#Back Pain Management Staten Island

[donatellokinnersinner]

my gift for @miri-in-a-bottle for @rottmnt-secret-gifting

When Donnie was little, he was a little odd to his brothers. 

He took a while to start talking, and because of his soft shell, Splinter wouldn’t let him play rough. When he was a little older, he remained out of their play on his own, even with the pillow tied to him, and would often take it off because he didn’t want to wear it. 

He claimed his shell wasn’t a weakness, just a temporary setback. 

Raph didn’t know what that meant at the time, but he understood later when Donnie made his first battle shell. The beta test allowed him to roughhouse with his brothers and ended in the shell breaking, scratching up his shell some, and Raph promising himself never to play rough with his little brother again. 

The second version was sturdier, but his brothers refused to help him test it. 

The third was on for an hour before Donnie took it off and locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. 

Suddenly, he added padding on the shells, searching fervently with Mikey, who said his tastes were so refined that Donnie rejected almost every textile they found. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack for Donnie, ending up on taking a mostly clean satin pillowcase and wrapping it around memory foam. 

Leo was the first to find him during a meltdown, and from then on, was the first to do research and offer as educated of help as he could manage. He explained everything to Raph and Mikey, so they could know and help if he was unable. 

They didn’t have to, not when Leo was always there first. Donnie would oh-so-easily go to Leo for help because he knew he didn’t have to ask for it, his twin would just know. 

On their way back from Staten Island, Leo passed out, and Donnie panicked. Leo was always the one to know the medical stuff, Donnie only knew the basics. 

“I’m an engineer, not a doctor.” 

They called Draxum, and he helped, and once Leo was all patched up, Raph realized that Donnie had disappeared. 

He found him in his room, curled up in the corner crying, with all the light off. 

Don’t try to touch him, and keep your voice low. Leo had instructed. 

Raph crouched nearby. “Hey buddy.” 

Donnie peeked at him from where he was curled up.

Check for any injuries, sometimes pain will send him over the edge, sometimes it’s just overwhelming situations. 

Raph took a breath. The situation had been overwhelming for all of them, so he couldn’t imagine how Donnie was feeling, and there were likely injuries on top of that. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

He probably won’t outright say yes, but he will say no if he’s not hurt. 

Donnie shrugged, and Raph swallowed. “We need to make sure you get cleaned up, bud. We can make it quick, and then you can rest, I promise.”

Donnie sniffled, nodding.

He likely won’t talk, he might sign if he needs to say something. 

“Do you need help walking?” Raph asked. 

Donnie didn’t respond, moving to stand up on his own, but Raph could see him shaking. He offered his hand, allowing Donnie to make his own choice in taking it, which he did, putting his weight against his arms, both pushing against his biggest brother’s hand. 

Raph slowly led him to the bathroom, helping him take off his battle shell and getting him into the bathtub. He tried not to touch Donnie as much as possible, and made sure the water was a perfectly moderate temperature, so it wouldn’t feel like much. He tried not to panic at the mess of his brother's shell, looking like roots had been torn out of soft dirt and small bits of white could be seen through the slowly oozing blood. 

“We gotta go get this stitched up, Dee.” Raph told him and Donnie nodded slowly, letting his eldest brother help him out of the bath and into the medbay where Splinter and Casey Jr took care of him. 

Once they were done and he was all curled up with a blanket, he stared half-lidded across the room at Leo, and Raph swallowed. 

He left the room, getting Donnies headphones and bringing them back to the softshell, who relaxed when they were given. He signed Thank you. 

You’re welcome. Raph signed back, then patted beside his hand reassuringly. 

Donnie reached out and squeezed his hand, humming. 

Raph squeezed it back, giving him a smile.

(hope you enjoy!!!)

[x-ceirios-x]

City of Bones, Chapter 19: Abbadon

please see the masterlist for notes about this series/collection of works

-

Really, Rowan only agreed to go on this mission to make sure the stupid mundie and the more stupid not-mundie didn’t get themselves killed. Unfortunately, about fifteen minutes later, they found themselves facing a warlock woman who was, now, apparently taken over by a Greater Demon. Who they had to fight in Clary’s lobby. Just great how life works, isn’t it?

“By the Angel. I knew Greater Demons were meant to be ugly, but no one ever warned me about the smell,” Jace quipped, sword brandished in one hand and a seraph blade in the other. Alec stood there, staring at the monstrosity in front of them, just as Isabelle did. They had to admit—even with all the reading they’d done on Greater Demons, this was worse than they imagined. 

Abbadon opened its mouth and hissed. They couldn’t see what its face looked like, all contorted and disgusting, but they could see over its shoulder that its jaw fell further down than it should have.

“I’m not so sure about this wind and howling darkness business,” Jace said. They sighed, knowing he was trying to antagonize the thing. That’s just what he did. “Smells more like landfill to me. You sure you’re not from Staten Island?”

The fight continued. It roared towards Jace, who did his best to parry but they could tell he was struggling with the size of the monster. The moment Isabelle was able to work herself out of the shock, she joined in with her whip. Rowan shook their head, clearing themselves of the daze they’d been in a moment earlier, and threw a dagger at its head. It moved suddenly and hit the wall behind it. 

They didn’t have time to curse, or even react, because Alec managed to pierce its shoulder. With a snarl it struck again, bone-talons catching Alec in a vicious blow that lifted him off his feet and hurled him against the far wall. He struck with a sickening crunch and slid to the floor. 

Isabelle screamed her brother’s name. Rowan’s eyes darted between the demon, Isabelle, Alec, and back to the demon. They wanted to rush to him, make sure he wasn’t dead, but their feet locked in shock. They watched as Isabelle went flying across the room as the demon struck her as well. 

It turned again, its eyes zoning in on Clary. The shock wore off enough to free their feet from the locked position on the floor and they jumped. “Clary, move!” they yelled, lunging for her as the demon’s arm came around to hit her as well. They landed on top of her and felt a searing pain near their hip where the demon had sliced at them. The curse words that left their mouth would have put a sailor to shame. 

They barely had time to roll off of her when the front door swung open, revealing Simon. Tears of pain welled in their eyes and they barely had time to process the arrow flying through the air, launched by Simon who stood at the door. It flew past the demon’s head and they were about to pull a knife out of their boot to try to hit it again when the skylight fell out on top of it and the demon singed in the daylight. It screamed as it turned to ash and disappeared. 

It was silent for a long moment, everyone catching their breath as they processed what the hell just happened. They gasped as the full pain hit them and fumbled for their stele. People moved around them as they tried to sit up. Clary bolted for Jace (no thank you—figures) to make sure he was alright, but he rushed for Alec. They were hardly paying attention, mind racing with all the what ifs that could happen in the next thirty minutes alone if they weren’t incredibly careful. 

Simon mentioned something about a hospital and it made them perk up. They were about to argue against it when Jace beat them to it. 

“He’s been cut by a Greater Demon. No mundane doctor would know how to heal those wounds,” Jace argued, a sense of urgency in his voice that Rowan rarely heard. Nice to know he still cared about something. 

They tried to stand and stumbled, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden as the blood poured from the gash. Pressing their hand over their hip didn’t help—the pain almost made them pass out there—they saw black spots in their vision and nearly crashed to the floor again. 

Someone rushed forward and caught them, slinging their arm over their shoulder. They heard Simon’s voice next to them saying “Let’s get him to the car.” Then, in their ear, he said, “I’ve got you.” It was with a warm, firm tone that almost made them feel better if not for the fact that they could barely walk. 

They hobbled out to the car, falling not entirely gracefully into the back of the van as Simon ran to the front to drive. Jace crawled in after them and slammed the van doors, ordering Simon to drive like hell. The van sped off and they felt themselves going in and out of consciousness, though they were fighting to stay awake. They had to make sure Alec was okay. 

Jace looked up for a short moment, then back to Alec, then stared them down. They were waiting for a sarcastic remark. Instead, he turned slightly, gently taking their wrist in his hand. He pulled out his stele. They’d always been shit at runes, to the point that they had Jensen or Alec draw most of them before missions most of the time. They winced slightly at the burning feeling, though didn’t put up a fight as they watched the iratze appear on their arm. 

“You stay awake too,” he muttered before turning back to Alec. 

It was around that time that they decided they couldn’t hold most of their weight anymore—the rune was helping, but it couldn’t do everything.

They slowly slumped over and they felt a gentle arm catch them, guiding them to lay down. Their head fell onto Jace’s leg. He didn’t comment, but instead caught their wrist and kept his fingers on the bone, just over their pulse point. They chose not to comment on that, either. It was reassurance for both of them—they were still alive. 

-

[lazypanartist]

Hi hiii! Im back! I got a wee bit ambitious and thought I could knock out 3 stories before it got to today, but I didn't prove so lucky. But, I did finish one, and on my birthday no less! So there's that! 😊 I at least managed that!

Anyways, as usual, I hope you enjoy. I took inspiration from the prompt you gave lol. As usual, lmk if your in the mood for something! Blindbox, continuations, I can even try some more Halloween stuff, even though itd be laaaaaate.

-📝Nonnie

---

"I told you my top shelf movies were going to be a bit much for you."

Leonardo shuddered and looked away, his discomfort levels through the roof as he strained to pull a relaxed smirk. "It's nothing! Nothing, please, this is like…It's like watching VeggieTales! Pssh!"

You sighed and shook your head, turning the film off. "I warned you that Pontypool gets pretty rough. I thought that you learned to listen when I warned you about all the others. You flipped while watching Get Out. And Ginger Snaps made you squeamish."

"The transformations looked really painful…" your boyfriend grimaced sympathetically, before huffing and cleaning up the popcorn he knocked over, tossing the occasional piece in his mouth when he claimed the Five Second Rule.

"Yeah, that's why I like it, the whole process being something- nevermind, sorry. Leo, hun, it's fine if you can't handle the Top Shelf. They aren't for everyone."

Your boy in blue crossed his arms, peering at you like he was trying to crack a code. "How come you aren't scared by any of those movies? Not even the cheap jumpscares get you!"

You shrugged, cleaning up the pop cans and spilled soda on your table before getting to your movie shelf and taking the disc out of the dvd player. "I dunno. I mean, some of it scares me. Like the atmosphere puts me on edge and the concepts make my mind run wild, but…Eh, I guess I'm just not bothered by horror. It's why I have so many scary movies. Probably just used to it all. I can predict story beats too well now."

Cocking a brow, your lover lifted his head from where he was looking through the lower, tamer movie shelf. "Used to it, huh…? Oh, wait, can we actually watch Kubo and the Two Strings?"

"Yeah, no problem."

–

Neon💙Leon changed your name to Dreamboat 💞

Neon💙Leon: Hey! I have d8 nite nxt wk! 

Neon💙Leon: Meet up @ manhole n I'll walk u there. Want 2 surprise u✨

Dreamboat💞: Halloween night? okay u got it. What time?

Neon💙Leon: 7pm. make sure u bring ID.

Dreamboat💞: Hey champ, baby, love of mine, if it needs ID how are u getting in.

Neon💙Leon: Donnie made us fakes like 2 months ago. I'm sure it'll work.

Chuffed, you pocketed your phone while you finished doing the dishes. Once the last plate was scrubbed, dried and put away, you bid your roommate goodbye and off you went, grabbing your keys as you left. You made sure to grab your longboard and head off, kicking off on the ground and sailing your way through the streets. Your sneaker dashed against icky puddles as you moved, the dark wheels allowing you to cut your travel time down as you coasted along. It wasn't long before you swerved down an alley, a relaxed grin on your face as you waved to your boyfriend.

"Heyoo. How's my hunk doin?"

Leonardo snorted, looking amused but embarrassed at your words. "Pretty good, my- wait, why aren't you in costume?!"

You shrugged. "I'm dressed as a guy from Staten Island. Besides, you never told me to."

"Eugh. That IS scary. It's okay, it should be fine. Come on! ¡Vámonos!"

Chuckling to yourself, you picked your board up and carried it while holding a hand out, excitedly squeezing the scaled hand that gripped your own. You let Leonardo lead you on a walk, swinging your joined hands once in a while as the two of you teased or joked with one another. You were happy anytime you got a rise out of the Hamato, the blush you were rewarded with when you managed to fluster him being sweeter than any king sized candy handed out.

The two of you walked for a while, Leonardo dressed in his Jupiter Jim Alien look for the day and getting plenty of positive feedback for it. Before long, the blue-clad mutant pointed to a building with a small simple banner hung up outside. Your eyes widened as you locked onto the wording, reading out loud in excitement before turning back to Leo in wonder.

"The Hex House? Manhattan's most terrifying haunted house?! Oh my god, you didn't."

"Oh," crooned the slider, pulling two tickets from his fanny pack and fanning them out, "But I did, my charming partner. Two tickets to the biggest fright night of our lives. I had yours ordered special."

You blinked at that, curious to what he meant, but as you approached the booth and passed over your ticket and ID, the worker glanced at the different stub and sneered, grabbing a lanyard with a glow stick attached and handing it over.

"Put that on before you head in."

You nodded, confused but willing as you looped it over your head and let it dangle against your chest. Your mutant boyfriend smirked as well and threw an arm around you. "Prepare for the scariest thing you ever experienced, baby~"

Grinning, you waited a little while longer with your partner until a large man with a buffalo skull for a mask lumbered up while you two were laughing and chatting. He grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you, dragging you over to a large double door before opening it and shoving you in. Baby Blue slipped in behind you, and the door was slammed shut, casting you both in darkness.

This was going to be great for you.

–

Things were not going great for Leonardo.

The terrapin had plans. Extensive ones. He had planned on the change of pace and scenery to wind you up. He planned on the frightful decor and costumes to make you scream. He planned on actors grabbing and shaking the bravery out of you like it was a loose marble.

He planned on getting you the special Hard Mode ticket, so you would be scared out of your wits, and cling to him for once.

Instead, he found himself jumping and yelping once again as a puff from an air cannon startled him into your arms, your slight flinch at the noise being the only reaction of shock. You chuckled slightly, and squeezed him. This was…well, not at all what he wanted. He was the brave leader of the Mad Dogs! The Face Man! He was better than this.

Grumbling some, the slider felt his bad mood coming off him in waves, which you seemed immune to. 

["-...just not bothered by horror. It's why I have so many scary movies. Probably just used to it all. I can predict story beats too well now."]

Huh…

Did…story beats happen even here? UGH! Why didn't he think of that?! A rather upset chirp escaped your boyfriend as he crossed his arm, the exit coming upon you both far too soon. The two of you stepped out, and Leo took the polaroids they handed out at the end.

You looked thrilled.

Heaving a big sigh, Leonardo continued on at a brisk pace, you having to hurry to catch up to him.

"Babes! Wait!"

You almost tripped catching up to him, but you managed to pick up the pace and walked side by side. Leo looked away, unhappy.

"Babes? Come on, Hero, talk to me. What did I do?"

"More like what DIDN'T you do!! This whole-!" Leo corrected his tone, taking a breath and making sure not to yell. "Sorry, sorry, just…this whole date was planned so you could be scared! I wanted you to have a little bit of thrill!! Movies don't bug you and scary stories and youtube creepypastas and r/letsnotmeet shit doesn't work, I wanted you to just…!

"Look, I wasn't trying to like, be mean scare you. Okay, maybe a bit, but really! I just wanted you to experience shock! And, and and and surprise and be spooked for the season! You're just too…cool, and brave, and for once, I wanted to comfort you like you do with me all the time…" The mutant sighed, rubbing at his face. A civilian walked past you both, complimenting Leonardo on his Jupiter Jim alien costume and held a hand up. He didn't even look up as he gave the dweeby person a high five as you both kept walking.

You frowned, scratching the back of your head in confusion. "What do you mean? I was scared out of my wits in there."

Your boyfriend slowly turned and gave you a disbelieving look. "You laughed at a jumpscare and asked the actor where they got their chainsaw."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think you wanted to deal with me screaming and crying. I sorta…compartmentalized everything. Treated it like a movie and stuff." Picking the skin on your cheek, you looked away from Leo, who was straightening up the more you talked. "I just…I don't know. The lighting was disorienting and I was scared I would embarrass you or hurt myself. I was scared the whole time about something or other. Didn't exactly want you to think I was a pu-"

"Wait, so. You were SCARED. How come you didn't freak out at all??"

You thought quietly before smiling. "I had you there. I knew, y'know, no matter what, you would have my back if something went down. As long as you leap into my arms, I know it's something you know I can comfort you about. So it's not big and scary or going to hurt me." You gently patted his jaw with a cheeky grin. "After all, who can be scared while having a hero like you keeping them safe?"

Leonardo froze, watching as you kept walking. His eyes looked back down at the polaroid and, while yes, he was screaming at some scare not captured on the camera, he could see you behind him. Your eyes were wide with surprise and shock, but your smile was warm as you only paid attention to him.

The ninja quickly caught back up with you, holding a hand out which you took in your own. The two of you walked back to your place, already talking about ordering something in as  you bickered about either getting pizza again or ordering from the Jamaican patty place. You both kept an eye or an ear out for whatever lay in the shadows, knowing you both would be there to comfort the other no matter what scares may lie ahead in the dark, overcast night.

Happy birth!!

And this is so cute!! Reader not wanting to freak Leo out by panicking, Leo wanting them to be scared so he can comfort them.. idiots to lovers except they're already lovers 💕

[foryouthem00n]

since i mean you might be an actual fan of harry if you based a song off keep driving could you do a story based off matilda and the reader is basically rlly upset she has no family and sonny is like you have me. i’m your family and it’s cute sad and soft 🙏😩

also i’m a write who has severe writers block so prepare for many requests bc ur my. new fav

“Family.”

A/N: I’m a huge Harry fan!! I’m so happy that you enjoy my posts and I’d be glad to take any requests that you have!! Also sorry for the wait, life has been kicking my butt lately 😅

-

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе

You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

-

You’ve known Sonny Carisi for almost your whole life. You both grew up in Staten Island, living right next door to each other. The two of you would play outside together as kids, and ride the bus to and from school, side by side. When your family decided to up and move to another state, you were absolutely devastated. What would you do without your best friend? Would you ever see him again?

You endured trauma and abuse from your family all of your life, and when you turned eighteen, you decided to leave them. You moved back to Staten Island, never seeing your parents again. You managed to go to college, get a job, and find yourself a place to live. It wasn’t easy, but you made a new life for yourself. One that was better than before. You were safe and you were free and that’s all that mattered to you.

One morning you went to a cafe nearby to get a coffee and something to eat. As you walked in, you saw a tall man in a gray suit standing in line to order. You thought maybe he looked familiar but you couldn’t tell. You watched as he ordered and took his coffee from the barista, turning around and heading for the door. It was exactly who you thought it was; Sonny Carisi. You could never forget that face, even if it had been decades later since you last saw him.

Sonny noticed you staring at him as he continued to walk towards the door, and he looked confused. You grabbed his arm as he walked past you.

“Hey, wait!”

Sonny stopped and turned to face you, still perplexed. “Uh, yeah?”

“Sonny, it’s me. It’s Y/N. From when we were kids?”

Sonny’s mouth dropped. “Oh my god, Y/N! I can’t believe it!”

Sonny brought you in for a hug before you could say anything else to him. You were so happy to see Sonny after so long. You thought that you’d never see him again.

When Sonny finally released from the hug, he sat down at the nearest table, motioning for you to sit. You did as he wanted and sat down across from him.

“I just can’t believe that we finally found each other. What have you been doing? Where have you been?” Sonny asked.

“I’ve been right here in Staten Island, ever since I turned eighteen.” You told him.

“Why didn’t you tell me or try to find me?”

“I just… didn’t want you to have to deal with all of my baggage..” You muttered.

“Y/N, we were best friends. Why would you think that any of that would matter to me?”

“I don’t know… it’s just not something that I wanted to involve you in.”

“Alright,” Sonny mumbled. “Well, what made you come back?”

“I needed to get away from my parents. I didn’t want to spend one second more than I had to with them. It was time to take control.”

Sonny looked straight into your eyes as he said, “I’m so proud of you for having the courage and strength to leave them.”

You started to tear up. It was nice to hear Sonny say that but a part of you has always felt lonely ever since you came back to Staten Island. You’ve been by yourself the whole time.

“I don’t have anyone anymore.” You spoke softly.

“Y/N, I know that it may feel like that, but you don’t need them. The way that your own parents treated you is unforgivable and they don’t deserve to have you in their lives,” Sonny insisted. “You had me before you left, and you have me now. Hell, you had me after you left too, I just didn’t know where to find you. But now, we have each other again. We’re family.”

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, a small smile forming on your face. Sonny was everything that you ever needed. He knew just what to say to make everything okay.

“You’re so special to me, Sonny. You always have been. Never leaving my side, being there for me when I needed you. Remember when you’d let me hide in your backyard behind that huge tree to get away from my parents?”

Sonny’s face dropped. “I do, but I hate thinking about it. You shouldn’t have had to hide at all. It’s not right.”

You shrugged. “Things happen.”

“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t have happened. You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N.” Sonny told you as he grabbed your hand from across the table.

You smiled at Sonny. “You mean the world to me, Dom. I’m so glad that we found each other again.”

“You’ll always have me around, Y/N. Forever.”

[conqueror4]

Back Pain Specialists Staten Island: Finding the Best Care at Atlantic Sports Medicine

Introduction

Are you struggling with back pain and seeking specialized care in Staten Island? Look no further than Atlantic Sports Medicine, where you can find the best back pain specialists Staten Island. With their expertise and dedication to patient care, Atlantic Sports Medicine is committed to providing comprehensive treatment options tailored to your specific needs. In this article, we will explore the importance of seeking professional help for back pain, the services offered by Atlantic Sports Medicine, and how you can benefit from their exceptional care.

1. Understanding the Significance of Back Pain Specialists

Back pain can significantly impact your daily life, making even the simplest tasks challenging to perform. It is crucial to seek the assistance of back pain specialists who possess the knowledge and experience necessary to accurately diagnose and effectively treat your condition. These specialists focus solely on back pain-related issues, ensuring that you receive specialized care that addresses the root cause of your discomfort.

2. A Premier Destination for Back Pain Treatment

Atlantic Sports Medicine is widely recognized as a leading institution for the treatment of various musculoskeletal conditions, including back pain. we are highly skilled specialists combines our expertise with state-of-the-art technology to deliver exceptional care to their patients. With a patient-centric approach and a commitment to delivering the best outcomes, Atlantic Sports Medicine has established itself as the go-to destination for back pain specialists Staten Island.

3. Diagnostic Services for Accurate Diagnosis

At Atlantic Sports Medicine, accurate diagnosis is the first step towards effective treatment. Their back pain specialists utilize advanced diagnostic techniques to identify the underlying causes of your pain. From physical examinations to imaging tests such as X-rays, MRI scans, and CT scans, they leave no stone unturned in determining the most appropriate treatment plan for you.

4. Non-Surgical Treatment Options for Back Pain

In many cases, back pain can be effectively managed without the need for surgery. Atlantic Sports Medicine offers a range of non-surgical treatment options tailored to your specific condition. These may include physical therapy, chiropractic care, medication management, interventional pain management techniques, and regenerative medicine treatments. The goal is to relieve your pain, improve your mobility, and enhance your overall quality of life.

5. Surgical Solutions for Complex Cases

For individuals with more complex back pain conditions, surgical intervention may be the best course of action. Atlantic Sports Medicine houses a team of skilled orthopedic and neurosurgical specialists who are well-versed in the latest surgical techniques. From minimally invasive procedures to more extensive surgeries, their experts will guide you through every step of the process, ensuring your comfort and well-being.

6. Rehabilitation and Physical Therapy

Rehabilitation and physical therapy play a crucial role in the recovery process after back pain treatment. Atlantic Sports Medicine offers comprehensive rehabilitation services designed to strengthen your back, improve your flexibility, and prevent future injuries. Their team of dedicated physical therapists will create a personalized plan tailored to your needs, ensuring a smooth transition back to an active and pain-free lifestyle.

[productivitybeauty]

The Value Of Pain Medications And Why They Will Work

Chronic pain may be caused by back problems, joint injuries and trauma, arthritis, and many other ailments. Chronic pain can trigger depression, anxiety, or insomnia as well as the constant ache and throbbing.

Chronic discomfort can cause you to get angry and negatively impact your relationships with others. Work, home tasks, and social gatherings become difficult to bear.

Finding a solution that works to manage chronic pain is a difficulties for physicians and patients. We at Advanced Spine Care and Pain Management We offer complete, customized pain management plans that include physical therapy injections, and pain medication. While pain medication is often criticised for its side negative effects, they are crucial to any pain management program. You may get additionalinformation about relief of pain by visiting https://www.mid-day.com/brand-media/article/kailo-patch-reviews-clinical-trial-reveals-amazing-results-23266095 site.

When we suggest a type of medication frequency, dosage and duration, we take into account your medical history, diagnosis as well as your personal history and your biology. We'd like to share with you why pain medication is often an essential part of the treatment for pain.

In the case of pain medication, it can improve your ability to perform activities

For some people, tasks that seem routine, like washing dishes, shopping for groceries, or even climbing stairs, can be challenging. Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs), acetaminophen, or opioids, are used to relieve pain and allow you to live a normal life.

You can lessen your dependence on others through taking pain medications. This will help reduce anxiety and depression that are caused by pain, as you are in charge of your life again.

Physical therapy possible

Physical therapy exercises which stretch tight muscles and improve movement patterns that cause discomfort are usually a part of your treatment program. In some cases, however, you may be so ill that it's impossible to complete these exercises. There are painkillers that you can take to reduce the pain so that you can go into exercise more effectively and with ease.

Medicines for pain can help improve your health

Pain can make you avoid social events or family gatherings. Physical activity, even something as simple as enjoying an evening walk in the warm spring evening is now difficult. Due to the pain, you could find yourself unable or unwilling to work. The financial burden can be a result.

Pain medications can help ease discomfort and restore your health. You'll feel healthier and more capable of returning to work, enjoy socializing, or be more active as your symptoms ease.

How pain medications work

Pain medications work in different ways. NSAIDS hinder the release of certain enzymes that are produced when you suffer an injury, and can cause inflammation. Your body's natural painkillers, endorphins, use opioids to reduce the signals that cause pain throughout your body. They also reduce nerve cell functions.

Advanced Spine Care and Pain Management doctors will work with you to identify the best pain medication for you. To ensure you live a happier and more fulfilled life, we establish the partnership.

Medications aren't the only solution to chronic pain However, they can aid in getting relief. Visit one of our locations in Staten Island or Hartsdale, New York, or schedule an appointment online to be evaluated and receive a customized treatment plan that will help you restore your life.

[juipterjim]

MIKEY AU PART 2

Mikey’s POV

We finally cross paths and the krang lunges his arm trying to land a hit, but I duck under his arm, punching at his slimy body. Its back hunched over, but then it quickly turns back to me.

“Lucky shot”

“Awwww did I WuRt YoU ToO HaRd?” I mock right back at him.

Realizing what I did, its face automatically shifts into infuriation as he charges toward me ten times more pissed. Despite the fear that was shaking in my bones, I prayed to the pizza universe in the sky that my facial expression is calm as I throw my arm once again to meet up with theirs and swipe it down and hold it. They attempt to use their other arm to get to me but I block it as well and punch it in the face since it’s at a level where I can reach. Once it loses stability, I quickly kick him in the knee. Once it kneeled, I slapped it in the face with my palm stretched out. It felt like it all happened in slow motion. Again, I quickly punched its body, then took its head and slammed it with my nunchucks. Finally, I did a quick sweep the leg and it flew off towards some debris, leaving the effect of it so big that I thought for sure that I left a mark there.

Once the dust cleared up, it was laid face down on their front. But ever so slowly, it rose back up. Should’ve known it wasn’t gonna go down that easily.

“ok….MY TURN” it spoke in a bitter, cold voice that I physically flinched and took a step back. By the time I blinked…, it was gone. Suddenly I felt a presence right behind me. Before I could even register what was going on, its arm lunged at me and picked me up then threw me on the ground HARD. I cry out in pain from the force. Then it took out its foot and put it down towards my plastron. The air rushed out of my lungs and I felt something warm come out of me…blood? I tried to budge out of their grasp but I could barely move an inch. “ I am forever known what you FAIL TO UNDERSTAND!!” Its voice gradually raises louder. “STRENGTH…ALWAYS…PREVAILS!!!” With each word, it kept applying pressure on my body and everything felt stiff and painful. As I squint one of my eyes to catch a glimpse of their face, it contained a sinister grin and their eyes have completely gone red slitted, making them look menacing. It thinks that it won. But I will NOT let it end like this.

After the fifth try, I successfully managed to free the arm that had my nunchuck and take out the hidden blade from it, throwing it towards its armor and stabbing it. I slowly give it a wicked grin in return.

“hehe...you know… it’s not good to be overconfident...otherwise, you’ll miss out on what your enemy can do”

“And just what exactly would that be? You can barely MOVE. You’re under MY hold.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that”

Very quickly, I draw the mystic energy from my nunchuck, the orange spots on my body glowing as well, and create a huge energy burst, sending the both of us away.

Donnie and Raph’s POV

I take another deep, slow breath. Okay… Raph is right. I’m not alone in this. I just gotta do what I do best. Think. “Ok so-” “ GUYS?!? WHERE ARE YOU?!?!” Leo’s voice cuts me off from my communicator. I answered him quickly. “We’re in Staten Island” “Ewwwwww!! Staten Island! Gross!” Even though we’re in this whole “world is ending'' situation, the barbs still continue. “Yeah Yeah I know, just get your butt over here Leonar-” Before I could even finish the rest of his name, I already saw his blue portal from my peripheral vision and him quickly running through it to give Raph a hug which he quickly returned, then gave me one. What is it with everyone hugging me? Seriously? “I’m just so glad you guys aren’t dead and are okay,” Leo said, relieved his voice was muffled. “MY SONS!!” “You guys!” He pulled from the hug as we all looked to our right and saw dad and April run quickly towards us. I realized that future boy wasn’t with us and it looked like I wasn’t the only one that noticed. “Wait. Where’s Casey?” Leo questioned. “ He’s trying to get the key. We heard about what happened to Mikey. What are we gonna do?!?!” April shrieked. “ MY BABY SON IS OUT THERE FOR GOD’S SAKE!! MAYBE IF WE GET BLUE TO PORTAL BACK- “He’s WAY too injured to go back there. What if we- “ “NO! WE DON’T KNOW IF THAT SPECIFIC WIRE IS GONNA GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY DONNIE?!?”

With all these voices overlapping each other, I can’t get my head set straight and it’s only making the pressure worse. As the oldest, it’s my duty to make sure my family stays safe. But I clearly can’t do that right. Mind Raph isn’t helping me come up with any ideas at all. The thought of my baby brother taking his last breath and di- NOPE! Not even gonna THINK about that.

“ENOUGHHHH!” I shouted, which silenced everyone.

“ We’re not getting anywhere like this! Donnie, if you wanna start telling us what you had in mind, NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME!!!” I yelled. Everyone just looks at me in shock. I didn’t even realize I was catching my breath from shouting so loud. “.... I was just gonna plug in the wires that I grabbed earlier and plug them in the right spots so I can get my battle shell to work…” His voice getting smaller.

“Okay… you get on that as quick as you can. As for the rest of us-”

“...Guys…I don’t really have a whole lot of time left…so I just wanted to tell you guys one thing before I go…” I hear Mikey's loving but resigned voice from my communicator.

Part 3? 🙃

[loving-barnes]

Vendetta - Vulnerable (10)

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Mob ! Boss Y/N Fox (Bucky Barnes x female reader)

Warning: talk of sexual assault and mocking, violence, blood, murder, alcohol - darker chapter

Autor’s note: Finally, you will get to learn more about Y/N’s past. I will be editing the chapter later today (there are not many mistakes, but there are some). 

Viewer discretion is advised. This story is for readers 18+!

Word count: 4900+

Chapter nine

Vendetta Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Vulnerable (10)

Bucky: Hi, have you seen Y/N? 

Yelena: No. I haven’t seen her or heard about her for days now. I’m worried. This is the first time she went MIA for more than two days. Luckily, I’ve seen some tracks she has left. That’s the only thing giving me hope she’s alive and working. 

Bucky: Can you tell me what happened? 

Yelena: That is not my story to tell, Barnes. You’d have to ask her but she won’t tell you. 

Bucky: Let me know if you hear something about her. Please. 

Yelena: Ha, you must really like her. 

Bucky: Just call me, alright? 

Yelena: As you wish, Wolf Boy. 

Y/N was on a mission for almost two weeks. Since the news about Killmonger was revealed, she wanted to put an end to this war – even if it meant her doing it all alone, with her bare hands and getting seriously hurt. Nothing mattered to her, only to bring her enemy down on their knees – the same way they did. She forgot about her family and the alliance. She stopped picking up calls and focused on getting the information she needed. Y/N didn’t want to be distracted by Barnes following behind her ass like a dog. 

The night before her father’s funeral, she finally got what she wanted. After hours of planning, she was able to get to one of the high-trusted men of Hydra – Ulysses Klaue. He was coming out of a strip club Hydra owned in Staten Island when she grabbed the opportunity and kidnapped him. 

It took good timing and a huge dose of opium to get him back to Queens into one of the warehouses she was no longer using. That idiot was all alone, therefore he became an easy target. The plan was to sell the place but there were times she used it to torture people there. 

“Ah,” Klaue moaned from pain as she kicked him back to the ground. He was already conscious, rolling on the cold hard wet surface. His fancy suit was covered in mud and torn in several places. “You fucking cunt,” he growled, trying to stand up on his feet. 

“You might as well start singing because, at the end of the night, you are still going to die,” she stepped closer to him and kicked him into his chest, making him fall down again. “Tell me everything, Ulysses. Be useful for once.” 

“I’m not telling you anything, Fox,” he cried. “If I die, might as well die with all the secrets,” he took a deep breath and laughed. 

She put a wicked smile on her face. “I’m going to make you sing, don’t you worry, Klaue.” She hit him straight into his face with her fist, making him spit blood and some teeth out. She knew how to throw a good punch. He rolled on his back and whined. The blood was all over his face and clothes. “Why did you hire Killmonger?” she asked him. 

He kept his mouth shut as he was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. Y/N got quickly annoyed and was ready to smash his face with her boot. As she was about to hit him, he grabbed her ankle and swiftly pulled her down to him, attacking her. 

Klaue managed to hit her face and tore her lower lip. Then got to sit on top of her, hitting her face a few more times. “Fucking little cunt,” he laughed, spitting blood all over her. “You think you can kill me? You are a weak woman.” He started to admire how her face slowly played with several colors. The bruising would become worse in a few hours. 

“Do you think you will be able to destroy Hydra?” he asked her when he grabbed both of her hands and pressed them above her head. His blood kept slowly dripping from his face. The droplets were falling onto her cheeks and nose. It made her gag. “No one can destroy us. We have the upper hand. We got rid of your pathetic father as well as the old Barnes and his wife. And soon, when we will get rid of you, no one will stand in our way to rule New York.” 

“What?” it slipped out of her mouth. They killed Bucky’s parents? It wasn’t an accident? 

He chuckled. “Do you think it was an accident? You are all such fools,” he said happily. “In this world, nothing is an accident. Rumlow and I made sure they wouldn’t come out of the car alive.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hydra killed Bucky’s parents and he didn’t know. “Their death allowed us to mess with James. That idiot believed everything we told him. And we got him where we wanted… until you had to meddle into everything, you fucking cunt.” 

The anger inside her was about to blow like a volcano. She managed to push her body forward and roll him over her. He didn’t expect the move and suddenly, she was the one who was sitting on top of him, beating the shit out of the man. 

“You piece of shit!” she screamed at him, not stopping to hit his face. When the man was almost unconscious, she got off him and stood up, wiping the blood off her face with the back of her hand. 

Y/N quickly ran to her car and took out a rope and a baseball bat, ready to use it on that fucker. From the old office, she brought a rustic chair into the middle of the warehouse where she forced him to sit on it. He was a heavy motherfucker and it was a struggle to put him on the chair. Once seated, she tied his hands, legs, and torso to the chair. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, tired from carrying all the weight. “You heavy swine.”

“Let-me-out,” he mumbled, barely able to communicate. His head was wobbling around. “You’ll pay for this.” More blood escaped his mouth.

She glared at him and swung the bat over her shoulder. “I already did.” She stopped in front of him and put a sweet smile on her face. “Tell me, Klaue, why have you hired an assassin? Is Pierce scared to do the job himself?” 

Before he could reply, she hit his right knee with the bat with all force. The sound of crackling bone could be heard around the empty warehouse. He shouted from the top of his lungs as a new wave of pain hit him. “Fuuuuuuck!” 

“Aw, don’t cry, darling,” she stood behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, massaging it. “Just breathe through your nose,” and she laughed. “Such a pussy.” 

“Fucking, crazy bitch!” he kept whining. “Are you fucking out of your mind?” 

“Am I?” she asked back. The bat was back in her hands, aiming at his hand as if she was practicing baseball. The difference was that his head became the ball. “One move and you are dead, Klaue. Well, if I successfully hit the right places around your head. Imagine staying paralyzed for life. Now, tell me everything.” 

He kept breathing through his nose, exhaling with his mouth. The sobs kept escaping his mouth here and there. Y/N put the bat down and went back in front of him, leaning closer. His eyes found her face that kept that wicked smile on. “You know what’s funny, Fox? Hydra knows your weakness. Hydra knows what happened a few years ago when you joined the military.” 

Y/N tried to keep her face straight, not giving him any emotion. But the smile faded. Her stomach turned upside down and her palms started to sweat. How could they know? 

“Do you think it was a coincidence we hired Killmonger?” he asked rhetorically. “We’re not that stupid, little girl.” 

Without thinking, she reached for the knife she had in a holster on her thigh and stabbed it into his left leg, straight in the middle of his thigh. Another set of screams and sobs came out of the man’s throat. The blood was dripping down his thigh and onto the ground. 

Once he calmed down after a few minutes, he opened his mouth again. “Tell me, Fox, did he fuck you good?” he grinned at her, showing her his bloody teeth. “He told us how he had a great time with you. How he fucked you with his friends. You kept screaming for help and no one came,” he continued. “He told us how he abused your virgin little hole. It sounded like a lot of fun.” 

Her hands started to shake wildly. Listening to how he knew about everything that happened a few years ago, made her stomach twist in pain, making her nauseous. Those words triggered her and suddenly, she felt as if she was back there, that night when Killmonger and two of his friends raped her. All those hands were back on her body, taking off her clothes while she struggled to fight back. They crawled up her body and squeezed her throat, stopping the oxygen.

“He told us everything, dove,” he laughed triumphantly. “He told us how they used every one of your holes for their pleasure.” 

She couldn’t listen to him anymore. He knew too much and he deserved nothing more than to die. His voice was suddenly muffled and she couldn’t hear him anymore. The only thing she was able to register was the sound of her beating heart that wanted to escape her chest. And then there was a loud ringing in her ears. It reminded her of the screams that escaped her mouth that night. 

Y/N screamed at the man and threw herself on top of him, plunging taking the knife out of his thigh and plunging it deep into his chest. His warm, dark blood started to splash out of his body, covering them both. With the deep growl that kept coming out of her chest, she kept stabbing him into the chest, not giving a shit that he was already dead. All the rage caused her to stab him at least twenty times. The last stab was right into his eye. She twisted the knife from side to side and left it there. 

Such masterpiece.

She looked at the dead body, admiring the art she had created. Klaue was dead, she was sure of it. No one would be able to survive an attack like this. She rolled to the side from the lifeless body and curled up into a ball, crying. Those words were still ringing in her head. Hydra had the biggest advantage of all time. They knew about her trauma and they would be able to use it against her. 

She kept crying on the ground for ten minutes until she couldn’t anymore. Her face was hot, her eyes were burning and she kept gasping for breath. Even the snot came out of her nose but she didn’t give a fuck. 

With one last breath, she slowly stood up and fixed her clothes. It was done. Now, it was time to get rid of the body. Y/N went to her car, into the boot where she had heavy iron chains. She wrapped one end around the car and dragged the other end to the body where she secured it around the dead man. The second chain was wrapped around the legs of the chair, just to be sure the man would sink down in the sea. 

Y/N threw the bloody bat back into the car and got inside, starting the vehicle. She brushed the remains of the snot against her bloody jacket. Slowly, she drove to the edge of the warehouse where the bay was. The water was at least seven meters deep there. As she was approaching the edge, she sped up and drifted before the end of the ground. It helped her drag the body over the ground and get it as close as possible to the water. 

When she unwrapped the chain from the car, she wrapped the rest of it around the body. He was starting to smell terrible. It took her a few minutes until she managed to roll the chain-wrapped body into the water. When it hit the surface, she exhaled with relief. Her eyes kept watching the bubbles that were coming to the top as the body kept sinking down. 

“One down,” she said to herself. 

Her hand reached into the back pocket of her jeans, taking out her phone. It had a cracked screen but it luckily kept working. Unlocking the phone was difficult. She made a mental note to buy a new one. 

Y/N’s eyes locked on the photo she had on the main page. It was her and Yelena during summer when they spent a week in London. She was the only person Y/N could trust. She was the last real family that she needed to protect at all costs. 

After almost two weeks, she opened her messages. The inbox was filled with texts from Yelena, Wade, Scott, Peter, and even Barnes. They were all worried about her. No wonder - she’s been MIA for almost two weeks, not communicating with anyone. 

When she ran away from Yelena’s apartment, she quickly headed back home where she started to plan a solo mission to get anyone from Hydra. After over a day she realized she had some glass stuck inside her feet and it made it difficult to walk. It was a bitch to take it all out. When was the last time she forgot about everything and focused on one goal? 

Heading back to the car, she hardly typed Yelena a short message. I’m alive. I’m going home. 

She started the car and left the warehouse, leaving some anger and fear behind. One important member of Hydra was gone. Y/N realized that his death would only bring rage out of Hydra. But they were the ones that started the war. 

The drive to Yelena’s old place took about half an hour. When she parked the car, she noticed the light was off – no one was home. Maybe Yelena thought she was heading back to the mansion. Y/N couldn’t consider that place as home anymore. 

Slowly, she dragged herself up into the apartment. When she walked in and turned on the lights, there were several dirty wine glasses on the coffee table as well as the kitchen counter. It seemed that Yelena had visitors while she was gone. 

Y/N opened the refrigerator door and found one last bottle of rum. She took it out and brought it with her to the rooftop of the building where she could stare at midnight in New York. She didn’t mind the blood all over her body. It seemed as if she forgot about it. 

Some idiots kept honking the car horn, shouting profanities. It was happening several streets away and yet she was able to hear them as if it was happening close to her building. Y/N sat down, bringing the bottle to her lips, ready to drink the liquid until she noticed she hadn’t opened it yet. 

“Fuck,” she hissed and opened the bottle, quickly gulping down the rum. It burnt her throat but she didn’t mind. Alcohol seemed like the only way to get rid of her memories. As if it was the solution to all her life trauma. She kept chugging on it as if it was lemonade. 

Here and there, Klaue’s face kept popping in her mind, still hearing his last words. That fucker knew what happened to her – hell, they all knew. As much as she tried to hold back the tears, she couldn’t do it for long. Some were able to escape, falling down her bloody cheeks. 

“Y/N?” she heard Bucky’s voice behind her back. Was she imagining it? No. She didn’t turn around; rather put the bottle to her lips and took another few sips of the alcohol. “Holy shit,” his steps came closer to her until he stopped right beside her, gasping. “What the fuck happened?” 

She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the streetlamps and the skyscrapers in far Manhattan. But that view was suddenly blocked by Bucky’s face. He sat down opposite her, his hands immediately on her blood-covered face and his eyes were mapping every detail. He could see the torn lip, the bloody temple, and even the bruising forming on her cheek and eye. He waited for her to speak. Still, she kept her mouth shut, not saying a word. 

“We’ve been worried about you,” he said after a minute when his eyes checked the rest of her body. Whose blood was it? He kept shaking his head in disbelief. She looked as if she was in a massacre. One thing he knew for sure was that most of the blood didn’t belong to her. Y/N had some wounds on her face, but they wouldn’t produce that much blood. “Please, look at me,” he whispered and put both of his hands back on her cheeks, making her look at him. 

With a sigh, she said: “I killed Klaue.” 

Bucky’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he heard the news. “What?” he had to ask, not sure if she was trolling or not.

“I killed Klaue,” she repeated without any emotion. 

Bucky quickly took his phone out of the jacket and typed a message to Yelena, informing her where they were. He knew he’d need her help. “Alright, I need to know more,” he said calmly when he put his phone back and his hands landed on her shoulders, stroking them. “Is that his blood?”

“Yep,” she said and drank the rum again. 

He noticed how much was already missing from the bottle. Did she drink it all alone? He remembered that bottle – Yelena bought it a few days ago when they were in the apartment, trying to track down Y/N. They never got to it. “Was it you who kidnapped him?” he asked. When she took another sip from the bottle, he made her put it down. “You should stop drinking, Y/N.”

“He’s swimming in the ocean, making friends with the fish,” she laughed and put the bottle back to her lips. Bucky stole the bottle from her hand and threw it behind him, not caring that most of the content of the bottle spilled over the ground. “What the fuck?” she shouted at him. “Fuck you, Barnes! How fucking dare you?”

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for almost two weeks,” he raised his voice at her. “Everyone has been looking for you. Yelena put a lot of your men around the Queens to find you. Even Stark and I helped. Everyone was worried about you.” 

She scoffed. “Please, don’t pretend you care, Wolf.” Her eyes turned darker and she frowned at him. “You don’t care. No one cares about me, alright? Everybody pretends they care but the truth is no one does. They only pretend for the money.” The alcohol kicked in. She didn’t give a single fuck about anything or anyone. She needed to shut down the voices running inside her head. 

He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not true Y/N. Yelena cares about you – she hasn’t slept in days, worried sick about you. Wade cares about you. Fuck, even I care about you, doll. Just, please believe me when I say-“

“Believe you?” she raised her brows. “W-Why should I believe that you care?“

His hands gripped her shoulders and he shook her body a little. “I fucking care about you. You may not believe me, but I really do.”

She frowned at him. “Why do you care about me? You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me, Barnes. Until a few months ago, you didn’t even know I existed.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head. His eyes never left hers.  Something was in them and she couldn’t quite know what it was. They softened and seemed sad. “I want to know you, Y/N. If you’d let me in, I would like to know more of you,” his voice was now barely a whisper. “I’m not your enemy. I never wanted to be one,” he admitted. 

There was silence between them. Bucky kept holding her shoulders, absentmindedly stroking them with his thumbs while their eyes kept staring at each other. Both were breathing simultaneously and neither of them wanted to let go. 

Y/N’s mind was running wild. Everything was too confusing. She didn’t know who to trust; she didn’t know whether he was telling the truth. At the same time, she didn’t give a single fuck. What her mind could focus on were his lips calling her to taste them. Where did that thought come from? 

Now you have the opportunity of a lifetime, said her inner voice. When was the last time she kissed a man? She thought about it for a second. It was over a year ago when she was in LA and met with the Asgardian clan. But now, Bucky was in front of her – the boy she used to be in love with. Used to, right? 

Before she knew it, she leaned closer to him, capturing his lips with hers in a soft kiss. Her drunken mind wanted to know how his lips felt against her. She wanted to know what he tasted like. They were soft, as she imagined, and he didn’t move away from her. 

Bucky closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. He was taken back by the action but he would lie if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Both his hands moved to her neck and pulled her closer to his body, deepening the kiss. Bucky didn’t want to stop but he knew it was wrong. She was drunk and murdered a man not long ago. Her mind was all over the place and he didn’t want to use her vulnerable state. Back in the day, he wouldn’t give a fuck. Now, he wasn’t able to do it to her. 

He pulled away from the kiss. “Stop, you don’t want to do this,” he whispered, still keeping his eyes closed. 

Y/N looked at him, her face stoic. This was the first time a man didn’t want to proceed even though she was offering herself willingly. She took a deep breath through her nose and let him go. Her legs felt like jelly but she managed to stand up and walk to the bottle on the ground. There was still some alcohol left. 

She picked it up and drank the rest of the liquid in one go. Afterward, she threw the bottle back down on the ground, breaking it. 

“Y/N,” Bucky said her name softly. She ignored him. 

As she was walking away, Yelena appeared at the door, breathing heavily. “Holy shit,” she gasped when she found Y/N covered in blood with a bruised face. “What the fuck happened to you? Are you alright?” she approached her and put both her hands on her cheeks. 

The woman shook off her hands and took a step back. Why did everyone have to touch her face tonight? “I killed Klaue,” she informed her, still lacking any emotion. Then, she bypassed her and went to the door, leaving the roof. 

The blonde kept staring at the Wolf boss, not believing what she just witnessed. “What the fuck?” her voice shook. “What happened to her? Did she really kill Klaue?” 

Bucky slowly stood up from the ground and swiped off some dirt that was on his pants. “It seems she actually did,” he replied. 

“Did she say more?” she approached him. 

He shook his head. “She said he’s making friends with the fish, which means his body is swimming somewhere in the sea. Judging by the way she looked, it must have been a massacre. Shit,” he sighed. 

Yelena checked him from head to toes, confused as to why he was covered in blood. “What about you? Have you been there too? You have bloody clothes and something is also on your face,” she pointed at his cheek. 

“Uh,” he quickly thought about his answer. “She had a moment and leaned against me, that’s why I looked like this,” he pointed at his bloody clothes. “You should go to her. She’s drunk and kind of out of mind, to be honest. I don’t mean it bad, it’s just… she needs you.” 

She nodded, agreeing with his words. “Will you come tomorrow for the funeral?”

“Yes, I am. Usually, if a Mob boss dies, the rivals would come to the funeral either out of respect or out of pure mockery,” he explained. 

“Which one are you?” she asked. 

It took him a good minute until he replied. “A bit of both, to be honest,” he smiled a little. 

Yelena frowned at him and put a finger to her nose, thinking. “Do you- Do you think that Pierce might attend the funeral?” 

“Uh…”

“Think about it,” she continued. “Both Stark and you will be attending. There is a high possibility that those fuckers will come too,” and she took a phone out of a pocket, quickly texting Peter. She asked him to look into it. “I have to go. See you tomorrow,” she waved a hand and ran down into the apartment, not waiting for any response from him. She needed to be with Y/N. 

When she entered the apartment, she was met with a pacing, irritated woman that found another bottle of alcohol from somewhere, chugging it like water. Y/N didn’t bother to take off any of the clothes. She smelled like metal and a rotting body. 

“Y/N,” Yelena approached her carefully. “Tell me what happened tonight.” 

The woman looked at her friend and waved with the bottle. “They know,” she sobbed. “They all know what happened to me in the military,” her voice was shaking, as well as the hand that held the bottle. 

“Who knows?” Yelena didn’t exactly follow. 

“Hydra – everyone from Hydra knows that fucking Killmonger raped me back in the military,” she grunted. “Klaue told me before I had decided to kill that motherfucker.” She took another swig and burped. “But, oh boy, did I enjoy killing him.” 

Yelena grabbed the bottle out of her hand which only made Y/N frown at her. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone? Did you all decide to steal the booze from me and touch my face? The fuck?!” 

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, sit your ass down on the couch and breathe, alright?” Yelena pushed her to the couch and watched her take a seat. “Let’s take this step by step, shall we?” 

Y/N shook her head and covered her face with both of her palms, crying silently. “I can’t take a breather, Yelena. It’s all becoming too much.” 

The blonde wrapped her arms around her dirty body and sighed. “It’s because you are doing almost everything alone. You can’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t do it all alone. It’s going to destroy you.”

“H-he told them the details of that night,” Y/N mumbled. “They know it all. They-“ she stopped talking and pushed her body away from Yelena, quickly running into the kitchen sink where she threw up all the content of her stomach. 

Yelena made a disgusted grimace but ran to her boss, stroking her back and holding her hair. “Let it all out,” she goaded her. “It’s all going to be okay. All you have to do now is to let people help you.” 

“Lenka,” Y/N took a deep breath once the vomiting stopped. “I am the boss. I have to fix this shit if we want to live…” she didn’t finish the sentence. She rather turned on the water and cleaned the sink from the contents of her stomach. It was mostly alcohol and acid. “It’s all too much. Tomorrow is the funeral and I don’t even want to attend it.” 

Yelena grabbed her hand and took her into the bathroom. “Undress and take a shower. We have to clean the clothes or destroy them. Plus, you smell really bad. A shower will make you feel better.” 

Y/N chuckled and the tiny smile remained on her face. “I will.” Before Yelena left her alone, Y/N asked, “what happened while I was MIA?” 

The blonde leaned against the door frame and crossed her hands over her breasts. “Well, I was in contact with Barnes a lot, actually. He was looking for you.” 

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” 

Yelena laughed. “That’s a step. Usually, you would bitch about it. Now, go take a shower and I’ll prepare some clothes for you.” 

“Thanks.”

Y/N peeled off the clothes of her body once she was left alone in the bathroom. Suddenly, she felt disgusting and wanted to wash away everything that happened that day, even the moment of weakness when she kissed Barnes. Why did I do it?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything, and she did it because the emotions mixed up together, causing chaos in her head. No wonder, she had the two tough weeks behind her. As she closed her eyes and enjoyed the water, she could still feel his lips on hers. He didn’t push back immediately. Why? Fuck, he even deepened the kiss. Did it mean anything? 

Shaking the thought away, she finished her shower and wrapped her body into the soft towels Yelena owned. The blood from her body was gone. When she looked into the mirror, she could see how bruised her face was and where some of the wounds were. 

Yet somehow, she felt more alive than ever.

Chapter eleven will be out on May 20, 2022. 

Tags: @lethallyprotected , @memeorydotcom, @valkyrie418

[atlanticsportsmed12]

Back Pain Specialists Staten Island

[lbigreyhound13]

No More Secrets

By @lbigreyhound13 for @peer-parker

Rating: K+

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan

Characters: Peter, Tony, Happy

Summary: He was just about to leave when…he heard a car approaching the wreckage…followed by many cars. It was definitely the cops and Tony’s clean-up crew coming to investigate, and then…he quickly realized that he was out in the open without his mask and an enemy who quickly figured out who he was. He needed to get out of there. He tested his old web-shooters to see if there was anything left…but he was all out. He mentally kicked himself for not having enough to get out of there, and he couldn’t let anyone see him…let anyone figure out that Spider-Man was Peter Parker. There was no telling what would happen, especially if Tony found out. That made me more nervous at the idea of his beloved mentor finding out that he was Spider-Man.

OR

After Peter manages to defeat the Vulture, he is about to leave, but can't when his web-shooters ran low on web fluid. What happens when Happy comes onto the scene...completely unaware that Peter, Tony's intern is actually Spider-Man?

AO3 LINK HERE

Prompt: AU where Peter is Tony's intern and doesn't know he is Spider-Man. Tony and Peter have a father-son bond as mentor and mentee, whereas Spider-Man and Iron Man fight side by side. Main plot point I'm looking for in the fic-- the (perhaps angsty) reveal of secret identity

Peter breathed heavily as he walked through the wreckage, and his ears were ringing. Pain coursed through his body as he limped and carried Adrien Toomes, the Vulture, away from the wreckage…after his wings exploded. The fire crackled around them from the wreckage of Tony’s plane, and the smoke burned his nostrils. The heat was close to unbearable, but that was the least of his concerns. All he could focus on was the fact that his Homecoming date’s father was the Vulture, a weapons smuggler and that he had just attempted to steal his mentor and…father-figure, Tony Stark’s plane that contained the Avengers’ advanced weapons to smuggle them to terrorists. Thankfully, he managed to stop the Vulture from doing just that and save his life from his malfunctioning suit, but…unfortunately, it resulted in Tony’s plane crashing on the beach of Coney Island.

As relieved as he was that he was able to save Liz’s dad from certain death, he felt horrible knowing that he destroyed his mentor’s plane, and there was no doubt that the weapons were damaged and maybe even destroyed as well. Tony was already angry with Spider-Man for not following direct orders to stay away from anything regarding the Vulture and endangering people’s lives on the Staten Island Ferry. It’s what led him to take away Spider-Man’s suit to begin with…leaving Peter with no choice but to use his original homemade suit to take down Toomes.

Peter mentally cringed as he thought back to that last conversation Tony had with Spider-Man…while having absolutely no clue that the webslinger was actually his intern, Peter Parker.

“This is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking!”

“And I wanted you to be better. Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

The teen quickly shook the memory away from his mind as he placed Toomes on the sand once he was sure they were away from the fire, only to plop down on the sand right next to him on his back. They both coughed and hacked from the smoke inhalation and from the intense battle. Peter felt his body ache from the crash…and from the punches Toomes had no problem giving him after they crashed. However, he refused to let the pain get to him. There would be time to take care of his injuries later. Right now, he needed to make sure Toomes wouldn’t try to get away, so he slowly stood up and turned around so that he was facing the weapons smuggler seeing him look up at him clearly wondering what was going to happen next.

Peter would never do that though. He wouldn’t even consider it. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. He lost his parents when he was little, and then he lost his uncle Ben just last year…about a month or so before he got accepted as an Intern in Stark Industries. He could never handle Liz going through the same thing. Yes, her father would be going to jail, but he would be alive.

No words were spoken as he bent down to pick up Toomes and slung him over his shoulder again taking him away from the wreckage and bound him so that he couldn’t get away. Surely, a plane flying through the sky and taking a nosedive would be noticeable and prompt someone to call 911, which meant that the cops would be there at any moment. He used his web-shooters to bound Toomes to a piece of debris, and then after some searching, he managed to find a paper and pen to write a note.

“FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY. SPIDER-MAN. P.S. SORRY ABOUT YOUR PLANE.”

He then taped the note next to Toomes still not saying a word to his enemy.

“I hope you realize what you just did, Pedro,” Toomes said after a moment.

“If you’re referring to how I just saved your life, yeah, I do,” Peter replied. “I don’t want Liz to have to go through what I went through.” He took a deep breath. “Goodbye, Mr. Toomes.”

He was just about to leave when…he heard a car approaching the wreckage…followed by many cars. It was definitely the cops and Tony’s clean-up crew coming to investigate, and then…he quickly realized that he was out in the open without his mask and an enemy who quickly figured out who he was. He needed to get out of there. He tested his old web-shooters to see if there was anything left…but he was all out. He mentally kicked himself for not having enough to get out of there, and he couldn’t let anyone see him…let anyone figure out that Spider-Man was Peter Parker. There was no telling what would happen, especially if Tony found out. That made me more nervous at the idea of his beloved mentor finding out that he was Spider-Man.

Without wasting any more time, Peter quickly put on his hood attempting to hide his face and ran away from Toomes as the flashlights drew closer. If he could just hide behind some debris or something and sneak away, that would be enough.

(line break)

This was the last thing Happy expected to happen on this night. All he was instructed to do was make sure the last of the cargo was packed onto his boss’s plane so that it could be transferred to upstate, where Rhodey would be waiting to unpack the plane with Vision. However, as soon as he saw the Stark Plane falling out of the sky toward Coney Island, he immediately knew that that was not going to happen. After a quick phone call to Tony, the billionaire immediately ordered him to go investigate what happened and to call the clean-up crew, so that Ross didn’t try to use this against the Avengers in case the Rogues or the Vulture was involved.

It wasn’t the Rogues involved, but it was the Vulture…the weapons smuggler that Spider-Man warned Tony about…the very same one Spider-Man had been trying to catch even though Tony instructed him not to. Now that Happy thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from the webslinger since the ferry incident…when Tony took the suit away from the guy. Happy just wouldn’t put past him to somehow surprise everyone and make a comeback by catching the Vulture, and as soon as he saw the Vulture without his helmet concealing his face…and the note. He didn’t even need to see who it was from. Spider-Man actually did it. He captured the Vulture…without the fancy suit Tony made for him.

No words were exchanged with Toomes as Happy looked around trying to find any sign of Spider-Man watching from above, but for some reason…he looked down…only to see footprints in the sand…

Happy wasted no time in following them hoping to find the webslinger knowing for sure Tony would want to thank him for saving the cargo. He followed the footprints…all the way to a piece of debris still a few feet away from the wreckage, and he saw Spider-Man in his old suit…facing away from him and crouching down on the sand.

“S-Spider-Man?” Happy asked taking a step toward him.

The hero jumped but didn’t turn around. “Oh…uhhh…hey, Happy,” he said clearly trying to lower his voice. Although he wasn’t sure why. Happy and Tony obviously didn’t know Spider-Man’s secret identity, but they suspected that he was on the young side. “Uhh…I-I got the Vulture guy…ummm…I-I’m sorry about the plane though. I didn’t mean for that to happen, so please don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to cause more trouble for Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, hey, relax, man,” Happy said chuckling. “It’s okay. I think the boss will be more upset with me than with you after what happened. He’s going to owe you big time.”

“Oh no, he-he doesn’t have to pay me or anything,” Spider-Man replied. “I…I just wanted to help, that’s all.”

Happy nodded, but then…something didn’t sit right with him. Tony didn’t mention anything about Spider-Man coming onto the scene…or that he called the webslinger to begin with. Not only that, but…Spider-Man was here before they were, which meant he must’ve had something to do with the plane crashing…especially if he was missing his mask.

“Uhhh…I should…I should get going…” Spider-Man said as he stood up making sure that no one could see his face. “It-It’s…getting late…”

“Well, wait, hang on,” Happy said taking a step toward him. “How…how did you know about the plane to begin with? You were here before us…and you look pretty banged up from where I’m standing.” He noted that Spider-Man seemed to have a limp.

“You told me,” Spider-Man suddenly said.

“What?” Happy asked with confusion. “N-No, I didn’t. I only talked to Tony, Pepper, and…” he stopped…as he realized that there was a third person he spoke to about the plane…just a few days ago…

“What are you up to today, Happy?”

“Not too much…helping the guys move all the cargo to the plane today while you and the boss play Science in the lab.”

“What cargo?”

“Oh, just some Avengers tech that the boss wants to move to the Compound.”

“Is…is Mr. Stark moving?”

Happy chuckled. “Nah, kid, he’s just moving it up to the Compound. I think it’s just his way of dealing with everything that happened, and he figured it was best to have it in one place. He wouldn’t just drop you like a hot potato. He cares too much about you.”

“Yeah, I care about him too.”

“I know, kid…”

“…Peter…” Happy finished as the cold realization washed over him. There was no way. It was impossible, but then again...was it? They had the same voice, the same height...

“Oh...did I say you? I-I’m sorry, I-I meant Peter...Peter told me,” Spider-Man said quickly and obviously realizing his mistake.

However, he made an even bigger mistake. “Last time I checked...” he said slowly, “Tony said that Peter isn’t on good terms with Spider-Man. He’s tried to get you two to meet, but he never did.” Happy furrowed his eyebrows together as he took a step closer. “Come to think of it, it...is kind of weird that Peter Parker and Spider-Man...both of whom work for Tony Stark...are never in the same room together.”

“It’s not weird,” Spider-Man said quickly. “We just never saw each other. That’s all. Don’t make anything of it.”

“Spider-Man…come on,” Happy said. “Just turn around.”

“I can’t,” the hero replied.

The forehead of security took a deep breath. He was praying that he was wrong, but at the same time, he knew that he was probably right...as to who Spider-Man was.

“Peter...” Happy finally said after a moment.

This seemed to make him stop.

“Peter, please turn around,” Happy said again.

“I can’t,” Peter said, “and I’m not Peter.”

The hero still didn’t leave or attempt at the very least, and the forehead of security wondered if maybe he was deciding whether or not to reveal himself. Happy didn’t say anything as he stared at Spider-Man’s back silently begging him to just turn around and face him. His heart began to pound in his chest as he waited for Spider-Man to make his move. Then…he heard Spider-Man sigh in defeat, and without much warning, he slowly began to turn around while keeping his hood up.

Despite Happy making the connection, seeing the face of his boss’s personal intern…the one he had been getting so close to over the past few year or so…in Spider-Man’s old suit…looking battered and dirty from a battle…made him want to vomit right then and there. His eyes widened as he let out a shaky breath as he looked at…Peter.

“Aw, kid…” he finally said.

“Happy…uhh…I…I…didn’t…I mean…” Peter tried to say. However, he was clearly at a loss for words himself.

The forehead of security looked only to see the police and clean-up crew inching closer to them. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice that Spider-Man was without a mask, and he was realizing that Tony’s kid was now relying on him to do something, he quickly put his flashlight down and shrugged off his jacket.

“W-What are you doing?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know about you, kid,” Happy said as he took his jacket and placed It over Peter’s head to help conceal his face., “but I don’t think we need to have Spider-Man identity blasted on.the news. “Just stick with me. I’ll take you to the tower, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter replied meekly.

Happy wasted no time in putting his arm around Peter pulling him close to his side and guiding him through the wrecked plane to his car. “We just got to get past these guys,” he said, “and then we’re home free.”

Peter could only nod as Happy began walking them both to the car. He could only see out of a small crack in the opening of the jacket, but thankfully nobody else could see his face. That was a huge relief as Happy told the cops and the clean-up crew that he found Spider-Man and that he was going to escort him to get him some help. A couple of people offered to help, but Happy thankfully insisted that he was okay and didn’t let anyone come near them.

After a few minutes, Peter felt himself being maneuvered into a car, and as he found himself being guided into the seat, he kept the jacket over his face. Happy wasted no time in closing the car door before jumping into the driver’s seat and driving off back toward Stark Tower. Thankfully, it was late at night, so there was no traffic. The drive would be quick.

“Okay, kid, we’re far enough,” Happy said after a few minutes. “You can take the jacket off now.”

Peter slowly but surely removed the jacket from his head and took it off allowing Happy to see his face in the rearview mirror, and it was at that moment that his heart dropped. His identity was just revealed…to Happy Hogan, of all people, his mentor’s best friend and head of security, and he was now taking him to the tower…the very tower Tony Stark lived in. His heart pounded that he would have to tell his mentor that he was Spider-Man…after keeping this huge secret from him…and after Tony took Spider-Man’s suit away…after he messed up with the ferry. While Tony wasn’t angry with Peter, he was certainly mad at Spider-Man.

After the ferry incident, Peter had to go on pretending that he didn’t just get his suit…his alter-ego taken away by his mentor…and that he didn’t disappoint his mentor in one of the worst ways possible. He knew…just knew that if Tony found out that his intern and superhero mentee were one and the same…it would ruin everything…destroy everything he and Tony had. Ever since Tony had taken him under his wing as his intern in Stark Industries, he refused to do anything to disappoint the billionaire. He had become more than a mentor over the past few months…more like a father-figure to him. The way he and Tony connected…the way they talked to each other about their dark pasts…lost loved ones…it felt as though Tony was filling the void Ben left just the year before, but now…he realized that there was a possibility that it could all be over that night…in just one second. Tony would surely take one look at him and want nothing more to do with him.

“You okay, kid?” Happy finally asked gently.

“I…I don’t know,” Peter replied quietly. “D-Do we really have to talk to Mr. Stark about this?”

Happy sighed and slightly shook his head. “Yes, we do,” he replied. “He cares about you. He’s going to want to be sure that you’re okay. Besides, he would have my head if I let you go home like that.”

Peter sighed as he leaned back against the headrest. “He’s going to hate me,” he said.

“Peter…come on…he might be worried and a little pissed that you didn’t tell anyone about this…but he could never hate you.”

“You didn’t see his face when he was yelling at Spider-Man.”

(line break)

Needless to say, this was the last thing Tony had expected to happen that Friday night. After he and May dropped Peter off at his date’s house, he and his intern’s aunt went out for a quick bite to eat, and then he returned to the tower and spent some time in the lab while Pepper finished up with work. May told him that she would pick Peter up to take him home and promised that they would spend some time together tomorrow, and Tony was even going to go to bed at a decent hour that night…only to be woken up by Happy, who called him to tell him that the plane for the Avengers’ technology was going down and about to crash. He of course sent Happy to go retrieve it and find out what happened and to recover the weapons.

As he worked in the lab waiting for Happy to report back, he perked when FRIDAY announced that someone was coming up in the elevator. He looked up, and sure enough, there was Happy walking into the lab.

“Hey, uh, boss...” Happy began, “I got the hero of the hour with me.”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion as he studied his forehead of security.  Weird because your tone suggests you got the villain instead,” he said as he took a step toward him eyeing him with suspicion.

Happy took a quick look over his shoulder clearly looking at someone behind him. Tony couldn’t see who it was, and JT piqued his curiosity even more. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was someone he found with the plane.

“Not a villain,” Happy began, “but...” He stepped to the side...revealing...Peter.

Tony’s eyes widened...upon seeing his teenaged intern...clearly looking bruised and cut up and a bit dirty, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound even more. He could handle Peter looking banged up because that was easy to fix. Some bandages and he would be fine, but what made his heart pound was seeing his intern...in a certain red and blue onesie...one that was all too familiar to him. He couldn’t possibly be wearing this onesie...he couldn’t have been. Peter was supposed to be at Homecoming with Liz.

“P-Peter...w-what are you...?” Tony asked in shock taking a step toward his kid. Peter didn’t say anything as he watched him walk closer. “Kid...please tell you decided wear a Halloween costume early just to scare me...”

The teenager shook his head slowly. “I-I wish I could, Mr. Stark...” he said.

“Y-You’re...you’re Spider-Man...?” Tony breathed after a moment. “This...this whole time...it’s been you? You’re him?”

Peter could only nod with tears forming in his eyes.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at Peter...the very same kid he took under his wing months ago...the very same kid who had been coming to work with him every week in the lab...the very same kid he had come to see as a son. He was actually Spider-Man... This whole time he was actually the web slinging hero...Spider-Man. “W-Washington...when you disappeared...and...” he began as all the memories of him interacting with Spider-Man, “and... Germany...you...you were in Germany with me...and the ferry...and the night...the night you...Spider-Man almost drowned...that was all you?” Now, he couldn’t even see the mysterious web-slinging hero he had come to care about...all he could see was the teenager he came to care about...and it scared him.

“Yes,” Peter said softly looking at the floor and then up at Tony, “but please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Tony breathed raising his eyebrows. “Who’s mad, kid? Not me, I’m fine. Scared? Yes. Terrified? Hell to the yes.” The billionaire ran his hands through his hair thinking about Peter lying on the pavement at the airport in Germany…almost drowning or getting injured while fighting the Vulture on the ferry, and how he would’ve had no clue. How did he miss this? He was Tony Stark…supposedly a genius. How did he never figure out that Peter and Spider-Man were one and the same? “Oh my god...my intern...my...my kid...has been Spider-Man this whole time, and I never had any clue.”

Peter felt the tears form even more in his eyes seeing his mentor freak out in front of him…feeling guilty over not knowing he was Spider-Man…and he just even worse for not coming clean to Tony sooner. He could only wring his hands in his hoodie. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, I swear,” he said a little louder this time.

That made Tony stop in his tracks to look into Peter’s brown eyes. “Then why?” Tony asked…perhaps a little too firmly. He quickly steadied himself. The last thing he wanted to do was yell at Peter…not when there probably was a reason why he kept this huge secret from him and May. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he added more softly. “Pete, we tell each other everything. Why didn’t you tell me about...this?”

Peter closed his eyes as he realized that Tony was in fact right. They did tell each other everything from the littlest things to the biggest of things. He and Tony had learned to warm up to each other…to get comfortable with each other…and to trust each other in the year they had known each other.

“My uncle and I had a fight the night he died…and I ran out…I just ran to get a snack, and he went after me. Next thing I know…this robber comes into the deli and runs out…the owner even asked me why I didn’t stop him…I go out…and there’s Ben…lying on the ground bleeding. I…tried to save him…but…”

“Aw, kid…and you’ve been thinking that this whole time….”

“I don’t have to think it. I know it’s true, Mr. Stark.”

“No, it’s not, kid…it’s not your fault.”

True, Spider-Man and Tony had been too, but…Spider-Man couldn’t let Tony in like Peter did. If Spider-Man were to let anything slip, it could be one step closer to finding out that he and Peter Parker were one and the same.

The fact that his mentor looked so hurt that he didn’t share this made him feel more guilty, and he owed Tony an explanation. “Because...I was...” he stopped briefly wondering if he should even…explain before deciding to continue, “I-I don’t know...I guess I was worried you would try to stop me. I mean...I was trying to think of a way to break it down gently, but...I...after what happened with the ferry...and you wanted the suit back...I got scared. I...I already lost you as Spider-Man. I didn’t want to lose you as Peter Parker, too.”

“Y-You thought that...” Tony began still staring at Peter with widened eyes, and as the tears fell on Peter’s face…his heart broke, “aw, kid...come here.” He wasted no time in pulling Peter in for a hug as the teenaged vigilante quickly returned the gesture. “You never lost me, kid.” He ran his hands through Peter’s sweaty and matted hair. “I...I didn’t mean for you to think that I would reject you completely. I’m sorry you thought that. You just...you needed some tough love, that’s all.”

Peter sighed feeling the relief wash over him as he found himself in his mentor’s warm embrace. Tony’s hugs always seemed to have that affect on him whenever he was stressed, upset, or just wanted a hug, but now...it was a promise...that he would never lose him despite being Spider-Man. It was a promise to never leave him and that he would always be there. “I know that now,” he said. “I’m sorry, too, Mr. Stark. I just...wanted to be like you.”

“I just wanted to be like you.”

“And I wanted you to be better.”

The billionaire couldn’t help but chuckle. It was so much different now hearing Peter say that to him, and not as Spider-Man. “I appreciate that, kid,” he replied, “but...I’m hoping for you to be better than me. Who am I kidding? You’re on your way there.”

“He sure is, boss,” Happy interjected proudly. “This guy saved the Vulture.”

“I have no doubt about it,” Tony said smiling at his friend before pulling away so that he was looking at Peter. He noted how he did look bruised and had a few cuts on his face and how dirty he looked. “Let’s get you cleaned up and have those wounds looked at.”

“Okay,” Peter said nodding and smiling up at his mentor. “Thanks, Mr. Stark, and just so you know, I think I’m going to stay close to the ground for a little while...like you said...be the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, you know? After what happened tonight...I...you know...”

Tony smiled as he held onto Peter almost as if he was afraid to let go of his intern. “I think that’s a great idea, buddy,” Tony said after a moment, “and I’ll be there every step of the way, both for the internship and super-heroism.”

“Well,” Peter began smiling up at the billionaire, “you’ve already been doing that, but it’ll be such a relief not keeping it from you.”

“I’m glad you said that because...there’s one other person we should tell,” Tony said raising his eyebrows hoping Peter would take the hint.

The teenaged vigilante clearly got the hint because he threw his head back and groaned. “But May will freak out,” he said pleadingly.

“I know,” Tony said gently, “but she really does need to know, bud. It wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one who knew. That, and she would kick my ass if she found out I knew, and she didn’t.”

“It’s not worth just a…teeny tiny little risk?” Peter asked with a small smile.

“No...now, come on, Ferris,” Tony said wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders guiding him out of the lab with Happy in tow. “I’m going to take you down to the MedBay, and we will have lots to talk about.”

Peter rolled his eyes at his mentor, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but smile in relief. Perhaps, Tony and May knowing about him being Spider-Man wouldn’t be so bad.

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

Sex in the 'porno shower'

Rook Cappelletty x Pete Davidson

Warnings: smut, anal, rook recieving, swearing, anal fingering, porno shower sex.

Inspiration: Pete; when he was still living in the basement at his mom's, had this shower he always called the porno shower.

Staten Island, New York

Rook got back in from a run with a one track mind that lead to the shower; about halfway through the living room he stepped backwards about two steps; Pete's laptop was open to a likely strategically picked out shower porno. "What in the he...' Rook furrowed a brow and ran his tongue along his lip before seeking out his boyfriend.

Glancing upwards from his phone when he felt a set of hands on his knees. "Yes?" Pete asked as his eyes met Rook's inquisitive ones. The smaller man's hair messy and his breath staggered as the drummer had ben out. Pete couldn't help but run his eyes up the man's toned body.

His hands gripped at Pete's knees as Rook leaned against the comedians legs. "Porn...really?" He cocked an eyebrow at his boyfriend; his eyes searching Pete's. "What am I missing here?" Rook asked the man who was laying on the bed.

Looking up at Rook; Pete dead panned and suppressed a cocky grin. "Oh my god, baby, you don't..." he hesitated realizing the man hadn't caught on. "It's not about the porn specifically." Pete said: sitting up so he was eye level with Rook. "You're missing the point here." He set his hands on Rook's cheeks.

"I don't what?" Rook asked when he heard hesitation in his boyfriend's voice. "Then what the fucks it about?" He half sassed and glared at Pete as the comedians hands settled on his cheeks. "What's the point?" Rook bit his lip and lightly pushed against his boyfriend.

"The porno shower" Pete kissed his boyfriend's rather salty lips and snickered. "I was expecting you'd catch on to me sort of saying we should totally fuck in it" he shifted his legs sideways and pulled Rook forward. "You aren't nearly as receptive as I'd expect."

Putting the pieces together; Rook's nose curled as he realized what Pete had been hinting at for weeks. "I never would have figured that out on my own." He kissed Pete back and ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair. "No, I'm not, I got to take a shower anyway" Rook laughed as he was pulled downwards on top of Pete. "How about we do that now?"

"I know, I've been hinting at it forever now" Pete smiled when Rook's nose curled. "You're cute as fuck, makes up for it." He kissed his boyfriend again and slipped his leg over Rook's. "Oh fuck yeah, let's fuckin' do it" picking him up; Pete managed Rook's shirt off and threw it behind them.

Being sat on the bathroom counter; Rook slipped his shorts off and pulled Pete into a kiss, his arms wrapped around Pete's neck. "You want me to figure shit out then you gotta tell me directly." He nipped and sucked at his boyfriend's bottom lip. "I'm smart but not that smart."

Pete grinned when Rook lead a rather rough kiss and squeezed at the drummers thighs. "Noted" he mumbled and pulled away; slipping his shirt off. "You're plenty smart, you're just a little numb to a few things." He pulled Rook towards him, his hips jutting as Rook's hand made contact with his waist undoing his jeans.

"Shut up" Rook hummed; his breath shaky as Pete's hands squeezed his thighs. "You don't need to keep talking" jumping off the counter he knelt long enough to get his boyfriend's jeans off and grinned as Pete looked at him. Taking his phone out he set it up so they'd have video of it.

His eyes followed when Rook knelt in front of him. "Come here" he gestured, pulling Rook back up into a heady kiss. "God, you're gorgeous baby." Pete slapped his boyfriend's ass and slipped his hand below Rook's boxers. Pulling the drummer with him as they both got their boxers off.

Once in the shower; Rook's breath cut short as his back hit the marble and Pete's hand connected at his *rooks* throat. He grinned and grabbed Pete's wrist.

Looking his boyfriend up and down; Pete moaned softly and looked at Rook's eyes. Kissing up Rook's neck, Pete turned the water on and turned Rook around so the man was face first to the glass. "Look at you baby, fucking beautiful" the heel of his hand hit Rook's ass and he gripped his boyfriend's waist.

His hips arched forward as Pete slapped his ass. "Humm fuck" he mumbled loving a rougher side to his boyfriend. Rook whined out when Pete's fingers rimmed his hole. 'Fuck, again, daddy"

Hearing Rook whine; Pete grabbed the drummers wrists and pinned them against the glass above Rook's head. "Gonna beg for daddy ike a little whore, huh?" He growled, biting at Rook's neck as the man writhed below him.

Feeling Pete's teeth on his neck was both pain and pleasure but he didn't hate it. "Fuck please, daddy" Rook whimpered when Pete rolled his hips forward, the man's cock against his ass. His own pressed against the glass.

Pete massaged Rook's ass and left the man's neck covered in hickeys. He nipped Rook's ear and slipped a finger into Rook's ass, prodding lightly at the ring of muscles.

Rook pushed back against Pete's fingers and let his head hang as he moaned out. "Mm, shit" he whined again as Pete's hand squeezed lightly at his cock. "Need your cock."

Pressing a kiss to Rook's lips; Pete groaned as the man tightened around his cock. "Shit, I fuckin' love you John" he mumbled he words as he was close, bringing one of Rook's legs up, he gripped his boyfriend's thigh and rolled his forward. "Shit, you're to fucking perfect, baby"

Dragging his nails down Pete's back: Rook moaned out and gripped at the towel bar as Pete's thrusts threatened repeatedly to put him over the edge. "God, close" he whined as Pete wasn't hesitant to make him feel like he was the only person that mattered.

Groaning as he thrust upwards into Rook; Pete buried his nose in his boyfriend's neck and tutted out a heavy moan as Rook's nails were sure to scratch. Thrusting a couple more times; Pete and Rook both came, the two of them locked in a kiss. Being pulled against Rook; Pete sucked at Rook's upper lip and hummed out and I love you.

Few days later - Los Angeles.

Pete had been talked into coming to LA with Rook for a few days between filming for SNL and was leaning against the kitchen counter eating a piece of pizza and watching the video Rook finally got around to sending him from the other night. "Jesus that boy can bend." He mumbled, the sound off on his phone for obvious reasons.

"Humm?" Colson walked in, acknowledging Pete and squeezing past his friend to get something out of the cupboard. "You say something?" He asked looking down.

Pushing the power button on his phone, Pete shook his head "nope, didn't say anything." He shifted hoping he'd be able to hide the hard on as he was in sweatpants.

Raising an eyebrow; Colson looked at the comedian, grabbing a pot out of the lower cupboard and filling it with water. "I'mma take that as you were probably into a good porno" he teased, having no clue he was right.

Looking through the fridge as he'd slipped into the kitchen behind Colson, Rook eyes widened and he coughed as to clear his throat. Looking over at Pete; he made a discomforted sound and got a fork from the drawer and grabbed Pete's phone, slipping it into his own pocket. "You don't think do you?" Rook mumbled and took a bite of the pasta he'd found, moving just so in a way to hide the fact that his boyfriend was hard.

"What is it with you and porn" Pete said to Colson; pulling Rook against him and slipping his arms around the man's waist. "Thank you baby" he whispered and his his face in Rook's neck. "Don't move" Pete mumbled, squeezing Rook lightly.

Rook nodded and focused on the pasta and less on the fact this his boyfriend's hard cock was pressed against his thigh. Slipping one of his arms around Pete; he let go of a breath and kissed his boyfriend's cheek.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

I *kinda* wanna see #64 from the dialogue prompts with Carisi🥺🥺 (this is the right one oops-)

love you, red! <3 you’re a star. sonny carisi x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2424

rating: teen, for young love being complicated and more real than you realize (mentions of canon-typical violence, guns).

-

Sonny opens the door and he sees you.

He’d woken up to the sound of a key jangling in the door. Like someone was trying to break in. But instead of a burglar, he’s face-to-face with you. You’re soaked, to the bone, and he blinks at the sight. He’s just woken up after all. Your hair is sticking to your forehead. You look wild. Your eyes are bright with… something.

He’s a patrol officer. He doesn’t know a hell of a lot yet, but he knows someone frantic when he sees them.

God, the medicine just kicked in. With his good arm, he reaches up, rubs at his face, scratches at his facial hair. “Hey, baby. What’s going on? Aren’t you at work?”

“You’re home.”

You’re stopped in your tracks, hands gripping your keys tight. Your face looks haunted, eyes wide, and when you stare up at him it’s like you’re looking at a ghost. It makes Sonny’s brow furrow. He twitches his upper lip, the facial hair he’s trying to grow tickling at the corners of his nose. It makes his eyes water. “Yeah? Why are you home?”

“I got – I got a call, from. From your boss. Said you were shot, I… god, Sonny, I came here to get my stuff, to go to the hospital –“

“Well… I’m home, now. Asked my boss, to call the number I gave him, give the details.”  

You’re flustered. This isn’t the situation you were expecting, and now that it’s unfolding in front of you there’s something unreadable in your face, something that seems to close you off. You push your keys into your coat pocket, and he can still hear them jangle, while you play with the ring.

“So when were you going to tell me you got shot?”

He keeps blinking. He almost can’t believe you’re in front of him, right now. He’s still bandaged, one sleeve of his undershirt cut off from the hospital, and you… you’re soaking wet.

“I don’t know. When I woke up, probably. It wasn’t that bad.” He shrugs, rolls his shoulder with a wince, and then looks at you again with a huff. “Sorry, just – you’re soakin’ wet,” he mumbles. His accent is thick, and he rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the rest of the haze. “Did you… did you walk here? From work?”

“Answer me, Sonny,” you snap. “What am I… worth to you? A message? A call? A text?”  

“Sweetheart –“

“You got shot. You got shot, and all I got was a vague-as-hell voicemail. No information, nothing, just that you’re hurt. He gave me nothing. Called me your friend, Sonny? Do they even know?”  

Suddenly your breath catches. There’s some realization that dawns on you. When you speak again, it’s quiet. “Do they even know?”

He just stares. Because they don’t. No one really does. No one besides his ma, and that’s only because God forbids he ever tell his mother a lie. It just doesn’t come up. He’s got you, and… that’s all that matters, isn’t it? That you’re together? He comes home, and you’re there, and the two of you sit on the couch and laugh and watch TV. The two of you chuckle with each other in the living room and tease each other in the bathroom and kiss each other goodnight. It’s all he needs. He doesn’t need the fanfare from anyone else.

And the fact is, right then and there, he’s a patrol officer, but he knows he wants more, and… well. To the other guys, he’s too young. Too much of a pain to carry around, and so – no. He doesn’t tell anyone. No one knows he’s got someone back home, and, that’s just fine with him. You’re just for him. No one else at that damn precinct.

“Sweetheart, look, I – I’m sorry. I really am. But. If you we could just talk about this tomorrow, we could have this all sorted out when I’m not so goddamn tired. It was a scrape. They stitched it up, gave me some pain pills, and I’m all good to go.” You recoil a little bit, but he pushes on, twists his mouth into a smile. Opens his door a little more. “You wanna come inside? I’ll order us something.”

There’s a beat. And then, you’re standing up taller, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“You get hurt on the job, and I get that damn voicemail. Almost two years. Two years, and I don’t get… goodbyes in the morning? An acknowledgement from anyone else? I just get a call while I’m at work, a throwaway line. How was I supposed to know it was ‘just a scrape,’ Sonny? How?”

It’s coming to him in pieces. He’s watching you, and he’s hearing you, but he’s so tired he can’t think straight.

“I could’ve lost you tonight, and that… that would’ve been the goodbye. You realize that? That voicemail.”

Well. No. Because he – he didn’t really get shot. He just got a grazed arm, but you’re trembling.

“That – that right there. You in a cardboard box would be the… the last thing I would know of you.” You’re choking through every word. “Well, you know what? Keep ‘em. The voicemails, the calls. I’m lucky to get ‘em at all, with how much of an impact I apparently don’t make on your life. And one day, they’re gonna call, and you’re gonna be dead, Sonny. And – and you won’t have said goodbye that morning either.”

You’re crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. Sonny’s jaw drops open a little. “Wait. Wait – no, don’t –“

When he looks at you, really looks at you, he realizes what he’s seeing. What’s written all over your face. It makes his eyes widen, in that moment, and he watches as you turn away from him. It’s like watching a train crash, hearing the words come out of your mouth.  

“So cut me out. I don’t want this. I can’t. I won’t. I’m done, Sonny. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, no, don’t –“

But it’s too late. You’re gone, around the corner, all your things behind him, your future without him.

-

You open your door and you see Carisi. At least, you think it’s him. He’s missing half of his face, the mustachioed part. You have to blink a couple of times, rearrange some features, but it’s definitely Dominick Carisi Jr. at the other side of your door, and he looks… older.

When the shock wears off, you get a good look at him. His hair’s still slicked back, and he’s still a foot taller than the next guy, and… oh, lord, it’s him, all right. Especially with those heartbreaking baby blues. Dominick Carisi, Jr., as you live and as you breathe, and you can’t help but shake your head.

He’s shivering, and his coat is wrapped around him. He looks frozen to the core. You sigh, looking at him, because when he stares at you, you’re reminded of being on the other side of a door. He looks miserable, and that day you’d felt pretty damn close to downtrodden, so it fits.

“This… is unexpected,” you manage to say. It’s early, after all. You’ve barely poured your first cup of coffee. So your voice is tight, and your arms cross over your chest. You look the guy up and down again, just to be really, really sure, and he nods. Your name sounds the same in his mouth, with his little Staten Island twang.

“Been a while” is what you give him. Nothing more. Nothing less. And he nods again, because it’s true. It has been a long, long while.

There’s a beat. A pause. Everything that happened, everything that can happen, it’s all there, in that moment, and it weighs on you. So when you speak again, your voice is tired. Sharp.

“What the hell are you doing here, Carisi?”

He looks worn. More than when you last saw him. It’s been a while, but it feels like yesterday that you knocked on his door. Feels like yesterday you stomped through the rain, his note in your hand. It’d crumped.

Carisi looks like he’s about to crumple.

“Can I talk to you? In… in private.”

You glance behind yourself. Glance around the hallway, and then glance behind yourself again. It’s a show, and he winces with it before you speak. “There’s no one else here, Sonny.”

“Right. I know, but. Can we… maybe not talk out in the hallway?”

You almost shut the door in his face. You don’t have time for this, not now, but he looks pretty pitiful, coat pulled tight around him even inside the safety of your apartments.

You glance at him. Eyes narrowed. And after a moment, you nod, stepping back from your door. He slides past you, and with a final glance around the hallway, you close the door.

He only takes a couple of steps forward. After all, your apartment’s not his, too, anymore. He looks around, taking it in, and your arms cross over your chest. There’s discomfort there, or something like doubt, but he huffs out a breath. He doesn’t even take off his coat, just tucks his chin against his chest and thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

“Sonny?” you prod. “What’s going on?”

He glances up, reaches with his hand and scratches at the back of his head. “I, uh. Heard your name today. In the precinct. I’m working in Sex Crimes, Special Victims, now, and, uh. I just.” When he pauses, it’s to pull hand over his face, shake his head a little at the insanity. ‘I heard your name. One of our… witnesses. Same name. And it brought back a lot of memories, a lot of… realizations.”

“Right,” you say. That’s all you can say. You didn’t even really think Sonny thought about you much at all, after the… mess. “Memories.”

“Yeah, and, uh. I just wanted to come by, see how you were doing, and, uh. Apologize.”

Your mouth falls open. Is basically agape, and he just looks at you. There’s no joke there, but you’re huffing out laughter, incredulous. “What did you say?”

He smiles a little, too, almost despite himself. His whole body seems to sag with relief, as if your laughter gave him permission to relax a touch. There’s a moment, when he does, that you’re reminded of the good times. The best times. The softer pieces, in between the stress and struggles.

“You’re sorry?” you repeat, and he nods.

“I know it’s late. Long overdue, but. I just wanted to come and say it, because you deserve that much.” And then he sighs a little, runs his hand through his hair, and stands up straight. Looks you square in the eye. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then. I knew that I loved you, a lot, and cared about you. But what I didn’t realize was that it took more than just… meals at home and good sex and whatever the hell else we did.”

“Sonny –“ you try, sighing a little and stepping forward. It feels like too much, more than you need, but his hand comes up and stops you.

“No. Listen, I – I treated you like you didn’t deserve better. Like you weren’t worth more. I hated being a beat cop on the force, I didn’t know the guys I was with, and I took that out on you. I kept you to myself because I was selfish. And you deserve to be shown off. Deserve more than… than a voicemail when someone you love gets hurt.”

Your breath is caught in your throat. You feel like a kid again, that kid, the young couple with big dreams that were dampened by the reality of New York. Struggling to make things work, to make anything work.

You don’t know why you ask, but it tumbles out. “And if you could go back? What would you say?”

He blinks, then doesn’t hesitate.

“I’m very young, very foolish, and very in love with you. So I’m sorry, I don’t show it, because you’re the… best thing that’s ever happened to me.” For a minute, you see that other side of Sonny, the fire, and he rolls his jaw. “And I’d fight for you. That’s what I should’ve done.”

It makes you blink. Makes you stop, and stare, your hands reaching to pull your cardigan tight around you. Because in that moment, out of everything else, you can’t help but linger on one word.

You’re – you were? Or you are?

The morning stretches on. The sun starts to settle in the sky, and you watch as it plays on his features. He scuffs his toe on the ground, and then sighs.

“Anyway. That’s, uh. That’s all I had to say. Just. Just know that I’m sorry. You deserved better, and you still do. And I hope you’re doing well.”

He shuffles around a bit, and a piece of hair falls out of its perfect coif. Falls in his face, and you want to reach for it. Push it back. But then he’s turning, toward the door, smiling even through what you know he’s sure is rejection, and the door opens.

The door opens.

Oh, Sonny. Damn you.

“Wait, Carisi.” You call out to him. It’s followed with a sigh, and when he turns, you’re struck again by how different he looks.

It’s not the facial hair. It’s not the silvery blond of his hair. It’s the way he looks you. It’s the way he smiles, even though he’s hurting.

“I didn’t handle that night well,” you admit. It’s something that’s weighed on your own heart for a while. “I should’ve… waited. Had an adult conversation. But I lashed out, because I – I was also very young, and very foolish, and… well. You know the rest.”

With a tight swallow you glance towards your kitchen. The coffee maker is still on, and the mug you’d made for yourself is probably barely warm.

“Would you – would you want to stay for a while? For coffee? Catch up?”

He doesn’t speak. Just smiles, a little broader, and nods, ducking his head as he comes back over the threshold and closes the door. He moves to sit at your table, and you go to pour him a cup of coffee.

“Still two sugars?”

“Please.”

When you sit down, it’s with a mug in each hand, yours topped off, his fresh. You sit, and look at him, and it’s different. Your things are behind you – a candle burning, a book earmarked to death on the couch.

And your future is in front of you – Sonny Carisi, sitting before you in the mornings, a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face.

[aufhcker]

Continued Thread II @therelentless​

                   “...Nicht erneut,” he groaned, reaching up to grab onto the nearest surface for leverage. It happened to be the back of a rather antique couch -- not dissimilar to one found in his castle -- that he was lying behind. At least it was fairly dark in here. There was no sunlight filtering into the room, masked by old newspapers stuck to the windows, making his situation easier; he was saved from being burned, at least. To have a hangover was one thing, but to wake up with his skin blistering was another. He could manage a vicious migraine, despite its painful persistence. It was his own fault. One glass of wine turned into two, gradually increasing until the entire bottle was drained. There was no point in leaving it half full, he argued; what a waste!

                “--Hm?” A consistent, somewhat sharp jabbing against his side was enough to bring him around, yellow-speckled eyes adjusting to his surroundings slowly. He was tempted to believe that he was home based on the decor, but the appearance of an unknown gentleman disputed that conclusion. Although his memory was spotty, he definitely would have remembered having company over. And so the question was posed; where was he? To which he received a response laced with sarcasm -- rightly so. He was an intruder, after all. 

              “ ...Scheiße.” Images of last night pieced together in his haze-filled mind, of shedding his human form and allowing his true self to roam the streets of Staten Island. When on holiday, let loose and party hard. But he may have rebelled too much. His drunken venture lead to him crawling in through an open window, seeking the warmth inside. Comfort was found behind a couch, it seemed, curled up and entangled in a set of claw-torn drapes yanked from their fittings. He would have to pay for the damages. “Your window was left open,” as if that excused his shameful behaviour. It was the truth, however. “I never intended to break in, but...ah, the warmth was inviting.” 

              “I will buy you new drapes,” he wrestled with the material, removing it from around his body and throwing them to one side. With great difficulty, he heaved himself up, using the couch for support as he stood. There were scratch marks against its wooden back, including parts of the upholstery. Bits of fluff from inside it was scattered about the carpet. An expensive night, certainly. “...Mein gott,” pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned once more. He needed some painkillers and, most importantly, sustenance. But curiosity was a strong contender for his attention as he caught wind of two scents; one creature, one not. Strange.

             “Is it customary over here to have a human in the house, Vampir?”  

[borispolonskiy]

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[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 5 now posted

AO3

Helen was waiting.

It was a matter of time now, for John to come.

She pulled the sweatshirt that Nick had given to her tighter around her shoulders. It must be getting late, she notes, because it’s getting colder again.

The guards had changed just two hours after she managed to send John the text. The new ones weren’t as talkative but she really didn’t need them to be. Not anymore.

She had gotten a message out.

Now she just had to wait.

She wonders if he’s narrowing her location or if he’s already on his way.

She wonders what the fuck she’ll do if she wakes up again in the morning and find she’s still here. That John hadn’t come for her.

Maybe he wasn’t able to?

No. She pushes that thought quickly from her mind.

This was John. Nothing would stop him.

She just needs to keep waiting.

The phone rings from one of the guards and she watches, with vague interest, as he picks up the call.

“’lo?”

She can’t hear what is happening on the other side of the line, but the guard looks to Helen, his eyes wide with fear.

She can’t help the smile that grows on her face with the unbidden knowledge: He’s coming.

“What? Why?” There’s a pause and his eyes widen, “Yes, sir.” He hangs up and jumps to his feet, turning to his partner, “Go get the car. We’re moving her.”

“Now?” The other guy rolls his eyes.

“Marco, John Wick is coming.”

Helen breathed a sigh of relief just at hearing his name. He was on his way. He was coming.

Marco’s eyes widen and he, too, scrambles to his feet.

“Baba Yaga? Why?”

“Oh, you poor bastards.” Marco and the other guard look at her fearfully, “You agreed to guarding me without ever asking who I was.”

Stall, she thinks. They’re trying to move her to a second location, one that John might not be able to find as easily… She can’t let them move her.

Not if he’s coming.

“Who are you?” Marco asks.

She borrows the language that Nick used. Therapist or not, in this world, it was probably the most accurate assessment of their relationship, “I’m John Wick’s girl.”

“Oh fuck.”

Helen makes a show of examining her nails, “Honestly, it took him long enough.”

“Get the car, now!” The taller guard states.

“I mean, you could get the car.” Helen says, “But trust me when I tell you, that’s just going to piss him off.”

They exchange a look.

“My suggestion is that both of you leave before he gets here. He won’t come after you right away that way. Or you could stay here and surrender. Maybe he’ll take pity on you.” She offers a smile, “Claim your ignorance. You didn’t know who I was.”

They’re both distraught and tense. Finally, one of them breaks.

“Marco, get the car.”

“Dude, I don’t know…”

“Do you want to be here when John Wick gets here? GO!”

Helen makes a face, doing her best to look both understanding of his decision but skeptical of his choice. “Not your best move, but I get it. It’s noble that you’re willing to die for your cause.”

Marco makes a noise of fear but he hurries to the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The other guard grabs the keys that had been hanging from a nearby hook. He shoves it into the lock of her cell and Helen feels her heart start to race.

They can’t move her. Not yet.

Not after she finally got through to him.

He reaches for her and she quickly jumps across the floor to the edge of her cell. The sweatshirt falls from her shoulders as she does, and she wraps her arms around the bars as tightly as she can.

Fingers dig into her arm, but she holds tight. Every second counts.

“Fuck! Let go!” There’s panic in his voice and there should be. Every single thing these men have heard about John Wick, every rumor and urban legend, was about John at his baseline.

But right now, he was pissed.

She gave the guards the option to walk away. That they hadn’t is now beyond her control.

One arm is pried loose but the other stands firm. She manages to kick backward and he grunts, falling to one knee as his leg is knocked down.

She manages to free the arm and entangles herself back amongst the bars.

His arms wrap under hers this time and he tries to pull her off that way. The technique is a little better and she feels herself slipping.

She kicks out again, thrashing as hard as she can. She just needs to waste time, to stall. Just a little longer.

He’s coming.

There are footsteps on the stairs and Marco hurries back down.

Fuck.

She was barely holding out against one of DeLuca’s goons.

“Get the sedative!” The guard growls out and Helen resists the urge to swear.

She slams her foot back again, managing a kick to the balls and watches, in relief, as the guard doubles over in pain. She lets go of the bars and bolts to her feet. She feels her head rush after being on the ground for so long but she runs as fast as she can towards the stairs.

She makes it up the first few and then her ankle is grabbed and she falls forward. Her head bounces off a step and the world goes fuzzy.

Helen tries to blink, to keep herself conscious but it’s pointless. The needle is jabbed into her flesh and she feels herself being picked up.

She had been so close…

But it wasn’t enough.

…

They had a name. And an organization.

But nothing else. The sender had immediately blocked their number, but it was a start.

“Dante DeLuca is dead.” Winston had said when John read the text aloud. “He passed on three months ago. I had flowers sent to his widow, in Rome.”

“Does he have children?”

“Several. Only one legitimate, I believe. Mateo.”

“Karl, run a search on Mateo DeLuca. Current position, known allies, and any properties listed under his or his father’s name.”

“Running now.”

Mateo DeLuca was largely unknown. He wasn’t particularly well-respected by anyone and was really known only as Dante DeLuca’s son and heir. Dante, himself, hadn’t seemed too fond of the boy but that was often the case.

You raise spoiled children; you get rotten adults.

Mateo had a degree from Columbia University in business. A few arrests during that time but no convictions.

As far as the Underworld went, Mateo had virtually no presence.

And while Mateo was Dante’s heir, there was some evidence that he had been grooming a few others to take over the business upon his passing. But then he had died, seemingly of natural causes.

John was doubting that.

Winston stated that, indeed, the Syndicate was an enemy of the Camorra. Still, they were far too small to overtake the larger empire of the D’Antonio’s.

John didn’t care about that. The politics were over now that he had a name. Winston could deal with the fallout. Report Mateo’s treason to the High Table. Or not.

There really wasn’t much of a point considering that John was more than willing to just kill the bastard and be done with it.

Karl ran every property associated with the Syndicate in New York while John began strapping weapons.

“I have a location on Mateo.” Karl says, “He’s at a party in Manhattan. He just posted on his Instagram.”

John wasn’t entirely sure what that sentence meant.

“She must be being kept somewhere else.”

“A small property.” John agrees, “Someplace private, out of the way.”

“He’s got a handful of houses. A brownstone in Brooklyn.”

John shakes his head, “Too many potential witnesses.”

“There’s a few places down in Staten Island and oh… He owns a condemned block in Long Beach. Series of houses bought out after Hurricane Irene.”

“Closest neighbor?”

“At least a block.”

John grabs his phone back and types the address into his GPS.

She’s there. She has to be.

Still, he gruffly adds, “Keep searching. Just in case.”

“Jonathan, perhaps you should come up with a plan—”

John shoots the Manager a look.

He isn’t waiting anymore.

“Call for my car. I’ll update you when I can.” John tells him as he leaves the room.

The drive from the Continental to Long Beach should have been an hour. Luckily, traffic was on his side. The gas pedal pressed to the floor didn’t hurt, either. He blows through every stop sign and red light he meets.

The ocean is visible and he breathes a sigh of relief. He’s close, now.

His phone begins to ring and John spares the ID a glance. The Continental.

He answers it, “This is Wick?”

“Hi, Mister Wick, it’s, uh, Karl.” The Technician awkwardly greets, “You said to keep an eye out and I did and, um, DeLuca knows.”

“What?”

“He knows you’re coming, sir. He has sentries over in Long Beach and they reported seeing your car. He knows you’re coming and he made a call to someone at the house.”

“How many sentries?”

“I don’t know, sir. But DeLuca’s made two more calls since the house that have pinged in your general vicinity.”

Sure enough, John checks his rearview and a black car is following him. They’d have to be going at least fifty to keep on his tail.

“Thank you.” John turns off the phone. He’s less than five miles away.

Five miles away from Helen.

He’s sure they’re keeping her there now.

And they’ll be ready for him.

That’s fine. It won’t make a difference. He’ll kill them all.

As long as he got there in time.

They’d be moving her. DeLuca’s only leverage against John, and the only thing keeping John from outright murdering him was Helen.

He hears the sounds of loud motors and checks his rearview.

Sure enough, another car slides off of a side street and joins the pursuit.

In any other situation, he might have laughed. Now, it was just a nuisance. Another obstacle trying to prevent him from reaching what he needed most.

But he can’t worry about them now. He can’t stop to take care of the problem because he can’t fucking risk them moving her.

There’s an idling car out front of one of the houses.

He can see her. She’s clearly unconscious, being carried from the house to the car. Two men in front of him, he’s not even sure of how many are behind.

He had hoped for a bit of stealth, the element of surprise. But then, his car barreling down a side street at eighty miles an hour is hard to miss, especially when he slams the breaks and the tires loudly squeal along the pavement.

He’s usually better than this. A lot better than this. In fact, he’s not sure he can really remember a time since his teens when he went in guns’ blazing.

He was too calm, to focused, to tactical for that.

Yet here he is.

And the clock is ticking.

He can’t let them get away.

John opens the door and lunges from the car, ducking from the shots being fired from the cars behind them as they squeal to a stop. He aims low, not willing to waste ammo until he knew what he was dealing with and fired a shot. The back left tire starts to compress and he does the same for the right.

They’re not getting away.

The man, not carrying Helen, reaches to his belt and John fires again.

The bullet breaks into his hand and he can hear the cry of pain. Before the man can reach again, John aims higher and shoots him in the neck.

He can hear firing coming from behind him.

He has to take them out before she can be hit by a stray bullet.

All it takes is one.

Luckily, the man who has Helen has ducked down low.

He needs more eyes, more hands.

He turns, because he needs to and starts counting.

Three cars, two men each. Clearly, DeLuca had not paid enough attention when researching potential assassins to manipulate.

John ducks back behind the car, reloading his weapon. He wants to move towards them, to finish this quickly, but he needs to keep his head. He needs to deal with this like he’s not emotionally involved because, to do otherwise, would be suicide.

He stops and listens. The gunfire dies down and the men on the other side of the car are hollering directions to one another.

Amateur hour.

He can hear footsteps coming on either side of car, heavily pounding on the concrete.

John stays crouched but moves to the left side. He tucks his gun into its holster and, instead, grabs a knife from his boot.

Just as the first two men reach the front of the car, John grabs the one on the left but the shirt and stabs him in the gut. He stands, disarming the shocked man and drags the blade up. His hand snatches the gun with ease and he fires once over his shoulder to the man just behind him, then again at the man who was coming around the right side of the car.

He manages to dodge, jumping back behind the tallest part of the car.

John fires through the passenger side window. The bullet flies through the car and comes out on the other side, staggering the man back. He fires again and the man drops to the ground.

Four down, he thinks. Four to go.

A shot is fired at him from back where the other cars were. Two of the men still are hiding back at the cars they came in.

John spins back around to the front of the car.

The man from the opposite side of the car takes off running as John sneaks down low to the other side. He uses the new gun to fire low. The first shot goes through the calf, likely shredding the muscle.

Hurts like a bitch, John knows from experience. He hobbles and falls to the ground, screaming.

DeLuca’s men, it would seem, are well armed but not trained for shit. He’s momentarily baffled that these were the forces, the army that DeLuca thought he could use to overthrow the Camorra?

But arrogance was his pitfall.

John couldn’t fault him for that; it was his own, as well.

But everything else? The stalking, the kidnapping, the threats? John could fault him for that. That was the reason that DeLuca was going to die.

The last two standing from his pursuers seem unwilling to leave the safety of their cars. Which means, unfortunately, that John can either wait them out or be the one to move.

Waiting it out is smarter. He knows it’s what he should do but a look across to where Helen is and he can’t.

Anger flares within him as he realizes that the man holding her is using her as a kind of shield.

It won’t save him, John thinks, turning his attention back towards the cars. They’re waiting for movement, waiting to fire.

Outnumbered, outgunned, back against the wall.

Thank fuck for Kevlar.

He stands and immediately hears the shots being fired at him. He swerves, immediately, expecting to draw their fire. The bullets miss him and John sprints forward, firing as he does. A bullet hits the front side of the Kevlar and it nearly winds him, but he keeps moving.

John hits the opposite side of the first car and drops to his stomach. In the confusion, he fires and a bullet breaks the ankle of the closer man.

He drops to the ground and John flips around, jumping on top of the hood of the car to shoot the last man standing in the head before delivering a kill shot to wounded man on the ground.

There’s silence, except for the spluttering breaths of the man John had shot in the calf.

He hops off the hood of the car, heading towards Helen and the last of DeLuca’s men. He idly shoots the fallen soldier in the head and moves on.

DeLuca’s man scrambles backward, his arm wrapped around Helen’s torso, holding her up literally as a shield.

John shakes his head in disbelief, his gun lowered at his side but cocked just the same.

The man almost trips over the sidewalk in his state of panic.

John glances to Helen and tries not to tense or flinch at the blood spilling from her temple or the scratch marring her cheek. There are bruises on her arms that resemble fingers and he wishes he could kill them all again.

“Don’t, please…”

“Set her on the ground. Gently.”

“You’ll shoot me.”

“I’ll shoot you either way.” He snarls, “Set her down, and I’ll make it quick.”

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to tell you again.” John says, stepping closer.

“Okay, okay!” The man kneels and carefully sets Helen so that she’s on the grassy front lawn. Her body is laid out, her head lolling to the side. “Just, please don’t—”

John shoots him in the head.

The closest thing to mercy he was capable of while watching her bleed.

John reloads his weapon as he kneels, keeping it out of his holster. Just in case.

He checks her headwound first. It’s shallow but there’s a large bump that’s already forming. A fall, he thinks, rather than a hit.

The mark on her cheek similarly resembles an abrasion.

It’s simultaneously not bad and the worst thing he’s ever seen. He wraps an arm under her legs and another around her back and lifts her up. He pulls her close to his chest and breathes easy for the first time in two days.

He keeps his eyes peeled for enemies as he hurries back to his car.

He can’t stay here long. As much as he would love a confrontation with every single person under DeLuca’s employ, he has to get her out of here. To safety.

John hadn’t been thinking long-term beyond getting Helen to safety but now there were other things to consider.

He couldn’t take her back to her home. DeLuca would find it and attack, whether John was there or not. He couldn’t risk putting Helen back into the line of fire.

The Continental was off the table, too.

DeLuca already knew she existed, as did a select few of the Continental staff, but the last thing John wanted was for others to find out about her. She might never have another moment’s rest if the Underworld found out that John Wick had a weakness.

That left his house.

His heart stuttered at the thought.

He’d imagined it a thousand times.

Every morning when he had breakfast, he wondered what Helen would look like standing in his kitchen.

Every time he watched television or read on the couch, he would imagine her presence beside him.

Every night he went to sleep in his own bed, he would roll on his side and think about what it would be like to reach over and touch her.

His love. His life.

He maneuvers Helen to one arm as he opens the passenger-side door and slips her inside. He fastens the seatbelt and leans the seat back the best he can. Finally, he slips off his suit jacket and covers her with it. It’s huge over her small frame and he tries not to delight in the sight.

John cannot resist placing a kiss to her head.

She’s here.

She’s safe.

He closes the door and goes around to the passenger side. He turns the car around and hurries out of the neighborhood and back towards the city and the bridge that will take him back home.

John sets a hand on her leg, squeezing gently to make sure that she really was there.

The nightmare was over.

The rest could be handled with ease now that she was safe. He could track down DeLuca and make him fucking pay for taking Helen. Burn what was left of Syndicate to the ground.

The moment they had cleared Long Beach, he reaches for his phone, dialing the Manager.

Winston picks up after the first ring.

“Jonathan.”

“I have her.”

Winston hums in response.

“I’m going to need Doc.”

“At the Continental?”

“At my house.”

He can practically feel Winston rolls his eyes, “The Doctor doesn’t do house calls.”

“I’ll pay whatever he wants.”

“You are aware that I’m not your secretary, aren’t you, Jonathan?”

John resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Winston. Please.”

“I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you.”

Winston huffs, then asks, “Is she alright?”

John glances over at the passenger seat. She still was unconscious, but she had stopped bleeding.

“She’s safe. A few injuries. I want to make sure that none are worse than they look.”

He’s met with silence at first. Winston clears his throat, “You do know this won’t be the end of it?”

John focuses his attention on the road ahead. “I’ll track down DeLuca.”

“Your secret is already out. Others will find out about your little therapist. You say she’s safe, but for how long?”

He swallows hard. He can’t begin to process those thoughts until Helen is safe, in bed, and being looked at by a doctor. Then, he’ll have the breakdown he’s been putting off for two days.

“I’ll speak with you soon. Can you make sure Karl gets paid and tipped well for his services?”

He can practically feel the Manager roll his eyes, “Yes, yes. I’ll send the Doctor out shortly. If you’re leaving Long Beach now, he may even make it there before you.”

John offers his thanks and drives the rest of the route in silence, safe the soft sounds of her breathing.

It puts him at ease, hearing her breathe.

He revels in every slight intake and gentle exhale.

It takes longer to get home than it did to find her. While he still speeds, he is no longer doubling the speed limit as he travels home.

As Winston had suggested, the Doctor was already there when John pulls up. He parks out front rather than pulling up to the garage.

“Mister Wick.” The Doctor greets as John climbs out of the car.

“Doc. Thank you for coming.”

John goes to the other side of the car. He undoes the seatbelt and slips her, carefully, back into his arms.

“Do you know what happened to her?” The Doctor asks, eyeing his new patient the best he can while she remains in John’s grasp.

John shakes his head, “She was unconscious when I found her. I don’t know if she was sedated or if she’s still out from the headwound she sustained.”

He opens the door to his home and leads Doc through the house, upstairs to John’s own bedroom.

With a sense of longing, he lays Helen in his bed.

He takes his jacket back and tosses it to the side, allowing Doc access to the rest of her body. The bruises on her arms look worse in the light of his room.

The man was lucky John was feeling merciful.

Doc opens his bag and starts by cleaning the wounds marring her face. He wipes away the blood and bandages the cut on her temple.

“It wasn’t the headwound that knocked her out.” Doc says after examining her. “It’s superficial, although I’m sure she’ll have headaches for the next few weeks. It looks like she’s been drugged a few times. I’d guess this is the work of a sedative.”

That was John’s guess as well.

“Give her twelve hours and try to wake her up. If she’s unresponsive, call me.”

The Doctor grabs a bottle of pills and hands them to John. “Aspirin will do just fine for the pain. Give her this for the headaches.”

John nods, tucking Helen into his bed as the Doctor packs up.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming out here.” John tells him. On his bureau, there’s several stacks of coins. He takes one and hands it off to the Doctor.

“Of course. I hope you’ll forgive my boldness, but I don’t recognize her. Is she based in another city?”

John fights back the urge to wince. While he doesn’t think Doc would say anything to anybody, he doesn’t want to let anyone else know about her identity. But then, Doc had come all this way to ease John’s fears.

He swallows, “She’s not of the Underworld. She’s… a friend of mine. Who got pulled in over her head.”

The Doc hums, “Be careful with otherworlders, John Wick. Persephone was only a guest of the Underworld and she never escaped it.” Before John can think of a response, Doc has his bag in hand, “I wish her a speedy recovery. Good night, Mister Wick.”

The Doctor leaves them in peace and John brings a chair around to her side of the bed. He sits down, nearly collapsing. She is safe.

His vigil begins anew.

[woodyclawson]

( MILO VENTIMIGLIA + CISMALE ) —  Have you seen WAGNER ‘WOODY’ LAWSON ? This FORTY-ONE year old is a/an BARN MANAGER who resides in STATEN ISLAND. HE/HIM has/have been living in NYC for FOUR YEARS, and is/are known to be STEADY and HUMBLE, but can also be BLUNT and DISSONANT, if you cross them.  People tend to associate them with THE SMELL OF FRESH HAY and AGED WHISKEY

Name: Wagner ‘Woody’ Lawson

Age: Forty-One

Birthday: January 25, 1979

Sign: Aquarius

Neighborhood: East Kingsboro

Home: Quaint two-bedroom home with a small yard

Occupation: Barn Manager

Character Quote: “Sometimes I feel like Jesse James / Still tryin’ to make a name / Knowing nothing’s gonna change what I am” ~Troubadour by George Strait

Pos. Traits: Hard-Working, Steady, Humble

Neg. Traits: Blunt, Firm, Dissonant

Likes: farm work, aged whiskey, loping through the open country

Dislikes: people who push around others, well-done steak, warm beer

Aesthetic: tennessee whiskey, the smell of fresh hay, roping

Born in Tennessee Wagner Lawson was raised along the banks of Mississippi mud, never given a chance to be anything but the down-home country boy, which had always suited Wagner just fine. His daddy was a colt starter and former rodeo champion, having won national titles for roping and reining. From the moment Wagner could waddle he was following his daddy around everywhere, at first just watching as his father worked and as he got older helping with the chores himself. He found that spending time tending to the many horses cathartic and volunteered for just about any chore that would get him around them. Never once did he need to be asked to pitch in to do what was needed at the family ranch, from picking vegetables in the garden for his mama to helping his daddy check the cattle fences. As far as most childhoods go, his was pretty perfect. Sure, sometimes his dad drank too much and sometimes his mom just would not stop fussing over him, but he had no cause to complain.

His father, seeing his boy take an interest in horses at such a young age decided to help Wagner begin to follow in his footsteps. As a kid he enrolled Wagner in the pee-wee portion of rodeos where his wife would take pictures of the young boy struggling to stay on the back of a wildly running sheep, but in the end, he stayed on. He almost always did. With natural talent like that his father was quick to get his son started on the path to becoming a bull-rider. His mama threw fits and got into fights with his daddy, it was too dangerous, he could be hurt, killed even, but as he got older and started to have a mind of his own there was nothing that he wanted to do more. So he practiced, and practiced. By sixteen he was competing on broncs, a safer alternative to the bull, and was cleaning up at junior rodeos, his room becoming full of belt buckles, the tack room full of all the special made trophy tack he had won. But being bucked was far from his only talent. At age ten he had broke his very first colt and at twelve he was winning local roping competitions. He even became adept at helping his dad sort and catch cattle, something he was never fond of but did anyways as it was expected of him. Despite how it sounds, his childhood wasn’t all work. While never the best in school he managed to get passing marks and had a group of boys he roughhoused and fucked around with who were constantly getting him into trouble as a teenager.

Fast forward a few years and he was one of the hottest young bull riders to hit the circuit. But his career as a rider didn’t last as long as anyone would have hoped. The reason? He fell in love. Some would have called the pretty woman he fell in love with a buckle bunny, what with her affinity of dating all the big rodeo stars, but when him and her spent one night together the rest was history. Now twenty-two and married with a baby on the way, Wagner knew he could not be as hell mell as he had been for the past few years. He now had a family to think about; and so, he quit bull riding and switched exclusively to broncs. It was still dangerous, but the risks less than if he was on the back of a bull. Life went on and for the most part the little family was happy, until tragedy struck. On the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, with his wife and little girl in the stands, he overtightened the strap around his hand. At first everything seemed to be going well, he had one of his best times, but as he threw himself off the bucking bronco his hand caught. It was an instant disaster. The animal began to panic, bucking harder and higher, with Wagner hanging on for dear life. His only blessing was that the first hoof to his head knocked him out cold. He was rammed into the side of the fence and drug for minutes before those in charge of wrangling the horse were finally able to calm it down. In the midst of the chaos, his wife, fretting over her husband, had not noticed her daughter slip down through the stands calling out for her daddy. No one noticed her presence in the ring until it was too late. All it took was one wrong move from the frightened animal and the sunshine of Wagner’s life was no more.

The blow to Wagner’s own head had been so severe that he was kept in a medically induced coma for two-weeks, giving the wounded flesh time to heal. When he awoke, his whole world was shattered. He grieved, and as he did his grief turned to anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the long arduous healing process, and anger at himself. But all that anger had to go somewhere, and with the only person around during his recovery being his wife, she took the brunt of it. It took him a little over a year to fully heal physically, and during that time he began to develop a dependency on his pain medication. He spent his days sitting in front of the tv drinking beer after beer on top of the opiates as his wife worked in a small diner to try and keep the roof over their heads. One day, a year and half after the tragic accident, the woman had decided that she had had enough. She gave Wagner an ultimatum, get help or she was gone. It led to largest fight yet, a massive blowout that made it clear where Wagner stood.

At that point he was nearing thirty and with nowhere else to go moved back in with his parents. His father though older now was still tough as nails and no patience for his son’s pansiness as he called it. He put Wagner to work. Sober or not he was expected to help, and if he didn’t, God help him. At first he railed, his rage boiling over and eclipsing everything. Rather than argue with his son, the elder Lawson simply gave him a new task. It would be his only job- start the colts. It was something Wagner had used to excel at, but his anger and rage at the horse’s mis compliance made things difficult. The gentle animals became scared of him and began to lash out. One colt in particular, a beautiful bay, resented Wagner more than any of the others, and he let him know it. That was Wagner’s wake up call. He ended up forming a bond with that colt that pulled him out of his stupor and set him back on track. His special relationship with that animal also earned him a nickname, Woody, because wherever Woody went, Buzz followed. Buzz and Woody quickly began racking up wins in roping and reining competitions, and for the next years, Woody allowed himself to feel the happiness that had come into his life. The two traveled all over the countryside, with Woody picking up odd jobs such as stable hand or working cowboy. Until one competition where in the middle Buzz came up lame with an injury too bad to fix, leaving Woody the tough choice of having to put his beloved companion down.

That was four years ago. Woody now resides in Staten Island, working at the local equine therapy and riding lesson program center. He’s the barn manager, the one in charge of making sure the stable hands are doing their job and that the horses are receiving the correct care. It’s a big job, and one he takes seriously. Being around the majestic animals once more is helping him slowly heal, correctly this time, from all the bad that has happened to him. It is a hard road to hoe, but step by step he’s doing it. Perhaps one day he’ll once more be ready for a horse of his own.