#why do athletes wants to wear compression shirts

[activewearmanufacturer]

While seeking the help of trained medical professionals definitely helps, if you are wondering “Do compression shirts help with shoulder pain as well?”; then the answer is yes. They do! Want to know more? Read this blog now: https://www.activewearmanufacturer.com/can-compression-shirts-help-with-shoulder-pain-in-athletes/

[natriae]

Chapter 6: This can't be jealousy

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"wakey, wakey it's time fer work," calls a familiar voice from behind the front door. Knocks continue to pound at the door getting louder each moment you don't open it.

Unlocking the door and sharply pulling it open one of the last people you hope to be on the other side almost topples you. Miya Atsumu gives a small smile before looking around the genken like it's his first time here. His fingers tap along the door frame in nervousness.

"what do you mean time for work? and why are you here?" you question. The frown on your face speaks volumes to even the most oblivious person, yet Miya Atsumu chooses to ignore it.

"imma teach ya how ta make onigiri," He says matter a factly with a cheeky smile on his face. However the minute he sees your face not even twitch his smile drops and his eyes soften. "look i'm sorry, but osamu's gonna pay ya well 'n he's out gettin' rice," he pleads. You hate how he manages to give the best puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen. Involuntarily you feel yourself leaning in to him and your face relax. His usual bright personality being dampened by your gloominess is not something you want to experience again.

So you nod your head, "what do i wear," you ask quietly with your best poker face. Your still mad at him. He took your dream job away from you, but he's still making an effort unlike Rintarou. You feel your heart physically jump when he perks up at your voice. Once again he looks everywhere but you and he starts playing with his hands. He has a slightly forced smile on his face as he tells you to just wear some shorts and he'll bring you an onigiri t-shirt.

Coming down to the shop you walk through the beaded curtain to see Atsumu preparing the rice for the day and setting up the station where the onigiri is made.

You should be looking around the empty restaurant. You should be taking note of where things are before you start working at a place you've never been to, but you can't help but look at his muscles as he mixes up the rice and the seasonings. He looks like he's about to bust right though the shirt. Based on the logo above his right pec, his beautiful strong pec that he can definitely move, there's a different onigiri miya logo. The fabric of his shirt also seems to be different almost like an athletic compression shirt. While your's is your average everyday t-shirt.

Atsumu takes you out of your trance as he looks over at you. Between the smirk, his bicep, and the veins running down his arm you think you may be having a wet dream. He stops mixing the rice and places his hands on his hips. His cheerful voice is far to much for eight in the morning but you enjoy it.

"So when does the restaurant open?" you ask as a way of distraction. Has Atsumu always looked this good? With his back to you, you can clearly see his shoulder blades and back muscles move as he fills a wide cup with water. You assume it must be for the rice scooper, but with how wet you are inbetween your legs a part of you hopes he can scoop you up and have his way with you right on the bar top.

As the older twin turns around and plops the white scoop into the water he explains that on Mondays Osamu opens at 11. That way he can premake onigiris for the lunch rush. He motions for you to step over in front of the ingredients. What you didn't expect was for him to stand right behind you and wrap his arms around your body to grab ingredients.

"so luckily osamu has some molds fer us ta use insteada tryna raw dog it," why does he need to have such foul language, "so yer gonna grab the rice and press it inta this mold..." it's really hard to focus when you can feel his pecs flex along your back. His arms move along yours to show you how to properly use the mold, and you shouldn't find it this sexually attractive to watch someone press on some rice, but the way he's doing it so gently with all his attention you can't help but water at the mouth. His fingers poke and prod at the rice to form a little pocket for the filling. God he has some really nice hands.

Once he finishes demonstrating he plops his head on your shoulder and grabs your hands to fake applaud himself. And you actually allow yourself to giggle at his antics. However, it was a mistake to turn your head and look at him because know the two of you are centimeters apart, nose touching, and his hands are still holding yours. You swear your dreaming when his eyes flicker down to your lips, but you turn your head to fast to indulge in that thought further.

"but yer a quick learner so imma teach ya how ta do it the real way," he says so close you can feel his breath brushing your ear. You can even sense his smile as he grabs some rice to start. His hands move to wrap around yours like it's second nature and you swear he took a step closer to you so now your back is pressing directly onto his chest. He maneuvers your hands into the correct positions and before you know it the onigiri is complete.

It's gonna be a long few hours...

"Hi welcome to Ongiri Miya," you shout in a cheer voice after hearing the bell ring. A gasp rings through the restaurant catching the attention of patrons in the room. Naturally, you look up from your onigiri to figure out what the commotion was about, and you wish you hadn't.

Standing at the door in all her 157 cm (5'2) glory was Suna Reina. Unlike her name the girl was not at all graceful, she was beautiful, but not graceful by any means. Her full bag hits the door and almost a customer as she speeds over to the bar counter. Unlike her brother she seemed to always be in a good mood. Even though you weren't exactly happy to see her you couldn't help but relax your shoulders at her smile. She had the same sharp eyes as Rin and a blunt himecut to match.

"I didn't know you worked here!" She shouted hitting the counter, "Rintarou told me you worked for MSBY" She finished, pinching her eyebrows together in question. By now the short girl was almost all the way across the bar with how far she was leaning in. You can't help but form your lips into a straight line after her airing out your dirty laundry to the whole establishment. Out of the corner of your eye you can see two teenage girls whispering to each other and glancing your way. Quickly reaching towards her face you already have her drawing back from you by surpise. Knowing how sneaky Rin is your not surpised she has just as quick reflexes.

"can you be quiet," you whisper yell, "it's a long story...and your brother's fault," you mumble the last part hoping she didn't catch it, but if there's one thing you figured out the hard way it was that the Sunas had amazing hearing. It didn't matter how many times Rin had blasted music in his ears he was still just as nosy as ever. Ears good enough to hear a pin drop.

Reina's face drops at your accusation then she looks away deep in thought.

"that's why he's been so damn weird lately," she states like she just solved life's greatest mystery, "mama sent me out her to check on him. Can you believe that she doesn't care that I'm in college," her voices raises again as her hands fly in the air to stress her disbelief.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Atsumu return from the bathroom, and watch his face light up at the surpise guest.

"Reina what are you doing here?" He beamed, jogging over to where she was at the counter. The two of them smile and exchange a long hug. A hug that probably only lasted a few seconds, but to you it felt like forever. The way Atsumu's arms wrapped around her like second nature and how happy he is to see her... a part of you can't help but be jealous. There's no way it's actually jealousy though, right?

You watch as Atsumu's biceps bludge through his shirt sleeve when his arms make their way around her to squeeze. It's not fair that she gets to touch him so easily. Yes, they've known each other for a long time but do they really need to get that close...

Soon enough you began to feel forgotten as the two converse. You've only met Reina a handful of times. How well do her and Atsumu know each other? Do they have history? She's only four and half years younger, it's possible. Quietly, you look backdown and finish the onigri you were working on ready to bring it to a customer. Hopefully Osamu comes back soon.

wow not even a full two weeks between posts

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[queer-advice-hotline]

hey, so how do i bind safely (afab nonbinary)? i’ve only used ace bandages twice and they’re apparently bad for you anyway, i hate sports bras with a passion (they just seem to accentuate my chest more and i hate it), and i can’t get my hands on an actual binder (i’m a minor, living with parents. not inherently transphobic but they wouldn’t buy me a binder). i’m yet to see literally any other option besides sports bras. or maybe i’m just doing it wrong, idk.

Yes, ace bandages are extremely dangerous and should not be used to bind, ever.

As for what you can do, one is look for unpadded or high compression sports bras. They make those for athletes, and the padding in them may be why you’re unhappy with the results.

You can also try and get a binder to a friends house. You don’t even need to tell them what it is, maybe say something like it’s a surprise for one of your parents so you don’t want to order it to your house.

Another option could be trans tape. That’s also something you would have to order, as I don’t believe it’s sold in stores.

Compressions shirts are also made for athletes and could work for you.

Wearing a tight undershirt with a looser over shirt and layers can help, as can wearing black other dark colours.

As always, others with other ideas please share.

[tyler-lawson]

The Meet - 02 - I Am Not Amused

My partner and I left our detainees in their isolated, locked interrogation rooms while we returned to ensure that order had been restored in the custom's line. When we emerged from the side hallway, two men, both dressed in athletic shirts and tight-fitting t-shirts approached me. Both had been heavily engaged in the verbal shouting that had happened in the circle, and I could presume they were likely connected with our unexpected guests.

They both looked to be in their mid-20s, fit, exhausted, and concerned.

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Jason, and this is Ian. We are the coaches for the guys you just dragged back there. Can we go see them?"

"Not right now. We need to let them both cool off and speak with them."

"Can we just wait here until we are able to see them?"

"Huh. I can't have you just wait here, we need to make sure that everyone goes through customs. But, once you are through, I can bring you back."

"Okay, great! We will go do that. Uh... should we take their bags, or do you want them."

"I will take them. You are right in not going through custom's with someone else's bag."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that would be sort of a problem, eh? Heh." He tries to joke.

"Yes, sir. It would be." I reply, stone-faced.

I take the duffle bag and suitcase from them, and set them just inside the secured door. The two coaches walked off toward the line. My partner and I worked through the rest of the line, speaking with people who had seen what had happened, and getting statements.

The coaches made it through customs, and I found them a little while later, sitting on a bench with a small pile of various luggage around them.

"Alright gentlemen, is this all of your luggage?"

"Well, it is ours and the boys." I get everything sorted so that I know what items belong to whom.

"Alright, sirs. Please turn around and put your hands on the wall."

"Uh? Why?"

"You have passed a security checkpoint, and I am now taking you back behind it. I have to detain you as part of our security protocols."

"Wait?! Can we not? We didn't do anything."

"If you would like, you can head to your hotel now, and your players can contact you when we are finished with them."

"No, no. Fine."

Both men turned and put their hands on the walls, frustrated at the turn of events. I frisked both of them; it was quick as neither of them had any pockets in their clothing whatsoever. They were both wearing short athletic shorts, shirts tucked into them, and had compression shorts sticking out beneath the hems of their shorts. They both seemed to me to be dressing to relive their own competitive days.

I pulled out two pairs of hinged ASP handcuffs, pulled each of their hands behind their backs, and quickly zipped the cuffs around their wrists. I walked both of them back through a secure door, and put them in another interrogation room, the one furnished with a table and two chairs. I sat them down, and left them in the room.

***

I went back to check on Braden and Matthew, and found Braden fast asleep, passed out on the hard, wooden floors. Matthew was wide awake, sitting huddled in the corner, and he twitched as I opened the door.

"Stand up." I ordered, and he did, shakily. He was wearing a worn yellow t-shirt and long black lounge pants, and a pair of flip flops on his on his feet. He warily stood, hugging himself as he stepped away from the wall.

"So, son, want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Uh, I am not really sure. Braden has always been a bit of a douche, but, I don't know what happened. He just kinda freaked out."

"He said you attacked him first. Want to explain what that was about?"

"No, man. I didn't do anything."

"You sure about that?"

"No, like. I guess. Look, my bag kind of fell into him. I guess it hit him in the junk, but he just went wild."

"Sure. Anything else you want to tell me."

"No, no. What. What is going to happen now?"

"Well, I am going to talk with Braden once he is awake, and get his side of the story. Before that, I am going to get some pictures of your injuries."

"Uh, okay. Sure."

"Great. Let's have you stand up against that wall there." I say, pulling out a camera and starting to get some pictures. "Tip your head back, I need to get your neck." He does, slightly hitting his head against the wall as he does. "Nope, okay. I am going to need you to take off your shirt, that bruise is a bit too big."

"Uhh, sure." He said, slowly peeling his yellow t-shirt off. His lounge pants hung off his hips, and his pure white Fruit of the Loom underwear stuck up over the waistband. He held his shirt over his abs, trying to hide his sagging pants with his arms wrapped back around himself.

"I need your arms out of the way. Put them down by your side. Stand up straight and tall, shoulders back. Head back."

He signed heavily, standing tall, putting his head back. He put his shoulders back, pushing his toned chest out, and stretching his smooth abs. His white underwear clashing starkly against his black pants.

I got pictures of all of his bruises, finding some on his chest and ribs as well.

"Any other injuries I should picture?" He felt himself a bit, and said, "I think there are some on my thighs."

He tried to pull the legs of his pants up, but they got caught on his large thighs. "You are going to have to go the other way." I said. He blushed heavily, and then started dropping his pants, trying to keep them covering as much as possible as they came down over his white boxer briefs. He showed me several bruises in the middle of his upper leg.

"I need a good picture of them. Drop your pants and lift the leg of your shorts up. He flushed red as he tried to lower his pants to his knees, holding them with his left hand as he pulled up the leg of his boxer briefs with his right. "Stand up, move your hands out of the way." He flushed bright red, his face and chest, as he stood up, his pants dropping down around his ankles, his white boxer briefs lifted up to barely covering his crotch. I got good pictures of everything, then finally let him put his clothes back on.

He sighed a huge sigh of relief as he pulled his pants back up, and pulling his shirt back over his head. He adjusted his underwear through his pants, picking out a wedgie he had given himself and pulling the legs of his boxer briefs back down to mid-thigh.

"Alright. Wait here, I will be back after I have talked with Braden."

***

When my shift finally concluded around 10, Braden was still not awake. I passed on monitoring the airport to the next shift, grabbed a chain, and brought it into Braden's interrogation room. I sat reading a book while listening to him snoring on the floor. He was curled up on his side, his shirt pulled up revealing a pair of blue boxer briefs under his pants. He had apparently thought to kick off his shoes, leaving him in just his black socks.

Around noon, Braden finally started to rouse. He woke with a start, realizing he did not know where he was, and clamped his eyes shut as he looked up into the bright fluorescent lights above him. I put my book down on the table, and stood up.

"Braden, stand up." I ordered, my voice echoing in the small boxy room. He struggled to his feet, blinking as his eyes adjusted and he started to orient himself. He stood, stretching his arms high above his head, and flexing his back left and right, adjusting the kinks that undoubtedly formed from his alcohol-fueled nap. His Tommy Hilfiger shirt pulled up to his midriff as he did this, giving me a great view of his sagging jeans and blue boxer briefs.

As he finished stretching, he grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and tugged it down over his sag. He seemed remarkably non-chalant about the whole situation.

"Hands up, stop reaching for your pants." I commanded "Face the wall so I can frisk you." He twitched quickly, putting his hands back up and turning to face the wall, still not really awake or paying attention. He put his hands on top of his head, again pulling his shirt far up off his sagging jeans and boxer briefs.

I grabbed his hands on top of his head and frisked his shirt, down his arms and onto his chest. My hands went down his front, over his pecs, down his abs, off his shirt, along his stomach and down to his tight blue Ulru boxer briefs and back up his sides. Down his back, onto his blue covered butt.

I put my hands down into his pockets and his jeans slipped lower on his hips. My hands went around to his front, in his front pockets, over his junk and down to his crotch. I pulled out his phone and wallet, and put it on the table next to us. I frisked down his legs, down to his socked feet, and pulled his feet up off the floor to feel the souls of his feet.

(Pictures and request courtesy of @saggerjordancuffed. Greatly appreciate it.)

[boostlete]

Why Wellness Apparel Is a Game-Changer for Your Fitness Routine

Introduction to Wellness Apparel in the Fitness World Wellness apparel is more than just your average gym clothes. Think of it as your workout partner, designed not just to make you look good but to enhance your performance and comfort during exercise. This type of clothing is engineered with materials that wick away sweat, keep you cool or warm depending on your exercise environment, and even reduce odor. What sets wellness apparel apart is its ability to support your body’s movements and, in some cases, improve your form. From compression leggings that promote blood flow to shirts that can track your heart rate, this gear uses technology to take your fitness game to the next level. No wonder more and more people are making the switch. Think of it; if your clothes can make your workout more effective or comfortable, why wouldn’t you try them? Whether you’re a seasoned athlete or just starting out, incorporating wellness apparel into your routine can make a noticeable difference. The Various Types of Wellness Apparel Wellness apparel goes beyond the look. It’s about wearing something that boosts your performance and comfort while you sweat it out. There’re a few types you’ll want to know about. Compression gear is a biggie. This stuff is tight, but in a good way. It’s supposed to increase blood circulation and reduce muscle fatigue. Next up, moisture-wicking clothing. When you’re pushing hard, you’re going to sweat. This gear pulls the sweat away from your skin, helping you stay dry and comfortable. Breathable fabrics are also key. These allow air to flow through, which keeps you from overheating. Then, there are temperature control clothes. Whether it’s keeping you warm on a chilly jog or cool under the sun, these pieces adjust to help regulate your body temp. Lastly, anti-odor technology is something to look out for. It prevents the growth of odor-causing microbes, so you stay fresh longer. Each type plays a role in maximizing your workout. Mix and match based on your needs and the conditions you’re facing. Benefits of Incorporating Wellness Apparel into Your Fitness Routine When you throw on wellness apparel before a workout, you’re not just dressing for the part; you’re giving your fitness routine a serious upgrade. First off, this gear is designed with your performance in mind. Imagine running shorts that reduce chafing, or yoga pants that move seamlessly with you. Sounds good, right? Plus, many of these pieces come with moisture-wicking technology. This means you stay dryer and more comfortable, no matter how intense your workout gets. And let’s not forget about the compression wear. These items are real game-changers. They help improve blood flow, reduce muscle fatigue, and speed up recovery time. So, you can push harder today and be ready to do it all over again tomorrow. Lastly, there’s a mental boost in wearing clothes that make you feel good. When you look in the mirror and see a serious athlete staring back, you’re more likely to act like one. It’s about feeling confident in your journey towards health and fitness. In short, incorporating wellness apparel into your routine is like giving yourself an extra edge. You’ll perform better, recover faster, and even boost your self-esteem. Now, who wouldn’t want that? How Wellness Apparel Can Enhance Your Workout Performance Wellness apparel does more than just make you look good while working out. It’s engineered to boost your performance, comfort, and safety. Let’s start with performance. Materials in fitness clothing today are designed to pull sweat away from your body. This keeps you dry and comfortable, allowing you to focus on pushing harder and longer in your workouts. Now, think about comfort. These clothes fit better because they’re made to move with your body. You won’t find yourself pulling at your shirt during a run or adjusting your pants during yoga. This means you can concentrate on your form and exercise, not on what you’re wearing. Safety is key too. The right gear, like reflective items for night runs or compression wear to support muscles, reduces your risk of injury. In a nutshell, investing in quality wellness apparel is investing in your workout results. You feel better, perform better, and stay safer. The Role of Technology in Wellness Apparel Tech isn’t just for gadgets anymore; it’s revolutionizing your workout wear too. Thanks to smart textiles, your gym clothes can do a lot more than just look good. These innovative fabrics can monitor your heart rate, track your body’s movement, and even measure how much you’re sweating. Imagine wearing a shirt that tells you how hard you’re working out and adjusts to keep your body at the ideal temperature. That’s not future talk; it’s what’s happening right now. Compression wear is another tech feat. It boosts circulation, which can help with muscle recovery and reduce soreness after a workout. So, when you slip into your fitness gear, remember it’s not just fabric covering your body; it’s a high-tech tool designed to enhance your performance and overall wellness. Think of it as having a personal trainer and a physiotherapist built into your clothes. In the world of fitness, where every edge counts, this tech-infused apparel can be a real game-changer. Choosing the Right Wellness Apparel for Your Exercise Needs When it comes to leveling up your workout, wearing the right wellness apparel is crucial. Think of it this way—the clothes you pick can either boost your performance or hold you back. So, what should you look for? First, consider the fabric. You want materials that pull sweat away from your skin and help it evaporate quickly. Cotton, while comfy, can stay wet. On the other hand, synthetic fabrics like polyester are excellent at keeping you dry. Next, think about the fit. Clothes that are too tight can restrict your movement, and too loose can get in the way. Opt for a fit that allows full range of motion. Also, the right gear can prevent injuries. For example, compressive garments support your muscles and reduce the risk of strains. Lastly, don’t forget about the tech features. Some apparel comes with UV protection, odor resistance, and even reflective details for night exercises. By focusing on these aspects, you’ll not only feel good and stay safe during your workouts but also potentially enhance your performance and enjoyment. Caring for Your Wellness Apparel to Ensure Longevity Taking care of your wellness apparel isn’t rocket science, but it sure makes a difference in ensuring they last long and support your fitness journey effectively. First off, always check the care label - that’s your apparel’s diary, telling you exactly what it loves and hates. Mainly, turn your gear inside out before washing. This simple move protects the color and reduces the wear on the fabric. Stick to cold water. Hot water is a big no as it can break down the fibers and fade the color. Avoid fabric softeners; they’re like kryptonite to the stretchiness in your fitness wear. Then there’s the drying game. Air drying is king. It’s gentle, and unlike dryers, it won’t shrink or warp your clothes out of shape. If you must use a dryer, opt for a low or no-heat setting. Remember, high heat is a villain to your apparel’s elasticity. Got stubborn stains or odors? Pre-soak or spot treat them with gentle, natural solutions before you wash. In a nutshell, caring for your wellness apparel might need a bit of your time and attention, but it pays off by extending the life of your clothes, saving you money, and ensuring you look good while hitting your fitness goals. Treat them right, and they’ll be your workout buddies for a long time. Real-Life Success Stories: The Impact of Wellness Apparel People from all walks of life are finding that swapping their regular workout clothes for wellness apparel makes a big difference. Take Jake, for instance, a casual runner who switched to compression leggings. He noticed fewer muscle aches and quicker recovery times almost immediately. Then there’s Maria, a yoga enthusiast. She claims her moisture-wicking yoga pants not only keep her dry and comfortable but also boost her confidence, making her more committed to her practice. Alex, a gym-goer, praises the way his performance shirts help regulate his body temperature, allowing him to focus more on his workout and less on feeling overheated or chilled. These real-life stories highlight how making a simple change in what you wear to exercise can enhance your performance, comfort, and overall dedication to staying active. No fancy equipment needed—just the right gear to help your body perform at its best. Tips for Integrating Wellness Apparel into Your Daily Fitness Regimen To get the most out of your wellness apparel, you don’t need to overhaul your wardrobe overnight. Start small. Swap out that old cotton t-shirt for a moisture-wicking top for your next run. Notice the difference? That’s wellness apparel in action, keeping you dry and comfortable. Next, consider your footwear. A good pair of shoes can change the game, providing the right support for your activity of choice. Be it running, lifting, or yoga, there’s footwear designed to maximize your performance. Now, let’s talk about compression gear. It’s not just for athletes anymore. Adding compression leggings or socks to your outfit can improve circulation and reduce muscle fatigue. This means you can push a bit harder and recover a bit faster. Finally, don’t forget accessories. A breathable hat for outdoor activities or a pair of gloves for those chilly morning runs can make a big difference. Remember, incorporating wellness apparel into your routine is about enhancing your performance and comfort. Start with one piece, feel the improvement, and build from there. You’ll notice your workouts elevating in no time. Conclusion: The Future of Fitness with Wellness Apparel Wellness apparel is not just a trend; it’s revolutionizing the way we approach fitness. By incorporating technology that monitors health metrics and enhances comfort, these clothes are becoming an essential part of our workout routines. As we move forward, the impact of wellness apparel on our fitness journeys is only going to grow. Expect to see more advanced features, from fabric that adjusts to your body temperature to designs that improve posture. With every stitch aimed at boosting your performance and health, wellness apparel is indeed shaping the future of fitness. Investing in these innovative garments isn’t just about looking good; it’s about making every workout count, staying motivated, and reaching your health goals faster. Read the full article

[poridyydd]

compression shirts: What are they, and why should you care?

This blog contains the following keywords what are compression shirts made of. Compression shirts are a type of activewear clothing designed to provide support, comfort, and breathability during physical activity. The shirts are crafted with a snug fit and are made of a combination of materials such as spandex, nylon, and polyester. They are often used by athletes and individuals who participate in physical activities, such as running, yoga, and weightlifting, as well as those who want to maintain a comfortable and stylish look during their everyday activities. What Are Compression Shirts Made Of? Compression shirts are often made of a combination of materials such as spandex, nylon, and polyester. The combination of these materials creates a snug fit that hugs the body and provides support and comfort. The use of spandex allows for elasticity and flexibility, while the use of nylon and polyester provides breathability and durability. What Benefits Do Compression Shirts Provide? Compression shirts can provide a variety of benefits to those who wear them. They are designed to provide support and comfort during physical activity, such as running, yoga, and weightlifting. The snug fit of the shirt helps to reduce muscle vibration and improve blood circulation. This helps to improve performance and reduce soreness. In addition to providing support and comfort, compression shirts also help to keep the body warm in cold weather. The snug fit helps to trap heat, while the breathable fabric helps to keep the body cool in hot weather. The fabric also helps to wick away moisture, keeping the body dry and comfortable. Who Should Wear Compression Shirts? Compression shirts can be worn by anyone who participates in physical activities and wants to maintain a comfortable and stylish look during their everyday activities. Athletes, such as runners and weightlifters, can benefit from the support and comfort that compression shirts provide. Additionally, individuals who are looking for extra support while participating in activities such as yoga, Pilates, and other low-impact exercises can benefit from wearing compression shirts. Are Compression Shirts Good for Everyday Wear? Compression shirts are also great for everyday wear. The snug fit and breathable fabric help to keep you comfortable and stylish during your daily activities. The fabric also helps to wick away moisture, making them an ideal choice for warm weather activities. Additionally, the fabric helps to keep you warm in cold weather, making them an ideal choice for winter activities. Conclusion Compression shirts are a great choice for those who participate in physical activities and want to maintain a comfortable and stylish look during their everyday activities. The combination of materials such as spandex, nylon, and polyester creates a snug fit that provides support and comfort. The fabric also helps to keep the body warm in cold weather and cool in hot weather. Additionally, the fabric helps to wick away moisture, keeping the body dry and comfortable. Compression shirts are a great choice for athletes, as well as those who are looking for extra support while participating in activities such as yoga and Pilates. They are also great for everyday wear, as they help to keep you comfortable and stylish during your daily activities.

[joshslater]

Introduction

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Andrew stared at the door, not sure what to expect. He wanted to prepare himself that this could be somethings humiliating or painful. He wasn't wearing anything embarrassing, just his normal jeans, sneakers, and polo shirt. If it ended up online at least he wasn't wearing a video game T-shirt, or worse, an anime one.

Just after he had finished his lunch in the cafeteria Jack Thomson had walked over to him. At first Andrew thought he was in the way of someone else, someone Jack knew. "Andrew, right?" the towering athlete had asked him. "Yeah?" he had answered, trying to figure out why one of the star players in the basket team knew his name. Jack was a senior about to graduate and Andrew was freshman about to start sophomore year. They had nothing in common.

"Your last class for today ends at four, right?" "Yeah." "Good. Come by my house right after. Hillview North 680."

It wasn't a question. Andrew squeaked out a confused "sure". Jack slapped him on the shoulder, said "my man", and walked away.

Andrew had felt bad all afternoon, trying to make sense of it all. His first year was almost over, so some sort of hazing wasn't likely. Not this late. He hadn't been bullied. Not in that personal way anyway. Just some people shouting "Nerd" or worse when he wore T-shirts with comic characters too far from Marvel and DC.

The door wasn't going to give any answers, so he pressed the doorbell and a metallic gong was heard just on the other side of the door. It took a minute, then the door opened with Jack in the doorway. Of course basket players are tall, but that fact is often lost when you see them next to each other or in large spaces like the school cafeteria. Here filling up the doorframe of a residential home made much more of an impact.

"Andrew, right?" Jack had changed into navy blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. His hair looked damp and there was a strong smell of cheap deodorant. The same question as at school, like he hadn't bothered to remember him clearly enough then. "Yeah" "Come on in" He stepped aside and let Andrew pass through him into the house. "You're a team player, right? I want you to try something," he continued after having closed the door. He took a few steps to a duffle bag on a chair by the door and fished up something white and folded. He handed it over to Andrew. Andrew shook out the cloth and looked in disbelief at the white compression pants. "You want me to wear these? Why?" "Just do it and I'll show you. There's a bathroom if you're shy." He nodded towards a door.

Andrew decided against using it, kicked off his sneakers, undid his jeans, stepped out of them. He then stepped into the compression pants, which were surprisingly tight. They are supposed to be tight, he realized, but they were clearly not Jack's size.

"Now these," Jack continued, holding out a pair of white socks and blue and white basket shorts. "The sock for the right foot has an R on it."

Andrew stepped into the shorts as well, then looked for somewhere to sit down to swap out the socks. "Here!" Jack grabbed the duffle bag off the chair and dropped it on the floor next to Andrew's jeans and shoes. All while Andrew was taking off and putting on socks Jack had a very focused expression on his face.

"Take off your shirt as well." "Really? Why am I doing this?" "It's the last thing. Just do it."

Andrew couldn't hear anyone else in the house. If this was a prank he couldn't figure it out. He wasn't ashamed of his body. There just wasn't that much of it.

"Now follow me. Lie down on this couch." He did. "Now just relax, close your eyes, and listen to this." Jack put a pair of headphones on Andrew with what sounded like white noise. He felt really tired all of a sudden. Somewhere in the noise was a voice. Perhaps not a voice, but an idea. He must be a baller, why else would he be wearing baller shorts, the idea suggested. Why else indeed?

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[saffron-nova21]

VII. Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer Pt. 2

The Next Chapter Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Iwaizumi is smooth, like one minor suggestive joke

As the three of you walked away from your apartment, you moved your hand into Kenma's, contently swinging your interlaced hands back and forth while Kuroo spoke to Kenma. You didn't tune in to all of it, instead just looking around. It looked dangerously close to raining and after glancing at your friends, you quickly realized that none of you were dressed for the rain.

Kuroo was surprisingly casual today, a white shirt with some dark print against it, a cross-body shoulder bag, and a pair of black skinny jeans that most certainly did him justice. Kenma, for once, had pulled something that wasn't his signature black hoodie out of his closet. Wearing a long sleeve black shirt that hung off of his form, along with some black joggers. You had gone with a crewneck for your own comfort. Kenma's merch, as usual for you.

You couldn't explain what it was about wearing Kenma's merch, but for whatever reason, it brought you a great deal of comfort, which was the main reason that Kenma made sure you got at least one of everything he sold, no matter how 'exclusive' it was supposed to be, you had one. Not to mention, he liked to have his name, even if it was the one he used online, displayed on you.

But you didn't have to know that part.

"Like I said, Lev is already on top of it. If you two want to take a serious break and not even have to deal with Twitter or streaming, just say the word." Kuroo reassures, patting his smaller friend on the back, "You know, I really don't understand why you two, who hate social interaction, chose a career that depends solely on it."

Looking over, you're quick to respond, "What can we say? We like staying at home. Plus, it's not exactly a lot of work. It's just hard work and it's draining, y'know?"

Both boys give you a peculiar look, Kenma being the first of them to speak. "You know, I think you need a nap when we get home." He squeezes your hand with his own before looking forward again. "Hard work and a lot of work are... Rather close to being the same thing. Don't undermine your profession, just because other people do."

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, though he doesn't say anything as he faces forwards as well. "There he is, in the flesh," he notes as he gestures in the direction of a man leaning against a car.

Your eyes widened a bit as you took a good look at the man. He looked... Where there even words for it? Muscular arms and what you could only guess was a muscular chest was barely contained by a black shirt. Unluckily for you, blocking your view was what you assumed to be a compression sleeve, covering one of his arms from his wrist, up past his sleeve. He also wore the same black joggers that Kenma did, though through them, you could see muscular thighs and calves.

"Tetsuro, I thought you said we were going to meet a colleague, not someone who I would let do horrible, vile things to my -." Your words are cut off by an abrupt cough from Kuroo. "Come on, you both know I'm kidding!.. More or less..."

Kuroo and Kenma couldn't help but exchange pained looks - you really were going for a reverse harem, at this point, weren't you? You'd think they'd both be used to your fawning over 'pretty' and 'respectful-looking' men. Though, Hajime wasn't the worst person you could pick, at the very least.

After shaking his head in amusement, Kuroo raises an arm over his head to wave towards the other man. "Hajime!" Kuroo's deep voice cuts through the air, catching the Athletic Trainer's attention.

Looking up from his phone, the black-haired male gives a light wave, adjusting his posture to stand up straight. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he shifts his weight, his biceps flexing more than they should be allowed to, in your opinion. He might be an athletic trainer, but no one should be allowed to look that good, in just a t-shirt. Looking at the way the material stretched over his muscular arms, you wondered if it was about to tear... It certainly looked like it was close to it.

Iwaizumi allows the three of you to catch up to him as he reaches the entrance of the restaurant. He gives you and Kenma a nod, because he turns to Kuroo and begins to speak to him, though you tuned out pretty quickly when you heard him speaking to Kuroo about the previous Captain's job. What could you say? It was boring.

Crossing your arms, you spare Kenma a glance, "He could have at least said 'hi.'" You complain, not quite expecting the two in front of you to hear you.

You can hear Iwaizumi let out a quiet laugh, before he turns to face you, voice dripping in dry amusement. "I'm so very sorry, your highness." He shifts so his face is directly in front of yours. "Hi, I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, Athletic Trainer of the volleyball team. I can't wait to start our work together."

You narrow your eyes a bit, brows furrowing at how close he was to you. Heat rises to your face and you attempt to take a step back, only to find that Kenma was conveniently preventing that. You find a reason to finally look away from him as he takes your hand from Kenma's to shake it, amusement pooling in his features. Underneath the surface, though, Iwaizumi was silently thanking Oikawa for the years he'd spent with the other male, learning how to shock him enough to shut him up.

Kenma bites back his smirk, raising a hand to cover his mouth before he let out the laugh of amusement that threatened to escape him. He raises an eyebrow, nudging you, "You could at least respond, now that he has said hi."

Your two friends found far too much amusement in the interaction, in your opinion.

"Well, it's a pleasure, Iwaizumi Hajime, Olympic Trainer." You recover from your previously stunned state, a slight huff of air escaping you. "So kind of you to finally acknowledge our presence."

Kuroo sighs deeply, "Kuroo Tetsuro, table for four," he nods to the hostess, who looked amused by the interaction.

"Right this way."

Iwaizumi withdraws his hand so that he can begin following the other two, towards your normal booth in the corner. Kenma liked to have his back against the wall, always saying how it helped him stay calm. Neither you nor Kuroo had any qualms, especially if it made him feel more comfortable with you all going out in public. Though rather than moving to sit across from you both so that you could sit next to Kenma, as per usual, Kuroo slips into the seat beside Kenma, ensuring that you'd be seated next to Iwaizumi.

Puffing out your cheeks, you open your mouth to protest, only to stop and glance at Iwaizumi when you hear him speak. "Any day now, your highness."

You slide into your seat with palpable reluctance, you hostess giving you a sympathetic smile, before nodding. "Your waiter will be with you shortly."

Sinking further down into your seat, you cross your arms, "You know, I - Woah, buddy!" Jumping back up straight in your seat, you point an accusing finger at Iwaizumi, "You better watch where you're putting that leg of yours, buddy! There shouldn't be any premarital under-the-table knee touching."

Kenma lets out a breath, "You think they'll give us the check, yet?"

You and Kenma hold hands a lot in public. More than anything else, you both use it as a way to silently let one another know when you're uncomfortable. One squeeze for reassurance, two for an 'are you okay,' three for 'get me away from this conversation/person,' and four for 'home. now.'

Kuroo isn't sure how well Kenma is going to take it, when you truly start spending time with good-looking athletes, every day.

Kenma doesn't know that Suna and Atsumu are on the Olympic team and will probably kick Kuroo's ass, when he finds out. You were hurt badly, after everything. Worse than anyone but Kenma saw.

I hope you all are having a wonderful day. It is spring break and I, for one, have lost all concept of time. But still, I hope you guys are enjoying the story and having a good break. As usual, don't forget to eat and sleep, okay? And drink some water, I know you probably haven't, today.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

The Next Chapter Taglist:

@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[ahkaahshi]

haikyuu guys n their summer street style [hcs]

characters: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, hirugami sachirou, sakusa kiyoomi

genre: is thirst a genre? also, crack.

warning(s): mild thirsting because I can’t help myself sometimes okay

loves the athleisure/sportswear look

and he works it

did he come from the gym? class? or was he just lounging around at home all day with his cute self? the world may never know

I just envision him in red, black, and white like idk why I can't separate him from the nekoma color scheme lol

red t-shirt, black joggers, and black or white sneakers

his shirt is fitted enough to hug his ~ muscles ~ but not so much that it’s a straight up compression shirt

sneakers are strictly adidas ultraboosts or vans (era style)

might wear a lil baseball cap but likes to let his bedhead be free

and maybe some aviator sunglasses if it’s an exceptionally bright day

if his s/o begs him to free his thighs, or the weather calls for it, he will unleash the beasts in some black athletic shorts

likes to be comfy and cute! an athleisure king!

first of all, let’s take a moment of silence to mourn the plaid shorts incident because *inhales sharply* no

pls let him wear his track pants 24/7 (sorry I'm still drooling over how he looked in s2 ep6 where he made takeru take a pic of him with kags bowing to him)

okay but all personal thirsting aside, he low key gives off toorist vibes with his fit (get it??? tooru + tourist = toorist!!! I'm sorry but not really bc I'm kinda proud of that one)

so just humor me and picture this will you

a lil button up, hawaiian style shirt (shades of blues, yellows, and oranges)

with light wash jeans (slim fit, not skinny)

and white nike sb sneakers, specifically (I take my shoes very seriously lol)

would probs flex on us by just casually throwing on a gucci/prada belt

definitely wears a watch so he can make it to all his d*ck appointments on time since everyone wants a piece of his fine self

let’s throw a gold chain in there for extra drip cuz we all know he would if he’s feelin fancy

is a king so must dress like one. he ain’t playin.

why am I picturing him looking like a crime syndicate boss on vacation now??? and why do I love it for him???

okay I picture him dressing like a chilled out skater kid ngl that's just the vibe he gives off cuz he’s immovable ya know

but soft skater boy

by this I mean:

pastel colored t-shirts/button ups (pinks, lavenders, blues, and yellows) sometimes with brands on them. call him a mf ambassador

black, slightly ripped, slim fit jeans that he cuffs at the bottom because his legs are too long for them and he wants to make the length look like a ~ style choice ~ rather than an unfortunate thing he must deal with bc he’s tall as hell

white nike crew socks

and black/pastel colored vans (high top or era styles)

wears a watch so he knows when he has to be home to feed his dog

probs has a custom made lanyard hanging out of his pocket with pics of him and his dog on it

has little round sunglasses that are just too cute on him

disclaimer: doesn’t actually know how to skate

I mean, he’s basically a sequoia tree with a long way to fall so it’s understandable that he’s a lil hesitant about it (note: gao is a redwood)

avoids skate parks because of this

a very aesthetically pleasing person to take pics with for the gram because of his outfits. his presence always does your feed justice. 11/10.

I feel like omi’s the kinda guy who doesn't try super hard with his looks

like, he’s fine with just a t-shirt, track pants, and sneakers

but I have a feeling that he secretly loves collecting cool sneakers and just steppin tf out to flex

komori is shook when he goes over to omi’s place and sees his secret collection

asks to borrow a pair. sakusa says no.

so here’s the fit I'm feelin for him:

a crew neck tee that’s white/black/soft yellow/soft green (again with the school colors lmao but he looks good tho so why not keep it goin???)

black track/running pants with a tapered fit

crew socks with a funky pair of running shoes (totally see him in the nike air max react 270 shoes)

rarely wears shorts bc he feels ~ exposed to the germs ~ but if he does, they’re athletic shorts

will 100% wear a fanny pack cuz he needs someplace to put all his germ-fighting essentials!!

but crossbody, not around the waist. atsumu roasted the sh!t outta him for wearing it like that before

and to finish his fit: a mask. just white or black. no need to get too crazy

another comfy sportswear king!

[unicornery]

I was tagged by: NO ONE

Name - Rachel

Gender - Female (she/her)

Star sign - Scorpo

Height - 5’11”

Time - 10:52PM

Birthday - Nov 5.

Favorite bands - Yes, Rush, Genesis, Steely Dan, The Mars Volta, Kyuss.

Favorite solo artists -  I like Stevie Nicks as a person/icon but tbh I don’t listen to a lot of her music.

Song stuck in my head - “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” - Tears for Fears

Last movie - I watched most of “What Happens in Vegas” on hotel cable this morning

Last show - Bajillion Dollar Propertie$

When did I make this blog - April 2009

What do I post - podcast audio clips, my cat, podcast quotes

Last thing I googled - talking heads

Other blogs - @justlittlepftthings , @eggcorn , @fybearsbeetsbattlestargalactica , @hibillymayshere

Do I get asks - very very rarely

Why I chose this URL - The DiCicco Brothers Unicornery, off route 13 in Passaic New Jersey! 

Following - 410

Followers - 1,652

Average hours of sleep - so not enough

Lucky number - 74

Instruments - Mallets (glockenspiel and xylophone), clarinet, piano

What I’m wearing - Custom embroidered Lucille Bluth t-shirt, Russell Athletic shorts, compression socks

Dream job - Celebrity cat consultant

Dream trip - NYC where someone else does all the planning and work and I just have to show up

Favorite food - pizza

Nationality - American

Favorite song - “And You And I” by Yes

Last book I’ve read - currently reading It Never Ends by Tom Scharpling

Top three fictional worlds to live in - Freaks and Geeks / McKinley High, That ‘70s Show, Sailor Moon

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Beyond the Mountains - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Tim, Conner, Terry Pairing: jondami Summary: There was a new Batman in town, but it wasn’t Damian. No, Damian returned to the League of Assassins with his grandfather. Jon married him anyway. A/N: A batman beyond ‘verse kind of?? based on the comics! Referenced the two arcs Damian are in in Batman Beyond currently (like, 10-13 and 43 through current) a few times in here, but also changed a few of the canon details. Since the current arc Damian is in in BB is not yet out, I bs’d the end and I’m sorry it sucks. I imagine Jon being the hot/dorky high school teacher so...that’s what he is haha. Also reminder that I am nooooooo good at sex scenes haha. I worked a fuck ton on this, so if you like it, please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon! 

~~

Jon was used to Damian breaking into his house in the middle of the night. He’d done it since they were kids. Jon had started breaking into Damian’s house right back when they began dating. It was a thing between them. Their thing.

But this time. This was different.

The bright light shining through the window woke him up first. It was blinding, and he had no idea what it was. Was it daytime? Did he sleep in? Impossible, his parents would have never let him, despite being nearly twenty-three years old, and a guest.

Next, he caught on to the wind, the sound of something hovering. The light was coming from an airship? Batman? Wonder Woman? One of the Lanterns? Was there an emergency?

But as he sat up, he saw a shape drop onto his windowsill. A familiar one, one that put his heart at ease almost always.

But…it didn’t this time.

Because Damian’s silhouette was wrong. There was no cape, or even pointy-eared mask like there should have been. In fact, he seemed to only be wearing what he always wore under one of those uniforms. Compression leggings and long-sleeved shirt.

“Damian?” Jon asked as he sat up, and Damian dropped to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. But I’m not staying.” Damian explained quickly as he came into view. His face looked hollow, eyes dark. “I just…I just needed to see you before I left.”

“Left?” Jon kicked his blankets off, stumbling to his feet. Damian wasn’t the type to throw words like ‘left’ around easily. “What do you mean? You’re…you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wha…where are you going? What happened?” As an afterthought. “Is your dad okay?”

“He’s fine. In Gotham where he belongs. I…” Damian looked away. “I’m going with my grandfather.”

“No.” Jon stepped forward, grabbed Damian’s biceps. “You are absolutely not going with him, and I don’t care what he said or who he threatened, he cannot make you do anything you don’t want-”

“But I do.” Damian whispered. “I…I want to go. And I’m going of my free will. No one is forcing me.”

“No.” Jon was shaking his head. “No. I don’t believe you. You would never-”

“What my father is doing isn’t working, Jon.” Damian pleaded. “And his scope isn’t wide enough. His vision is today, not the future. But that’s what we need to work towards. That’s what my grandfather envisions.”

Jon was still shaking his head, still squeezing Damian’s arms. “No way-”

“I didn’t come here to debate.” Damian sighed, closing his eyes. Carefully, he wiggled his way out of Jon’s grip. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Before Jon could say anything else, Damian took a soft hold of his face and kissed him. It was heavy, desperate, but gentle, and so clearly apologetic. But even as Jon began to shift his arms to hold on to Damian’s waist, keep him there forever, Damian slipped away and was back to the window.

He looked back only once, then disappeared back into the dark.

~~

To say Jon was furious was an understatement.

It’d been weeks since Damian disappeared. Weeks. And when he first went back to Gotham to tell him what Damian had said to him, Bruce hadn’t been surprised. Said he knew, and that he was looking for Damian himself.

And for a while, he gave Jon updates. Called him every few days with his new leads or any evidence he may have found.

Then he stopped.

And when Jon showed up in Gotham a few weeks after, he saw some kid with Bruce, at Wayne Enterprises. Same dark hair, athletic build and eager face as the rest of them.

“You’re not looking for Damian at all, are you?” Jon snapped as he burst into the office, ignoring all security and secretaries. “You’ve already…moved on, haven’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Jon.” Bruce countered, weakly standing in front of this new boy.

“Do I? You stopped calling me with your leads.”

“Because none are panning out.” Bruce promised. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jon huffed. “…All this time, I defended you to Damian. But here, it turns out he was right all these years. You never gave a shit about him.”

“Jonathan!” Bruce admonished, face filling with his own anger.

“Save it.” Jon waved him off as a security guard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’ll just go find him myself.”

~~

Nanda Parbat.

He’d never heard of it before, not even from Damian. But this lead came from Tim, through Conner, and not Bruce, so Jon believed it. Especially with Tim’s own unfortunate ties to Ra’s al Ghul.

It was freezing here, and Jon was almost starting to doubt Tim’s intel of a secret village, when a barrage of arrows came out of nowhere in the fog. They barely missed him, just as he almost missed the bola swinging straight for his throat.

In the moment of being overwhelmed with weapons, he lost track of where he was going, and found himself bouncing off the sharp edge of a jutting cliff, falling out of the air like a crashing plane.

The landing was surprisingly soft, thanks to the snow that he plopped into. But when he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a circle of masked assassins, each one holding a matching sword to his throat.

“Um…ow.” He murmured, rubbing his head. Slowly he raised his hands. “I, uh…come in peace?”

“You should not have come at all.” A voice called further away. The assassins all backed up a step, and some shifted to allow him to see. An old man had spoken, older than anyone Jon had ever seen.

Damian stood behind him.

“Surely the Detective has told you.” The man – Ra’s, Jon assumed – said. “You are not welcome here, Superma-”

Ra’s trailed off as Jon sat up. As he slowly got to his feet and ignored the danger of death all around him.

“You are not the Superman I am aware of.” Ra’s countered. Damian, still silent behind him, let his eyes grow wide. Jon grinned back at him. “But the rules still apply to you, and you are as unwelcome here as the original Superman is…”

Jon tuned him out as he moved forward. One of the assassins stuck his sword in front of him, and Jon just bent it in half as his walk turned into a run, and he all but barreled towards Damian.

He hit him head on, like a freight train, almost knocked him over, really. But Damian caught him anyway. Wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon wrapped his around Damian’s waist.

“You’re here.” Damian gasped, shifting his hand to clutch at Jon’s hair. “You’re here, you…you…what are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.” Jon smiled against his throat. “I mean…last I checked, you’re still my boyfriend.”

Damian’s fingers twitched against his head.

“Unless that lame ass goodbye you gave me was supposed to also be a breakup.” Jon smirked. “And if that’s the case, I didn’t get the message, and also don’t accept.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are to him.” Ra’s reinserted himself into the conversation. “We don’t allow visitors of any sort here, least of all unannounced ones.”

Jon backed up a little bit, but only enough to turn. He kept Damian in his arms. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here alive, Little Superman.”

Damian was instantly between them. “A few nights, Grandfather. Please.” Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him. “He was unaware of the rules, and their strictness. He should not be executed for his ignorance.”

“We don’t make exceptions here, Damian. You know that.”

“I also know I am the heir to your throne, and as future Demon’s Head, can do as I please.” Damian countered. “I’m only asking as a courtesy, out of respect for you. Now, either you let him stay, or I let him carry me away, and decide later if I wish to actually return.”

Ra’s frowned. “Watch yourself, Damian.”

Damian merely raised his chin. It’d look regal, if he wasn’t still half corralled into Jon’s arms.

“…Fine. He may stay.” Ra’s spun away, waving to the nearby assassins to stand down. “This time. Inform him of the rules, and remind him that he won’t get this mercy next time.”

Damian glanced back up at Jon, who gave him his best grin. “…Yes, sir.”

~~

“Who told you about this place?” Damian asked. “Or how to find it?”

“Tim, technically.” Jon hummed from the bed, watching as Damian slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. It gave the space a warm, comforting glow. “Well, I mean, Conner told me. But the info was from Tim.”

Damian nodded. “Guess I have to kill him, then.”

Jon laughed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he moved. He was graceful, yes, but it was more his clothes. Loose pants under an open, deep green robe.

Even in his pajamas, he looked royal. Like a king.

(Like his king.)

He himself was just in borrowed clothes. Offered the same as what Damian wore, but only took the dark green pants. Robes were never his thing.

“Well unfortunately, I won’t let you do that.” Jon laughed, ducking his eyes only a little when Damian looked back at him. “…He misses you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Damian said dryly. “He and Father both, right?”

Jon sighed. “…I don’t know what Bruce is doing, but Dick, Tim and them…they never stopped looking for you. In fact, I told them I’d contact them if I found you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Damian hummed.

“Why, want to hide all the terrible al Ghul secrets from them?” Jon smirked. “I mean, doesn’t Tim already know most of them?”

“He does I suppose, but that’s not why.” He finished lighting the last candle and blew out the match between his fingers. He carefully put the smoldering piece in a nearby ashtray and turned fully towards Jon. “I want to spend time with you.” Damian admitted. “Uninterrupted.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up instantly. He suddenly remembered that he was, gloriously, only half clothed. And that the only extra piece of clothing Damian had, the robe, was light and easily rippable.

“And you know if you contacted them, they’d attempt some kind of rescue mission, and come in guns blazing, etcetera, etcetera.” Damian drawled as he waved his hand around, walked towards the bed, and sat on its edge. “And that would just waste our time together, wouldn’t it?”

Jon smiled and flopped his hand out for Damian to take. Damian did so instantly, leaning down to drape himself across Jon’s chest.

“…You sure it can only be a few days?” Jon whispered as Damian trailed his fingers along his cheekbone. “Sure you really don’t just want to come back with me?”

“Want to, of course. We could get that log cabin in the middle of the forest you’ve always talked about.” Damian lamented, even as Jon dragged their combined fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “But I need to stay.”

“Why?”

“I can do good here.” Damian offered. “I can…learn things. Maybe one day put them to good use, or, heaven forbid, tell them to my father. Work together to save the world, and all that.”

Jon kissed at his fingers again. “And where do I fit in that plan?”

Damian hesitated, then sighed, attempted to pull his hand away and sit up, but Jon didn’t let him. Clung to his fingers, and wrapped his free hand around Damian’s back.

“It’s just a question.” He promised. “Not an accusation.”

“I…suppose I had hoped you’d take my last visit to you as an ending to our relationship.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “Not because I don’t-”

“I know.” Jon smiled, kissed his hand again.

“…I’d hoped you’d forget about me. Move on. Find happiness elsewhere.”

Jon grinned, pulling Damian down farther. “Impossible.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Well, it would have made my plan a lot easier.”

“I’d say sorry if I was.” Jon released their hands to hold the side of Damian’s face. “But we both know I’m not.”

He felt Damian’s smile as he pushed their mouths together. Damian melted against him immediately, hands running up his sides to curl into his chest.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he could feel the fast beat of Damian’s through his jaw. His hand twitched, nails just biting into Damian’s skin.

God, he missed this. Missed him.

“How…many?” He gasped as one of Damian’s hands found their way into his hair. “Days? How many days can I stay?”

Damian hummed. “Three at most.” He answered when parted for a quick inhale. “Four, if I begged, perhaps.”

“You, begging? I’d love to hear it.” Jon laughed as he shifted to begin kissing along Damian’s jaw. Damian pinched at his collarbone. “Any way we can extend my visit indefinitely? Or gain unlimited visiting access without potentially getting murdered?”

Damian hummed again, pulling back to lean thoughtfully on his elbow.

“…There are not many, I don’t believe. At least, not many that would apply to you.” Damian thought out loud. Jon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, then ran his hand down to his shoulder, where he began to subtly push Damian’s robe off. “Members of governments and armies we are having dealings with and spouses are all that come time mind.”

Jon’s hand stopped on the curve of his arm. “Spouses?” He blurted. “People are married here?”

“Not many, but a few. Higher generals and some of the scientists, maybe. My bodyguard, Koru. He is. I’ll introduce you to some of their children in the morning, they’ll enjoy you.” Damian shrugged. “At least two of Grandfather’s wives stayed here in their lifetimes.”

But when Damian looked back towards Jon’s face he frowned. Jon was smiling.

“…What?”

“There’s our solution, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We get married. I become husband to the next Demon’s Head.” Jon’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Problem solved.”

Damian scoffed, sitting up completely. Jon released him only reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian snapped. “You can’t marry someone just to have unlimited…as Todd would put it, booty calls.”

“One, rude that you believe I think of visiting you as purely earth-shattering sexcapades.” Jon pushed himself up onto his forearms. “Two, also rude that you don’t think I’d want to marry you because, I don’t know, I love you?”

Damian just glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’ve said I love you to each other before. Many times.” Jon countered. “I mean, I know we haven’t said it since, you know, you ghosted everyone for three months, but still.”

“Marriage is a big decision.” Damian countered. “And I’m not letting you make such a spur of the moment decision on my account.”

“Who said it was spur of the moment?” Jon demanded. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages.”

Damian snorted. “You have not.”

“Have so. Ask your sister.” Jon countered. “She was helping me for weeks to figure out what kind of design I wanted for a ring, and had scouted a bunch of jewelry stores in Gotham and Metropolis. We were planning on checking them out the weekend you disappeared.”

Damian just stared at him. But there was less annoyance in his face now, more wonder. His eyes glowed in the dim light from the candles.

“I mean, we never made it to the stores, so I don’t have a ring. But I’ll go fly out to one of the mountains outside and make one out of stone if you want me to.” Jon sat up completely now. “I’ll even get down on one knee if you want that too.”

Damian just stared up at him. His cheeks were rosy, and Jon wanted to kiss him again, but now that he’d started down this path, he had a feeling it would be awkward if he just stopped his weird admittance of adoration to make out some more.

“I always thought we’d have a giant wedding, you and me.” Jon whispered with a dreamy smile. “But…this is an opportunity. This is a good opening. We’re together, we’re alive. And it kills me to think about, but when is our next chance to be both those things together?” He looked down, and took Damian’s hand between both of his own. “I…forgot, until I saw you again, outside. How much I missed you. How lonely I was. How worried. How miserable. How much I…worship the fucking ground you walk on, Damian.”

Damian didn’t say a word.

“Is it a means to an end? Well, if the end is me not getting killed for just stepping foot here, then to some it may look like that. But it’s not.” Jon hummed, stroking his thumb along one of Damian’s knuckles. “It’s just…no time like the present, you know? Potentially getting murdered gives us a good reason to get it done. To not wait, or hesitate.”

Damian stared at their hands.

“And I…I realized. When I saw you again. I don’t want another day without you. I don’t want another day without being yours.” Jon squinted, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “Even if marriage wasn’t a potential solution, and I mean, you said maybe, you didn’t even say sure thing. But even if it wasn’t, even if Ra’s locked me up for staying too long, or showing up again, that’s fine. I’d be here with you, so I’d be happy anyway.”

“…It’d have to be long distance.” Damian murmured, turning his hand in Jon’s grip. “I can’t leave here. But I refuse to damn you to stay in this place forever too.”

“I know. I have stuff I need to do back home, too. A job and hero stuff. I’m not going to stop helping people or anything like that. But hey, it might work in our favor. I can be your eyes and ears back home. Keep you in the loop in case anything serious happens, and you need to come back, if only for a day or two.” Jon tilted his head. “And now that I know where Nanda Parbat is, I can be here every week. Every night.”

Damian looked up at him, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“And it’s weird to say, but you’d be safe here. No one will be able to find you, except me.” Jon smiled. “My very own prince hidden away and guarded by an evil dragon.”

Damian quirked a smile at that. “…We’d have to do it quickly. The wedding I mean. Before your three day time limit is up. After informing Grandfather, of course.” His smile faltered. “You wouldn’t get the big wedding you wanted.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a big wedding. I just said I always imagined that’s what it’d be, with both of us knowing so many people, and, you know, being Superman and Batman’s sons.” He squeezed Damian’s hand. “I’m more interested in the act than the event.”

“Oh, the wedding night?” Damian teased, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Stooop.” Jon drawled as he threw his head back with a laugh. “I do not want to marry you so we can have, as you put it, secret mountain village booty calls whenever I can come out here.”

He heard Damian laugh too. Felt Damian squeeze his hand. “…Yes.”

The answer was soft, almost inaudible. Jon lowered his head to look Damian in the eyes, the tears in his threatening to overflow. “What?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” Damian whispered. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Jon felt a tear escape even as he leaned forward and engulfed Damian in his arms. Felt Damian wipe it away as he twisted his head to kiss him. Felt Damian’s own tears drip onto his face as they fell back into the bed together.

~~

In the middle of the night, he reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of Damian’s bed and tiptoed to the door. He slowly slid it open and stuck his head out, glancing around for the one Damian called Koru, the bodyguard.

“Pst!” He hissed when he saw him, just down the hall. Koru narrowed his eyes, but quickly pattered over. “Can you do me a favor?”

Koru frowned. “No.”

“Why no…oh. Right.” Jon whispered. “You can leave your post, I promise I won’t tell. And I promise I’ll protect him in the meantime.” He let his eyes glow red as he pointed at them. “I’ve got heat vision and super strength and all that. He’s in good hands.”

Koru’s eyes had widened slightly. “…What do you want?”

“Go out and find the coolest stones you can find. As many as you want, but at least two.”

“What for?”

“A secret, but I promise it’s not a weapon. And I promise you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Koru hesitated for a moment, then huffed. “Fine. But if any of his blood is spilled, I will have your head.”

“Perfect.” Jon gave him a thumbs up. “Knock twice when you’re back?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Cool.” Jon grinned at him and slid the door shut once more.

~~

In all his years, in all his fantasies of getting married to Damian, the one thing he never thought was that he’d be getting married by the one and only Ra’s al Ghul.

He was ordained. In at least six different religions, and all countries but Norway. Who knew?

Ra’s wasn’t thrilled when Damian barged into his quarters the next morning, Jon in tow, to inform him of their intentions. If anything, he seemed most annoyed at the fact that Damian had upturned his plans for the day, and entered the room without knocking or any of the formalities he was supposed to perform.

He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“His mother fell in love with the Batman, and he fell in love with the future Superman.” Ra’s sighed in answer to Jon’s question as servants suddenly swarmed the room, dragging Damian away for wedding preparations. “It follows a pattern. Why should I be surprised?” Another group of women came into the room and began pushing him out of it as well. “Your ceremony is at dusk. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t see Damian the rest of the day, but it’s not like he was given a chance to notice. He was fed and, awkwardly, bathed. He was presented with what appeared to be traditional robes, made of the nicest materials he’d ever seen in his life, and stood on a stool as the clothes were tailored and hemmed by some of the women – “Call us your grannies, little American boy.” The eldest of them said – for the rest of the afternoon.

It was…nice, though. The women were kind, and the assassins sent as guards were respectful. Jon even got a few of them to smile. The children who were following their working mothers chattered his ear off, in between drawing pictures of him and ‘Prince Damian’ as they jokingly called him, and creating colorful crowns and headbands for him from the scraps of fabric scattered around the room.

After a light dinner that, against the instructions and commands of all the adults in the room, Jon ate with the children, there was a quiet knock on the door before it opened to reveal Koru, Damian’s bodyguard.

His clothes were much finer than the battle-ready armour Jon had seen him in since he arrived, and he felt a sense of honor wash through his system at the thought.

“It’s time.” Koru mumbled. Jon stumbled to his feet, and practically ran after him. The women and the children cheered in his wake, sending salutations and well-wishes after him.

Koru led him outside and down a path that seemed to leave the small village completely. Suddenly, the path took a sharp incline into the hills surrounding them, and Jon felt like they were walking into the clouds.

The end of the path opened into a clearing of pure stone, a cliff jutting into emptiness. The sky around them was a deep orange, the sun, giving off rays of golden light through passing clouds, merely a sphere of blood red on the horizon.

It was beautiful.

But Jon didn’t even see it.

Because Damian was there, with Ra’s and Goliath, standing on the edge of the world. His hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the cold earth below him.

He and Ra’s were in similar clothing, both green with golden accents, but Damian’s seemed a little more formal. The golden patterns a little more detailed, a sword fastened on his hip with a sash.

He looked a like a king on his coronation day.

And he was breathtaking.

The snow crunching under their feet alerted the others to their presence, and Damian spun around instantly. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, and Jon had a feeling he was just as enamored with what he saw as he himself was.

Koru didn’t go with him as he walked forward, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything, Damian was the only thing that existed. Not the cold, not the assassins, not their superhero fathers.

Nothing.

“Stunning.” Damian breathed as Jon reached him. Jon smiled as he reached for his hands. Damian grabbed at them greedily.

“Those ladies know what they’re doing.” Jon laughed. He looked Damian up and down, then blinked, and looked at himself. “Oh…oh, that’s cute.”

“Hm?”

“The robes.” Jon grinned, nodding down to his dark yellow clothing, with green embroidery. “Mine’s the opposite of yours. You know, minus the sword part.”

“…Indeed.” Damian hummed, seemingly just noticing it himself. He smiled. “Very…cute.”

Ra’s suddenly cleared his throat. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Jon answered instantly.

“Don’t expect anything overly sentimental, Mr. Kent.” Ra’s warned, pulling a notebook from his own jacket. “This will be quick.”

“The quicker the better.” Jon grinned, squeezing Damian’s hands. Damian smiled warmly back. “Honestly, we can say our personal vows later. You can just skip the to ‘I do’ part, Ra’s and it’d be – oh!”

Damian frowned. “What?”

“I forgot.” He turned. “Koru? You still have them?”

“Of course.” Koru scoffed, offended. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something Damian couldn’t see, dropping it into Jon’s outstretched hand. When Jon pulled his hand back, Damian couldn’t help but gape.

Two rings, made out of the black stone of the mountains surrounding the village.

“Told you I’d make you one.” Jon said sheepishly.

“When?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping.” Jon laughed. “You’re a heavy sleeper when you’re happy.”

Damian’s face reddened with embarrassment, but Jon paid it no mind. Instead, he reluctantly let go of Damian’s hand, only to slowly slip the ring on. Ra’s took the hint, and began reciting the vow for Jon to repeat.

Jon didn’t hear a word he said. Repeated on autopilot, waited until he had permission to say the two words he wanted to most.

“I do.”

And Jon could have sworn that Ra’s said the vows slower for Damian, just to torture them both. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Damian’s fingers as he gifted him with the second ring. Laughed as Damian then reeled Jon in, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

He was already descending as he whispered, “I do.”

The universe restarted when they kissed; the second coming of the Big Bang. It took all Jon had not to clutch at Damian as tight as he could, and float off into the sky like a runaway balloon.

When they parted, Jon leaned their foreheads together. Goliath shrieked happily into the darkening sky.

“I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “More than…than…I don’t even know what. Everything.”

Damian chuckled as Ra’s stepped away.

“You’ll both catch your death out here if you stay much longer. And it would be rude of you to die before your own reception.” He called over his shoulder. Jon leaned back, staring after the old man in confusion. Ra’s grinned. “The al Ghul heir just married. Even I am not so cruel as to say that’s not a time for celebration.”

Damian took his hand, tugging him along a few feet behind Ra’s and Koru. Goliath stayed behind them. “Why do you think no one else was up here, Beloved? They were preparing the food for the wedding feast.”

~~

The party was a blur. But the best night of Jon’s life.

There was music, and dancing. He danced with the women who dressed him, and even a few of the assassins who, literally a day before, had swords to his throat. Ra’s even shook his hand at some point in the evening, muttering a tender. “Love him properly, or I’ll rip your throat out with my own hands.”

He danced with Damian, and they both danced with the children. Jon watched in amazement as the kids swarmed Damian, presenting him with tiny gifts like a flower or drawing, or those cloth crowns they’d made him earlier. Smiled as Damian thanked each child individually, let them climb all over him and drag him this way and that.

He thought he understood why they called him their Prince now.

But the best part, the most magical part of the night, was when the party was over, and they went back to Damian’s quarters. When Damian lit all those candles again and then came to the bed and laid in his arms.

There was no sex. Jon probably wouldn’t have wanted it even if it were offered. There was just basking in the presence of each other. Staring at each other in the dim, warm glow of the candles. Holding hands that now bore matching rings. Holding each other.

“Beloved.” Damian whispered. Jon closed his eyes, and hid his face in Damian’s throat. Damian ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear Beloved.”

It was the best night of Jon’s life.

~~

He stayed for another two weeks. He befriended many of those living in the compound, and helped where he could, where he didn’t think his morals would be tested. Painting the kitchen and planting in the greenhouse, not sitting in on treaty negotiations or looking over scientific blueprints like Damian was with Ra’s.

But two weeks still wasn’t long enough, and saying goodbye – that he’d call, that he’d visit whenever he could, that he’d still listen for his heartbeat every second of every day – still ripped his soul out.

And Damian had smiled, but Jon could see the pain behind it anyway.

Because they both knew that along with missing each other, it would be hard. Because Jon couldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to tell anyone. Because Damian was his, and he couldn’t let anyone know he knew where he was. Where the League of Assassins was. Wouldn’t put him in that danger. Wouldn’t put those families and children he’d met and come to already love in that danger.

(Knew despite the acceptance of the marriage, if Damian got out of line, Ra’s would threaten Jon. Use Jon against Damian any chance he got.)

So he couldn’t brag about his husband. Couldn’t tell his parents he was married, couldn’t tell Dick, worried out of his mind, where his brother was. Had to lie about the ring on his finger. Yes, it was where you put a wedding band, but if he was married, he would have said something! Obviously! Besides, who would he marry? His last boyfriend disappeared into the wind!

And then most obvious problem. Jon was still a superhero. Damian the heir to one of the largest underground crime organizations in the world. Emergencies arose. Schedules were changed. There was never a promise of when they would see each other next. Never a promise that either of them would be alive tomorrow.

And that just sucked.

~~

It was about a year and a half later, and Jon was sitting at his desk. The final bell had just rung on a Friday afternoon, and his students were gone for a long weekend. He just had to finish marking down the grades of Wednesday’s tests, schedule a parent-teacher conference or two and then put in that maintenance request to Phyllis, then he could go enjoy the long weekend himself.

A three-day weekend in the mountains sounded great right about now.

So he was a little embarrassed when the gentle knock on his doorframe made him jump. But the embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise.

“Dick?” He asked incredulously.

Dick Grayson, newly minted mayor of Bludhaven, stood there, a smirk almost hidden by the beard around it. Jon still couldn’t get used to that facial hair, no matter how long he’d had it.

“Howdy, Jon.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Jon scrambled to his feet. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Dick waved off, leaning against one of the desks. “It’d just…been a while.”

“I suppose…” Jon trailed off suspiciously. “But I’ve known your family long enough to know that no one just stops by without reason.”

Dick laughed. “You always did spend way too much time with Damian. Sounds like something he’d say.” That smirk widened. “How is he, by the way?”

Jon’s heart sputtered, but he kept his face the same. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, just like you. What’s it been, two years now?”

“Well, I mean. I just figured you’d seen him since then.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly. “With you being his husband, and all.”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give the same lies as always, when Dick suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and skimmed it before showing it to Jon.

A marriage certificate.

Jon knew there was one. Knew Ra’s and his League was able to pull strings and get one expedited for their cliff side ceremony. He’d signed it, Damian signed it, Ra’s and Koru signed it. Then it was discreetly put into the United States’ system. No fanfare, no newspaper or tabloid announcements, no one knowing it was even there to look for either.

Jon closed his mouth and gulped. “…How did you find that?”

“Being a mayor gives you some privileges, I’ve found.” Dick hummed, even as Jon came around his desk and took the paper from his hand. “And I found myself missing my brother the other day, so I looked him up. Thought I might find some more recent activity or sightings. And here this was, right on the first page.”

They stood in silence. Jon staring at the paper and Dick staring at him.

“Dick, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked instantly, the hint of pain in his voice. “Why did you lie about that ring on your finger? Hell, why didn’t you tell us at the very least where he was?”

“Because Bruce stopped looking for him.” Jon said coldly. “And don’t defend him, Dick. You know he did. He stopped looking when that McGinnis kid showed up. And I don’t blame the kid, it’s not his fault, it’s just how Bruce is.” A deep inhale. “And then you know how Bruce is with Ra’s. He already had a feeling Ra’s took Damian, or Damian went with him, or whatever, so even if he found Damian, you know he would have gone in pissed off and wouldn’t have listened. Would have jumped to conclusions. Would have potentially hurt him.”

“…Okay, I’ll agree to that potential.” Dick admitted. “But, Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nobody could know, Dick. Nobody.” Jon said. “My parents don’t even know.”

“Famed investigative journalist Lois Lane doesn’t know?” Dick asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well maybe she does, I don’t know. But she took my word and hasn’t pushed the issue.” Jon shrugged. “If she and Dad are playing purposefully ignorant, that’s fine. That means Damian’s safe.”

“He’s not safe with Ra’s, Jon. I know you know that.” Dick countered.

“I do. And so does Damian. But he’s biding his time.” Jon explained. “He’s working from the inside. He wants to save the planet like Ra’s does, but he’s trying to manipulate the organization from within, make their methods more like Batman’s. Kinder.”

Dick shook his head. “He can’t do it by himself. He’s crazy if he thinks he can.”

“Well.” Jon smiled. A sad, lovesick smile. “Then he’s crazy.”

Dick frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “…I have to see him, Jon.”

“You can’t.” Jon stepped forward. “And you can’t tell anyone either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because even if Bruce doesn’t make a move, word will get back to the League that they’ve been found.” Jon’s eyes widened. “And they’ll know it’ll be through me. They’ll know it’s because I spilled the beans and then Ra’s will punish Damian for it.”

Dick pressed his lips together.

“You know he will.” Jon breathed. “And until…until Damian can change the League or until I can convince him to come back, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” A second to think. “And I’d hope it’s not one you would either.”

Dick turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“…On one condition.” Dick said after a moment. “You put me in contact with him.”

“What?”

When Dick looked back, he suddenly seemed like he’d aged ten years. “I just want to talk to my little brother again, Jon.”

Jon pursed his lips, spun that stone ring with his thumb.

Damian was going to kill him. It was a secure line for just the two of them. But…

“…Fine.”

~~

Most of the time, people were sick of snow by mid-February. Jon wasn’t though. And despite the fact that his school district had called for a snow day, he was up at his normal time. Only instead of rushing to the school, he took a leisurely walk to a nearby coffee shop to give himself a little reward for once.

A nice caramel-chocolate latte with extra whipped cream.

He was just exiting the shop, deciding to go to the park to have his treat. Just glancing up into the gently falling snowflakes.

“Beloved?”

Jon spun around so fast, he almost launched his coffee into a nearby window.

“Dames?”

And it was, Damian stood right there, looking far too fashionable than any human had a right to be. A gray pea coat with a blue scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. Black leather gloves, one of which held a bouquet of flowers, dark jeans and black combat boots.

Jon’s heart soared.

“Dames!” He shouted, running at him and jumping into his arms. Damian chuckled, returning the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“I had meetings in San Francisco yesterday, and decided to stop by on my way home.” Damian smiled as he pulled back, and presented the flowers. “It seemed that it would be…rude not to, given the occasion.”

Jon took the flowers. “Occasion?” He sniffed at the petals. “What’s the occasion?”

Damian blinked, then laughed. “Jon, I think you’ve been working too hard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Jon closed his eyes. “It’s not our anniversary, I know that.”

“You didn’t have a party with your students?” Damian asked. “Or, I suppose that tradition ends after elementary school.”

Jon racked his brain. “The…Super Bowl?”

Damian laughed again. “Valentine’s Day, Beloved.”

“Oh my-” Jon gaped. He glanced into the coffee shop’s window. Paper hearts adorned the walls in decoration. “Oh my god. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Damian laughed for a third time, reeling Jon into his arms.

“I can’t believe I forgot Valentine’s Day.” Jon lamented, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Divorce me, Damian. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Never.” Damian said warmly. “I know your classes were cancelled today. Have any other plans?”

“Honestly, I was just going to watch cartoons all day.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “But now I just want to spend all day with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“…How long are you in town?” Jon whispered. “How long can you be in town?”

“Two days.” Damian returned, with a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“Then we better make it count.” Jon decided, leaning up and capturing Damian’s lips with his own. When he allowed Damian to pull back, he smiled. “Hope you like take out.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because baby, you are not leaving my bed for the next forty-eight hours.”

Once more, Damian laughed as Jon clutched his flowers and coffee to his chest in one hand, grabbed Damian’s hand with the other, and all but dragged him down the street.

~~

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

Jon didn’t jump, phone calls in the middle of the night weren’t new. And he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He supposed it didn’t really matter. If they had his number and they were calling now, it was enough.

Still, when he hit answer, he couldn’t help but slur, “Hm?”

“It’s me.” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed to hesitate, thinking what he was going to say next. “It’s done.”

Jon sat up. “Sweetheart?” He asked. “What’s done? What’s wrong?”

“Ra’s is dead.” Damian said simply. “I…I am now the sole leader of the League of Assassins.”

“Oh, Damian.” Jon cooed. He threw his covers back. “Give me thirty minutes, okay? I just need…I need to grab some pants and I’ll be there.”

And he was. In less than thirty minutes, really. Closer to twenty.

Koru was waiting for him at the compound entrance. He nodded solemnly, then silently led Jon to where he needed to be.

Jon could hear people wailing in the distance. Word must have spread already. And he’d forgotten – Ra’s was a monster. A villain. Evil.

But he meant something to the people here.

Koru led him to a large, ornate door. He opened it, and gestured for Jon to go inside.

The room was dark, but it didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t already see him standing next to that bed, the sound of his heartbeat would have guided him.

He only glanced at the dead body. It was Ra’s alright, and even without the lack of a heartbeat, Jon could tell by the color of his skin he was gone.

But he didn’t care, if he was honest. Never cared about that old man, never cared about what he was doing so long as it was held in check. He only cared about Damian.

Jon stepped up behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him back into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Damian shrugged. “We knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Jon tried. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“There was no love lost between Ra’s and I, so there’s no need.” Damian pushed back. “I just…wasn’t ready.”

Damian pulled away and turned towards him.

“I…I didn’t have enough time to gain the loyalty I needed.” Damian sighed. “Many…many here do not trust me. Or do not believe in me.”

“I believe in you.” Jon offered.

Damian smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your opinion does not matter to the assassins now under my rule.” The smile disappeared. “I’ve already been visited by one of my grandfather’s most loyal scientists. He and I have never agreed, and he’s never trusted me. I sense that will get worse in the coming days.”

Jon frowned. “Do you want me to stay? In case he tries anything?”

“He won’t. He’d be stupid to do anything during these days of mourning.” Damian promised. “And Koru is more than capable. I am more than capable.”

“I’d feel better if I did, though.” Jon shrugged. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Damian’s eyes suddenly twitched over Jon’s shoulder. Jon turned and found an older man passing by the door. He had white hair, and wearing an odd metal suit of armor.

The man glanced in at him and frowned at Jon. Seemed to frown at Damian too. But he didn’t say anything, just continued on his way.

When Jon turned back, Damian was looking at him again, his face warm. “You’re too sweet, Beloved.” He gently took Jon’s hand. “Now come. Since you’re here, you can stay for the funeral at dawn.” A snorted smirk. “Superman attending the funeral of Ra’s al Ghul. Isn’t the world a funny place?”

~~

Jon was woken by a rapid knocking on his apartment door. Damian must have heard it too, as he was suddenly trying to burrow into Jon’s side.

“I’m going to buy your building a doorman.” Damian mumbled as Jon reluctantly rolled away from him. “So then no one can knock on your door. Ever.”

The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Jon shouted as he yawned. “I’m-”

“Hurry up, bro!” Jon froze.

That was Conner.

“Just give him a minute.” Another voice scolded.

Tim.

“Fuck.” Jon whispered, spinning around. Damian was still curled up in his bed, only half hidden by comforter. Jon quickly ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. He fell into the front door, opening it only enough for his face to show. “…Hey guys.”

Conner grinned. “Mind if we come in? We just had a killer patrol, and we’re starving.”

“Uh…” Jon hesitated. But before he could answer, Tim pushed his door open for him. “…Well, I guess.”

“Conner’s not lying. We’re starving.” Tim mumbled, bee-lining towards the kitchen. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

As he shoved his head into the refrigerator, Conner smiled apologetically, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “How you been, Jonno? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m…good.” As Conner went into the kitchen himself, Jon glanced back to his bedroom door. “Summer vacation and all that.”

“I’d say you’re lucky if you got paid more during the school year.” Conner hummed around a piece of bread Tim handed him. “Doing anything for a second job this summer?”

“Just more patrols as Superman.” Jon shrugged. And more time at the League of Assassins compound in Nanda Parbat he didn’t say. “Some travel, if I feel like it.”

“You meet the new Batman yet?” Tim asked as he poured some orange juice. “Terry. He’s not bad.”

“No. Haven’t had the chance.” Jon mumbled. Hadn’t wanted to was the real answer. Because Damian was Batman to him, he still had that hope. Still believed Damian would return to the title one day, permanently. “So much for World’s Finest, huh?”

“Well, you know Bruce.” Tim shrugged. “He’s kind of hogging him anyway. We only see him at galas.”

“None of you work with him?” Jon asked. He tuned into Damian’s heartbeat for a second, found it still slow, so Damian was still dozing. He could only pray Conner didn’t use his same ability, and hear the same thing.

“Not really. We’re getting old.” Tim laughed. “I’m spending more time at Wayne Enterprises. Dick’s a goddamn mayor. Cass works at Steph’s practice. Jason’s doing…whatever Jason does.”

���But you’re working with Conner.” Jon smirked.

“I called in an old favor. Timmy can’t say no to me.” Conner grinned.

“Please.” Tim snorted into his glass. “I was bored.”

The two began to banter, and Jon found himself glancing back to his room.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell his brother, and someone like his brother, that Damian was there. That they were married.

That Damian was fucking alive.

And he wanted to bring it up. Wanted to bring Damian up. Ask if Tim remembered his brother, if they’d been looking for him still, if he cared at all. Or at least more than Bruce.

But he couldn’t risk that.

So he smiled and nodded and partook in the conversation, and didn’t mention a thing. Entertained the two for a half an hour or so before, luckily, they excused themselves first before he had to start leaving hints for them to leave.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he dashed back to his bedroom, only to find Damian still sleeping, only now taking up more of the mattress, arms spread side to side.

Jon blinked then laughed out loud as he walked forward and collapsed back into bed. Damian groaned as Jon twisted their legs together, and he began peppering kisses along Damian’s shoulder.

“…Has my brother left yet?” Damian whispered after a moment. Jon pressed his head against Damian’s.

“Mhm.”

“…Did you tell him anything?”

“If I did, do you think you’d still be in here peacefully sleeping?” Jon smirked. “Tim probably would have come in here just to kill you.”

Damian hummed.

“But alas.” Jon sighed dramatically, curling his arms around Damian’s one. “You’re still my dirty little secret, Mr. Demon’s Head.”

Damian never opened his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

~~

“I think…I should feel insulted.”

Damian’s lips twitched up. “Most people would feel honored, I believe.”

“No, I mean.” Jon rolled towards the edge of the bed, glancing towards the drawing desk his husband sat behind. “You sent me a text that said ‘ASAP.’”

“I did.” Damian murmured, eyes following the tip of his pencil as he moved it across the paper.

“And here I came running because I thought you were in danger. That the mutiny you’re so concerned about finally happened.” Jon continued. He glanced at the candle nearest him, gently hovered his finger through the flame.

“That’s very kind of you, Beloved.” Damian glanced up, frowned. “Please don’t burn your finger.”

“But there was no emergency. You weren’t dying.” Jon sighed, flopping his hand down. He looked up through his lashes. “You just wanted to draw me.”

Damian smiled. “Like I said, most people would probably be honored.”

“I feel like I should be mad.” Jon muttered.

“In my defense, I did say as soon as possible, not right this instant.” Damian mused. “That was your interpretation.”

“Well, how am I supposed to stay mad at you, sitting over there looking like a…a goddamn angel in a wave of holy light?” Jon scoffed. “And you sit there worried about me burning myself? You bump one candle and your desk and drawings are all up in flames in an instant.”

“I doubt you’d let that happen.” Damian chuckled. “Now, despite your wiggling, I’m almost finished.”

“And what’s my payment?” Jon asked, stretching his leg in the air, curving his spine. He felt Damian’s heartbeat stutter a little. “For being your beautiful model?”

“Well, I hope some ice cream your so-called Grannies made when I informed them you were en route is satisfactory.” Damian suggested. “And…I can only hope my undivided attention is a suitable accompaniment.”

“I do love my Grannies and their cooking.” Jon agreed. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gave Damian his most seductive grin. “And I definitely do love you a whole lot more.”

Jon watched the heat rise to Damian’s cheeks. The pencil suddenly began moving across the paper faster.

“I’m almost done.” Damian promised.

~~

When he saw it was Bruce Wayne calling, his stomach dropped.

“Jon.” He’d murmured softly. “I…I found Damian.”

Jon blinked.

“What?” And it wasn’t a faked question. He felt his heart speed up. Because if Bruce, if Batman, found Damian and the League then-

“He’s…alive.” Bruce whispered gratefully. “He’s…leading the League of Assassins, and I’m working on that. But…but I just thought you’d want to know. He’s alive. He’s…okay.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Jon lied. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Bruce.”

“You were…you are so important to him.” Bruce sighed. “You deserve to know.”

“Can I…Can I see him?” Jon continued. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“I…don’t think that is a good idea. For now.” Bruce sighed. “But. One day, Jon. I promise.”

When they hung up, Jon immediately took to the skies for the Himalayas.

He found Damian on their wedding cliff. He was staring out into the emptiness again. Back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back.

Goliath stood nearby.

“Damian?”

Damian’s head lifted and he turned. Jon instantly took in the new cuts and bruises.

“Jon?” Damian immediately moved towards him. “What are you-”

“Your dad called.” Jon reached out when Damian got close enough. He ran his thumbs over a blossoming bruise on his cheek. “Told me…the basics.”

Damian smiled sadly.

“We…reconciled, I suppose.” Damian whispered.

“You suppose?” Jon asked gently. “You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“It’s…it’s what we’ve always said. He didn’t come after me. He didn’t care where I’d gone. He replaced me.” Damian breathed. “He…he only came here after McGinnis. When he thought I was going to kill him.”

“Well. You clearly proved him wrong. You didn’t kill anyone.” Jon paused, glanced back at Goliath. “Where’s Koru? He never lets you out of his sight.”

“He is…recuperating.” Damian sighed, trying to turn out of Jon’s hands. Jon didn’t let him. “He attacked my father for a grudge I was unaware of. I had to take him down. He then attempted to set off missiles that I’d decided against. He needs…time to think about some things.” Damian closed his eyes. “…I have no control.”

“You do.” Jon said. “You’re doing…amazing things here, Damian. I know it. Your dad knows it.”

He paused, to run his hand over Damian’s hair.

“I could tell when he called.” Jon offered. “He missed you.”

“He didn’t look for me.” Damian reminded.

“But he’s protecting you now.” Jon said. “He called to tell me you were alive. I played dumb, I asked if he would tell me where you were and he refused.”

“That’s not protection, that’s shame.” Damian countered.

“Damian, change takes time. You know that. I know that. Bruce knows that.” Jon squeezed his cheeks a little. “I don’t think he would have called me to tell me you were alive if he was ashamed.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can change the League faster than the coming mutiny.”

“I know you’ll do everything you can.” Jon kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let them do anything to you. I swear.”

“…Thank you, Beloved.” Damian whispered.

“Mhm.” Jon murmured into his hair. “Now, come on. I’m making an executive decision. You need a break.”

Damian merely wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon lifted them into air and turned towards Metropolis. Goliath followed.

~~

He should have been more alarmed when he heard the lock jiggle. Should have at least had his super strength ready.

But he’d had the flu all week. Him, having the flu. What the fuck.

“Just go ahead and kill me.” He whined as loud as he could. “Give the stuff in my fridge to my neighbor. I don’t want it to go bad.”

He heard the lock click and the door open, but didn’t even look.

“I might have some pizza you can heat up if you want.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “If I even tried to eat it, it’s coming right back up.”

He didn’t hear anyone.

“If I puke on you, will you go away?” Jon drawled. “Oh wait, can you give me another blanket first? I’d like to at least be warm when you kill me.”

Suddenly there was a scoff, and blanket fluttering over him.

“Beloved, since when did you become so dramatic?” Jon looked up and felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Damian.” He cried. He reached a shaky hand up and Damian took it in his, kissing his knuckles.

“Hello Jonathan.” Damian smiled. “Still feeling bad?”

“Worse than when I called you.” Jon admitted. “You didn’t have to come all this way just because I’m puking.”

“Through sickness and in health.” Damian reminded. “It’s the same in all languages and religions.”

“Stop.” Jon called as Damian backed away. “Stop being so cute.”

Damian snorted. “You need fluids.”

“They won’t stay down.” Jon sighed. “…Wait, did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“No.” Damian hummed. “I could have just come in through the window, but I figured that might concern you. So I…called Grayson.”

“He has a key to my place?” Jon called. “Since when?”

“It’s Grayson.” Damian reappeared behind the couch, handing Jon a glass. “Probably since forever.”

“I hate your family.” Jon decided. “I barely even see them and I hate them.”

“I know.” Damian offered sympathetically. As Jon took the glass, Damian walked around the couch, and Jon found himself staring.

“What?” Damian asked when he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in your evil leader garb.” Jon mumbled, gesturing to Damian’s green robes. “You didn’t change?”

“I came as soon as my meeting was over.” Damian shrugged. “So…I suppose I didn’t think about it.”

“…The Demon’s Head is making house calls.” Jon smiled weakly. “The new Ra’s al Ghul is going to make me soup.”

“Eventually, if you can keep that drink down.” Damian smiled, smoothing Jon’s blankets.

Jon felt his exhausted tears fall as he took a sip.

~~

It was like out of a movie.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and gave a fake name to the hotel concierge. The man typed in the name, stared at the screen, then smiled, and handed Jon a key.

He took the elevator, inserted the key for the private floor, and stood in the corner. Smiled to the couples and families who stepped on and off on various floors. Tapped his finger against the lining of his pocket.

And when the lift opened into the penthouse apartment, Jon almost fainted. Almost swooned right then and there.

Damian sat in the breakfast nook, practically glowing in the early evening sun that shone through the window. He wore nothing but a silken robe, open at the chest, a book open on his crossed knee and a cup of tea in his hand.

“Damian.” Jon whispered carefully. Damian looked up and smiled. Sweetly, welcoming. “You’re going to need to put that tea down.”

He barely gave Damian the second he needed to that before he crossed the room and swept him up in his arms, all but throwing him onto the nearby bed.

Damian grunted as he bounced, but gave a laugh as Jon crawled up his body. “And here I thought you’d want to eat first after your flight.”

Jon just grinned and kissed him as hard as he could.

And that’s where they’d been now, for hours. The sun had set, but Jon had never gotten off of Damian. Not that Damian had let go of Jon himself.

“One more.” Jon whispered into Damian’s neck, remarking a hickey on Damian’s next that was already dulling. “One more round.”

“Oh?” Damian hummed sleepily, fingers locked on and tugging at Jon’s hair, the other arm was tight around Jon’s waist, just above where his ankles hooked together. Jon glanced up at Damian’s amused eyes. “I didn’t realize the last round ended.”

Jon bit at his throat, and thrust his hips at the barb. Damian groaned, his leg twitching involuntarily in pleasure, digging into Jon’s spine. He released Jon’s hair and ran his hand down to his chin, tipping Jon’s face up until he could kiss him properly. Jon smiled as Damian tried to devour him, tried to act like he was the one in control.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Jon shifted his weight upwards, changing the rhythm of his movements, drinking in every sound Damian tried to hide. He carefully took the hand Damian had under his chin and intertwined their fingers, pushing the hand into the mattress. Damian tried to push back, but Jon decided he wanted to cheat, just a little, and used his super strength to keep his hand down.

Damian noticed. Growled quietly, “You asshole.”

Jon looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “You like it.”

Damian bit his lip, lowered his eyes. Jon felt him dig his nails into his hip. That was as much of a yes as he was going to get.

And that was fine. That was good. Because Jon wasn’t lying, he wanted this to be the last round. He was getting a little bit tired, and he could tell Damian was too.

Besides, sex was cool. Sex with his husband was great. But it wasn’t even his favorite part.

The afterglow. The cuddling. The staring into Damian’s eyes and seeing the universe. The warmth of his skin as he held him in his arms. The gentle sounds of them saying just how much the other means to him.

And they’d been at it for hours. They were slow, they were fast, they were desperate, they were sensual.

So he’d hoped he’d be forgiven for rushing now, ready for it to end. He bucked quickly, bordering on faster than the speed of sound, needed to stay in his head enough not to do that, not hurt Damian beyond pleasure, but he kissed slowly. Carefully.

Adoringly.

When Damian tugged his hand away, Jon let him. Felt his heart pound as Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, held him as close as their skin would allow.

They came together.

Jon collapsed onto Damian’s chest, shifting only enough to pull out. Damian kept his arms tight around Jon’s shoulders, his hand returning to stroke at Jon’s hair.

“There is a warm bath ready for whenever you’d like it.” Damian whispered. “And room service. We just have to call the front desk.”

“Hm.” Jon smiled. He found himself pressing more kisses to Damian’s throat. “I’m good right here with you.”

Damian laughed. “Jonathan, we’re disgusting.”

“I’m okay with that.” Jon hummed into Damian’s skin.

Damian snorted and rolled them to the side. He held the side of Jon’s face, staring into his soul.

“Happy anniversary, Beloved.”

~~

It was silly, and he was ashamed of himself.

Like, jeez, he was almost thirty, and here he was in the middle of the night, drowning in insomnia because he missed his husband.

Well…there were other things. But it was mostly that.

He rolled to his side, grasping for his cell phone even as guilt coiled in his gut.

The line rang only once. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hi.” Jon muttered. “You busy?”

“No.” Damian sounded amused. “It’s only seven in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Jon sighed. Timezones sucked. “Can you…video chat?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hang on.” Jon said a little too quickly than he meant. He pulled the phone away and tapped a few buttons. An instant later, Damian filled the screen.

He was still in his pajamas and dressing gown, but he sat at his drawing desk, the phone propped up on the top corner. When he realized the connection was made, he smiled. “Hello.”

Jon gave him a tight smile. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked immediately. “You sound…sad.”

“I miss you.” Jon mumbled into his pillow. “It’s been months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Damian sighed. “I’ve been swamped.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could fly out there any time.” Jon flopped back. “But being Superman…”

“Is far more important.” Damian finished for him. “I understand.”

“Cases haven’t been great lately.” Jon continued. “I haven’t really been saving the day real well.”

“But I know you did your best.” Damian soothed. “…Is there anything I can to make you feel better?”

“Come here?” Jon tried.

Damian laughed. “Anything reasonable?”

Jon glanced around his screen. “Are you drawing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon smirked. “Draw me a picture.”

“And what would you like a picture of?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “A puppy.”

“A puppy.” Damian snorted. “Alright.”

He flipped over whatever he was working on and instantly the pencil started flitting around the page.

“I really do miss you, though. More than being bummed about the bad cases.” Jon sighed. “I think I’m just lonely.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Damian agreed. “Would you like me to have Grayson come visit you?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” Jon waved off. “I can call my own friends. Eventually.” He paused, listened to the pencil. “…What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“Call you.” Damian smiled. “And when you don’t or can’t answer, I call Maya while I draw you.”

“You draw me? When I’m not there?”

“Of course. I have an entire folder.” Damian admitted, turning his page. His hair, still unkempt from sleeping, fell into his eyes. “Koru calls me obsessed.”

“You’ve never shown me this folder.” Jon pouted.

“Because I was embarrassed.” Damian admitted. “And sometimes the children take the sketches as coloring pages.” Damian’s eyes widened a little bit, a blush dusting his cheeks. “The…less lewd ones, anyway.”

“Oh my god, if you want me to sext you, just ask.” Jon teased, the tension in his heart releasing a little.

“I prefer the real thing.” Damian chuckled. He made a few more lines across the page, then picked it up, twisting for the camera. “How’s this?”

It was a Dalmatian, with large dark spots and big eyes. Floppy ears and a doggy grin.

“It’s perfect.” Jon smiled. “Send it to me so I can color it?”

Damian snorted. “Sorry, it’s only available for pick-up.”

“Okay. I’ll come get it soon.” Jon yawned. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need your rest.” Damian hummed.

“…Draw me to sleep?” Jon asked. He felt pathetic, like he was begging.

“Of course.” Damian nodded, reaching for another piece of paper. “Want me to tell you a story as well?”

“Sure.” Jon sighed. “Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Not that exciting, but if you wish.” Damian nodded.

Jon closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of a scratching pencil and Damian’s soft voice.

~~

Jon was in the middle of class, when he got the sense something was wrong. He tripped over the cord of his overhead projector, and his students laughed, but he told them to get an early start on their homework as he scrambled to his desk.

He checked all the news sites, but there didn’t seem to be anything urgent. No mention of his parents or friends. No catastrophe or apocalypse. Everything was fine.

But then he tuned in to Damian’s heartbeat. And everything was not fine.

It was slow and weak. And Jon had heard that sound before.

He’d heard the sound of someone dying before.

He jumped to his feet and out of the classroom, ignoring his students’ calls after him. He ran to the principal, rambled about a personal emergency, then was gone before his boss could ask any questions.

Jon waited until he was off campus before he took to the skies.

But there was a problem, he realized, as he neared Nanda Parbat. He could still hear Damian’s heartbeat, he was still alive, but it…it wasn’t here. The heartbeat was far away. Faint.

He slowed above the League compound, hesitating. He could see men running around, shouting, loading into airships.

He could also see a trail of blood, leading away. He could see where the trail ended, at a mess of claw marks.

Goliath.

There was blood. There were marks from Goliath. Damian was dying.

Where would Goliath take him?

It took him two seconds to realize.

Gotham.

Jon spun around and took off for a second time.

He knew he was on the right path when Damian’s heartbeat got louder. But it didn’t bring any comfort, because it didn’t sound like it was getting any stronger.

As he reached Gotham airspace, he got a glimpse of Goliath, flying behind some black dot, heading towards Wayne Tower. So he didn’t think. Didn’t decide. Let instinct take over and followed them.

He saw the assassins coming in the distance, and he felt his anger grow.

The mutiny must have happened. Damian’s worst fear.

He balled his hand into a fist.

He would not let them hurt him.

He burst into the building, hot on Goliath’s tail. He landed and slid across the tiles, destroying them completely. The black dot, Batman, spun around, stepping in front of Bruce, who had appeared in the room.

“What happened?” Jon bellowed.

“Jon?” Bruce asked. “How did you-”

“What. Happened?” Jon repeated. He glanced at Goliath, Damian limp in his arms. Blood oozed from wounds all across his body. He was unconscious. “…Can you save him?”

Bruce looked over. “…Yes. Goliath, over here. To the recovery tank.”

And Jon never felt so helpless as now, as he watched Terry McGinnis help Goliath lower Damian into water that looked far too much like Lazarus. As little robots swarmed his body.

He stood next to the machine, wishing more than anything that he could stick his hand in the liquid and hold Damian’s.

“…How long?” Bruce suddenly asked. Jon twitched and looked up at him. Batman and the little boy who Jon only just now noticed were tending to Goliath.

“What?”

Bruce pointed to Jon’s hand, to his ring. He pointed to the matching one on Damian’s hand. “How long?”

“…Seven years.” Jon murmured tiredly. “We eloped in Nanda Parbat.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.” He tilted his head in a wince. “…Dick only found out on accident.”

“Dick knew?” Bruce asked. Jon nodded.

“I swore him to secrecy. I’m…kind of surprised he followed through.” Jon admitted. “I…you two were on bad terms. I didn’t want you going in there and potentially starting a war. Potentially hurting each other.”

“We saw each other last year.” Bruce whispered.

“I never stopped him from telling you. That was his choice.” Jon added. “…How did you not notice the ring then? Damian said he never takes it off.”

“He wore gloves the whole time.” Bruce shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was looking for.”

Terry reappeared then, and he and Bruce began to talk about the situation at hand. The city currently being overrun with assassins.

Jon didn’t care.

He had just crossed his arms, was tapping on his forearm, when suddenly, Damian burst from the water in a frenzy. He was screaming and disoriented, and he set his sights on the new Batman.

“Kill.” Damian hissed. Bruce tried to grab for him, but he was too slow in his old age, and missed. But that was fine. That was cool.

Jon was between Damian and Terry in a millisecond.

“I’ll…kill…” Damian breathed, fist still ready. Jon just smiled, and took his face in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon mused, leaning down to kiss him. Damian instantly became putty in his hands.

“…You’re with family.” Bruce offered behind them, as Damian’s mind seemed to catch up. His spine straightened, and he reached out to hold Jon’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Jon pulled back, but continued to hold his face as he repeated, “You’re safe.”

“Well. For now.” Terry interjected. “Mind telling us what the hell is going on, so we can maybe save the world?”

Damian sighed, stepping away from Jon. But not too far. Not far enough where Jon couldn’t immediately hook their fingers together. “His name is Zeh-ro. But some call him Mr. Zero…”

~~

It was kind of cool, if Jon thought about it. There was a short ice age. Dick showed up, his daughter too. Damian played well with others. And Zeh-ro was taken down, his plan destroyed.

The Earth saved. Millions upon billions of people were saved.

“The League is yours again.” Jon hummed, watching Matt jump around the roof with Goliath. “…So, I take it you’ll be leaving again soon?”

“…Well, not necessarily.” Damian shrugged. “I mean, Nanda Parbat was turned into a launch pad, and is currently unlivable. The families there have been moved to safer ground, and those remaining loyal to me are all here or protecting the families, so.” He looked at Jon. “You’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Great.” Jon smiled. He stepped to the side, winding one arm around Damian’s waist. “Better than great, actually.”

“Oh?”

“In fact, the longer you’re here, the more time I’ll have to think up a plan to keep you with me forever.” Jon smirked, bouncing his nose off Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed, and leaned into him. Jon looked across the roof. He could see Dick glancing their way as he spoke with Bruce, a warm grin on the old man’s face himself. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who might be happy with that.”

Damian looked over himself. “…You’re all a bunch of old, sentimental fools.”

“…I’m younger than you.” Jon reminded.

Damian pursed his lips. “Old, sentimental fool.”

Jon laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the city. Goliath responded with a happy roar of his own. Damian smirked as the McGinnis brothers, Graysons and Bruce laughed too.

It was a good day.

“…Welcome home, Damian.” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed, taking hold of the hand Jon had on his hip and leaning into his chest. “Thank you, Beloved.”

[yoddream]

stitches | n.jm

pairing: jaemin x fem!reader

warnings: mention of blood, fluff

summary: watching baseball isn’t supposed to hurt, yet there you were

word count: 1186

requested: kinda? i asked what people wanted between this and hockey+jeno

a/n: yooooooo it’s finally here! so the idea was either doing this or a hockey version with jeno and a puck. i got this idea when my dad and i went to hockey game and a puck flew over the glass. nobody got hurt at that time, but it THEN reminded me of when i went to a baseball game and a kid got hit in the face with a foul ball. i’m working on a chenle story, another haechan story, and i’m gonna be rewriting like 90% of the bad boy jeno story because it got waaaaaay outta hand where i was like “this feels like when i started writing fan fiction at 14 and it was all over the place” so uh yeah. enjoy!

“C’mon, let’s find our seats before the first pitch!” your best friend, Melanie, said.

You and Melanie were at an L.A. Dodgers game. She was visiting you for your birthday, so the first thing on your list was to see a baseball game, or more specifically, right-handed pitcher Jaemin Na.

Jaemin was a smart, versatile, sneaky, and good pitcher. He switched up his pitching order every game, and he knew how to throw off every batter. He’d played infield and outfield when his teammates got injured in-game. His batting average was fantastic, hitting a home run almost every game. It didn’t hurt that he was cute, too.

Once the National Anthem was sung, it was time to play. You kept your eyes on Jaemin as he threw the first pitch, which was a perfect strike. Your attention never left his figure until the first half of the inning was over. Melanie teased you for your infatuation, but you just laughed with her.

You were thankful for the jumbotron, for it had zoomed in on the pitcher as he wiped sweat off his face while he was up at bat during the sixth inning. You turned to Melanie when she made a comment about “heart eyes.” Suddenly, there was a throbbing pain on your brow bone, and something was dripping into your eye, stinging it. Somebody was helping you stand and guiding you up the steps, and you could hear Melanie cursing behind you as you tripped a couple times with how dizzy you were.

“What happened?” you asked, dazed.

“You got hit by a foul ball,” she told you. Na hit it, and it flew straight towards your face.

“You’ll be checked by a couple medics,” a man’s voice stated.

You were stumbling to an unknown location, only one eye opened. People stopped and stared as you passed them, their gazes trained on the blood that was dripping down your face. Soon, you were brought to a room with white walls and an elevated cot. There were two medics standing there, waiting for your arrival. You sat on the cot and watched as they searched through their bags before pulling out cotton pads to clean your face.

“Geez, Jaemin did not hold back,” the one with black and blond hair stated.

“Of course he didn’t, Mark. He wants to keep up his home-run streak,” the other said. He had dirty blond hair and an accent that sounded similar to Jaemin Na’s.

“Do you two know him?” Melanie questioned.

“Unfortunately. Donghyuck grew up with him, so I was introduced when I started working for the stadium,” Mark explained. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches.”

“Can either of you do them?” you asked.

“No, it has to be done by the team doctor. We’ll bring you down.”

You were guided to the doctor’s exam room through a secret stairwell, thank goodness. Melanie was hot on your heels, not wanting to leave your side. You sat on yet another cot and waited for the doctor, thanking Mark and Haechan for helping you. Melanie sat next to you and was posting on her snap story about your injury, getting ugly angles of your face as you waited.

The doctor came in, and he stitched you up right away. He told you to check in at the hospital nearby to get them taken out in about a week. Then, a security guard showed up to escort you and Melanie to your seats. However, you turned down a hallway and ended up in a room.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked.

“Somebody wanted to speak to you,” he said before closing the door.

You and Melanie looked at each other, confused as to what was going on. Who could possibly want to talk to you? Was it somebody giving you a freebie for getting hit in the face with a foul ball? It was an accident, and if you’d been paying attention, you probably would’ve been able to dodge it, so it was your fault that you got hit.

There was a knock on the door, and then it creaked open. The two of you turned around to face your new company, and your heart started to race as you let out a gasp. Your eyes locked with Jaemin Na, who smiled sheepishly as he fully entered the room. He took his hat off to run his fingers through his black hair, and that was when you realized he was still in his uniform.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “I’m Jaemin, though it seems like you already know that.”

You looked to the jersey you were wearing and grinned. “Yeah, just a little. I’m Y/N, and this is my friend, Melanie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, though I wish it was under better circumstances,” he stated shyly.

“Okay, I hate to sound really rude, but your English sounds a lot better now than in interviews,” Melanie interjected.

The athlete blushed, and you hit her. He then said, “I, uh, maybe pretend I don’t know as much to get out of interviews? Mark has helped me with my lessons. You met him earlier, yes?”

You could hear Melanie stifle her giggles. “Yeah, we met him and Haechan.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” The three of you laughed, and then his eyes widened as it focused on something on your shoulder. “Is that blood?”

You looked down and whined at the stain on your jersey. “Damn it, there’s no way I’m gonna get that out!”

There was some rustling, and you looked up in time to see Jaemin unbuttoning his jersey, revealing a compression shirt underneath. It slid off his shoulders, and he held it out. You hesitantly took it from his hands, taking in the smile he sent your way when your fingers were wrapped around the fabric.

“There. A game-worn jersey to replace the one I ruined.”

“Holy shit,” Melanie whispered.

“I can’t take this!” you exclaimed.

“Please. I feel terrible for hitting you with the ball,” he told you.

“If I was paying attention, I would’ve dodged it.”

“Yeah, I was making fun of her heart eyes for you,” Melanie commented, and you turned to her with a glare.

“Why are you suddenly so chatty?” you snapped.

“Can I give you my number?”

You whipped around to a blushing Jaemin, who was trying really hard to maintain eye contact with you. You nodded and unlocked your phone before handing it over. He typed for about a minute before giving it back, and you looked down to see that he’d sent a message to himself.

“So I know I’ll see you again,” he said. “I have to go, but I’m glad I met you two.”

You couldn’t remember returning to your car, but as soon as the doors were closed, you looked to Melanie and squealed. You had Jaemin Na’s phone number and game-worn jersey. It felt like you were dreaming, but the throbbing in your forehead told you otherwise.

And if Jaemin couldn’t keep his hands off you every time you wore the jersey, well, it was a good thing you were dating.

[tisfan]

Turn Down for What

Title Turn Down for What Collaborator(s) @tisfan​ / @27dragons​ @monobuu​ Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545609 Square Filled Tisfan: U2: Bucky/Tony / 27dragons: K4 - I Regret Nothing / monobuu - just wanted an excuse to draw Bucky in pink speedos Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Tony Rating - Mature Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: Meet cute, sexy dancing, revealing clothing Summary Tony’s driving down an unfamiliar road after a very frustrating day when he sees something... unusual. After that, things look up considerably. Word Count 1573

for @buckybarnesbingo​

It had been an utterly lousy day. The new alloy he’d been working on had turned out to be roughly as brittle as an eggshell, rendering it utterly useless. He’d gotten dragged into R&D to baby Team Four through trying to hold their own cocks. He’d rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a messenger hurrying in the opposite direction, which had resulted in him spilling his lunch all over his new suit. Curry stained, damn it.

And to top it all off, the new body armor contract that he’d been working for... had been awarded to fucking Hammertech.

So yeah, he had taken out one of his cars and cranked the music to eleven and was cruising the streets singing along at the top of his lungs, because the only other alternative was to scream in frustration.

On the plus side, he'd been working out of the upstate facility, otherwise he might well be sitting in traffic and screaming. 

Instead, he'd managed to find a nice bit of back road where he could dial everything up to eleven.

Which is why he was pretty sure he hadn't seen what he thought he saw.

A blur of pink and skin and lime green… he wasn't entirely sure that person wasn't entirely naked on the side of the road...

Startled -- apparently there were surprises still to be found on New York’s streets -- he slowed down a little. Enough to try to get a look.

Not naked. But all but. And emphases on the butt part of that sentence, since what Tony was seeing was someone's butt. Wearing a hot pink pair of Speedos. Lime green running shoes, and thick brown hair tied up in a half bun. 

Speedo jogged across the street and then did some very flexible stretches, holding on to a light pole.

He seemed in very good shape. Very bendy.

Tony couldn’t quite help himself; he got to the next intersection and made a U-turn, because Speedo was worth a second look.

And a third, and possibly fourth look as well. He was just coming out of his stretch when Tony got back around. Beautiful, really, with sharp cheekbones and a full mouth and a cleft chin. 

He glanced at the car, squinted, then grinned, dropped his hips and executed a -- perfectly in rhythm with Tony's music -- a Beyonce video worthy pop and swing, arms moving to show off biceps, hips jutting to show off everything else.

Okay, yeah, there was no way Tony was driving on by with that kind of show. He pulled to a stop and rolled the window down, the better to share the music, and let himself ogle. No man dressed like that could possibly not want to be stared at, right?

Speedo gave him a quick look, then continued to dance, lithesome and seductive and absolutely beat perfect. Muscles gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, lined with sweat. He danced all the way around Tony's car, shaking his hips, and ended up back in front.

Where he backed up that ass and treated Tony to an enthusiastic twerk. The music wound down and the dancer gave Tony a little wave with two fingers before jogging off down a side street, backside jiggling the whole way.

For half a second, Tony debated following him, but that would be creepy, right? Even allowing for the fact that the guy was running around public streets with the ugliest shoes Tony had seen since the 80s and a neon banana hammock.

At least his mood had brightened some and the day had not entirely sucked.

He hit the horn twice as he drove by the side street and headed for home.

 The next day was better. And yet, Tony found himself climbing into the car and heading toward that back road.

He told himself that the drive had cleared his thoughts and let him focus better.

He told himself that the cars needed to be driven to keep them in good working order.

He told himself that it was too pretty a day to stay inside.

But he couldn’t deny, as he turned down the street, that he was watching the side of the road for a flash of neon and skin.

The line green shoes were the same, but this time he was wearing some sort of tiger striped compression shorts and a black mesh shirt. When Tony pulled up behind him, he came to an abrupt halt, putting one hand to his ear. Turn down for what?

Tony laughed and cranked his music up, letting the bass thump through his bones like a massage.

The dancer was no less enthused than the day before. Given that he was dancing in running shoes, he still resembled a reject-from-the-80's ballet dancer, his core muscles obvious even through the mesh. He'd produced a pair of sunglasses from somewhere and was using them as a prop. Those bedroom eyes were something else, and the way he could dance without taking his gaze off Tony's face...

Tony was breathing harder, just watching him.

Tony couldn’t resist rolling his window down as the song ended. “You dance like that for all the boys?”

"You were playin' my song," he said, panting for breath. "Yesterday, I mean."

“Yeah? And what about today?”

He shrugged one shoulder, which made his body move enticingly. “You came back for a repeat performance. Wouldn’t want t’ cheat ya.”

“You knew it was me again?” Tony tipped his head, studying the guy. “Not too creepy?”

“I knew it was you,” the man said. “You’re driving a Zenvo ST1. All the horsepower goes to the rear wheels, which makes for a real distinctive engine purr. I could hear ya almost a block away. And that’s not to mention the music.” He winked. “Not too creepy. You start throwing one dollar bills out the window on th’ way by, that might be creepy.”

Tony scoffed. “If I start throwing bills, they’ll be better than ones. Especially for someone as talented as you.”

“Yeah? I’ll tell the troop leader you said so. Recommended, move Barnes out of the chorus line and into a lead role, according to--” He waved a hand at Tony as if for an introduction.

“Tony.” He offered a hand through the window.

“Nice to meet you, Tony,” he said, taking Tony’s hand. “James Barnes, although my friends call me Bucky.”

“Should I ask why they call you that?” Tony wondered. Bucky had a nice hand, firm and not too smooth. A little sweaty, but Tony had interrupted his workout.

“Probably, but not today,” Bucky said. He took a step back, gave Tony that sassy little wave again. “See ya!” 

And there he went again; man, hate it when you leave, love to watch you go.

 Bucky had practically dared Tony to come back. Tony had never been one to back down from a dare. He could hardly pay attention to the last meeting of the day, wondering if he’d see Bucky again. What Bucky would be wearing with those ridiculous lime shoes. Whatever it was, it was sure to be mouthwatering.

Tony all but flung himself into the car and sped through the streets, slowing down only when he reached that same road.

Bucky pushed away from the wall as soon as Tony drove up. He didn’t look like he’d been out running that day, wearing a set of short denim overalls with black boots and a tank top. He also had knee pads on, and when Tony pulled up, the music cranking, it was obvious why.

His dance moves for that day were exceptionally athletic, involving splits and twists, which weren’t exactly designed for use on a crummy backstreet sidewalk. He had brought out a folding chair for a prop, his legs moving over the back, twisting, and flipping over it like a circus show.

A very sexy, adult circus show, Tony noted.

Tony leaned heavily on his open window frame. “If you’re trying to impress me, then job well done.”

“Technically, I don’t jog on Thursdays, it’s weights day,” Bucky said, sitting backward in his chair and crossing his arms over the back. “But I thought you might be back. An’... I kinda thought if you were. You might want to go grab a coffee or somethin’?”

“Hot as fuck dance moves, an impressive knowledge of cars, and coffee? Be still my heart.” Tony grinned and jerked a thumb at the passenger seat. “Want to hop in?”

Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, then, “Yeah. I mean, I’m not gonna regret this, you don’t… look like a serial killer.” But he was smirking the whole time, so Tony could take it as a joke. 

Tony chuckled. “Neither do you. Come on, let’s grab a coffee. I promise I’ll have you home by curfew.”

Bucky folded up his chair and slid it into the very narrow gap behind the seats. “There’s a good place, two down, three to the left.”

“Two down, three left,” Tony repeated. “My treat, since you were kind enough to provide entertainment?”

“You got it, Baby Driver,” Bucky said, buckling his belt. “Although this is a sweet ride, an’ I feel like I ought to pay you for the privilege.”

“For five blocks? You want a ride, we can go for a ride after we get our coffee. You know, assuming you haven’t decided to regret this.”

“I regret nothing!”  

[joshslater]

Dionysus

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

[marshmallowprotection]

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I'm sending this as a submission because it was waaaaay to long

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Can I request a friendship matchup for Gochi? MysMe chars and Including your OCs. Also, if your followers want to comment with their OCs it would be great. Girl is not good at making friendships.

Gochi Son|23|Grant and Fundraising Coordinator for NPOs

East Asian from mom's side, Hispanic from dad's

Third and youngest child, only daughter

Had a busy childhood, with a strict schedule. Classes after classes. Those classes included different martial arts, etiquette, and various languages.

Of shy and serious nature, was easier to find her reading a book during the breaks between classes rather than playing with other kids.

Teenage years were full of more classes and being taught how to behave "appropriately."

When she reached 15 years, she started to feel that she had no decision about what her life was going to be since her mother already had a plan for her life. She made the small act of rebellion of cutting her hair against her mother will at school, using a dare as an excuse.

Sometimes she wished she could act like the other kids her age, going to parties, being part of silly popularity contests. She simply felt unhappy with how she spent her time

At 17, seeing her distress, her mother told her why she had to keep getting all that classes and lessons. She will have to go into an arranged marriage with some rich guy. Her mom's explanation was that she married her father for love, leaving a life of luxury behind and it had been a mistake and was not going to let her daughter go through what she went through. She was still given the "consolation" that she would be able to meet various guys and decide herself which one to marry. Gochi accepted her mom's plan since she didn't have any plans of her own either way and this was "her duty" as a daughter

By 19 she was "engaged", she was going on dates with this rich guy, he seemed cool, relaxed and more flexible than the other guys she have met so far, so she started to relax around him and act as herself and saying what she thought instead of filtering her words. This didn't sit well with the guy and he started to criticize her. She got fed up of this and called out on that, it resulted in him calling back the engagement.

Her mom was angry but persisted with the idea of setting an arranged marriage for her, she instead moved to Korea, cutting contact with her.

She bleached her hair to almost white and when the mood strikes she uses temporal dyes of whatever color she feels like wearing

She's now 23, living on her own. Using all she learnt from her mother to put her to good use.

Thanks to all those years having classes of this and that, now she knows 5 languages, and is very good at networking.

She's convinced most if not all rich people don't deserve the life they have, specially when other people is lacking so many things. Trying to do something about it, now she works with different NPOs as "Grant and fundraising coordinator".

She keeps her training in martial arts, so she's very athletic. Her clothes of choice are compression shirts/tanks, blue jeans, boots, and a jacket/sweater on top almost all of the time. When she meets with possible funders/sponsors she goes for formalwear.

She sometimes models for sporty photoshoots. She also creates Youtube videos where she talks about charities, martial arts, modelling or general vlogging. She doesn't have a big channel but have quite a number of loyal viewers.

— Submission

You're the kind of person that has been pushed around and told what to do during your life. You took it when it happened because there was seemingly nothing else to do or to turn toward. While you've had the time to adjust and get used to interacting with others without losing your head, there are still moments when you will speak your mind without manners anywhere near that. 

You don't hesitate to stand your ground now when it comes to matters of the heart. Your shining personality stands out to not only those around you but those that dare to glance in your direction.

With that in mind, someone that works with you is somebody that will accept how hotheaded you can get but won't scold you being who you are. Your passion for people that are down on their luck and kicked by society is gladly what attracts Zen to you. Your fiery personality is tried and true and Zen knows what that feels like. Seeing you rightly tell Jumin off in front of him was just about what it took to sell him to your side. 

He finds your personality charming, though, and how easy it is for you to wade your way through the social media landscape. He’d probably be happy to learn a few things from you because all he knows is how to use Instragram and Twitter. He admires your dedication to everything you’ve been through. He knows what it feels like to struggle and to be bossed around so knowing that you’ve made it through that and put yourself on top. 

He’s your personal cheerleader and will always come to your defense. The two of you can be a real power couple, much to the chagrin of others who envy how well you work together. View counts jump when you share that boyfriend of yours online, that’s for sure. But, that’s just because he’s such a goof when you are together like that.