a perfect rhythm.

He fills you up so well, his thrusts deep and hard, and you clutch hard at his arms and shoulders. Your nails drag red stripes across the snakes there, then dig sharply into his upper back as you subconsciously attempt to get him closer to you. Even if this is just a hookup, you still like a little intimacy.

“Yes, Gray,” you whimper, tugging sharply on his hair. “Shit... wanna ride you. Please!”

He doesn’t need asking twice, and pulls out of you with a groan. The two of you switch places a little clumsily, and you both chuckle even though you’re sweaty and breathless. Grayson scoots more to the middle where you had been, and you mount him carefully so as not to bang your head on the ceiling.

You sigh happily when you sink down on him, just as glad to have his skin pressed against yours now, too. Your sports bra is still on, but if anything you feel less inhibited to start bouncing on him by lifting yourself from your shins, up and down.

Grayson’s quiet groans and curses encourage you as you rock over him, grinding your hips into his. He just looks so fucking good right now, all blisssd out with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks and a hard, sweaty chest. You can’t help but clench around him. He moans the loudest he has so far into this, and grabs handfuls of your ass, squeezing roughly before smacking one of your cheeks with his palm.

You yelp and giggle, pausing to cup his stubbled chin in your hand hand so you can hold him steady while you kiss him. He sucks on your tongue sinfully, and you tighten again — this time voluntarily — which makes him growl and nip at your bottom lip as he separates your mouths.

“Tease,” he grunts, holding tight to your hips as he plants his feet firmly on the floor and starts thrusting up into you.

You cry out his name with a sharp squeal, moaning wantonly at the intense fucking he’s suddenly giving you. One arm wraps around his neck, the other clutching the back of the seat for all your worth, keeping you somewhat stable. “Oh my — Grayson!”

“Fuuuck.” His voice is telling, but he announces it anyway. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You can’t help but smirk, the corner of your lips lifting in the tiniest of grins through the pleasure he’s giving you. “Do it,” you echo his earlier command.

He squeezes the creases of your hips like a final warning, and you slide off him just in time for the first spurt to shoot up and land on your chest. You squeak in surprise, but stroke him steadily as the rest lands safely on his heaving abdomen. Or at least you hope so; Ethan wouldn’t be happy to find any evidence that smooth cat had been used for such illicit activities.

When he’s done, you make sure Grayson’s eyes have opened enough for him to see you lick the drops of his cum off your hand with a wink. He laughs lightly and motions to the seat behind you with his head, where you find his shirt crumpled in a pile of other clothes.

He gives you a quiet thanks as you take it upon yourself to wipe his skin clean, then watches you do the same to your sports bra.

“I do, by the way,” he says suddenly, making you quirk a brow at him confusedly.

“Huh?”

“Like that color,” he clarifies, grinning fully now. “‘S my favorite.”

“Hm,” you hum bemusedly even through a soft smile of your own. “Well, good, because you owe me a new bra; you kinda ruined this one.”

“Worth it.”

[officerjennie]

A spiteful continuation of my last Geskel piece (which will be linked in the comments), with Ace!Eskel (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

CW: Smut with feelings (lots of feelings). Bottom Geralt Rights. Intercourse. Teasing that’s (mostly) not meant to be teasing. Eskel getting a little overwhelmed with feelings. WC 5k+

--

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare. 

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way. 

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither. 

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements. 

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge. 

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered. 

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere. 

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider. 

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love. 

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.” 

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue. 

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt. 

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head. 

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon. 

“I love you.” It meant the world to him that he was allowed to say it, to whisper it against that sweaty chest, to press lazy and lingering kisses there as he wished. But it meant a whole world more to hear the words right back and feel fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his hair and skin, the day carrying on outside of their room as they found peace within each other.

[marjiandco]

4. Baleful

This is a companion piece to the third prompt, a prequel to how Raiku managed to get invaded by a voidsent. This prompt was super helpful in fleshing out the direction I want. You can read the first (second?) part here!

Raiku crashed into the ground, the skin on his back scrapping painfully against the rocks as he slid back. He had no time to think of the pain, as he rolled back and leapt away from a giant porcelain foot stomping on the little indent his body left. He shot an arrow at her heart, but the winged sin eater blocked it with her marbled sword, and swooped closer to him.

“Get back you wretched thing.”

It swiped at him, and as he tried to flip out of the way it caught on a corner of his bow and wrenched his arm, near cracking his body like a whip as she followed through with her slice and then reversed direction. He was once again flung, this time into one of the caves dotting the landscape. 

The hollow forever light slipped away from him, and he was enveloped in the blessed dark of a hole in a mountain. It was a small opening he managed to fit inside, the sin eater too big to stand its full height as it floated to the ground and walked towards the mouth of the opening. He clutched his arm to his chest, sure his wrist was broken. He tried to move it and sucked through his teeth.

“Gods damned world with its gods damned light demons!” He shouted, his chest shuddering at the volume. He tossed his bow to the side and grasped one of his chakram’s in his good hand.

He spat pink spittle onto the ground and dug the edge of his new weapon into the dirt to hoist himself to his feet. The things hand grasped the top of the cave’s mouth and bent low, its empty eyes locking with him.

“C’mon.”

It sounded like stone scraped against stone as it started to move inside. Raiku crouched low, holding the weapon in front of his face. A halo of orange-tinged whiteness glows around her body. He’s been chased by this thing for nigh on a summer, near destroying a town that had sheltered him a day before. Even Vauthry’s thralls were easy to slip even when they had tasted his aether, but this thing was adamant to consume him.

“C’mon,”

It pointed the sword down at him, and Raiku knew if this thing died there was no escape from the sickness it’d spread. He had to at the very least escape, and continue to keep it away from the townspeople in the valley.

The sin eater paused, and turned its head like a dog. It stopped moving, and Raiku stared at it, unsure.

“Well what’re you waiting for? The rocks in your head quit working? Let’s go!” He jumped forward, but his feet never touched the ground.

Black tendrils rushed forward from behind him, five of them wrapping around his ankles, wrists, and neck as a mass of blackness rolled forward.

“I think it’s looking at me.” It said, and it shot forward and knocked the light warden out of the mouth of the cave before creating a giant square with its body and blocked all light from entering the cave.

Raiku couldn’t see anything, and moaned as the tendrils tightened on him, his broken wrist pulsating with inflammation. He looked wildly around, but there was no light reaching inside. The tendril holding his weapon’s hand tightened until he dropped the chakram, and from the darkness he heard footsteps scuff along the ground.

“Who’s there?” His eyes start to droop, the dark simulating closed eyes and he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours combined the last few days.

“I bet you’re surprised to find me here, I certainly am.”

The tendril on his bad wrist slowly unfolded itself and slipped underneath his arm, as if providing a place for it to rest.

“Sorry about the restraints, couldn’t let you get in the way while I kick out an unwanted guest. They make me sick, you see.”

“I’m not asking again, who are you?” Raiku said in false bravado.

The voice chuckled, a sound similar to branches creaking in the wind. “I think the question you should be asking isn’t who am I.”

The hairs on the back of Raiku’s head stood on end.

“Its what am I.” The voice whispered behind his ear.

The lalafell yelped and tried to turn but the tendril on his neck held him in place. He grit his teeth, his eyes popping open as a realization dawned on him. The dark mass, lurking in a cave, sick from light.

“A…a voidsent?”

“Ding ding ding!” the voice was in front of him again.

“But how?”

“Oh, how did I manage to survive in this starved world? I don’t think that matters. What matters  is that I need to get out of here, and I know you do too. Your aether doesn’t match this world, and I think I could help you out there. If you let me hitch a ride, I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Raiku could feel the tendrils lower him to the ground, gingerly letting him find his footing before slipping away. He fell to his knees and felt around, but of course his Chakram was nowhere to be felt. He could feel his heart beat in his throat, any tiredness he was feeling was being erased by anxiety sending his senses into overdrive. He, Raiku Honaku, was somehow caught in a voidsent’s trap in a light blighted world. He somehow managed to follow a path that ripped his aetheric soul from his body, and land right here, in this moment, in the clutches of some demon. Painful laughter welled in him and burst forth like a spicket, lasting so long he was tearing up and clutched his chest as he tried to calm down.

“Let ahaha- me guess.” He bit his lip but it couldn’t stop the flow of hysterical laughter. “You’ll kill me if I don’t-ehehehehaha-agree?”

The voidsent waited patiently until Raiku’s laughs turned to pants.

“You’re kind of the only real chance I’ve found, why do you think I sent for you.”

Raiku’s head shot up. “Sent? How would that even be possible? Aren’t you all on opposite ends?”

Raiku couldn’t tell if his brain was making up a body to talk to or if light was slipping in, but he swore he saw something shrug.

“My influence doesn’t reach far but I can get the weak willed denizens to follow an order well enough. I couldn’t tell the light warden but I could give it bait to find you. And yes before you say anything It was I who had those people stand in front of the thing so it could feed and stay on path. Boo hoo sad days ANYWAYS.” the cave rumbled and for a moment Raiku worried about the ceiling coming down. “Yes, as boring as it sounds I’m out of options my friend. I will kill you. I may not be as strong as I’d like to be but I have enough to snap that little neck of yours. I know that if someone like you is running around, there’s hope there’s more out there.”

Raiku worked his mouth. His plan, voidsent or lightwarden was to get out of the cave. From the little he’s read on the creatures this must be a high level void creature to be able to speak to him and thrall the smallfolk, which begs the question.

“What would your host provide?”

“I don’t require drinking the blood of babes, if that’s what you’re worried about. My ask is all it is; I want to hide in your body. I won’t leech more than what I need to stay alive from you. You may feel tired at first, but I’ll keep you running. I’ll be your ace until you get me out of this forsaken landscape. Or die. Your choice.”

A full minute passed. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” the voice sounded surprised, excited. “You have to agree. Say the contract.”

It might be best to play along for now, and get Y’shtola to rip the parasite out of him. Maybe he won’t even leave the first at all, and the thing will just be a power boost until Raiku’s end. “I will be your host, you help me, and I’ll let you travel with me out of this world.”

“Who will?” It sang. “Say your name.”

“Raiku Honaku.”

It laughed that dead branch laugh. “Excellent. You’re word is my contract, burned into my skin.” There was a faint sizzling. “Now...open your mouth.”

“Wha-” Raiku’s jaw was forced wide and a choking smog dove down his throat. The darkness fell from the cave, the light blinding and burned his eyes, tears streaking down his dirtied face as he squeezed them shut. When he thought he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the smog was full inside of him. He fell to the floor shaking and sputtering, what little energy he had drained from him rapidly. His eyes fluttered, a haze forming over his mind.

“Don’t worry.” The voice said in his mind. “This part is temporary, I’ll make sure your safe while you sleep. After this, I’ll only come when called, promised by the devil.”

[thewidowsghost]

Chapter 4 - The Sky’s Tsunami

3rd Person POV

"Audio files should be coming through," Skye tells Fitz. (Y/n) was sitting in the passenger seat of the van. "It's not compressed, so it might take a minute."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm getting it. So, uh, uh, when - when you get back, I'll show you my thing. A thing. It's not - I-It's my Hardware. My equipment. Let's . . . hang up."

(Y/n) giggles at Fitz's rambling and Skye smiles to herself.

"That should do it," Skye says, closing her computer.

"Let's head back," May says, going to climb into the van.

There's a noise outside and (Y/n) looks out the window, finding May being thrown into a wall. She goes to get out, but the door slams shut. (Y/n) goes incredibly silent as Mike Peterson and a little boy get into the van.

"Now drive," Mike demands.

"What about her?" the little boy asks pointing to (Y/n).

"Don't try anything," Mike says, and (Y/n) nods, glancing at Skye as the brunette drives away.

A little while later, Skye begins erasing Mike from the internet.

"How do you know this'll work?"

"I've done it before," Skye says, swallowing thickly.

"Look at this place," Ward comments from outside the van to Coulson. "You're willing to risk thousands of lives for a hacker and a SHIELD agent no one's ever heard of a week ago."

"Nobody's nobody Ward," Coulson says calmly. Inside, the man was grinning, guessing what Ward would think when he was disregarding an Avenger. "Fitz-Simmons will come through," Coulson continues, pulling out a bullhorn. "Mr. Peterson, good morning," Coulson's voice comes through the bullhorn, and (Y/n) sighs with relief. "We're not a threat. We're here to help. But you're in danger, and we need to take you in."

"What did you do?!" Mike snarls at (Y/n), who swallows thickly as Mike's skin glows orange.

All of a sudden, the door of the van flies off the side, hitting two officers and Coulson leans back, avoiding the door.

Mike grabs Skye and (Y/n)'s sleeves as well as his son's arm and drags them out of the van.

Mike pulls the three inside.

Skye kicks some guy in the no-no square, saying, "You're right - he is a little bitch!"

"Go! Get him!" one of the guys says and Mike pushes his son back.

"Ace! Get back!" Mike tells his son.

Skye takes Ace's hand and takes him towards a police officer, (Y/n) following to make sure the boy stayed safe.

Coulson hands Ace to a police officer, and Skye backs up as one of them runs towards her.

(Y/n) dodges out of the way of the man's punch and throws one of her own, then doing her sister's signature move, flooring the guy.

Skye's eyes widen as she catches a guy with his gun trained on her. She runs towards a door and tries to force it open. Mike covers Skye, and (Y/n) sprints after the two, sliding through the busted down door.

Mike tightens his hand around Skye's arm and drags her through a glass door.

"You got to stop!" Skye yells at him, pulling her arm out of his grip. "These people can help you!" Skye says, her bangs falling in her eyes.

"The men in suits? They're your buddies now?" Mike asks.

"Where did they take my son?!" Mike yells.

"He's safe!" (Y/n) says, running into the room.

Mike turns on her and (Y/n) grunts as the same man comes up with his gun and tries to shoot Mike and (Y/n) slides between the two. Blood begins flowing from (Y/n)'s shoulder and Mike falls over the edge of the glass as there's another shot from the guy.

May runs into the room, her eyes moving to (Y/n)'s shoulder and the man with the gun.

(Y/n) exchanges a glance with May and jumps over the side of the glass wall. Skye looks wide-eyed as May takes out the guy.

(Y/n) lands on her feet beside Mike and clasps a hand over her right shoulder as she looks at him.

"Come on, Mike," (Y/n) says. "We're trying to help."

"Trying to help!?" Mike says. "You took my son."

"We took him somewhere safe," (Y/n) tells him, her eyes closing for a moment as pain flows through her shoulder.

Mike faces Coulson and (Y/n) moves back to stand beside her father figure.

Coulson sets his gun on the ground.

"Think that means again?" Mike asks, his face glowing orange again. "I know you got men everywhere to put me down. I know how this plays out."

"I don't," Coulson responds, his face calm. "I know you got poison in your system. I know it's burning you up. Mike, the last guy who wore that exploded."

"I'm not like that other guy. I'm -" Mike pauses, glancing around. "It matters who I am - inside if I'm a good person. If I'm strong." (Y/n)'s (E/c) gaze had softened.

"I know you're strong, Mike," (Y/n) says, her hand still pressed to her bleeding shoulder. She takes a step forward, level with Coulson.

"Your boy knows it," Coulson tells him. "He needs you to let us help."

"You took him!" Mike yells, desperation in his voice. "You took my wife, my job, my house. You think this is killing me?!" Mike lifts his arm, showing the Centipede on his arm. "All over, there's people being pushed down, being robbed."

(Y/n) sees Skye and May running up behind her and Coulson out of the corner of her eye.

"One of them tries to stand up, you got to make an example of him," Mike continues, ripping a pillar out of the ground.

"You bring this building down on us, will that help them?" Coulson asks.

"That's a lie! All you do is lie!" Mike yells, swinging the pillar and knocking down the rest of the structure. "You said if we worked hard . . . If we did right . . . We'd have a place. You said it was enough to be a man. But there's better than man. There's gods. And the rest of us . . . What are we? They're giants. We're what they step on."

"I know," Coulson says softly.

"We've seen giants -" (Y/n) adds, stepping forward to stand with Coulson again.

"That privilege cost me . . . nearly everything," Coulson says.

Mike's expression turns sad.

"But the good ones . . ." Coulson spares a glance at (Y/n) at his side. "The real deal - They're not heroes because of what they have that we don't. It's what they do with it."

"You're right, Mike," (Y/n) says, meeting the man's gaze. "It matters who you are."

"I could, you know?" Mike says softly, a look of regret on his face. "Be a hero."

"I'm counting on it," Coulson tells the man.

There's a silent gunshot and Mike falls backward, (Y/n) and Coulson's eyes go wide.

Jemma runs past, her eyes full of tears. She checks on Mike, and a relieved smile spreading across her face.

"Oh thank God," (Y/n) murmurs.

Skye walks away from the two-story white house, a dog barking after her.

Skye sighs, turning to walk beside Coulson, "I told him his father was coming home."

"He will," Coulson says, as he and Skye walk towards LOLA. "We have some experience with this."

"He almost blew," Skye says softly. "We almost died."

"We have some experience with that, too," Coulson admits.

"Don't have it all under wraps?" Skye asks.

"Yeah," Coulson says. "We didn't cut off the head of the Centipede. Whoever sponsored that little experiment is still out there, among other things."

Coulson and Skye get into LOLA.

"It's a brave new world," Skye says. "And a really old car."

"LOLA can keep up," Coulson says. "What about you? Have you thought about the offer?"

"Hitching a ride on the crazy plane?" Skye asks. "I'm not exactly a team player."

"We're not exactly a team," Coulson admits. "But we're in a position to do some good. You'd be a great help. And you'd be front row center at the strangest show on Earth, which is, after all, what you wanted."

"I was able to hack SHIELD from my van," Skye says, raising an eyebrow. "You're gonna show me something new?"

The phone rings.

"Go," Coulson says.

"Sir, we've got an 0-8-4," Ward says. "And someone docking on the top of the plane."

"I know whose docking on the plane," Coulson says. "And is that confirmed?" he asks.

"They want us to go in and confirm it," Ward says.

"What's an 0-8-4?" Skye asks.

"You've got exactly ten minutes to decide if you really want to know," Coulson says, starting the engine of the red car.

"There's no way we can make it to the airfield in -" Skye stops as LOLA rises to the air with a whirring noise. "- ten minutes."

"The tide is rising," Coulson says, a smirk on his face.

Word Count: 1499 words

[willadisastercry]

The part where they pick up the pieces...

tw: discussion of blood, severe breathing difficulties, impalement, loss of conciousness, setting of a bone, needles, near death of a character

Part 2 of everyone gets whumped...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The ride back to the castle was less than ten dobashes, but it felt painfully longer.

Before Green’s paws even touched the hanger her ramp was already setting down to reveal Coran and Allura anxious to board.

Lance struggled to stifle the groan that the rumbling of Green’s jaws opening produced deep in his throat, setting alight a new fire in his shoulder when the jolt of it sent him forward, the metal still deep in his thigh shifting and letting a new spurt of blood well up and add to the small puddle forming underneath him.

Hunk clamped his hands over his ears and took several shakey breaths before he was certain he had pushed most of the bile that had risen up back down, shifting uncomfrotably to cover his eyes in the crook of his arm in anticipation of the inetsense lighting of Green’s hangar.

Keith didn’t fare well upon arrival either. He had been fighting the darkness that slowly clouded his vision as the pressure in his chest mounted, but the sudden landing sent him sprawling and all the spots he was sore and aching seemed to beat with a new fury as his vision wavered against his ragged breaths.

“I’ve got Pidge! Someone needs to grab Keith and Lance—no you’ve done enough buddy, let her help you...” Shiro ordered as he rose to his feet with Pidge still cradled against his chest, some soft cries escaping her mouth when he leaned back and hefted Hunk up as well.

He ushered his apologies while he waited for Hunk to orient himself before letting his grip on his arm go.

“Um... so you’re saying missing a shoulder bone is a common human injury?”

“More like misplaced, but yeah, wait—PLEASE do not touch, oh my god! Just because it’s missing, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, it’s still there Allura...”

Coran knelt beside Keith who had waved off the helping hand at first but the effort of even bringing himself up to his knees sent him into another coughing fit. The world before him spun and the pulse behind his eyes raged harder than ever, muffling everything the altean said to him before he found himself slumping into his embrace, the sound of his chest rattling was harsh and unnerving.

“Oh, my boy... alright, brace yourself,” was all Coran uttered before hefting Keith up and over his shoulder, the movement producing a stiff sigh while his arms shook from where they clutched then hung down limply as his chest contracted.

“Just relax, number four. Relief will come soon.”

They were just leaving Black’s hangar behind when Pidge uttered her first coherent words, she was mumbling for Shiro and then for Matt, her voice hitching and breaking when she called out for her parents. Shiro just shushed her and cradled her tighter into his chest as he tried his best not to break himself while he ran as fast as he could.

Hunk made his way slowly, using the wall heavily while he fought to keep his balance, Allura checking in on him every now and again when he would stumble while she fought Lance.

His good arm slung around Allura and his injured shoulder hanging unnaturally low as he limped along, his injured leg barely able to hold any weight now.

“This is silly Lance!”

He refused to be carried even though his legs shook so badly his balance was nearly as skewed as Hunk’s.

“What could possibly be so silly ab—agh!”

Allura had stepped away from Lance who lilted and was forced to catch himself by putting weight onto bad leg, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out.

“I’m done entertaining this,” the Princess stated before sweeping a grumbling Lance onto her shoulders in a fireman carry.

“Just be glad your travel size,” Hunk sighed wearily.

Coran and Shiro were the first to arrive and activated the sliding doors of the medical facility.

“This bed here, Shiro!”

“Wait, bed? Why not a pod?” Lance asked worriedly.

“I am most disheartened to say that only one pod is adaquately charged at the moment, I’ve redirected the castle’s power to charge a second but the system sustained substantial damaged during the fight... it might be a while before a second is operational,” Coran noted grimly, setting Keith down to sit on the edge of the bed across from the one Shiro was settling Pidge in.

“For now we must assess who truly cannot afford to wait and should it come to it we will conduct the healing process in stages.”

The (semi) walking wounded were just making it into the room when Keith let out a particulary wet hack and wiped the blood that came away off on his sleeve.

“Oh alaran, okay... Allura where are your mice?! We need these suits off now so I can begin my assessment and we don’t have enough hands!”

Coran tossed Shiro a pair of scissors who took over peeling the shredded suit away from Keith’s front, slowly revealing the giant welt that seemed to be his chest and side, all varying degrees of purple and red. His labored breathing made it difficult to work around and slowed the process, so he ended up leaving the more precise work of his shredded back for Coran.

“We must determine who can do without a healing pod for now...”

The mice were doing a swift job of Pidge’s suit while Coran attached wires to her chest and inserted an IV in her arm after getting both arms through a gown. There were dozens of wires now on her small body, a thingy on her finger, a canula around her ears delivering more oxygen though her nose. There also soon dozens on bandages.

The mice picked the large pieces of metal out of her wounds while coran wrapped gauze down her arm and thigh before moving to fully asses her stomach under a dense pile of white already soaked through.

“Pidge first,” Keith rasped as he look across to his teammate, so lifeless and small on the bed. He knew she was physically smaller than the rest of the team, she always had been, but never before had her tiny form scared him like this.

She remained unresponsive and bleeding from way too many places, another puddle quickly forming under her on the bed. Coran was murmuring nonsense about her vitals while preparing a pressure bandage for the largest of the leaking wounds on her stomach. Once it was covered it seemed to stabilize her and made the blaring machines quiet of which Hunk was very thankful for.

“Shiro, wave this scanner over number four’s chest and tell me the extent of the damage. Allura, cut three out of his suit as well, wrap the metal in place with this, use the scanner after. Then scan Hunk’s head, he’s look a tad green, maybe grab a bucket for the lad.”

Allura settled Lance down in a chair next to Hunk who helped himself to an ice pack and tried to keep from passing out or throwing up as he waited, the mice settling themselves on his shoulder and licking his face when his eyes fluttered shut.

Barely any of Lance’s suit survived Allura’s scissors. She cut the entirety of his right sleeve into bits so as to not disturb his shoulder, then rummaged around in the cabinet for a sling. It went on with some protest, but ultimately the stability of it hurt less. 

“So strange how a cold block revlieves pain for humans... seems a bit barbaric to me.”

“It’s not barbaric, it’s heaven,” Lance hissed as she secured the last pack with the altean equivalent of an ace bandage and he shook under the delightfully painful sting of the cold against his throbbing shoulder.

Hunk leaned back in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, somewhat reliving the exhausting spinning he experienced when they were open as another wave of nausea washed over him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his dinner down much longer.

“You’d better stay awake number two, haven’t had a look at that third eye yet,” Coran almost laughed at himself, but somehow he couldn’t as he worked Pidge. 

She was too pale. Too quiet. And while he had managed to somewhat staunch the bleeding for now, he couldn’t remedy what had already been lost. Not with gauze. And not with the pod.

But Keith’s breathing was taking a turn for the worst.

Shiro peeled the last of the top half of Keith’s suit from his arms and asked Allura to help hold him steady while he scanned the already dark expanse of his chest. 

His eyes were glazed and his breathing was very labored now, not much getting in and not much coming out.

There was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth now, the stream almost steady.

The scanner blared red as it passed across the front of his body. Four broken ribs, several others bruised, and a pulmonary contusion. The cuts on his back were superficial mostly, some deep and wide enough to need stitches. But that was all expected.

What wasn’t expected was the bleeding in his abdomen.

His liver. The damage was extensive.

Coran looked over when Shiro relayed that bit, Keith was pale and shaking now, the effects of blood loss ringing true.

He was at Keith’s bed in a second, holding his head up limply so he could secure an oxygen mask on his face, his skin was warm to the touch and his face glistened with sweat. 

He had no idea how the boy was still coherent, let alone sitting up mostly on his own.

Coran began attaching wires all over to track his vitals, ignoring how he winced under the touch, his head remaining in the crook of Shiro’s arm where it had resided after Allura left with the scanner.

The mix 100% oxygen and an altean herb that relaxed distress seemed to bring his levels up and calm him down. It somewhat and soothed the burning in his throat, but he continued to wheeze, the rattle in his chest as present as ever.

“Can you hear me, lad?”

Keith’s eyes lidded and he looked around, searching for Coran who lifted his chin up and shined a light across his eyes. They were sluggish but followed it accordingly.

“Shiro get him on his side. Begin cleaning the wounds on his back and removing all of the debris. Call out his oxygen saturation every few minutes. All we can do is monitor his internal bleeding for now, but if his breathing takes a turn he’s going into a pod immediately and the shrapenl cannot be there if he does.”

He returned to Pidge and flicked through her chart with all of his diognositics on it shaking his head.

“I need Lance scanned, and pricked,” he said after a moment of deliberation, holding up a finger pincher for blood typing.

“Shiro and Hunk I also need you pricked... actually maybe not Hunk just yet.”

“M’ fine,” he protested, barely able to string coherent words together, the mice squeaking in protest.

“Pidge needs a blood transfusion before she goes into a pod, if I put her in now without having stopped the bleeding... she may bleed out in a matter of minutes, and with the rate that Keith is losing blood into his abdominal cavity, he will too.”

“No need to type everyone, I’m compatible with both. Universal donor, baby! Take my beautiful blood,” Lance beamed holding his good arm out.

“We’ll have Shiro typed as well, you can only give so much since you’re also injured.”

“Pshh, take as much as you need.”

Allura rolled down the remnants of his sleeve until it slipped off.

“Hook up his vitals, Princess. Can you start IV fluids and the donation line like I showed you?”

“Yes, I think so...”

“Think so? You are not—OUCH, hey! Well... that wasn’t so bad.”

The princess stifled her laughs as she attached a bag of fluids to the IV she placed in Lance’s hand, then tied a rubber band around his bicep.

“Shiro, can you finish dressing Pidge’s more minor wounds? Pack the gauze on before you tape, and don’t fret about being gentle. I’d like to take a look at Keith’s chest for myself... Princess after you’ve started the first donation can you type number one?”

Everyone uttered in agreement and Coran sighed as he left Pidge to switch with Shiro.

He sat on the side of Keith’s bed and picked up where Shiro had left off on his back, holding together the wider gashes with surgical tape and packing them all with gauze as well. Only a few needed stitching, but he packed them with gauze for now before bandaging.

“I’ve got to take a look at your front, my boy,” Coran noted as he shifted Keith from laying more on his stomach to completely on his side.

His face scrunched up in discomfort when he did.

There was hardly a spot on his front untouched by darkening bruises, each in different stages of purple and red.

He waved his scanner over the darkest spot on his side just as Lance cried out, the results would take a dobash to calibrate.

“Fuck, AGHhh, owh Allura! I—mmph” Lance kicked his feet out to keep literal tears from escaping his eyes, then clutched at his leg when kicking shifted the rather large metal spire still inside of it, and grimaced again when all of his movement agitated his shoulder once more.

“What is going on over there?!”

“I may or may not have bumped into Lance’s mangled shoulder...” Allura said guiltily as she held Lance firmly in his seat while he squirmed, scared that he was going to continue hurting himself or pull out both of the vital needles in his good arm.

“Erm, Coran you might want to take a look at this,” Allura postured once Lance had calmed down enough to let her move the ice pack, he was exhausted both from the pain and the energy it took to thrash given almost an entire pint of of his blood was now in a bag next to him, not to mention what he’d already lost.

Coran left the scanner as it loaded it’s prognosis.

“Shiro, what did you call this strange phenomenon?” Coran asked as he mused over the lack of shoulder bone at the top of his neck.

“His shoulder is dislocated...?”

“That’s to say, the head of the joint is in another location?”

“Yes...?”

“Where then—oh. Oh, dear. How does one go about correcting this? Altean joints are connected by seemingly much stronger tissues and tendons... this is most unusual,” Coran asked nervously as he looked over Lance’s shoulder to his back where the missing bone was protruding from.

“You put it back into place. I’ve seen it done, it’ll hurt but you kind of just pull depending on which way it went out...”

Coran waved the scanner over it and it blared red, corroborating Shiro’s diagnosis.

“Very well, number one, Lance’s shoulder is indeed dis-lo-cated. You said to just... pull?”

Coran asked quizzically as he removed the sling and took up Lance’s arm straight out in front of him.

“HOLD UP—GAH!”

Lance was thrashing once more and cradling his arm now, sweat dripping from his forehead as he panted.

“How was that, number—“

“HOW WAS THAT?! That was awful! It’s also still not back in place and... jeez, is it warm in here or is that just me?”

Coran waved the scanner over Lance’s shoulder once more.

“Hmm, the injured muscles appear to be spasming. It seems the joint cannot be reduced unless the muscles and the patient are relaxed, the scanner advises a muscle relaxer be injected in the area...”

“Will this do, Coran?” Allura was holding a vial and syringe she had just pulled from the cabinet freshly restocked of human medicines and vaccines.

“Yes, princess! This may sting...” Lance had no energy left to protest. He barely even felt the needle going into his shoulder, though he doubted he’d ‘barely’ feel what came next.

His head hung low as he braced himself, a steady, thumping heart beat the only thing he could really hear at that point. He vaguely wondered if he should tell Coran he was seeing stars or not, thinking it wouldn’t matter in a minute anyway.

“Shiro, can you hold the boy steady... yes, like that. Okay, deep breath number three.”

Lance had just began sucking in a huge breath when Coran pulled on his arm and Shiro pushed on his chest, keeping his body still while the tension on his arm slipped the joint of his shoulder back into place with a satisfactory pop!

He couldn’t even feel the pain or relief that came with the reduction of the injury because his head lolled forward to rest on Shiro’s forearm, his hands on his chest the only thing left keeping the exhausted boy upright as consciousness dripped away and he slumped further.

“Lance!”

“Crap,” Shiro exclaimed, pushing his weight back against the chair and holding him there.

“That’s enough blood from you,” Allura said as she stopped the donation.

“All vitals normal except... blood volume, but that’s expected... heart rate elevated, that should return to normal soon... and blood pressure extremely high, yep. Right, so the boy has passed out,” Coran stated as if that fact wasn’t already blatant enough.

“Think we knew that already,” Shiro laughed blandly, Lance’s head still in the crook of his arm.

“Allura, can you start the line for the transfusion on Pidge?”

She nodded as she unhooked the line from Lance and brought the bag of blood still very warm over to Pidge’s bed.

“Can you set Lance up in a bed for me while I check in on Keith?”

“Yes,” Shiro gruffed as he carefully lifted Lance, trying not to jostle either of his injuries.

Keith hadn’t improved when Coran returned, the IV fluids and oxygen only preventing a further decline in his condition.

“This isn’t good my boy,” he mused, flicking through the report and brushing his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch, his face filled with desperation and slick with sweat from his constant efforting to breathe.

Coran let out a rather aggressive sigh.

“I need a 14 gauge needle.”

“14 gauge? But that’s for... “

“Yes, I am afraid the pressure in his lungs is building and if i don’t decompress now his contusion will progress into a tension pneumothorax and cut off oxygen to his brain and—thank you. Keith...”

He reached for the mask on his face and tried to garble out a few words but none of it was coherent through the wheezes that came with them.

“I know, my boy. Relax, you will feel much better in a moment, I’ve got to roll you onto your back now—I apologize for the discomfort.”

Keith groaned at the new orientation and soon his breathing nearly stopped altogether, his body spasming and his face twisting up as it was deprived almost entirely of air.

It wasn’t just the injuries on fire underneath him, the fluid that had built up in his lungs and chest cavity had moved to block what little air he had been managing to make it in.

“I’m sorry,” Coran offered as he pressed on his chest right next to his sternum and just below his collarbone than found the third rib down and stabbed the large needle into the intercostal space between it and the next.

He had taken the inside of the needle out so it was just the tube that was now letting out a high pitched hiss as the pressure in Keith’s lungs dissipated. He heaved gratefully, choking and sputtering on the renwed ability to in bring air, his throat aching dryly and his head buzzing while blood rushed back up to it.

“Vitals stabilizing... oxygen saturation increasing... blood pressure steady... heart rate lowering... blood volume still dangerously low... How’s number three? Keith also needs a transfusion.”

“Lance can’t give anymore, he’s still out,” Shiro said as he rearranged the wires attached to him and took the needle left from the donation out.

“Allura says I’m B negative. What is Keith?”

“He’s AB positive, you’re compatible but I have reservations about the Galra component of his blood... if he were donating I’d be more hesitant, I just don’t have enough expertise in this area to be confident that he won’t react as if you weren’t even compatible...”

“Just-just do it,” Keith croaked almost inaubidly. “Do it so Pidge can go in the pod. I’ll be fine, j-j-just do it.”

“Alright, number four, but you tell us if anything feels wrong, okay? Allura can you prep Pidge for the pod?”

Shiro dragged a chair over to Keith’s bedside and rolled up his sleeve. Coran tied a rubber band around his bicep and started the donation then went to Keith and got him set up for the transfusion. The line coming from Shiro’s arm connected directly to Keith’s, a small monitor tracking how much was being distributed.

Neither boy said much of anything for a while, both staring helplessly as Coran and Allura situated Pidge in a healing pod. It was dimmer than usual and seemed slower to activate, but Pidge hadn’t moved so much as an inch and didn’t seem to mind the wait.

It was only when Lance woke up again that either were aware their eyes had drifted shut. They didn’t remain that way for long though...

LOL didn’t think there’d be a part 3 but here we are, I apologize.

[imagine-loki]

Trust, Chapter 24

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 24 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has.  RATING: M

‘Are you going to agree?’ Darcy asked Loki that evening.

They were chilling on his balcony, having some wine and eating cheese while star watching. Loki had told her about Odin’s proposal of him marrying the Princess of Vanaheim.

‘I am going to take time to think about it. It would help to clear my name in these realms, show that I am not the monster they all think. And I do want to make amends… I mean, realistically I couldn’t stay on Midgard forever, could I?’ He said softly.

‘I don’t see why not?’ Darcy shrugged.

Loki chuckled. ‘You are with Blake now, but the dating phase won’t last forever. Eventually you will want to live with him, get your own life going. Perhaps I need to do the same.’

Darcy felt like her heart was breaking. Like she was losing her best friend…

But Loki had already felt like he was losing his best friend. Since Blake came along, naturally Darcy didn’t spend quite as much time with Loki. Although it was still a lot, he didn’t have all of her attention anymore. It made him realise that he needed to perhaps find his own partner.

He was a fool if he thought their friendship could last forever in the way it had up until now. Just the two of them against the world.

‘But you’re not going to be rid of me so easily if I do accept. I will still be working with The Avengers, so will be visiting frequently.’ He winked at her.

‘You better! I won’t cope on my own dealing with that lot.’ Darcy smiled.

‘You have Blake on your side now, too.’ Loki said.

‘Yeah… But he’s not as good with pranks as you are. And I can’t take the piss out of him as easy, either.’ She grinned.

Loki laughed. ‘Save it all for me, then.’

-

The following day Loki took Darcy out for a ride into the hills. She still couldn’t ride a horse, but just held on while her horse followed Loki’s.

‘I don’t know why you’re always reluctant to come here, Loks. This place is incredible.’ Darcy said as they saw all the views of Asgard.

‘It is. But as you know, it’s more Odin I don’t like to see.’ He hummed.

‘Couldn’t you push him off the Bifrost, then?’

Loki threw his head back with laughter. ‘Careful, Darcy. Heimdall might hear and tell on you. Then you’ll be in trouble for treason.’ He grinned.

Darcy shrugged. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t let that happen to me. You’d miss me far too much.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him, making him laugh again.

On the way back, Loki purposely had his horse gallop off just to see Darcy struggling to stay on the horse as it followed his, it made him laugh far too much as she bounced around on the saddle, clinging on for dear life.

‘I will get you back for this someday!’ She warned him.

When they got back, there was a guard waiting to take the horses that she had met a few times now, called Birger.

‘Thanks, Birger.’ She said as he took her horse for her.

‘You’re welcome, Miss Lewis. There is a cheese platter waiting for you in your chambers, like you requested.’ He grinned knowingly.

‘Ah ace, thanks!’

Loki nodded to Birger when he took his horse too.

‘Birger is lovely. You should give him a pay rise.’ Darcy said to Loki on the way inside.

Loki chuckled. ‘I will take note and be sure to tell mother.’

-

That evening, Darcy and Loki joined Frigga, Odin, Thor and Jane for a feast with some other Asgardians. Including Sif and the warriors three.

Darcy wore a beautiful dress, since it was a special occasion. She did her hair up nicely, too.

Frigga noticed the way Loki’s breathing hitched slightly when she walked into the room. Also the way he pulled her chair out for her and rarely removed his eyes from her… It was the same as last time they were visiting.

But she had a feeling that Loki was more aware he was doing it this time… Which just broke her heart more at the fact that Darcy was dating someone else, and Loki was thinking about Odin’s suggestion of the Vanaheim Princess.

[meterokinesis]

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,032

Fandom: Batfamily, DC Comics

Characters: Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Tam Fox, OFC, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Fasir Nasser

Pairings: Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Chose not to use archive warnings

Tags: Canon divergence, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Pit Madness, Evil!Tim Drake, Blood and Gore, Psychological Trauma, Survivor’s guilt, Unreliable narrator, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Post-Battle of the Cowl, Bruce is dead, Tim is not having a good time right now

Summary: When Tim Drake leaves to find Bruce, he doesn’t expect to get stabbed. He doesn’t expect to die. And he certainly doesn’t expect to be resurrected. However, the Tim who goes into the Lazarus Pit is not the same Tim who comes out. This Tim is ruthless and unguarded in a way he never was before. And when Ra's starts to take him under his wing... well, what's a disgraced Robin to do?

Author’s Note: This work is part of the Batfam Big Bang! (@batfam-big-bang) I couldn't have done this without my lovely betas, @bisexualoftheblade, @crystalinastar, and @houser-of-stories. There's also some amazing art for this fic that I’ll be posting soon!

Read it on AO3

The desert night was cool, with a breeze that shifted the sand beneath Tim’s feet like waves. The stars gleamed overhead, and for a second he was caught up in how clear the sky was. It had been years since he’d seen stars without a haze of light pollution around them.

Owens and Z were in front of him, his babysitters for the night. Pru was off to his left, fiddling with the safety on her gun. The ride here had been as light-hearted as was possible, given the circumstances, but that jovial tone had ended quickly. Their off-roader had died on them maybe half an hour before, and the small group was still huddled around the machine, waiting as Z checked the engine. Every few seconds, Pru glared at Tim, as if blaming him for the hold up. Though the others had made it very clear that this was a fool’s errand, Tim knew that Bruce was here, somewhere. He had to be, or Tim had thrown everything away for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? Tim might be the world’s greatest detective, now that Bruce was… out of commission. But his hunches could still be wrong. What if- no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would bring Bruce back, he had to.

“Hey, Drake, are you done brooding yet?” Pru’s voice echoed over the empty land. Tim huffed noncommittally and looked up to see the bald assassin twirling her gun on her finger.

“I’m a Bat. We’re never done brooding,” he quipped, before fiddling with the little radio receiver he had brought along. It didn’t do more than give off static when it was on, but having something to do with his hands helped.

Rolling her eyes, Pru gestured over to a precariously balanced pile of rocks. “Wanna see if I can hit the top one off without knocking over the others?”

Tim sighed heavily and dragged himself over to her, Owens trailing behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he even saw Z peek out from behind the hood to watch.

Squaring off, Pru brought up her gun and fired off a shot. To no one’s surprise, the top rock went flying and the others remained still, albeit with a slight wobble.

“Fuck yeah! Z, did you see…” She trailed off, her face blanching. Tim followed suit, only to be greeted with Z on the ground, chest bleeding in a way his medical training told him was too much. His brown eyes were already glassy, and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. It was then that the rest of the image came into focus, and Tim’s eyes finally latched onto the cloaked man holding two bloody swords.

“I am the Widower,” the man said, his voice low and bone-chilling. “And here I was, thinking you’d put up a fight.”

Tim drew his bo staff, eyes tracking Pru and Owens as they rushed toward the Widower, guns at the ready. He had barely taken a step, but they were already on the ground, Pru bleeding from a large gash in her neck and Owens trying in vain to keep pressure on the wound in between his ribs.

Quick--what were his weaknesses? No visible limps or injuries, no issues handling the weapons. He moved like a snake through grass, smooth and precise. The Widower’s blades gleamed in the moonlight, and Pru’s blood dripped onto the sand. Tim lashed out with his staff, catching one of the swords right as it flew toward his throat.

“I guess dead birdies tell no tales,” Widower whispered as he drove the second sword, the one Tim had forgotten about, into Tim’s stomach.

The vigilante staggered back, and fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. The blade slid out and even through the gloves of his suit, Tim could feel his blood, warm and sticky. Was this how he was going to die? Mission incomplete, estranged from his family, bleeding out into the desert sand? He had never assumed he would survive in this job, but he’d at least thought he’d die as Robin. Oh god, he was never going to be Robin again.

The ground rushed up to greet him, sand in his mouth and eyes and hair. He supposed that it didn’t matter--it’s not like corpses care anyway. With his last ounces of strength, he rolled onto his back. Somewhere, some last shred of knowledge told him that this would keep him from bleeding out, but deep down he knew it was too late. Tim just wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw.

As darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, his mind drifted back to Bruce. This was it. The only father figure he’d ever had, or at least the only one who liked him as he was, would be doomed to never return. And it was all Tim’s fault.

The afterlife was dark. And cold. Tim had never been religious, aside from that year of Hebrew school his parents insisted he take in middle school, but even he knew that this wasn’t right. It took a second, but the cold and dark sharpened into something Tim knew well, his kitchen at home. Well, at Drake Manor.

The marble countertops gleamed, as did the floors, and Tim recalled tiptoeing around in his early childhood, so not to dirty them. The kitchen--really, the whole house--had always felt like a mausoleum. Cold, impersonable. Lonely. In some ways, a lot like Tim.

He drifted through the house, looking pointedly away from the family portrait that hung above the fireplace. It had been painted a few months before his mom was killed, right after he became Robin. They all looked so stiff, like actors playing a family in a movie. Actually, actors would probably do a better job than they did. That portrait had been the first thing Tim had put in storage when his dad died.

The curtains were drawn, letting in the gray sunlight Gotham was so well-known for. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lawn, except… not. Gravestones dotted the otherwise pristine lawn, some new and some old and worn. He hesitated at the door, fingertips just brushing the doorknob. He was dead, it wasn’t like he could get hurt. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory that he had to deal with before he could move on. He pushed against the door, anticipating the old hitch in the hinges that had been around for years.

The air held the same chill as the house, pulling at Tim’s breath. Front and center, practically in the doorway, was Bruce’s grave, the one they’d buried him in just over a month ago. But now the death date was scratched out, in its place a sticker like the ones Tim used to put on his skateboard. It read: Eternally Damned To Disappointment. It’d sound like the name of a band Tim might’ve listened to, if he didn’t know that the disappointment was in him.

The next grave was older, cracked and crumbly. The ground in front of it was disturbed, and dried blood streaks marked the bottom of the headstone. Here lies Jason Todd. Well, that didn’t last long. And unlike Jason, Tim knew he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t that lucky.

Next was Steph, or at least the grave she pretended to fill. It was covered in flowers, some of them bouquets Tim had left himself. Tim had spent hours in front of it, telling her how much he missed her and loved her, praying for the first and last times. When she came back… well, they were more distant than he would’ve liked. That wasn’t Steph’s fault, at least not entirely, but it did make him wonder. What if he never took back the mantle? Would this have been easier? He could’ve been a semi-normal teenager, living with his dad and stepmom, mourning his girlfriend and being blissfully unaware of the shitshow that was heroism. But he wouldn’t have been happy.

And speak of the devil, there’s his parents’ graves, right next to each other. It was almost funny how they were closer in death than in life. A boomerang was lodged in his father’s gravestone, with an old flip phone opened at the base. It listed Tim’s number as the last call. His mother’s had a sticky substance that a voice deep inside Tim told him not to touch. He lingered at these graves for a moment, breath caught in his throat. It’s not that he didn’t miss his parents--he did. But he had only known a piece of them, only just deeper than surface level. They weren’t parents as much as guardians with high expectations. And for the most part, he had met or exceeded every goal they gave him. But it never was enough. There was always another class to ace or language to learn or party to schmooze at. Worst of all, they were cold. If Tim was the chill night air, his parents were Antarctica.

The next grave stopped him in his tracks. Bart. One of his best friends, his ally in all things. Gone, but not in the way Bruce or Steph were. Bart wasn’t coming back. There would be no more Hawaiian pizza and donuts shared over a comic book, or sleepovers on the floor of Mount Justice. No more Wendy the Werewolf Stalker Marathons. There was no more Bart, and it stung in a way that Tim didn’t have a name for.

He turned around, expecting that to be the end of it, but there it was. Conner. All at once, the weight of the world fell on Tim’s shoulders, like his own personal Kryptonite. His best friend, someone he had been more than a little in love with once upon a time. He knew Conner was safe now, alive and saving people once again. Without Tim. Conner’s death had been the one that broke him, more than any of the others. Because if Conner Kent, Superboy and heartbreaker extraordinaire, hadn’t made it, what chance did Tim have? Well, obviously not much. How was Conner going to take this? He wasn’t like Tim, this was the first time he’d be alone.

Aren’t you tired of losing the ones you love? Aren’t you tired of being the one left behind? A quiet voice murmured in the back of his skull.

Yes. No. Yes. A sob tore from Tim’s chest, and his hand flew to his mouth. This was so stupid. He had dealt with loss before. Hell, the past year had been one unending funeral. Of course he was tired, who wouldn’t be?

This had to be Hell, but that felt like even more of a betrayal. Even Jason had made it to Heaven. Was this his punishment for toeing the line? Had he not suffered enough? Biting back another sob, Tim ran blindly toward the door, slamming it shut behind him in a way that would’ve made his mother shriek. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room anymore, but the Batcave. Even with his eyes full of tears, he would know it anywhere. And there was Dick in the Batsuit. And the demon in his Robin gear. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dick looked up, expression weary.

“Tim, I already told you. Bruce isn’t coming back. I’m Batman now, and that means I get to choose the Robin. It’s about time you accept that.” It sure sounded like Dick. “Besides, it’s not like you were doing a great job anyway. You let Batman be killed on the job.” Damian sneered, leaning against Dick’s chair like a bully in a high school rom com.

“That-That’s not my fault!” Tim cried, heart pounding in his ears.

“Look, there’s an heir and a spare. There’s a new Robin now, you can be whatever you’re calling yourself now. Go do whatever you have to on this suicide mission, but leave Gotham out of it.”

Damian smiled like a demonic cherub. “Yes, Drake. Not even Grayson wants you anymore, if he ever did.”

Tim stood in shocked silence, unable to find words. Sure, Dick was focused on Damian, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care anymore. After all, they were brothers, right?

He’s taken the only thing you had left. Don’t you want revenge? He took your mantle, you should take it back. The voice sounded like Tim, but contorted--like it would on a recording.

Tim--no, not Tim, something else--reached back for the bo staff. As his hand gripped the metal, something flew toward him, hitting him directly in the stomach where he had been stabbed. It clattered to the floor, and through his pain, Tim realized it was a Batarang.

Don’t you want more, Timothy Drake-Wayne? It coaxed.

Yes.

The new Timothy Drake-Wayne took his first breaths in a cave deep in the Iraqi desert, hundreds of miles away from the house and the graves that had haunted his dream. It was cold here, nearly as cold as that dream had been. If he was in Hell, it would be hotter, wouldn’t it?

Tim swallowed hard and pushed himself up. His stomach, where he was pretty sure he had just been stabbed, was free of wounds or scarring. If anything, he felt stronger than he had before. As his feet touched the stone cold floor, he took note of the ninjas scattered around the room. Okay, so he was back at the League. They must have… The prior strength he had felt disappeared as his legs gave out. Normally he would have rolled or caught himself or something, but his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a glowing green pit resided.

Oh, no.

No weapons, outnumbered, barely able to stand. The disadvantages stacked up before his eyes, screaming that there was no hope of him getting out of this one. Not to mention that he was probably already on his way to insanity. Fuck, the last time he’d seen Jason, the former Robin had almost killed him. Would Tim end up like that, homicidal and cruel?

He struggled to his feet, clutching the stone table for support. He could take out two, maybe three, if he just stopped thinking. He was trained for this, he could--

“Hello there, Detective,” a cold voice purred, quiet but deafening in the silent room. A chill hovered under Tim’s skin. It had been a long time since he’d last heard that voice. Detective? Isn’t that what he calls your mentor? There was the voice again, the only remaining fragment of the dream.

Ra’s al Ghul was one of those people who intimidated you just by existing in the same space. He reminded Tim of every strict teacher and cruel board member and snotty dinner party guest all rolled up into one. Oh, and he was the leader of the world’s largest assassin guild. That was important too.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Timothy?” Ra’s said in the same tone.

The teenager opened his mouth, then closed it again, searching for words. “No,” he managed to force out. “No, I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

Ra’s smiled, like a predator that had just gone for the killing blow. “Well, I suppose that you will have more than enough time to complete your quest during your stay with us.” And just like that, he turned, a group of ninjas peeling off to escort him back to whatever pit of Hell he’d crawled from. “If you need anything, ask for the White Ghost. Welcome to the Cradle, Detective.” And just like that, he was gone.

Tim was only alone with his thoughts for a minute before a tall man with alabaster skin and medieval-style chainmail entered the cavern.

Okay, so this was the White Ghost impersonator. The League wouldn’t kill someone they’d just resurrected, so maybe once he was alone he could escape? Go back to Gotham and see Dick and Sebastian and Zoanne one last time before he truly went insane, then start going to that therapist Dick recommended. He could make it through this, he wouldn’t end up like Jason--

And then in walked Tam Fox, looking terrified but for the most part unharmed. And all of Tim’s plans came crashing down.

Tam was a civilian, and a Wayne Enterprises employee to boot. Her life, and his identity, were in danger now. He was both her only savior and her greatest danger. New plan: listen to this knockoff White Ghost, do whatever it takes to gain their trust, then make it out with Tam at the first possible chance. And do it all without going off the deep end.

Easy. Not.

“I am the White Ghost,” the shitty cosplayer said, his chainmail clinking as he moved.

“Isn’t he dead?” Tim murmured under his breath. He’d definitely seen Dusan die. But if Tim was still alive, then maybe…

“There has always been a White Ghost,” the older man responded, as if that answered anything. “Now, it is time you and your guest retired to your quarters.”

Tam looked over at Tim, big brown eyes wide with fear. He nodded once, tried to conjure a press conference smile, and allowed them to be led to lavish bedchambers. They looked like beautiful, windowless prisons.

The next few weeks blended into their own lethal monotony. Tam stayed in her room all day and Tim went to meetings with various members of the League’s regime. It was a little like working at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises, just with more murder. A lot more murder. But the meetings were easy enough, and Tim soon found himself getting to know the people he once despised. He didn’t like them by any means, but he wasn’t terrified anymore.

He kept looking for Bruce. The desert gave no answers.

Tam didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push too hard. She had to know everyone’s identities by now, didn’t she? Tim was just one Robin-shaped piece of the puzzle. Here he was, in the desert, yet another failed Robin. His whole tenure, he’d been trying to live up to Jason Todd, and now in a sick way he had. Wearing Jason’s uniform, having been resurrected the same way, he now dreaded catching up to the boy who had once been his hero.

On nights when he cried silently into the silk sheets, trying to forget the way Jason had looked when he first came back to Gotham, the voice soothed: You can be greater than he ever was. You can outshine all of the others. You will be remembered when they are dust.

The desert was cold. There was no comfort here.

His bedchamber was nice enough. There was a large bed with silk sheets and gold accents and an ensuite bathroom. A large mirror took up the space where a window might have once been, like some sort of philosophical conundrum that Tim was too tired to try to unpack. There was a small passageway between his room and Tam’s, and if Tim was just a little more naive he would have believed that the League forgot about it when they placed him in this room. But he knew better. The League never forgot a thing.

Sometimes Tim caught himself in the mirror and for a second he swore his blue eyes looked green. Tam came in the next morning to glass littering the floor and cuts covering Tim’s hands. She said nothing while she helped him wrap up his knuckles.

Tim had always been adaptable. It’s easier than the constant push and shove of rebellion. When his parents told him to take those classes and join these clubs, he did. When he was instructed to give impromptu speeches at galas, he did. He put in the effort, he always had. He was never the best fighter and never would be, but he was smart and quick and brave. That had to mean something, right?

Maybe that’s why Ra’s al Ghul liked him so much.

The first time Ra’s al Ghul asked for a private meeting with Tim, the ground seemed to tilt under him. The well-trained vigilante tried not to show the fear in his eyes as his vision blurred and his heart thundered in his chest. But he went, because one did not say no to the Demon’s Head.

“Detective,” Ra’s began as he sat down at a large, stately desk that seemed out of place in the rest of the Cradle. The voices--he had taken to calling them whispers--that had been clogging Tim’s thoughts preened at the nickname, ignoring its former bearer.

“Tell me what you know about my grandson,” the assassin drawled, his fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically.

“Don’t you have spies for that?” Tim responded, not quite a retort but not an innocent question either. He’d seen enough of the League’s intel that it was clear how much they truly knew about the world outside the Cradle.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from someone… familiar with him. My eyes can only do so much from afar.”

Tim had no doubt that Ra’s knew everything about Damian: from the route he took to school to the cereal he ate for breakfast to how many times he pet Titus when he got home from school.

“He’s a brat.” Tim’s chagrin even took him by surprise, like it wasn’t really him talking. “He’s rude and inconsistent and incredibly immature. He’s aggressive and undisciplined. A sorry excuse for a Robin.”

And there it was, the green monster of jealousy rearing its head again. Yes, Damian had taken Robin from him unfairly, and yes, he was all of those things. But why did Ra’s care?

“I see. Would you describe him as a leader?”

“No. If anything, he’s a bully and a mama’s boy. Leaders need to be able to listen to others.” Where was he getting this? Damian was a kid, he could learn. He still had time.

“Interesting.” Ra’s rose from his chair and paced the edge of the room. Tim refused to look back and follow his movements. That would be a show of weakness, a drop of blood in a shark tank. “Detective, what do you have in Gotham? What do you have there that keeps you from dedicating yourself to your cause?”

Nothing.

Tim stifled a gasp as he thought of the instant response. Dick and Damian didn’t need him. Stephanie hadn’t called in months, even before Bruce died. Jason had tried to kill him, last they’d spoken. The Teen Titans were getting along just fine without him. Truthfully, the whispers were right. There was nothing left for him in Gotham. If there was, he would have stayed.

“Nothing.” The anymore went unsaid.

“Then I may have a proposal for you.” Ra’s eyes glowed a dangerous green. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach, as the last few vestiges of him that hadn’t sided with the voices screamed at him to just escape.

“Oh?” Tim responded, mouth bone-dry.

“Stay.”

And Tim’s world crumpled.

“Learn under my agents. Train to become better than you are. Continue your quest with my resources behind you. All you have to do is stay and work for me,” Ra’s smiled like a hunter who had just shot big game.

This was a terrible idea. Tim didn’t kill people, he refused. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them. But he couldn’t deny that feeling like he belonged again was incredibly enticing.

Tim opened his mouth, but Ra’s cut him off. “Your friend will not be harmed. I won’t even think about putting you on an assignment until you’re up to par with my best ninjas. I will not make this offer again.”

The voice that responded was not Tim’s own.

“Yes.”

Tim thought that six months of training with Bruce was brutal. Ha hadn’t known brutal until now.

His first day of training, he showed up in his Red Robin suit, now patched and reinforced where he had been stabbed.

The tall ninja that seemed to be in charge scoffed, then sent him away. Not fifteen minutes later, a tailor descended on Tim’s quarters with a tape measure and a face made of solid stone.

“Can’t have you looking like a target, all in red. What was Batman thinking?”

Maybe he wants them to be targets, Tim and the whispers thought in tandem. He balked at the thought, but the tailor’s firm hands kept him in place. What was he doing? Bruce had loved him, did love him. He had taken care of Tim when no one else would. Bile crawled through the back of Tim’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The tailor finished her measurements and scanned Tim up and down.

“It will have to be black, of course. Reinforced joints, kevlar, the whole nine yards,” she stated in a lilting accent. “Maybe some green accents, dark ones. Classy. Half-mask, no more cowls or dominos.”

Red, yellow, and black were his colors and had been for years. A tribute to a boy he loved and lost then loved some more. But Conner was back now. And Tim was tired of mourning, especially when no one was dead. Well, except him.

“Green,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore, not really. And he could always wear the suit again. This wasn’t a finale, just a hiatus.

She nodded once and then swept away, leaving a teenager clutching the last thing he had of his old life. Tim folded the suit, the way Alfred had always chastised him for, and gingerly placed it in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon.

The next day, a precisely wrapped package sat outside Tim’s door bearing no signature. He knew exactly what it was.

Upon peeling back the paper, he saw the full glory of the new suit. It was midnight black, with dark green stitches that were beautiful up close, but would be near-invisible from far away. It looked like a cross between the ninjas’ garb and body armor--sleek and sure of itself. A hood was attached to the back of the neck, with the green stitching spelling out something Tim couldn’t discern. A half-mask with built in air filters covered the rest of the face. As he patted the suit down, he felt where all the separate compartments were for weapons and utilities. It reminded him a little of the costumes from high-tech spy movies.

Sitting on the floor with his new suit in his lap, Tim added another item to the long lists of debts he owed Ra’s al Ghul.

His first real day of training, Tim was beaten so badly he could hardly drag himself to his room.

It wasn’t that they had intended to hurt him, but he had gone almost a month without training. Bruises laced up his cheekbone like their own little domino mask, a little memento of times gone by. His joints screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his bed. At least he hadn’t broken any bones. Or been stabbed. Or died.

Tim only had a few minutes to contemplate the stuntman funniest fails video that was his life when a gentle knock came from the door.

“Come in,” he groaned, flopping over onto his side so he could see his company. His mother would have scolded him for not standing up to greet a guest, but she didn’t have much sway from six feet under.

A girl with olive-tan skin and a brunette bun stepped into the threshold, her smile the gentlest thing he’d seen in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Aminta. I figured you could use some help with your wounds.” Her voice was lower than he expected, but pretty nonetheless. A dark, untraceable accent threaded through her words.

He peered up at her, frowning.

“Is this a hazing thing? Am I being hazed?”

She chuckled, then sat on the ottoman at the edge of his bed.

“Not hazing. The new recruits tend to help each other through the first few months. Safety in numbers and all that. I thought you might want some assistance.”

“So, you’re all friends?” That didn’t sound right.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, “not exactly. Friends is too... common. We are assassins, but we have honor. When we need to, we take care of our own.”

Ah, so he was one of them now. For some indescribable reason, that didn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought it would.

You have no friends. You never did. Just those who you will rule and those who you will crush, the whispers added.

Tim smiled, the shy grin he used when he wanted teachers and Wayne Enterprises board members to underestimate him.

“Thank you, Aminta. I’d appreciate that. My name is Tim.”

She winked at him, clearly a joke.

“Believe me, I know.”

The League had a mole.

Or at least, they were going to. Tim had known enough corrupt businessmen in his time in Gotham’s upper echelon that he was well versed in the signs of someone double-dipping. At first it was little things: missing pieces of inventory, strange new guard shifts, incorrect mission intel. By the time it escalated to money being skimmed off the top of jobs, Ra’s was furious.

When he called Tim in for a meeting, something that was becoming increasingly normal these days, Tim was expecting fiery rage. Instead, there was steel-sharp cunning. It was a little like looking in a funhouse mirror.

“Detective, it appears that we have a liability in our ranks,” Ra’s began, his fingertips caressing a blade. “I assume you’ve read the data I sent to your quarters, and I’d like your thoughts.”

Tim cleared his throat. He had spent the night before reading the reports, putting together the pieces. If this was a test, it was a wicked one.

“The incidents began shortly after the attacks by the Widower. It’s a piece of misdirection intended to frame either Pru or I as a mole. However, neither of us has any reason for betrayal. Pru is, and has always been, loyal to the League. And you are well aware that I have nothing left for me in Gotham, nor would I be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught.” His voice was smooth, the prince of Gotham giving yet another speech.

“There is someone who has means, motive, and opportunity. After reading your files, it is incredibly clear. He has a family of his own that he is loyal to, and during my resurrection, he was not in the Cradle. His computer prowess would allow him to mess with the system in a way few others could. It would have been a very clean job, if he had spread it out over months or years instead of a few weeks.”

Ra’s stroked his goatee.

“You mean the Expediter.”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Ra’s rose from the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve established the perpetrator, it is time to establish the punishment.”

Ah, so here was the test. Ra’s wanted to see how ruthless Tim could be. It was a very good thing that Tim never failed an exam.

“Kill him. It will send a message to our other agents and whoever he worked for that we are not to be trifled with.” Tim’s hands shook, but his voice was full of conviction. He had always been a good actor, but it wasn’t clear how much was truth now.

“And his daughters?”

“Bring them to the Cradle. They’re young enough that they likely won’t remember him, and we’ll be able to shape their childhood. Perhaps one will become just as intelligent as her father, and wiser as well.” The whispers hissed wordlessly in disappointment, but it was worth it. Tim refused to order the execution of a child, no matter how loud the shrieking in his skull became.

There was a beat of dead silence, then Ra’s nodded sagely.

“Wise choice, Detective. I’ll put those orders into effect at once.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming as his dagger had. “I’m looking forward to the rest of our partnership.”

Oh, how the whispers laughed.

Life in the Cradle was, well, nice. Tim was training harder than he ever had, under much more strenuous conditions, yet he felt better than he ever had. He was stronger, for one thing, but for the first time since he’d discovered Batman and Robin’s identities, he was able to rest. He didn’t need to be up until dawn chasing people across rooftops or finishing reports or writing an essay for English class because he’d been too busy on patrol. Even in a den of killers, Tim felt almost safe.

That said, he refused to let his guard down. He’d sat in on meetings with the inner circle of the Cradle for months now, trying to use his famous brain for something important. Which for his purposes, meant destroying the League as best as possible.

That was the only reason he’d stayed, or at least that’s what he told himself during nights where he twisted and turned trying to justify his choices. He’d exploit the League’s generosity to train himself and find Bruce, then take it down. Bruce would have to be proud of him after that, they all would. Maybe he’d even be Robin again.

He’d already taken out the Expediter, Ra’s’ guy in the chair. The guy confessed to the mistake of having a family and trying to work for the League at the same time. Good thing Tim didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

This is good, but it is not enough. You crave more. Do not be a coward, take it.

Now Tim was the techie for an international assassin guild, which would look moderately impressive on a college resume. Maybe it could count as an internship. Ra’s seemed like the guy who would make a relatively okay reference when Harvard came calling.

It always felt strange when he had lunch with Ra’s. It was eerily similar to the fancy lunches his mom used to drag him to, or the etiquette classes he was forced to take where he learned how to properly use a melon baller. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to be killed for using a melon baller wrong then. Now, he knew that any wrong move could result in death.

Not his own death, of course. There was no point in Ra’s bringing back Tim, just to kill him again. Tam, however, was expendable. And that made the marrow in Tim’s bones shiver.

This particular lunch was more focused on memory lane than shop talk.

“So, Detective, tell me: what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Tim swallowed hard around his tea sandwich, his throat suddenly painfully dry.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a clown. Not a great career path in Gotham,” he began, attempting to keep his voice light. Ra’s looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, I wanted to be a photographer. Then, my father said I would be a CEO or I’d be disowned, so I wanted to be a CEO. I could always do photography on the side, you know?

“And then I became Robin.” He let the weight of that sentence sink over the pair.

“So? What happened after that?”

Tim resisted the urge to stare at his sandwich, instead choosing to meet Ra’s’ bright green eyes.

“Then, I stopped thinking I would grow up.” There it was, the thing everyone had been trying to pry out of him for years.

“I mean, Dick barely made it out. Jason died, came back, went crazy, and now murders people for shits and giggles. Stephanie died, but only kinda. Damian’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide. In the wild, robins live for a year, maybe two if they’re lucky. I don’t think anyone realized how similar we all are to those stupid birds.” Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, but he didn’t need to cry. All that pain was gone now, replaced by something else. He couldn’t name it, but it kept all the sadness away.

Tim had been sad for his whole life. It was a relief when the roiling ocean inside him froze over. Numbness was an improvement.

Ra’s leaned across the table, his face barely a foot from Tim’s.

“You know, Detective, you remind me of myself. Not when I was young, of course, but when I had just begun to build my empire. All your life you have been told to quiet down and listen instead of speaking. You’re a fine leader because of it. You adapt when others are stubborn. You make plans while they push through without a second thought. You are a snake lying in wait, anticipating the right time to strike. I admire that.”

The air hung in silence as Ra’s stared directly into Tim’s soul.

“You know,” Ra’s finally said, “I think you could be truly great one day.”

Tim barely breathed as he nodded his thanks. When Ra’s finally leaned away, his first breath felt like the first gasp of air from a drowning victim.

“Before our lunch concludes, and I do so enjoy our lunches, I have a query for you.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary, Ra’s liked to give him riddles to keep him on his toes. “Some of our ninjas, though I will not say who, have gone rogue. A year or so ago, they got themselves caught up in some nasty business. My current intel places them here, in this compound, where they’re using innocents as collateral, should they not get what they request.”

“What do they want?”

“My head on a platter.” Ra’s’ smile was bloodchilling. “Oh, Detective? I feel it’s important to note: international news stations are currently reporting you and Ms. Fox as having been kidnapped by these rogues. Any advice on how to fix that?”

So this was the second test. Another chance to prove his loyalty. Let Ra’s’ enemies go free, or kill them and forfeit his old life for good in return.

“I assume extraction is not possible?”

“I’m afraid that those deserters are incredibly well trained. The special units from any nation’s army wouldn’t even make it into the compound. My ninjas could make it in, but there’s no way they could take out the traitors and save the civilians.”

Tim nodded, pretending to contemplate. He already knew his answer.

“Bomb the compound, kill everyone inside. It’s better to cut off the rot now than give it the chance to spread.”

Ra’s did not smile, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

“My thoughts exactly, Detective.”

And just like that, the death warrant was signed.

Tam was waiting in his chambers when Tim got home from a long day of training, his body littered in bruises and cuts that would sting tomorrow. Her crossed arms functioned as a hug, like she was the only thing keeping herself together.

“Tim,” she whispered when he came into view, the word like a prayer.

He glided across the room wordlessly, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I managed to get someone to sneak me a newspaper. Th-They think we’re dead, Tim,” she said into his shoulder, words slightly muffled by the fabric.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, the way he used to comfort Cass after a particularly long day. Tim didn’t respond, and instead let her tears soak into his shirt.

Good. Now you have the element of surprise.

The Council of Spiders had a worthy namesake, as they were just as quick and deadly as any arachnid. Somehow they had crept past the League’s defenses, disabling the ninjas that got in their way. True to form, the assassins’ deaths were just as silent as they were--shadows fading out as dusk began to form.

Tim was preparing for another day of strategy and mind games when Aminta burst into the room.

“The Spiders are here. They managed to sneak in--no one knows how. You’re needed,” she gasped, as if she’d ran a marathon to deliver this message. Judging from her state of disarray, maybe she had.

“Tam?”

“I’ll protect her. Go!”

Tim didn’t have time to question these motives or worry about much more than tugging on his cowl and pulling out his bo staff. He sprinted out the door and into the madness, moving in a dangerous dance with the assassins he had trained alongside for the past few months. The League was good, great even. But with the element of surprise, the Spiders were better.

He couldn’t afford to think about what could happen if they lost. Failure was not an option, not anymore.

A shadow glided toward one of the empty hallways and away from the rest of the frenzy, a sword glinting in its hand. Something that had dug its claws deep in Tim’s bones pulled him toward the figure, urging him to follow. To finish the job.

If others saw red when enraged, Tim saw green.

The figure purposefully stalked toward the large office Tim had started to spend increasing amounts of time in. The footsteps were near-silent, but in his mind they echoed almost deafeningly loud.

The shadow had to know he was there. It had to. Tim was good, but a few months of training could never rival lifetimes.

The shadow glanced over its shoulder, a feline-esque smile on its face. It said something, probably a witty yet scathing remark, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of whispers in Tim’s mind.

Do it.

Finish the job.

Show them who you are, who you can be.

Prove yourself.

You are not a bird, you are not a bat.

You are a demon, and you do not know weakness.

Not a Robin, not Red.

You are Green, Green, Green.

Become who you were always destined to be, Detective.

Tim struck out with his bo staff, right into the shadow’s skull. It faltered, just for a millisecond, and that creature that was both Tim and not lashed out, quicker than it had any right to be. A dagger in his hand, sharpened to a razor-thin edge. He did not remember doing that. That same dagger, buried into deep tan flesh.

Then he was across the room, bones aching from being thrown into the stone wall. If he was still human, still able to rein in whatever was drowning out his senses, he would know to expect pain tomorrow. But he didn’t, and all he felt was the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

And he was up again, throwing himself at the shadow with the conviction of a greek hero who knew that this fight would be his last. A fist full of rings connected with his cheek, and he could feel the skin tear beneath the metal. Maybe it would even scar.

The shadow leaned heavily to one side, though whether it was from the stab placed between its ribs or a prior injury, Tim didn’t know. It lurched toward him, and he stabbed it again, this time twisting the dagger until he felt the give of a lung. The shadow was down now, and deep down Tim knew that he never should have beaten it, never should have landed a single blow. In a logical world, Tim would have lost ten times over. But in a logical world, Tim would have been dead for the past six months.

As if time was in slow motion but he was at normal speed, Tim glided through the seconds, pushing pressure points with the tip of his blade. The shadow’s sword lay across the hall, too far out of reach for retaliation. This wasn’t torture, but it was revenge--for pain and sacrifice and nights spent clawing at his own skin, wishing it still felt like his. Payback for months of sins he never would have committed, for the green that clouded his vision. But most of all, it was a promise.

After minutes that held years of heartwrenching pain, Tim delivered the killing blow, straight under the shadow’s chin and into its brain. He was covered in blood, tacky and rust-toned, but where a past Tim--a lesser Tim--would have balked or vomited at the sight, this Tim stood, cleaned off his blade, and hefted the cooling corpse onto his shoulder.

They can try to revive it with the Lazarus Pit. You cannot allow that to happen. You cannot fail, the whispers urged, but he no longer needed them. They were him and he was them. Green in every breath and thought.

Tim escaped into the desert and finished the job, just as he had always been taught to do. Ra’s would have been proud. Bruce would have been proud.

That night, after the Spiders had been exterminated and the mess cleaned up, Tim sat at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. The ninjas had looked at him with what could be called pride when he staggered back into the fray, his face bruised and bloody and sporting a wound on his thigh. His silky clothes brushed past the injuries every few seconds, but he couldn’t muster the energy to wince, even though he knew he should.

Tam had managed to hide during the clash, and Aminta had kept her promise. Tim liked people who followed through.

After being given the all clear, he stumbled back to his room to wash out his wounds and scrub the smell of smoke off his skin.

He had only just changed into his silky clothes when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for a response, the White Ghost was in Tim’s room, staring down at the teenager with an unnameable expression on his face.

“Timothy Drake,” the man said by way of greeting.

Tim glanced at him and blinked owlishly, but did not respond.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

This gripped Tim’s attention, and he finally made eye contact with the assassin, his brow creasing in concern.

“You’re going to revive him, right? He told me that you have more Lazarus Pits near here, he can use one of those. How did he die?” A million scenarios raced through Tim’s head, films of the death of the Demon.

“They burned him on a pyre and left him in his study. No trace of cause of death, and we can’t revive him. Any DNA has been destroyed.”

Tim stared blankly, processing. The Demon’s Head, the invincible Ra’s al Ghul, was dead. Gone forever.

“Ra’s made plans, should he die,” the White Ghost continued. “Those plans include a new leader of the League of Shadows. And that leader is you.”

Tim sputtered, “What? You can’t be serious. I’m seventeen years old. Why not you? Or Talia or Nyssa? Or Damian?”

“I do not make light of these things. He said you, so it is you. I am the White ghost. He had not contacted his daughters in years, and his grandson is too unpredictable to be suited to the position. You are the Demon’s Head, Timothy Drake.”

Tim stared back numbly. He was the Demon’s Head. The Cradle was his, these assassins were his, the world was his. He wanted power, and now it had fallen into his lap. The White Ghost kneeled before him and bowed his head. “I will serve you, Timothy Drake, in whatever way you see fit. I will be your eyes and ears and hands. I will obey you and carry out your orders. I pledge my allegiance to you, and only to you.” Satisfied with his vow, he rose to his full height.

Tim swallowed hard, then looked back up. “I accept your vow and thank you for your loyalty.” Then, “When… When will the rest know?”

“Tomorrow, at noon. I thought it might be best for everyone to rest, and for you to know first. We can discuss further details tomorrow morning, but for now, know who you are.”

Tim nodded stiffly and pushed himself to his feet, straightening his spine the way his mother had taught him to. He had been raised to become a prince of Gotham, one of the pretty boys that graced magazine covers and made headlines at charity events. Now, he was a king of assassins, an emperor of the underworld. If only she could see him now. Maybe she’d even be proud of him, for once.

“Thank you, White Ghost. We will speak again tomorrow. Should there be any issues during the night, I would like for you to inform me immediately.” He may be clad in silk pyjamas, but there was leadership in every fiber of his being. The whispers hissed in agreement.

“Fadir Nasser. My name is Fadir Nasser. Long live the Demon’s Head,” the White Ghost--Fadir--said as he left the room, the last remark stinging with a hint of a joke.

The door locked shut behind him, and Tim flopped backward onto the bed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze fell to the closet, where his suit was stuffed in the corner, smelling of smoke and burning flesh and the irony tang of blood. The whispers quickly supplied a description of the events, but Tim could picture them clear as day--carrying Ra’s to the desert, building and lighting a pyre, then bringing the body back and placing it in Ra’s’ study for someone to find. It was incredibly simple, almost too simple for no one to have done before. But Tim was Green, Greener than anyone had ever been before. And no one would ever know.

He’d need to invest in a new suit befitting his new role, maybe bring back some green accents. He no longer needed to mourn Conner. He no longer needed to mourn at all. He was the Demon’s Head, and he would never die.

The whispers laughed cruelly, like the audience of a poorly-written tragedy.

The transition of power wasn’t smooth, but it was quick. Assassins weren’t particularly known for their loyalty, and Fadir made it clear that any dissenters wouldn’t even make it to the door. They only had to clean blood off the stone floors once before that lesson sunk in.

As far as coups go, it was pretty successful. The whispers had quieted, just a little. Tim could sometimes make it hours without the hissing in the back of his mind, reminding him that he couldn’t rest. With power comes paranoia, and Tim was intimately familiar with both.

Now to rid himself of liabilities.

It had been a particularly lucid day, and Tim’s near-silent footsteps were the only hint of noise in the hallway. Tam had been given the option to move her room closer to his, but had refused. He didn’t blame her, it was hard being the civilian favorite of the assassin king. Tim knew this well.

Tim knocked on the wooden door, two quick raps. Somewhere deep in his memory, he wondered if this would have been his life, had everything been different; maybe he’d be knocking on Tam’s door before picking her up for a date. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on the shy smile Tam thought was his true one, and waited for her. Shuffling on the other side of the door, then a creak as it swung open. Tim glided in, and Tam looked at him with those big brown eyes, her expression tainted with a touch of fear. He didn’t remember her ever being afraid of him before.

“Do you want to go home?” Tim asked. No preamble, just his soft question in the quiet room.

Tam didn’t even think about it first.

“Yes.”

Tim nodded, then drew out a one-way ticket to Archie Goodwin International Airport, leaving tomorrow night. He held it out to her, that soft smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.

Tam tentatively took it, but kept looking at him. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not a prisoner. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you leave earlier, I just wanted to make sure the League was stable first. My intention was always to get you home.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Tam pulled him into a hug, and for a second it felt so nice it almost hurt. Then it was over, and he could be comfortably numb again.

“Aminta will be coming with you, just to make sure you get home safe. Once you’re with your family, you won’t have to see any of my… agents ever again.”

Tam nodded, her face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying. He turned to leave and give her privacy, then paused.

“Tam? Thank you. For being my friend.”

Then the king of shadows disappeared into the night, yet again.

Tim frowned at the wall, a small comms unit tucked in his ear. He hadn’t moved from this room in a day, not since Tam and Aminta left.

“Okay, Aminta, I need you to keep close. You said that it’s just Batman and Robin? No Batgirl?”

“Just Batman and Robin. They haven’t spotted me yet. Robin’s really fallen behind since leaving us.”

Tim growled under his breath and carded a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. Who did Ra’s go to for haircuts? Did he just do it himself?

Focus.

The facts were these: Tam had been contacted by Batman and Robin immediately after Lucius Fox gave word that she was home safe. Tim had been expecting this, and Aminta was sent to follow Tam and ensure that the interaction went favorably. Which is to say that no one killed Tam because of what she knew. Aminta was currently hidden on the same rooftop as Gotham’s favorite heroes, listening in on their rendez-vous.

“What’s happening? Report.”

“She’s telling them--why don’t I just play their conversation? I have the capability.”

“Do it.”

A crackling came over Tim’s comm unit for a few brief seconds before it shifted to three familiar voices.

“It’s okay, Tam. Just tell us everything. From the beginning.” That was Dick. He sounded the exact same way he had when Tim left, tired and a little pained. Serves him right. “Yeah, okay,” there was Tam’s voice, slightly higher pitched than normal. “So my dad sent me to find out where Tim Drake was. And I managed to track him down to Iraq. So I’m in my hotel room one night, and I wake up to someone putting a cloth on my nose. Then everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was in this cold stone room. Then this albino guy tells me to stand up and we walk into this big hallway and there’s Tim. And he’s all sweaty and looks super freaked out. Then they brought us to these bedrooms and told us that we’d be staying a while.”

“Why would they take you?” A third voice asked, the snobby tone immediately registering as Damian. The brat.

“I’m not sure. Maybe my search for Tim sent up some flags? No one ever told me.” Her voice cracked a little, and maybe once upon a time, Tim would have felt sorry for her. Not anymore.

“It’s okay, Tam. After you moved into the Cradle, what happened?”

“Tim spent a lot of time training or with Ra’s. He couldn’t tell me much, but apparently Ra’s took a liking to him. One of the inner circle guys turned out to be a traitor, so Tim took his job. I didn’t see him a lot.”

“Who was the traitor?” Damian again, with a hint of anger in his voice. Or was that fear?

“Some computer guy. The Executioner or something.”

“The Expeditor?” It was definitely fear in Damian’s voice. He sounded like a child when he was scared.

“Yeah, him. I just hung around for the most part. They had books. They gave me makeup and nail polish when I asked for it. I was bored, but never threatened.” Tim snorted. Tam knew more than anyone that just because she didn’t have a knife to her neck didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger every moment of the day.

Dick cleared his throat, then spoke again, “Why did Ra’s let you leave?”

Tam went quiet, just for a second.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

A beat of silence. Tim would have paid millions to watch them right now.

“How?” Damian, his voice filled with fear, and maybe a little pain.

“I-I don’t know. There was an attack by the Council of Spiders. Tim had them lock me in my room with a guard. Some of the girls I talked to said that Ra’s was burned afterward so they couldn’t revive him. No one knew until the day after.” Tam’s voice was shaking now.

“Then where’s Tim?” Dick asked, finally caring about his younger brother after all this time. What a joke.

Tam stuttered a few times, but eventually got the words out. “Tim… Tim’s the new leader. Ra’s named him his heir before he died.”

A hiss sounded over the comms. That had to be Damian.

“Thank you, Tam. I appreciate you answering our questions. You know where to find us if you remember anything else.”

Some shuffling obscured any new words, then Aminta’s voice appeared. “They’re leaving, do you want me to follow them?”

“Yes,” Tim responded, massaging his temples. The whispers were getting louder now, to a point where it was impossible to understand any one message. It was hard when they got like this, harder than when they teamed up. At least then he didn’t feel like a helpless teacher in a rowdy classroom.

Maybe a minute ticked by before Aminta was back. “They just went a few rooftops away. Robin’s clutching Batman’s cape and crying, but it’s like angry crying. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand it. Batman’s rubbing his back, but he looks miserable too. Less angry, more sad.”

“That’ll be all, Aminta, thank you. You can return home tomorrow,” Tim sighed. “Our dear friend Tam has done us a favor, so we should be ready for the consequences.”

“What favor? Telling them everything?”

“Not everything. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

“What advantage could we possibly have, other than knowing that they know?”

“Tam didn’t tell them about my little swim.”

Somewhere, there was a universe where Timothy Drake-Wayne woke up on the morning of his 18th birthday and put on a suit, ready for a day of meetings at whatever company he was interning for before he started college. Maybe he had a party with his family or a date that night. This is what Tim thought about as he busied himself getting ready. He had never been one for birthdays. Jack and Janet were rarely home, and even when they were in Gotham, they had better things to do than celebrate a child. He didn’t blame them. Before he came to the Cradle, he wasn’t worth celebrating.

The ornate mirror in his bathroom showcased his attire: a loose-fitting white shirt, tailored brown silk pants, and a dark green cape that almost resembled snakeskin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he left them. They made the blue stand out. Here was the heir Ra’s had craved so badly. The old Tim would have made a joke about how he looked like a dark prince from a young adult novel, but not anymore. He was the Demon’s Head now. No, not just its head. He was its hands and heart as well. Tim Drake was a demon through and through.

His guests had landed in Iraq the day before, and he had it on good authority that he could expect them that evening.

Tim drifted around the room, preparing for the meeting as one would prepare for battle. His fingertips lingered on the rings he had inherited from his predecessor, and with a deliberate movement he chose the signet ring Ra’s used to wear. He slipped it on and smiled to himself, a snake poised to strike.

Carefully, he patted his wrists, hips, and ankles to ensure his knives were still there. He had always favored batarangs, but he was no longer a bat or a bird. He had left them behind, just as they had left him.

The White Ghost was waiting at his door, ready to escort him to his study. As they walked, Tim absentmindedly ran his thumb over his knuckles. The whispers hissed inaudibly in his ear, wailing for attention.

“Has the room been secured?” He asked, face neutral.

“Yes. I have placed ninjas along the walls and at every access point. Any familiar with the al Ghul child have been sent on missions abroad, though they remain loyal to you.”

“They leave here alive. If they attempt to attack, I want them subdued but not killed.”

“That’s not wise. It will be seen as a show of weakne-”

“Do you think I am weak?” Tim’s voice was as ice cold as he felt.

“No, of course not,” Fadir backpedaled. “But how can you justify it?”

“By the time I’m done, there will be no need to kill them. This is just a courtesy call, a reminder that my prior allegiances are no longer viable.”

Tim swept into the study, his back straight and his jaw square just the way he had always been taught. From birth, he had been raised to be a prince of Gotham, one of the many pretty boys in suits who graced Forbes covers before they could legally drink. He had been bred for greatness, and he achieved it in his own way. Here, no one would ever best him. He was finally free.

Soon you will have everything. All you have to do is make one order.

Tim’s hands shook slightly, but he tightened his grip on his fountain pen as he sat down. The day was full of reports, requests for missions, and invoices. He had been doing most of this paperwork anyway when he was just a lackey, so it wasn’t an inconvenience. It was methodical in its ruthlessness. $750k for a political assassination in France, 40% taken for the League, the rest wired to a private bank account in the Cayman Islands. $25k to kill a cheating spouse in South Africa, the same 40%, and this time headed for a Swiss bank account. A request for a league member to “take care of” an abuser, which Tim set aside. An invoice for new training blades, as the older ones had been dulled. A new Lazarus Pit that was discovered in Iceland.

The sun began to sink outside of his window, and Tim collected himself, drawing the last shards of who he used to be away from the surface. That Tim was dead and gone, and in his place was someone who was finally worthy. If the old Tim was a bleeding heart, this Tim was the knife that stabbed it.

Fadir knocked on the large oak door to signal that their guests had arrived. Tim pushed himself out from behind the desk, pulled back his shoulders, and stalked out of the room, refusing to look back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t show any weakness--it was that he wasn’t weak at all. Not anymore.

Tim walked down the now-familiar hallways, the whispers humming in happiness as others averted their eyes respectfully as he passed by. Aminta stood at the left hand of the large stone throne in the formal hall, and dipped her head in greeting when he approached. Tim took his place on the throne, relaxing into the smooth stone. Fadir took the right-hand side, his hand on his sword’s pommel at all times.

Ninjas lined the walls, all ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Most had been training for decades, long before Tim was even a thought. And now they served him. One lone ninja entered the room, first bowing to Tim and then scurrying up to the throne.

“They have arrived, sir.”

Tim grinned darkly.

“Bring them in.”

Dick looked older than he had eight months ago. His cowl was pulled up to hide his face, but Tim could see it in the set of his jaw. For a man in his late twenties, Dick looked positively weary.

Serves him right.

Damian was stiff, both an heir and a stranger in a child’s body. He glanced at the ninjas placed around the edge of the room, as if searching for a familiar face. He wouldn’t find one.

Tim did not smile when the man he had once considered his brother approached.

“Hello Dick. Damian.” His voice was colder than he ever thought it could be. “You can remove your masks, everyone here knows who you are.” Or they did now.

Dick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled off the cowl. Damian followed suit with a grumble, peeling off his domino.

Satisfied, Tim smoothed a neutral expression onto his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, the words pleasant but the tone as sharp as a blade.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Dick burst out without preamble. It was a shame that he couldn’t exchange pleasantries, even after all of Alfred’s lessons.

“Not exactly. I was in Paris for a bit, caught up with some old friends.” An old friend, one who probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. None of them had.

You are powerful because you are alone. Others would betray you. You can trust no one. The whispers chimed in, though they were merely repeating what he already knew to be true.

Damian hissed his displeasure, which earned him an evil look from Dick. Look, he’d already been replaced.

“Tim,” Dick began in a gentle voice, the one he used for scared kids. “Come home. We can figure this out. We’ll get you help, maybe even try that therapist I told you about. Or we can shop around, it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I miss my little brother.”

How pathetic.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood. This is a business meeting, not an intervention,” Tim hummed, examining his fingernails. The cold steel of the knives tucked in his sleeves was a delicious reminder of who he was, who he had always been destined to become.

“In that case, I believe some clarification is in order. Following the death of Ra’s al Ghul, I became the head of the League of Shadows, a position I am very proud of. I will not be returning to Gotham, unless it is for League business, and I will certainly never fight at your side again.

“In truth, Dick, I have not thought about you or your brat once since coming to stay at the League. I understand that our previous relationship may have led you to believe that I would be a naive fool forever, but that is not the case. I have found meaning now more than you could ever dream of achieving.

“Here is my proposition: I will cease training of any assassins younger than age sixteen immediately. I am also currently updating how the League accepts jobs to minimize the amount of innocent casualties. I will waive all rights to Wayne Enterprises, though anything Bruce willed to me will remain mine. In exchange, you leave me and my assassins alone. You will not contact me unless seeking my services. You can keep your Robin, but he lost his birthright a year ago. These are my conditions, and they are non-negotiable.”

The chatty Dick Grayson was speechless. Instead, it was Damian who spoke.

“You stole my birthright.” For a child, he sounded downright murderous.

Tim smiled. “And you stole mine. I believe that makes us even.”

The child nodded, then drew his sword. Along the walls, ninjas drew theirs as well.

“Damian, no!” Dick hissed, glaring at his brother-ward. “Tim, you can’t be serious. We’re family. This is insane!”

Tim’s expression did not display the glee that bubbled in his chest.

“We were family. But you know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He dismissed Dick’s other accusations with a wave of his hand. “I have given you my terms. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Until then, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. You should leave.”

Green pulled at the corners of his vision as the whispers shrieked, begging him to go ahead and kill them. He couldn’t, of course, that would just invite more prying eyes to the League. But he could think about it, and that was enough.

Dick and Damian were almost at the doors when Dick stopped and turned to face Tim, his posture teenagerishly defiant.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he spat, as if Dick Grayson had ever truly known Timothy Drake.

Instead, Tim smiled. “I’m the Demon. And you should leave before I make you see Hell.”

A second later, they were gone. Watching them go felt like getting an injection--the pinch lasted for a second, but afterward there was no pain at all.

Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon, the whispers howled as Tim’s blood sang, welcome to your kingdom come.

His hands had always been cold. Ariana used to comment on it all the time--how his touch was borderline freezing. At the time, it had been a running joke: Tim Drake, the boy made of snow, with eyes made of ice and snow-pale skin. It seemed now that even in the heat of the desert, his heart had frozen too.

Nighttime was comfortable in the desert, at least for someone accustomed to Gotham’s climate. Still, the breeze that danced across Tim’s skin left goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t remember when he’d come out here, let alone what for. He barely even noticed how he gripped the banister of the balcony until his knuckles went stark white.

A little prickle of emotion prodded at his subconscious, but he couldn’t identify it even if he wanted to. There was no room for feelings anymore, if there had ever been. If anything, feelings had gotten him into more messes than out of them.

He had become a vigilante because he felt that Batman needed a Robin. He worshiped the ground Bruce walked on because he felt like Bruce saw him as a son. He broke the rules for Stephanie because he felt as if she could love him. He wanted to be with Conner because he felt that someone finally saw him for who he was. He rejected power time and time again because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

But feelings meant nothing. All that truly mattered was knowledge and wanting. And Tim knew more than ever. And he wanted it all.

Once, he had considered them his family. They had loved him, maybe, but they had never known him. He used to believe in a future spent fighting by their side, but he knew that was a child’s dream now--the same child who believed that he wouldn’t live to see twenty-one. Tim had no such concerns now.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the League was his new family, nor did he need one. But they would not underestimate him or take him for granted. Here, he had respect and power, and that was enough.

The lights of the nearest city glimmered far on the horizon, promising happiness and gaiety somewhere in the night. He smiled, a secret only for him.

One day, you will rule it all, the whispers promised. One day, you will be king. And you will destroy any who stand in your way.

Long live the Demon.

[deermi]

Wonderwall | Part 4

Summary: He was a genius. He had absolutely everything. Money, fame, attention of all the celebrities, sports cars that everybody wanted, countless villas, and much more. The life every single person wanted to live. But all he needed was you.

Genre: Angst (I guess)

Warnings: Alcohol use

AU: Fashion CEO

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong x Reader

Word count: 3k~

Author’s note: Ah, I have so wany wips that I don’t know which ones to post. Anyways, “Wonderwall” will most probaby have 6/7 parts and an epilogue. I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for reading it!

We had spent the dinner rather quietly - eating, drinking, exchanging a few sentences from time to time. The waiters had been ogling our pair almost without any shame as we had sat at the table. I don’t know whether it had been because they had known who the man with neon green hair is, or because we had been acting so strangely around each other. Perhaps both reasons were correct. The atmosphere between us hadn’t been awkward nor stiff in the restaurant. It had been filled with some kind of tension, but I couldn’t have quite put my finger on it.

Now we were back in his car, heading to a destination that remained unknown for me. But I didn’t want to ask feeling like it would’ve been just another question of mine he’d ignore. It was so quiet inside the vehicle, the only sounds coming from the streets as we strolled around the city, that I had a feeling like the beating of my heart was as loud as a drum put next to Mr Kwon’s ear.

“You’re not going to ask where we’re going?” 

I turned my head around with my brows furrowed at his sudden question. My boss had one of his hands on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the door of the car while his eyes were concentrated on the road ahead of us. 

“I didn’t feel like it.” I answered bluntly, trying not show any interest in our destination

He glanced at me with the corner of his eye before focusing back on the traffic. There must’ve been a visible spark of unquenchable curiosity he had noticed because in a few seconds I heard his voice once more.

“We’re going to my place.” Mr Kwon nonchalantly moved his hair out of his eyes with his free hand

I bit on my tongue before blurting out the ‘what for’ that had almost slipped out of my lips. Instead I just nodded at his words and started to stare at the city lights out of the window back again. We strolled down, the dim brightness coming from the street lamps shining through the windows, making everything inside the vehicle appear yellowish. There were almost no people outside, making the night even quieter than I had previously thought it is. No usual honking of the cars, no roaring of engines, no sound coming from the radio.

That scene surrounding me was calming. Or at least should’ve been like that. However, with the knot of anxiety tightening inside my stomach, I wasn’t able to focus on the soothing silence.

It was madness. Pure madness. All the things that had happened since that damned photoshoot. Modeling, asking for my opinion, giving me a lift, and that dinner we just had. And telling me to call him Jiyong was on top of the peak. I had never heard of a boss asking one of his employees to call them by their first name. It was just another level of intimacy I would’ve never even thought of reaching. Moreover, it was completely unprofessional, especially that he insisted I did it at our workplace as well. It was just the first step to cause the rumors both among the workers and the world of celebrities. Although, it seemed to me that Mr Kwon either didn’t care about that, or simply wanted to cause them. What for? More fame? Recognition? I already had that. So maybe for himself? To make himself feel better by having someone close?

And then it hit me. The sudden realisation made me snap out of the transe I had been in for those few minutes of our ride.

I had never seen Mr Kwon with a friend, a colleague, or even talking to anybody who could’ve been one of them on the phone. Not mentioning a partner. All I could think of when I thought of him was hard work and absolute focus on it. He had his goals and always gave his all to reach them. And he actually did everytime - with his genius mind and determination he was almost destined to be successful. But what if behind this cold facade of strong will, was just a lonely soul which desperately needed comfort in the shape of another person’s warmth? What if he finally had enough of always being alone? Of being expected to be the genius who created ‘Peaceminusone’?

The heavy thoughts inside my head were suddenly interrupted by Mr Kwon stopping the car in front of a tall building. He turned off the engine and got out of the vehicle without sparing me a glance. I unbuckled my seatbelt hurriedly, fidgeting with the strap, ready to follow him. When it snapped roughly against the seat I reached out to grab the door handle, but it quickly flew out of my reach once Mr Kwon opened the door. I looked up and noticed that he was staring at me with his eyebrows raised.

Without a word he outstretched his hand for me to take, just like he had done it before in front of the restaurant. Once more I placed my palm on his and let him pull me out of the car.

While he was closing the door behind me, my eyes flew up to the sky. Mr Kwon had parked the car in front of a tall skyscraper. The windows of the building glistened as city lights reflected in them making it look like it was made out of black shiny crystal. My breath hitched in my throat at the sight. I felt so small facing the enormous structure, but the view was so beautiful and so overwhelming at the same time, I couldn’t help it.

It was weird how a simple skyscraper made me feel like that. Actually the stifling part of it was the thought that it was the place, or more probably one of the places, my boss lived in. And he was taking me inside with him - completely crossing the line drawn between the company’s boss and their employee once more.

We entered the building with his hand on the small of my back. The heels I was wearing were loudly tapping on the marble floor, completely breaking the silence inside the lobby. The man standing behind the reception desk bowed without a word at the sight of me and Mr Kwon entering. My boss led me to the elevator, without sparing a glance to the guy, and pressed the button. I felt the eyes of the receptionist burning holes in my back as we patiently waited. With the ring the door in front of us opened revealing the lightened inside of the elevator. Once we were alone within the four walls and the curious stare of the man was cut off, I let out a quiet sigh of relief while Mr Kwon was busy pressing the button at the very top of a long row of them.

Again any of us didn’t say a word letting the silence fill the space between us. I didn’t move, didn’t even dare to look at the mirror next to me, afraid that my reflection would reveal how stressed I actually was. And after what felt like eternity the door opened revealing the place my boss wanted me to see.

The enormous penthouse in front of my eyes almost literally shone with luxury. The glass chandelier above hanged above our heads making the light reflect in the stone floor as we stepped inside the living room, which was probably the size of my whole apartment, or even bigger. Everything inside just screamed ‘expensive’ - the leather sofa, the black television set, the huge window wall through which you could see the city lights shine below your feet. And above all, every single piece of furniture, every square meter of that space, reminded me of Mr Kwon. It was just his place. His place that I was invading despite the fact that he had invited me here. I felt like I just didn’t belong there.

“What wine do you prefer?” 

I turned my head around to see my boss taking off his tuxedo jacket in one swift move before walking up to a glass cabinet full of different types of alcohol and opening it. 

“Um…” I took a glance at the numerous bottles, not sure what to say, since there was surely a huge variety available “White. Semi sweet.”

Without any answer Mr Kwon just grabbed one of the wines along with two glasses. He walked up to a coffee table in front of the leather sofa and placed everything on the surface. Swiftly he opened the bottle and began to pour the clear liquid into the tumblers. 

In the meantime I came closer to the window. The view in front of me was absolutely breathtaking. Seeing the whole city shine beautifully during the night and having it almost literally at my feet was one of the most picturesque sights I had ever seen in my life.

When Mr Kwon finished pouring the wine, he approached me with a glass in each hand and handed out one of them. The smell of sweet alcohol reached me before my fingers wrapped around the fragile crystal. He gently bumped his tumbler into mine, making the sound of clattering echo inside the room.

I took a sip of the drink feeling the slightly bitter flavour on my tongue. The taste was much different from the taste of the wine you could get in any supermarket, making me wonder how much was this alcohol actually worth.

With the glass still against my lips I turned around to look at the night sky again.

“Do you like it?” Mr Kwon asked me

“The view?” I glanced at him with the corner of my eye and saw him giving me a single nod before sipping on the wine “Yes. I actually like it a lot.”

“Do you want it every day?” his another question hanged in the air for a few seconds as I started to process his words “Do you want to be able to see it every day?”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a small voice, afraid of what might come next

“I can buy you an apartment like this one.” he answered nonchalantly like it was something completely normal

I immediately shook my head abruptly trying to get that idea out of his head “Thank you, Jiyong. But I really can’t ac-“

“Or you can stay here with me.”

I almost choked on the wine.

“W-what?”

In response he shrugged with his eyes focused on the view in front of us and said “You’ll do whatever you want. It’s your decision.”

For a few seconds none of us said anything, as his words echoed in my head.

“Just say a word and you’ll get anything you want.” he added

I took a shaky breath trying to ignore my heart beating loudly against my ribcage. I took another sip of the wine hoping the alcohol would give me either more courage, or help me relax.

“Okay.” I whispered quickly with the glass pressed against my lips

We were just looking out of the window, absorbing the night view in front of us with the bitter taste on both of our tongues. I desperately drank up the liquid looking for some kind of relief in it. Mr Kwon, without any warning, took the glass from my hands and walked up to where the bottle was standing to refill it along with his. While he was busy pouring the drink I took a few hesitant steps toward the sofa standing in the middle of the room. My boss’ eyes followed me as I plopped down on the leather seat, feeling the material of the black dress I was wearing fold against the skin of my legs. 

If Mr Kwon had had something against my actions, he hadn’t spoken a it out loud, but I was slowly starting to get used to the thought that I was allowed to do almost everything here.

 I didn’t know wether it was the alcohol that made me feel slightly dizzy, or the atmosphere between me and Mr Kwon. Yet I felt somehow weightless - the boundaries that had previously stopped me from doing what I wanted around my boss began to disappear.

He sat down next to me, resting his arm on the back of the couch and handed me the wine. His eyes carefully scanned my frame as I took the glass from his hands and drained out the whole liquid from inside.

Did I want to get drunk? Maybe. But I for sure wanted to feel even lighter, even more immune to anything that was happening around me for the past few days. It was all so bizzare and almost completely inimaginable. Still, it was the reality that I had to live in. I wanted to make it easier, less stressful, or I wanted to give myself more courage to bear with it. And I wanted to do it as fast as possible. 

“Can I have more?” I asked quietly, looking Mr Kwon in the eyes for the first time in forever

He stared at me with his obsidian dark orbs for a moment before grabbing the bottle and pouring the liquid into my glass until the very last drop. Once more I pressed the tumbler against my lips and let more alcohol run through my veins.

My visit to this place was just the beginning and I was fully aware of that. How could I handle more? What could come next?

I wasn’t afraid of Mr Kwon - yes, he was cold for most of the time, but the realisation that had hit me during our ride was helping me understand his actions at least to some extent. Were I his remedy? Were I the warmth he lacked? Or maybe something different? A person others would describe as a muse, an inspiration?

“What are you thinking about?” Jiyong’s quiet voice pierced through my thoughts, making me look at him as I let my head fall down on the back of the seat behind me

“Nothing important.” I whispered not trusting my voice enough to speak louder

My eyelids felt heavier than before, the alcohol finally rushing to my head. I closed my eyes and started to take slow, deep breaths, the silence in the room calming me down. Mr Kwon slowly took out the empty glass from my hands and I heard him placing it on the table along with his. I felt his burning gaze on my face as everything went quiet once more.

“You’re beautiful.” the subtle touch of his fingers slowly caressing my cheek made me look at him, immediately locking my eyes with his dark ones “So beautiful.”

And before I could even realise, Jiyong’s lips gently touched mine. I had to proceed what was happening because it felt so unreal. The breath caught in my throat at his actions as I looked straight ahead dumbfoundedly, feeling stonecold sober for a few seconds. I couldn’t push him away - I didn’t know wether I even wanted to do that. So I let my eyelids fall down as I kissed him back slowly without any emotions. There was nothing in the kiss - it was empty. No love, no passion, not even lust. No anything. Just lips moving against lips, skin against skin.

His mouth pressed more firmly on mine when he felt me kissing him back. He moved his hand that had previously been caressing the skin of my cheek to my waist. Jiyong tilted his head to deepen the kiss and swiftly swiped his tongue against mine. 

My body felt numb, head empty, no thoughts. I let the alcohol in my veins work for me.

His grip on my waist got stronger and he moved me to sit on his lap without disconnecting our lips. The dress rode up my thighs, revealing more skin of my legs, as I straddled him with my palms pressed on his shoulders to steady myself. I let his tongue explore my mouth making the bitterness of wine strengthen on my lips. Jiyong’s kisses were desperate, firm. His skilled mouth worked against mine making me feel dizzy not from the emotions coming from it, but the alcohol taking control over my body.

He pulled mt flush against his chest making me grip the soft material of his white shirt. He pressed another open mouthed kiss to my lips before pulling away, lacking air as much as I did. His forehead was pressed against mine, while his hand rose up from my waist and moved the loose hair away from my face.

“Stay for the night.” Jiyong’s voice was soft yet firm

I could’ve said no. But for some reason I didn’t. Perhaps because of the boost of confidence the wine had given me. Or maybe because some part of me wanted to be what would fix him, make him feel better.

“Okay.”

[huntsman-ash]

RWBY V8E5 LiveThoughts

And now for the last episode before the HUGE break they’re taking. Seriously, February? Damn, whats going on at RT?

It matters not. Lets see what this weeks episode has for us.

And here we see Aminety Colloseum, the place that Atlas SHOULD have weaponized the moment it rolled its way back here. Seriously look at it; floating free away from everything else...you could mount missile launchers and laser batteries and CIWS batteries on it, launch fighters from it, let dropships deploy through its base...a floating aircraft carrier of unprecidented size.

Or maybe turn it into a weapon...use its drive system to focus Dust energy into some kind of gravitational force...thats just me though.

Missed oppertunites...ah well.

You CAN see its been adjusted though, it looks less like the sports arena from its last apperance and more like a floating coms hub, with those dishes on the outside and the huge spire.

Intersetingly if you look in the upper right corner the moon is there but almost completely covered by the storm Salem summoned. Interesting.

Wait why is PEITRO out there? With like...no supports? Seems kinda dangerous to send the weak old dude out there...

...thats a bomb. A Dust bomb in pipe bomb style form but thats very much a bomb.  Yes, Penny, danger indeed.

Atmospheric orbit. Ahhh that must be the low-level orbit path that they need to ensure it doesnt loose power. The part where you coast along with almost no drag.  Like what the X-15 hit in our world, and punched through at least once.

WAIT WHAT THE HELL IS THAT. Thats some kind of loader mech. THATS A FUCKING UTILITY TITAN. WHEN DID ATLAS GET ONE OF THOSE?!

Also thats a jet engine.

And Maria’s piloting it. To quote Daimon Baird; I know wha thappens when you let an angry chick loose with a power loader.

Multiple bombs...wait. Thats the mine that RWBY fought in with the Aces, the one that almost blew the fuck up. They’re... Oh. I get it now. They’re gonna use the blast to fling Amneity into upper orbit and stabalize it. Clever. Not exactly SAFE, but clever. Just hope the mine doesnt go anywhere important. Those tunnels are going to turn into firestorms.

Cute, she thinks she can stay and help. Trust me, Penny. You’re better off running.

MARIA CASUALLY DOING THE MEXICAN GRANDMOTHER THING WITH HER MECH...THE HIP HAND. MY GOD.

Oh, and his chair has gravity restraints too. They...gonna handle the impact of the launch? I mean thats literally a fuel/air bomb under them. Dust/air...

Well Maria seems alright with it.

OH GOD DAMMIT. Its Cinder isnt it? Fucking bitch...

On the positive side if she DOES hitch a ride then they get a chance to give her the ol’ “Long fall special”.  Lets see your maiden powers save you from a fall from near orbit.

Well then, she burned right through the floor. Interesting. Maiden powers or her own, who knows...I do admit seeing her ride the ship in like that is kinda cool.

The eagerness in Cinders remaining eye interest me. Also, even when using maiden powers, her dead eye emits nothing. So that whole parts just gone. 

Secondary note, I think they’re standing on the...Shade emblem? Shade is the swords I think. Vale is the axes, Atlas is the staff, Havens the lamp. Doubt it means anything.

Ahhh, okay I was gonna say, that launch was...kinda lackluster. But the blast is being used as a BOOST on top of the four existing external thrusters. Like the yellow emergency turbines on the outside of the Pillar of Autumn in the end cutscene of Halo Reach

Dust explodes in its own individual colors. The blast under them looks like a Pride festival.

Also Penny just going WHAP like that amuses me, whereas Cinder just crouches. Guess she knew what was coming.

I dont see how the blast is helping through...maybe its the pressure wave and we cant see it right.

Now THAT is a command and control table!

Based on the image I can see, the map is showing “Atlas Mantle” in the middle in green, Aminety in red to the north, and the whale as its own red marker just off to the west a bit of Atlas/Mantle. So now we know where everything is stationed.

The scales all kindsa weird tho

Ah THERES the G-force. Emeralds literally stuck to the floor.

And because Cinders an unoriginal bitch, fire swords. Im not impressed ot say the least.  On a side note that DOES mean that radiobandit was right about her powers, so theres that. I’d wager this is a combination of her semblance and the maiden abilities.

For those who follow me, Cinder’s blades here are similar in look to what Ash Vulcan can summon, minus the fire. His are more of a cooled obsidian look.  They are, however, as sharp as these are, but much less sturdy. Ex; the one that pins itself to the wall by Penny’s head would have shattered on impact, which Ash uses as a secondary ability. Because no one likes a hundred glass shards in their eyes...

OH HELL YES. Maria with the mech. Now, Cinder...TASTE METAL FIST.

RT...I salute you. Angry mother figure piloting a giant robot screaming “get away from her you bitch”. ALMOST had it. Almost.

What smacked into her though. Neo?

Yes, Neo piloting their escape craft. Interseting.

Emerald looks completely useless and confused and Neo is suddenly very much in a realization shes inside a tin can and MARIA IS OPERATING A GIANT TIN CAN OPENER

Emeralds semblance works on Maria. Interseting, so it must bypass eyes. Effect the brain specifically. Note to self for Chrys on that...

WHY did Neo take Ruby’s form when shes fighting Maria? On that Maria seems very happy to brawl on the ground now. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Additional math note; “broadcasting range” is, by this numerical, 543.523 of...whatever Remnant uses as units. On Earth, the edge of outerspace is almost exactly 100 km, or 62 miles, straight up. So going by that measurement... (Doing the math here hang on)...1 km is equal to 5.43 of Remnants distance units. Lets just say 5.5. Assuming Remnants edge is the same (but everything we’ve seen so far hints that it is, or at least very close)

Alternatively, since we heard klicks used in V4, but miles used in After The Fall, we can assume this is one of those, meaning that either broadcast altitude on Remnant is ABSURDLY HIGH, because 500km is literally 5 times the edge of space on earth, and 540 miles is ALMOST 9 TIMES AS HIGH. Either way Im pretty sure this is the first measurement of Remnants units we’ve seen.

Alternatively alternatively, judging by the arrows we see, these might be required velocity to maintain orbit, which MAY make a bit more sense but it doesnt really fit. Low orbital velocity on earth for example is 17,000 KPH. Even with the math above, theres still a TITANIC difference.

And now we see the numvers going down again because CINDER BURNED A HOLE IN THROUGH ONE OF THE STABALIZERS. Bitch.

Again on th e weaponizing the colleseum; look at all this empty space. They didnt even remove it from when it was a consorse for the festival. You could put SO MANY weapon emplacements...the landing pads are still there!

Oh so now Cinders a Dawnblade from RWBY is she.

And exploding arrows too. Alright then, sure, why not.

Not sure what the point of this little bit was, aside from Penny trying to draw Cinder off and Cinder going back because...evil? Bait for Penny? Who knows. 

Oh yeah, Marias having a GOOD time. Also, Neos face when she gets kicked in it; “NO, NOT THE SANDEL!”

Also the disrespect from Maria. Yes. Suck it, Neo.

Also theres some timeskippage, as there is NOT a 2 minute gap between when we see the clock the first time and when we see it now. I dont think, anyway. Im sure theres math to be done but it serves the purpose its suppose to, for tension.

Uhhhh...Cinder, please. Your Salem’s most bottom of bitches right now. She favors Hazel and Tyrian over you.

Did Cinder really just try for a does not compute moment. Or is she just out of ideas.

Cinder stealing the maiden powers reminds me of the Grip of the Devourer perk from the Necromatic Grips in Destiny 2. Mainly the green energy flowing. I know thats Pennys aura stuff but it does remind me.

Ahhh they got a plan with Emerald then. Interesting. Also Neo taking advantage of a distraction sounds like her. 

And Penny ONESHOTS Neo. Lets be real here, without aura? She’d be LIQUID. Or maybe ash. Not sure how Penny’s funnels (THEYRE STILL FUCKING FUNNELS DAMMIT) works.

Annnnddd you forgot shes a robot and sees aura didn’t you.  Again, without aura, she’d be dead. Actually, she might legit be dead considering that scream. That sounds like the noise someone makes as their organs are fried by high intensity radiation. Not too mention the MASSIVE BURN MARK on the back wall there.

Either way; GET FUCKED BITCH.

Very dramatic, Emerald, but really, come on. Penny has lasers. You would get maybe one more shot (from a weapon that has, at best from my viewpoint) a caliber equal to MAYBE a 9mm pistol. That stuff doesnt have the penetration power required.

If Penny wasn’t nice and more interested in saving Peitro...you’d be dead. Ripped asunder and Cinder made even worse. 

A pity, really, Penny has a heart. But...hey. Real girl.

I feed upon Emeralds tears though. Mmm. Simpy.

What the HELL is hitting them. Grimm?

Oh boy here we go, more of this. Like...bruh. Just set down for a bit. Always gotta be dramatic dont ya

Aww. Touching. But pointless in the grand scheme of things.

Interesting note but she puts her gloved hand on his cheek, not the one with the glove burned off. For what thats worth again.

Holy shit, that map wasnt lying. That whale’s almost as big as Atlas is from this angle. Mind you, might just be a trick of the location but it would make sense if they were afraid of a Grimm THAT GOD DAMN BIG. I was just seeing it as like, about the size of a normal sperm whale, maybe as big as the Leviathan from the series of the same name, but even that was barely 150 feet long. This things HUGE.

Nope. Pretty sure its about the same size as Atlas is long.

Also the Moon seems smaller from this angle oddly enough.

Wait is she gonna superman this fucking thing?

Okay yes, the numbers were based on distance not velocity, as Penny is pushing the stadium UP, rather than accelerating it in proper stance.

The noises she makes...huh. Glad my sister didnt walk in on those. Sounds...not like someone straining.

Hey look, its clumsy shitface McGee. HES NOT DEAD!

Note about the message; whos the chick with the eye patch next to the faunus in the back left of Ruby.

Im going to assume the first place we see the message played is the Mistral Black Market. Seems fitting for how it is, and the design matches Havens ascetic. 

OH MY GOD THE LITTLE EARED FAUNUS GIRL IN THE HOLE. OH NO. SHES TOO CUTE.

Also in that same shot we see the old Karen from two episodes ago, a mouse girl, Fiona’s mole uncle, and someone new I think. Plus the huge eared girls mom who has a fox tail. And also one of the thirsty moms and her kid maybe?

Hey, Sun and Neptune! Out in the middle of nowhere in Vacuo. So this is the first time we’ve seen it in the show. 

And Ilia’s still alive too!

Hey and Goodwytch too. No voice, of course...she got fired ages ago.

Also hey, so this is where Ironwoods been. I love how Hare turns it off before Ruby finishes. 

I will note that technically Ruby’s not wrong. Ironwood cant be trusted. But then, he couldnt before because (gestures to Atlas’s pathetic, scraggy SOFT “military” instead of THE CHAD FORCES OF...uh...) (Rapid sounds of shuffling papers and files labeled “UNSC” “Coalition of Ordered Governments” “SRPA” “GAR” and “Yukon Confederacy” fly off the table)

Several others. Yes. Lets go with that. (Accidentally bumps paper labeled “Vanguard” off the desk)

Watts is back out I see too. 

Wait wait wait. Penny’s blades operate via chips...part of her, sure. So WHY does she need wires on them? AGAIN. WHY ARE THEY WIRE FUNNELS AND NOT SEPERATE ONES.

Interestingly the inside of the one Watts has resembles a Scroll...did Peitro commender that technology?

No focusing system for the laser. No chamber for acceleration or direction. Odd.

Salem looks oddly glad for this. Probably cause she thinks this is going to spread more fear. 

And Ruby gets to the heart of the deal. You dont beat something that cant be killed. You capture it. Hurt it. BREAK IT. A sentient being can only take so much punishment before it shatters into madness and controllable fragments. You just. Need. To. Hit. It. HARD. ENOUGH. 

Additionally Ruby’s got a point there too. Salem played the shadows until this moment when everything was going her way. So...whats she afraid of.

Annnnddd thats all it takes to hijack Penny? Seriously.

Fuckin god damn useless Atlas bullshit fucking...(LONG SUFFERING SIGH OF A TECH NERD)

Hey theres Taiyang. Where’s Raven?

Wait hold on a second. She catches fire literally two seconds after she falls? You gotta fall a bit more than that for shit to start happening. WHAT THE FUCK IS REMNANTS ATMOSPHERE?! Or is it just dramatic...

Also as a small note the way the coms between her and Peitro cut off like that is accurate to reentry; during the hottest part of a splashdown, a space craft creates such a huge trail of energy behind it, rattling and burning its way down, it creates a blackout with its own passage. So based on the massive Apollo style reentry fire cone shes already putting out shes most likely going to be out of coms until she slows down orrrrrr craters into Remnants surface with the force of a meteor. 

And no. I dont think shes dead. The fact that, DESPITE being surrounded by the kind of fireball that worked its way into the fueltank of the space shuttle Discovery and blew it and its crew to bits on reentry, she was still intact...shes probably going to be fine.

Hacked, certainly, but fine. It takes more than that to finish her. Besides now that shes hacked, she has to fight Ruby. We all want that right?

Ahh good to see Winter in full armor now. Or...close to it. Im sure some of its a support rig for her injuries but I like to think this is the start of Atlas’s Specialist Weaponization Program.

Ironwood makes a good call here. Same thought process as mine.

Salutes in this world are the same as ours. Interesting. Must change that for the HKs

Annnndd of course Watts steals the busted Scroll because IRONWOOD IS A FUCKING DUMBASS

...um.

Im...not even going to COMMENT on what the FUCK this thing is that Jaunes detachment found. 

Also why is there A TREE in the tundra?

Oh, caustic. Interesting.

Mmmm. (Pause. Fingers to lips)

Thats your plan, Salem? To literally leak liquid Grimm into Mantle.

More silence.

Ladies and gentlemen...Salem is, officially, THE WORST VILLAN. OF ALL TIME.

The level of incompetence and stupidity I have seen here today completely obliterates the LAST person to hold that title, President Snow from the Hunger Games.

The amount of unnececary back door work and seecret plotting here astounds me. Shes doing this because she can, Im SURE of it. Theres no other reason.

Unless...she kows in a straight out fight, she’d have Ironwoods metal arm up to her colon in seconds. Which I wouldnt be surprised about.

Either way uh...thats it. Thats the end of the episode. 

Nice fight, at least.

See you all in Febuary!

EDIT: NOT FEBUARY, the break is a few more episodes after this

[muchadoaboutbucky]

Love Thy Neighbor - 1

Set post-Endgame: Bucky’s got a crush on the girl next door. 

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: slow burn, minor anxieties, eventual smut

read the rest of this series on patreon

“Hey, we got a mission.”

Bucky jerks awake, shoving his hair out of his face. His eyes are heavy with sleep, and the sun’s shining heavy through the thin curtains. Alpine, disturbed by her master’s movements, shoots Sam a glare and curls back up on her pillow, tail curling around her feet. 

“What time is it?” Bucky asks blearily.

“Almost nine, you missed your run.” Sam snaps his fingers. “C’mon. Fury wants us to report in ten.”

Bucky grumbles, fighting the urge to burrow back beneath his comforter and fall back asleep. He’d had a hard time falling asleep, eventually drifting off after downing several extra-strong tablets of melatonin that are still trying to work their magic.

He stumbles out of bed, reaching down to graze his metal palm over Alpine’s sleek white fur. The cat purrs lowly and rubs her head against his fingers, and then resumes her nap. In the bathroom, he runs his toothbrush through his mouth with closed eyes and splashes cold water on his face. He doesn’t bother putting on street clothes; he’ll only have to change when they leave the house and his sweats are more comfortable than they need to be.

They get assigned to Paris. A black-market arms dealer is set to sell a truckload of guns and ammunition to a suspected terrorist cell, and with less than two days on the clock until the deal is set to go down, they have to hurry. Luckily, Bucky keeps an emergency go-bag under his bed, and he’s just stepped into his boots when he spies Alpine still snoozing.

Someone needs to keep an eye on her.

“I gotta find someone to watch Alpine,” he says while Sam’s lacing his sneakers in the living room. 

“What?” Sam cranes his neck to look up into Bucky’s anxious face. “C’mon, man, she’s a cat. She’ll be fine for a couple days.”

“What if it’s longer than a couple days?” Bucky swallows. “Someone needs to put her food out and change her water.”

“We’ll be back by Thursday.” Sam stands, arms folding across his chest. He only holds firm for a few seconds, until Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Okay…” he gives in, “ask Y/N. Since you didn’t see her this morning, might as well make up for it.”

Bucky’s cheeks go red. He looks down at the floor as Sam passes him on his way to the hallway closet. “I didn’t… she doesn’t—”

“Dude, stop pretending you don’t have one of the biggest crushes of all time, it’s painful.”

Bucky’s gut twists as he pulls his spare key to the apartment from the front pocket of his duffel bag. “I just… she’s nice, that’s all. Not a lotta people look at the guy who used to be the Winter Soldier and think good things, y’know.”

“You got exonerated in a court of law, nobody in their right mind thinks you’re guilty of anything.” Sam heads into the kitchen to grab a protein shake for the jet ride. “Especially Y/N.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I’ll… I’ll be right back, I’ll see if she’s home.”

He drops his bag on the couch and heads out the door. It’s a brisk morning, and he zips his jacket up, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walks to the next door down. His heart is pounding in his chest, because he knows you have a security camera and he doesn’t wanna look like a creep knocking on your door when you’re not home. 

Within seconds, however, your door swings open. You’re wearing a baggy AC/DC tee shirt and a pair of leggings… the ends of your hair are wet. You must have just showered. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you chirp, flashing him a brilliant smile that makes his knees weak. “I missed you in the park this morning.”

He swallows the sudden dryness in his throat. “Overslept,” he excuses. “Look, I… I hate to put this on you, but my friend and I got called out for a job and we… or I need someone to…”

God it sounds stupid. So, so stupid… he’s a grown man with a cat, what the hell is he doing?

You lean against the doorjamb. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you could watch Alpine for a few days,” he blurts out. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I can do that.” You smile again, and Bucky’s stomach untwists. “When will you be back?”

“Thursday…” Bucky tries as best he can to muster a confident smile as he holds the key out in his flesh palm. “She just takes dry food, her bag is under the kitchen sink.” Bucky’s breath hitches when your fingers graze his skin. “So… I’ll leave a list, I guess…”

“Or you could text me?” You tug your phone from the pocket in your leggings. “What’s your number?”

He can barely speak. He’s been dying to ask for your number for weeks now and here you are just brazenly offering it up. He takes a solid three seconds to remember the digits, and he rattles them off, watching as you type his name into the little section and add one of those little emoticon things… the sun.

“I just sent you something,” you smile, “so you got mine too.”

Bucky almost pukes. “Okay,” he stutters out, “she’s got food and stuff for now, but just later today…”

“Got it.” You slip your phone back into your pocket. “I gotta get ready for work, but I’m off at six. I’ll pop by and feed her.”

“Thanks.” He swallows thickly. “Really, thank you, it means a lot.”

“It’s no problem.” You swipe your tongue over your lower lip. “Have a safe mission, okay?”

He bows his head, trying as hard as he can to stop from blushing. “I will. Thanks again.”

You close the door, and he turns on his heel, hiding a grin in his coat collar as he heads back to his own apartment.

***

The mission goes easier than either of them thought it would. They’re in and out of Paris in less than forty hours, and they take the opportunity of their “undercover-ness” to scout out a few local shops in search of something good to eat and a few souvenirs for their efforts. 

Bucky doesn’t shop for himself beyond food. He has no need for little trinkets. Sam can browse all he wants, but Bucky tries to think of something that you might like. One shop has it all: a ton of Eiffel Tower ornaments, candies, T-shirts… at one point he catches himself sniffing tentatively at a lavender-scented soap bar.

No, no way. Way too personal. 

In the end, he settles for a little snowglobe. It’s small enough to fit in his bag, and he makes his purchase while Sam’s still trying on sweatshirts.

They get in late on Thursday night, just as Sam predicted. Bucky sends you a text when they land at the airport, and the Avengers’ private car has them back at the complex in no time at all. The light is on in your apartment when Bucky gets to the fourth floor, and as soon as Sam’s vanished into their apartment, he knocks on your door. It only takes a few seconds to answer, and Bucky’s heart catches in his throat when you open the door, beaming up into his face.

“You’re back early,” you say, smiling widely. 

“Yeah, uh… mission went quicker than we thought.” Bucky swallows heavily. 

“I just filled Alpine’s bowl an hour ago and cleaned out her litter box,” you reply, almost completely unfazed by his awkwardness, “and I bought her a little catnip plant from work, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Oh, you, uh... “ he clears his throat, “you didn’t have to do that, the litter box, I mean, I—”

“It’s no bother, my mom was a veterinarian, I’ve dealt with way worse.” You fumble for something on the little table behind your left knee and hold up the little bronze key. “You might need this back.”

“Thanks.” Bucky pockets it without really thinking—the touch of your hand on his matters more. “Oh, I got something for you,” he blurts out, unzipping the top pocket of his bag and fishes out the little snowglobe. “Just as… well, a thanks.”

You accept the little trinket, blushing furiously. “I love it,” you reply, “thank you.”

God, Bucky wants to kiss you so bad…

“D’you wanna get coffee?” he asks suddenly. “Or see a movie? That is, if you don’t y’know, have someone already, I don’t wanna intrude.”

If possible, your face flushes even more. “I-I’d like that,” you stammer, “a movie sounds good. Um… when are you free?”

“Saturday?” Bucky shrugs. “The place downtown has cheap tickets on Saturdays.”

You nod. “I… I can do that. I get off work at six again.”

Bucky chews on his lower lip. “I’ll come by for eight?”

“That works.” You smile awkwardly. “I, uh… I should probably let you go get some rest, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes a step back because if he doesn’t make some space he might just kiss you right then and there. “I can text you, yeah?”

“Totally, yeah.” You run your fingers through your hair and match him, stepping back into the little entryway. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you Saturday, then?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

You close the door, still blushing furiously, and Bucky walks into his apartment thinking of a million ways that could have gone wrong. 

“I bet you were smoother than that in ‘43.”

Sam’s standing in the kitchen, smirking as Bucky drops his bag by the door and kicks his boots off.

“Shut up, I’m outta practice.” He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the rack. “Did you really hear all that?”

“We’re neighbors, I can hear everything.” Sam grins and pulls fixings for a turkey sandwich from the fridge. “Look, man, you’re trying to fit in. It’s a good thing.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t even know if she was gonna say yes.”

“Well, she did.” Sam slaps the top layer of bread onto his sandwich and gestures to the plate. “Want one?”

Bucky shakes his head. “If I eat, I’m gonna puke. I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Sam watches him shuffle silently down the hallway and into his room. Alpine’s snoozing on her bed by the window, and she leaps off when Bucky closes the door, eagerly wristing around his ankles and purring happily. 

“Hey, girl.” Bucky reaches down to rub his knuckles against the top of her head before changing into a pair of flannel pants. He’s exhausted and stressed, and his chest feels tighter than it should. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rests his head in his palms, taking long, deep breaths to try and ease the tension. Sensing her master’s distress, Alpine rubs herself against his side, and Bucky only breaks his position to give her a habitual pet across the back before slipping into his bathroom and downing five tablets of melatonin. His system will kick it in within a few minutes, and he slips beneath the covers as Alpine curls up on her designated pillow.

“Everything’s gonna go smooth, right?” he asks. “I can do this. It’s just a girl, nothing to be scared of.”

Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated :)

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[leahxx129]

No Promises (purgatory!Dean Winchester x Reader)

Okay, so I’m an incredibly lazy person - if I don’t get something done in a short span of time, I will literally never do it. This idea popped up in my mind last night, so I had to write a fic about it today before it was too late.

Summary: When Dean Winchester ended up in purgatory and Cas abandoned him, he was completely alone in a land of vicious monsters thirsting for his blood - up until he met you. You managed to escape the place together, but now Dean’s brother is stuck there. There’s only one way to save him, but it requires a great sacrifice. Will Dean be able to make it?

Warnings: angst, character death

Word count: 1.280-ish

He’s clearly hesitating, changing his grip on the blade every second.

“C’mon Winchester, do it before I change my mind!” you say with a sad smile, your eyes watering in the process.

This area of the secluded alley is dimly lit, but you can still see his do, too.

“Promise you’ll come back with Sam?” his voice is hoarse, tinted with emotion.

“You know I can’t make any promises, sugar.” you close your eyes and let a couple of tears run free.

Frankly, you are not afraid to die. The only thing you’re afraid of is that you might forget his face over time and the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the entire universe.

Dean raises the weapon to swing it, but halts. His brain knows there’s no other way, but his heart is having a hard time accepting it.

The blast from killing Dick Roman with the bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of fallen was enormous. Dean felt like as if it were devouring him – and it turns out that in a way it was. It devoured him and Cas and spat them out in a land full of mist and darkness, where everything lurking in the shadows wanted to shred them to pieces. They were in purgatory, a place where the souls of monsters preyed upon each other for the rest of eternity and Cas abandoned him.  He was on his own - until he met you.

He was being ambushed by three vampires and they visibly had the upper hand, having ridden him from his weapon. That was until you came in, of course. Dean was sure he’d never forget the way your braided hair flew in the air and how your eyes shone as you fought them.

“I mean, you’re welcome.” you said to him, picking up your blade and looking at the three headless corpses spread out on the ground.

Everything happened so fast, he could barely comprehend it.

“Who are you? And why did you save me?” he asked, panting, trying to steady himself against a gnarled tree. A mixture of blood and sweat was trickling down his forehead.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Judging by your recent performance, right now, I’m your best chance at survival, jackass.” he kept quiet, so you continued “The name’s Y/N. And as for why… There’s a rumor that a human with a pretty face made it through here somehow and based on descriptions, it’s gotta be you… I wanted to be the first one to make an offer.”

He gave you a quick once-over.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not into monster chicks, no matter how hot they are.” he said, totally misinterpreting the whole situation. You let out an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes at him.

“God, no… I didn’t mean like that, perv.”

“Oh, okay… then, like what?”

“Like, I may or may not know about the existence of a way out of here.”

His face automatically hardened with suspicion.

“If what you’re saying is true, and it’s a big IF… what’s in it for you?”

Your lips curled into a sly smile.

“Well, supposedly, this portal is for humans exclusively… so if we find it, I’d like to hitch a ride back to life, pretty face.”

At first, Dean was conflicted – he wanted nothing more than to escape, but was the cost really worth it? Bringing a monster back to life? But, as time went by, he was forced to realize you were not like the other creatures that go bump in the night. In fact, he kind of grew a liking to you and the way you would sass him.

One night the air was particularly cold, but you were in an especially dangerous zone – lighting a fire would have been like an open invitation for monsters to come bite you in the ass. You found a hollow tree and decided to sleep there. You made yourselves comfortable, but after a while he cleared his throat nervously.

“It’s freezing tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” you replied nonchalantly, making him press the matter more.

“Probably I will. But I was thinking... you know… in the movies when it’s cold, the characters usually survive by snuggling close to each other, keeping the other warm with their body heat…”

It took every ounce of your willpower not to laugh out loud.

“Uhm, Dean, you do realize that as a vampire, I don’t really have much of a body heat, right?”

“Oh, sure, I know.” he replied, while mentally slapping himself for getting embarrassed in front of you.

“But if you wanna cuddle, I get it. This is a grim place and feeling close to someone could be nice I guess.” you said suddenly and nestled in between his thighs, leaning your back against his chest. Couple of seconds later you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you.

“When we get back and you resurrect me, I wanna go to a concert. AC/DC, maybe.” you spoke up.

“And after that?”

“After that, I’m gonna get back to hunting monsters.”

You could feel his breath hitch in his throat.

“You were a hunter before… before you... got here?” the careful way how he was choosing his words made you smile.

“Yeah, I was. Then seven years ago a hunt went sideways, and I got turned into the very thing I hated the most.”

A heavy silence ensued.

“I never killed anybody, if that’s what you’re wondering.” you added “I got my shit together and continued hunting all the while living off of hospital blood bags. But some of my former hunter friends had doubts about me and voilá – I ended up here in the armpit of existence.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too… And what about you? What are you gonna do once you get back on the tracks?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

You couldn’t remember the end of your conversation as you fell asleep first. What you could remember, however, was that you had a dream for the first time since you became a resident in purgatory.

A few days later you collected Cas and carried on with your mission of finding the portal. Weeks went by with fighting beasts and torturing them to gain information regarding its exact location, but it all paid out in the end - you finally found it. You were beyond excited. When Dean opened his arms, you jumped into his embrace without thinking – and he kissed you without thinking. It was undeniably the best kiss of your life.

Dean kept his promise and brought you both back to life, but Cas stayed behind, which shattered him into a million pieces inside. You knew it, even though he never actually told you this. You could see in his mannerism and on the bad days, you could hear him utter Cas’ name while he was having a nightmare. You were absolutely clueless about how to alleviate his pain and felt utterly useless because of this. So, when Sam got stuck in purgatory on his way back from hell with Bobby Singer’s soul, you knew what your next offer to Dean would be. You’d let him behead you and you’d help Sam and Bobby find the portal just as you helped him. If you couldn’t heal his heart broken by his best friend, then the least you could do was preventing it from breaking even more because of losing his brother. Seeing that no other options were available, he reluctantly accepted your offer.

His hand is still in the air, shaking. If he does it, he’ll  lose the girl he loves to the lifestyle he’s leading once again. But if he does not do it, he’ll lose his brother.

“Just do it already, Dean!” you scream, opening your eyes.

The last two things you sense before it all goes dark are the flash of a blade and Dean’s sob.