#dog swollen joint front leg

[artsycervidae]

Moksha: Chapter 19, Danno Intermission Pt 2

Summary: Back on the barge, Nobutoshi and Yuri reunite with Hinata and organize to hunt Danno, but to survive in a demon's lair carries a steep cost.

Word Count: 5.4k

Double check the trigger list now and again! Thanks to all my readers for reading along. We broke 100k and I've been having fun. I hope you have too. (Early publish for Tumblr. Have a good weekend.)

     "What happened to you?" Nobutoshi asked.

     Hinata slipped to the wet floor, leaning against the wall with all their weight. Nobutoshi found himself moving to their side automatically. They murmured soft affirmations ("I've missed you. I'm glad you're not a hallucination... It's so good to see you. You look wonderful.") as he checked them over.

     "I need to open your uniform. Is that okay?" He asked. Hinata smiled, shrugged, but tensed when Nobu's fingers pried their clothes from their skin. Their torso was mottled with bruises, and it was likely a couple ribs were cracked. They had always been lithe compared to Nobu, but now they seemed so thin that it made his heart ache. Fat raindrops pummeled on Nobutoshi's back as he examined their left leg-- the most concerning injury was the laceration, reaching from their mid-thigh down to the knee, their pants torn down the side. The joint itself was purple and swollen, battered and inflamed.

     "Kabuto didn't do that," Hinata said woozily, catching their breath now and again. "Masajun did... Danno told him to. Said he could eat after he dealt with me. I guess he assumed the drop would kill me... he was always messy, cutting corners like that..." Nobutoshi blinked, curious, but the other Slayer's eyes shifted to the demon's remains. "Look. He's being washed away," they huffed a laugh, their lips twitching between grin and grimace. "Serves the bastard right... he wouldn't let me rest all this time. Sleep well, old man. Nobu, do you have anything to eat?" Their tone lilted and swayed with pleasantries, clearly disoriented. "There's a rations shortage. Nothing grows here but algae... even the rats and roaches starve and die eventually. Isn't that terrible?"

     "In a moment," Nobutoshi said, trying his best to manage their bleeding in the midst of a downpour. "You shouldn't be running on this leg. Much less fighting something three times your size." An exaggeration, which he knew would illicit a snort from Hinata. Somehow, the sound was comforting.

     "I couldn't pass up the opportunity," they defended. "I wanted to get him before he drug you away... oh," and their hands came up to close their front quickly, "Hello!"

      Nobutoshi looked back to the sound of shoes slapping against water. Yuri came careening around the corner, her chest heaving. "Ishikawa, sir," she panted, coming to a halt when she realized they weren't alone.

      "Takahashi. This is Yasumoto."

      "Hello!" Hinata repeated before tugging at the tsuguko's sleeve. "Nobu, is there anything to eat? I'm famished."

      Yuri watched with open bafflement as Nobutoshi rifled around in his clothes and found a compact bar of nuts, seeds, and nutrient paste (well-moistened) then handed it to Hinata, whose face took on the open adoration and eagerness of a dog sitting by the table. "Here. Eat it slowly. Your stomach has probably shrunk even more now, so don't make yourself sick."

      "I've gone beyond that threshold," they obligingly opened the wrapper and gnawed at the corner of it, "like being so tired I get a second wind of energy. Thank you."

      "They are our informant," Nobu told her. "I know them personally. They were part of the first group to investigate."

      "You're the only survivor?" Yuri wondered.

      Hinata paused then answered, "Not quite... Masajun is still out there, I'm sure."

     "Who is that?" she interrogated.

      Hinata, despite their efforts to nibble, had already reduced the ration to a sliver. They took their time chewing though, their bagged eyes sliding between Nobutoshi and Yuri. "He's the newest recruit," they said slowly after swallowing. "... He also used to be a Slayer." Their eyes fell away from the faces watching them. "He... killed his demon and took his place as Danno's left hand."

     "Danno?"

     "The Kizuki."

     Another clap of thunder split the sky, and Hinata groaned as they tried to stand again. "Take it slow," Nobu commanded. "Takahashi, we should escort them to the boats--"

     "No," Hinata ground out, catching their breath before stepping away from the wall, putting most of their weight on their good leg. "No, I'm okay to walk. I'll take you to where Danno sleeps. I'm assuming your father is here somewhere, Nobu? Someone who can behead a Kizuki."

     "And Junko."

     Hinata's eyes lit up at that. "Oh, good. Finally, this nightmare can end. We should help them though-- Kume's minions get stronger when Danno's parts are incapacitated. Unfortunate trade-off."

     "That thing before broke my sword," Yuri informed them, "and yours too, by the look of it." Nobutoshi noticed the way she glared specifically at the broken handles that protruded from Hinata's form. "Master Ishikawa is right. Your injuries will slow us down."

     "I have swords we can use," Hinata offered, already hobbling away. "C'mon. There's a cache not far from here. I promise I won't slow us down-- I know shortcuts that actually work."

     Yuri and Nobutoshi exchanged a glance, but before Yuri could decide to say anything, Nobutoshi followed Hinata. He hoped that they could walk in silence. But Yuri stubbornly floated into his orbit. "You see it too, right?" She asked, voice low enough for only the tsuguko to hear. "What they've done with those swords..."

     Nobutoshi had wondered if or when she would notice. There was no denying it, since he was the one to apply Hinata's first aid. The snapped-off blades weren't merely tucked into their own uniform. The cloth banding them together was of recycled Demon Slayer uniforms. Nobutoshi understood Hinata's process: the Corps provided quality. They were the sturdiest, malleable fiber available to the castaways. Ropes could snap under the weight and power of a demon, but the special fabric afforded slayers extra protection.

     "And what's even stranger," Yuri went on, raising her voice to be heard over the rain, "is that we haven't seen any bodies. If the demons ate the carcasses, why would they leave invaluable resources for you to scavenge?"

     Hinata looked over their shoulder, and opened their mouth. "I heard you managed to kill Unagiko. That's impressive. She's not particularly strong, but her Blood Art is incredible. None of us could figure out how to get to her, given she was completely aquatic. It reminded me of Namazu. With her dead, the draw to the barge will die down, and time should pass normally now. Well," they glanced up to the rainfall, a hand raised and protecting their face, "until Danno wakes up. And it's not like we can go anywhere right now. Not yet. We killed Kabuto together, so we don't have to worry about him traveling between the walls."

     "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Yuri hissed. "How did you manage to get so much stuff if the demons have been killing everyone? Stop evading the question."

     "Takahashi--" Nobu said placatingly.

     "Ishikawa," Yuri replied bitterly, "I'm surprised you haven't wondered that yourself."

     "You wanna know?" Hinata piped up, coming to Nobutoshi's defense rather than their own. "Fine. I did take these things off of dead bodies. I stripped bare the people who died, right after I got to watch them be killed. I couldn't prioritize bringing their corpses home, nor could I hope to preserve their belongings. I may be the only survivor left... but it wasn't that way from the start." Hinata limped closer, a hard edge forming on their words as they faced Yuri. "I've been trying to keep people alive, okay? I'm doing what I have to."

     Yuri didn't back down, but didn't have the chance to form her response. "This isn't the time," Nobutoshi urged, trying to mirror his father's no-nonsense tone the best he could. "Hinata is here with information. We will question them on the particulars when we debrief, and take care of it from there." With that, he sharpened his gaze in Hinata in their sorry state. "There's still two more demons out there, right? And Danno is asleep in the center?"

     Hinata's eyes darted his way. "Yes. We've already done the hard part. Unagiko was our warden, and Kabuto was Danno's head. But now that they're both dealt with, we could easily go to the belly of the barge for Danno."

     Nobutoshi began to walk again, getting the other two to move along. Yuri dragged her feet and scowled, but took up the end regardless. "Should we help the others fight the flying demons?" She begrudgingly asked.

     Hinata grunted, "We could. But Danno could also decide to awaken on his own. If he's armless and they can't help him, then he can't fight properly. Danno with his full court," and they bore their teeth, "is the worst case scenario... Not only does he take possession of all their Blood Arts, but once they return to him then they'll be back in peak condition. With Unagiko and Kabuto alone, he's unbalanced. He can slip away through the walls or water, but Unagiko's magnetic pull will always tell us where he's gone. He can only run and thrash."

     Yuri hummed and drew closer. Fists balled and eyebrows knit, it was clearly meant as a deterrent. The revenant chose wisely to meander further: there was a natural schism between them, with Nobutoshi stuck right in the middle. "You know a lot. Did the demons sit you down and have a talk with you?"

     Hinata sighed irritably. "We-- the humans-- have been trying to learn what we can. There's a lot of Blood Demon Arts at work, and we were always outmatched... but it kept the demons away from the village, and we made some strides. We were finally able to resist their demonic power." And then, under their breath, Nobutoshi heard them say, "Some of us more than others."

     "You said Masajun was Danno's left hand," Yuri needled, "so was he just another demon? A henchman?"

     "He wasn't a demon at first," Hinata insisted. "He only just turned last night."

"How could that happen? Aren't," she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder before finishing, "Kibutsuji Muzan or the Upper Ranks the only ones who can do that?"

     "... Yeah." Hinata's mouth twisted with raw fury and vivid pity. They turned their face to the sky again. "I don't know how he pulled that off... or why he turned to Danno. I wish it didn't happen. But he's just being a stupid kid. Scared and angry, so he's acting out." Their added defensiveness was too much-- Yuri stared as Hinata led them around a corner, into a room where the path ended in a chute to the ocean. "We're here."

     Along one of the winding catwalks, suspended on rusted cables and rotting rope, there was a crevice in the wall. It seemed so precarious and nondescript, no wonder it served to hide Hinata's contraband. Nobutoshi peered over their platform, where the metal floor dropped far down into dark water. Grey foam churned angrily, air bubbling up so that the waves popped almost like acid. "Are you sure it's safe to go out there in the rain?"

     "It's okay," Hinata assured. "It looks like the barge is flooding a little. It's not nearly as long a fall as it usually is. I'll go, since I'm already incapacitated. If I do trip, you two will still be able to fight. Be ready to catch the swords if I have to throw them. " Before Nobutoshi could call them an idiot, they looked in his eyes and said, "If I don't make it back then go straight, left, left, right, straight, down, right, right, straight, up, left, and then follow that path all the way down."

     "What?" Yuri wondered, but Nobutoshi had paused to commit the information to memory, and Hinata was already clinging to the wall and scooting down the mesh walk. Their fingers grasped the occasional lip or beam for an added fraction of safety. She scoffed and turned back to the tsuguko. "I don't trust them," she reinforced.

      "They haven't done anything to warrant interrogation yet."

     "Except dance around our questions. It's suspect."

     "We know more than we did before," Nobutoshi said mildly. "They made the trip worth it."

     "Did they?" She asked this, her one eye trailing after their monochromatic guide. "I think it's pretty convenient that the enemy has a way of possessing our own fighters, right at their disposal. Even more convenient that it hasn't used that power on them yet." And then, with some poison in her tone, "How do we know they're not a demon?"

     Nobutoshi watched the human-shaped void pause at the crack in the wall, carefully releasing their hold onto the catwalk beams and leaning out precariously to plunge their arms inside. "They're not a demon. If you can't trust my word, then I can't help convince you."

     Yuri stared at him, which made him feel exposed. It was the same assessment his father gave him when he made a single wrong move, a vague whiff of a mistake. But he wasn't the one she was staring at-- he realized this before the lightning split the sky overhead, reflecting off the pit's many walls and casting out the dark. For a stark moment, they could see the black water and its frothing seafoam. They could see the bone white body slipping out from one of the many pathways, clean slices tracing its features and outlining missing chunks, cuts too organized and tidy to be the work of a mindless monster. The girl's corpse was lifted by water, then thrust into the thick of it, thrown between the walls and helpless to the storm and tides. She was destroyed and folded, taken into the water in a matter of seconds.

     "If I had fallen," Hinata said, bursting their silence, "neither of you would have been aware enough to catch the swords." They had managed to make their way back with the weapons tucked by their side, and they held one out for Yuri.

     In a blink, Yuri had Hinata on the ground-- Nobutoshi knew Hinata could have turned the tables on her, busted knee or no, but they let themself be floored with a sharp yelp of pain. It was their own fault for allowing it, so he didn't understand why they looked so startled when her calloused hand squeezed their throat, her weight seated on their body. In her other hand, the lavender-hued blade that made its threat known. "You're hurting me," they whined, squirming uncomfortably on the handles they were being pressed down into. "Ah-- careful."

     "They've defiled the remains of our fallen comrades," Yuri declared hollowly. "Using their swords without any care, scavenging what they want from the dead. And watching the demons kill our members, like some vulture," her voice trembled with neatly contained outrage. "Did they even try to help? Or were they more concerned with their own life?" She leered over them. Hinata's eyes flickered between Yuri and Nobu.

     Nobutoshi stood by and watched.

      "Answers. Now. How does a Lower Rank turn a human?"

     "Maybe Danno is strong enough to do such a thing," Hinata mused.

     "A Lower Rank can't change humans. Or they wouldn't be of the Lower Ranks then," Yuri argued.

     "Then I would suspect they summoned Kibutsuji or an Upper Rank. Or maybe they have another way off the barge."

     "How?"

     "I told you, I don't know," Hinata said irascibly. "That's all theory."

     "Who was that? Down in the pit."

     Hinata's mouth opened, chin warbling. "... That was... probably Mariko."

     "Did you kill her and eat her?"

     "No," Hinata said swiftly. "No, I didn't. I wouldn't. I'm not a demon."

     "We saw the carvings," Yuri warned. "Before your evidence got washed away. We saw the cuts and the amputations."

     Hinata fell quiet. The rain drummed impatiently all around them, waiting for the truth. "... We were using her as bait."

     Yuri grit her teeth. "For fish, or demons?"

     "Both."

     Yuri raised her sword to slam the pommel into Hinata's face. Their skull bounced off the floor and they gasped. Nobutoshi resisted the urge to yank her off and throw her into the pit-- the sensation was so unsuitable that he turned to watch the righteous ocean boil.

     "Why?!" Yuri cried. "She was somebody. She was your fellow survivor, wasn't she? Your fellow Slayer! Was she even dead--"

     "Of course she was dead," Hinata said, their own voice pitching, "even after we tried to save her. None of us wanted her to die! She loved Masajun so much, she told us she wanted him to eat. It was her last request. She didn't want Masajun to starve, and she made Shinjuro swear to do it. He couldn't even look at her after that. He promised something he couldn't fulfill, and so I--" Hinata was babbling now, shaking with fear and agony. Yuri raised her hand back again.

     "That's enough." Nobutoshi caught her wrist and squeezed. "Are we going to do the demons' job for them and cut each other down, here and now, when others still depend on us?" Yuri growled, low and hard with her underbite jutting out. In a huff, she released Hinata and got up. She sheathed the sword into her empty holder, then stalked off to wait at the next intersection.

      Hinata, sad and wet and pathetic, caught their breath and groaned, sitting up. Nobutoshi waited until Yuri rounded the corner before he approached, offering the wretch a hand up. They looked at his palm, water captured in their eyelashes, then directed that desperate expression up at his visage. "I would never do that," Hinata groveled. "I swear, I would never eat another human being. I'm not a demon. I... You know that, right?"

     "I know." Whether Nobutoshi was decided or not, it needed to be said. Hinata's face softened with immense gratitude, and they took his peace offering. Nobutoshi hoisted them to their feet and picked up the cool grey katana they'd dropped in the scuffle. "I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner," he murmured, in case there were hurt feelings. "I was still processing it all... I know you wouldn't betray us like that."

      "Thank you for stopping her when you did," Hinata replied, hesitating a little before asking, "I'm going to be disciplined for this, aren't I?"

      "Most likely," Nobutoshi grimaced. "There's nothing I can do with a witness present. But I'll make sure you're close by. I'll be the one to tell Junko."

     Hinata smiled, but it was a weak deflection of their worry. "If I can't tell her myself," they said. "I hope she gets to handle me. No offense to your dad, but I think he would just cut my head off on the spot."

      "He wouldn't," Nobutoshi reasoned. "Hashira can't make those kinds of decisions on their own unless you're a direct danger. You're cooperating. Just be on your best behavior, and it'll all be okay." This was the trade-off, after all. Hinata got their hands dirty so that their friends didn't have to. Nobutoshi was always appreciative, but this was quite the mess that Hinata made. Were these people-- Mariko, Shinjuro, Masajun-- worth all the punishment? Was it worth making it Junko and Jin's problem?

     Hinata hobbled along, Nobutoshi a half-step behind. When they caught up to Yuri she was leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, waiting for them. She silently stalked after the duo. Nobutoshi couldn't help but wish he had Junko's wit and charisma-- it wasn't enough to say "we all belong to the Corps." Hinata was already behaving in the most guilty way possible, Yuri was far too heavily suspicious of them; the longer Nobutoshi put off condemning Hinata's approach to things, the worse the tension became.

      As the two followed Hinata across shaking walkways, down waterlogged tunnels, and then up into the final corridor, the dark sky became so suddenly accessible it nearly gave Nobutoshi a fright. The narrow path opened, the walls halted. A relatively stout tower protruded into the air from the center, sides disembowled by, presumably, Kabuto's animal scrabbling from past ascensions. "There's a ladder on the backside," Hinata told them.

     "How convenient," Yuri answered, clearly pleased with the news. "It looks like this is where you turn back. Can't climb a ladder with a splint in your leg."

     "Can too," Hinata muttered.

      "I agree," Nobutoshi had said at the same time. Hinata's head whipped his way. "She's right, Hinata. You're injured. You've been here so long that your state of mind is deteriorating. You need food, sleep, and medical attention." No matter what sense he spoke, Hinata's head shook.

     "I'm fine," Hinata said, already moving for the ladder. "I can climb." And without waiting another moment, they gripped the first hand bar, hoisting themself up. Between their two hands and one decent leg, they made a decent ascension. Nobutoshi avoided Yuri's incredulous stare and followed Hinata, thoroughly embarrassed for them.

     The top of the tower had no safety rails or ropes of any kind. It simply flattened out, save for the large opening in the center. As they drew closer, Nobutoshi could see the floor slid down in a long spiraling ramp, an endless path that dipped down into the darkness, centered by the completely longitudinal drop.

     "Down here," Hinata said. Nobutoshi held his sheathed sword across Hinata's path. They stubbornly pressed into it, but Nobu's firm grip barred them, the sword pushing them back a step.

     "You led us here. That's all we needed. You can head back to the boats now."

      "What," Hinata laughed, "and climb back down after coming all the way up here?"

      "You'll manage." He ignored the smug expression of relief on Yuri's face, the sort of look that said 'Finally, some sense.'

     "You can't go without me," Hinata warned. "Please. If you go there on your own... he'll get in your head." Their eyes locked on his with some unspoken message.

      Nobutoshi blinked. "What does that mean?"

     "Think about it," Hinata urged. "There's a route for humans to take, although the demons here are so morphed. Even the most humanoid ones have wings. It's unnecessary."

      "They're delusional," Yuri declared, apparently fed up with addressing Hinata directly. She closed in, clearly intending to take Nobutoshi's side. "Demons have rotted their brain and their morals."

      Hinata suddenly gasped, their head and shoulders jerking back as though an invisible hand had seized them by the hair. Yuri instinctively stopped their stumble with the expression of someone catching vomit in their bare hands. "Oh," Hinata coughed, "There she is." And from the sheer warmth in their tone, Nobutoshi knew who they meant.

     Nobutoshi moved nearer to the edge, cautious of the water hazard, and looked out over the expansive labyrinth. It had seemed like they got here relatively quickly for how far the mismatched metal sheets stretched.

      In the distance, he saw her-- Junko shooting up into the air, a tornado of screaming seabirds in her wake. She almost hovered there above the maze walls, a sheer force of nature, and Nobu could barely see the glimmer of her sword as she wove a fatal tapestry-- it was the move she had been prototyping since her promotion. The Sixth Form: Splinter. For such a simple name, the effect was breathtaking even from a distance. All at once, the birds' distant static cacophony was punctured with a resounding crash, like a thousand trees being felled at once, putting the storm's thunder to shame. The demons exploded into blood heavier than the rainfall itself. The acrobatic Hashira floated groundward with the grace of a drifting leaf.

      The barge quaked in terror at the display of raw power. Hinata had gained their footing only to fall forward onto their knees, and this time Yuri was happy to let them go. "Gorgeous!" they rasped, shoulder blades creaking back and forth in a foreign pattern, "Enigmatic. I really ought to remember that one."

      "Master Ishikawa," Yuri called, grasping for both Slayers to pull them back from the ledge. "watch out, incoming!"

     Incoming indeed. With her depth perception hampered, her warning came not a second too soon: from one of the many corridors, a figure raced out of the night. Their arms beat against the rain and wind, pivoting abruptly up the side of the tower. It nearly clipped Nobutoshi, then sharply halted in the air with a slamming of its massive wings. Hunted eyes fell on the open chute to the island's belly-- running away.

      And suddenly it was crash-landed, face splattered into the tower platform the three Slayers stood on. Ishikawa Jin had appeared on the demon's back, though his existence there seemed naturally placid. As if he had always been there. His hand twisted one of those winged wrists behind the creature's back, and he calmly stepped onto its half-formed neck.

     "My companion is injured and cannot walk for himself," Jin's cool voice came, steady, flowing. Nobutoshi could feel his blood run cold. A talkative father was a father with much to say. "He is in the maze. Please escort him to the port. Now."

     Yuri was the one who jumped into action, driven by authority. She flung herself over the ladder, loosely gripping the rails as she let gravity pull her down. Hinata's injured knee, however, folded under their attempts to get up, and they groaned just as the harpie cried out in pain and fear. Now that it was stopped, Nobutoshi recognized the tattered uniform clinging to its transformed body. Its wild eyes fluttered over its audience-- halted on Hinata.

      "Aguri!" It hollered. "Your plan worked! Kabuto is dead, right?! Take his place, now! Help me! You promised her--"

      Jin yanked the winged limb higher, swinging his sword down through the demon's throat. With a brutal kick from Jin, its head went soaring and its screams were drowned out by the storm. Its body was given the same treatment, but it skidded across the platform and fell through the abysmal hole, down into the dark.

     "Masajun!" Hinata cried, reaching out a hand.

     "Dad, don't!!"

     Jin's sword stopped just shy of Hinata's esophagus. Nobutoshi's heart had caught in his throat. It was as if he could feel the sharp edge scratching his own skin when they swallowed, leaving a second abrasion. Everyone went still.

     "Explain," Jin commanded, cold and cruel. "What did it mean by 'take his place?'"

     Nobutoshi looked anywhere but directly at Hinata. He didn't want to see their panicked, pleading eyes. 'Just answer the question,' he directed, hoping against all of his doubts and fears that they could be salvaged.

     "The Lower Rank One," Hinata started slowly, "consists of four demons. He is the sum of all their parts... and he was... looking for stronger parts." A swell of gratitude was suppressed in Nobu's breast. Hinata was being careful with their words, minding their manners, but these words were poisonous by nature.

     "It picked you."

     The tone was so thick with derision and disgust that Nobutoshi found himself wincing for them. He was too scared to turn away, but he didn't want the last thing he would see of Hinata was them battered, beaten, and on all fours-- it was as though turning his back this time would surrender them to his father. He couldn't pick between them. He wanted the world to stop.

     "I was never going to take him up on it... I don't even know if... his parts wanted to go through with it. Once a chosen Slayer dies... Danno's part has to pick a new one. Their... theoretical replacement. As long as we survive, we're given the chance to say yes. If we say no, then we're put through another night... Another test. We weren't supposed to work together, but Shinjuro and I hoped that by making ourselves a... human barricade... and putting on a distracting show, maybe Danno would stop attacking the village."

     "Masajun broke the barrier." Jin shot a glare at Nobutoshi, lips dangerously thin. Nobutoshi held his breath and his tongue. If he so much as twitched, he feared Hinata would be cut down to mincemeat-- not even that, but so thoroughly eradicated that the water would dilute them into oblivion.

     "Danno is probably awake now," Hinata weakly added. "He still doesn't have his right arm... we can end this tonight, Master Ishikawa." Normally this would call for Hinata to lower their head, but they settled for flattening their hands against the floor, their silver eyes boring into the Mist Hashira.

     Jin didn't say anything for what couldn't have been more than seconds. It felt like eons. They waited. Then the hashira withdrew his sword, sliding it back into its sheath. Before anyone could relax, he announced: "Yasumoto Hinata, upon arriving to the mainland, you will be sentenced for aiding and abetting demons--"

     "Dad," Nobutoshi gasped. Hinata's eyes widened.

     "-- and for your betrayal of humankind," he finished with a glower. "Perhaps circumstances will be in your favor. For your sake," and his eyes swept over his subordinates, "I certainly hope so." Not that it mattered. Such a dire accusation in itself was a death sentence. It would only take a majority vote from the living pillars-- most of whom were not present, and would damn the context. A crack in one link was a threat to the entire chain.

     "Nobutoshi. Come." Jin turned for the entrance of the tower.

     Hinata seemed to snap out of their shock. "Let me come with you," they said in one breath, forgetting themself.

     Nobutoshi swiftly stepped between the two before another fight could break out, pushing Hinata's shoulder back gently. "Hinata, wait," he murmured, "just wait here for us." He shook his head a little in silent warning.

     "... Wait here?" Hinata remembered to restraint with Jin still in earshot. "Master Ishikawa," they said slowly, eyes searching Nobu's as if it was only his opinion that mattered. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn. But I haven't come this far to sit aside. Surely I can be of use?"

     "You're too hurt to fight. If you won't wait here, then head to the boats with Takahashi."

     "But I know them," Hinata whispered. "All of them-- I know how they fight. Danno, Kabuto, Kume, Unagiko even, and--" their eyes briefly fluttered in the direction of where Masajun's head had been kicked. "... I can help," was their final plea.

     Nobutoshi glanced over his shoulder. His father was already descending into the tower, walking down the spiral ramp. "... Find Junko. Bring her here," he urged. "I'm sure we can handle the situation with the Kizuki, and maybe she can talk to my dad when he's tired." And less furious. "He won't listen to me, but she has equal authority."

     Hinata nodded, relief awash over their features. "Okay," they said. "Good plan." But before Nobutoshi could make his leave, they grabbed his hand with both of theirs. Their lips trembled and they opened their mouth, wrestling between what they wanted to say and what ought to be said. "It's dark. The water is deep. And he's always hungry after he sleeps, because they're all hungry... please be careful."

     "Don't worry," Nobutoshi assured them, slipping out of their fingers. "My father's swordcraft is perfect. And with Junko as backup, this will be over quickly." He couldn't keep Jin waiting, and so he turned and jogged to catch up. He only looked back to make sure Hinata wasn't following them.

     As they descended, the darkness swallowed then. Eventually the rain nearly petered out to a damp drizzling, so far from the wind and sky were they.

     "Your friend's behavior," Nobu jumped at the sound of his father's icy voice, "is reproachable. I found several dead ends where swords and uniforms had been hidden."

     His stomach knotted. "I know..." he admitted.

     "I cannot understand your apparent fondness for them."

     "They've been through a lot--"

     "Indeed. As have we all. And yet, they found it acceptable to show disrespect to the dead; they do not receive special exemptions simply because they are weak. Yes, we preserve human life above all, but there is a level of decorum-- no, a level of morality we hold ourselves to." Jin glanced back to his son. For a moment, Nobutoshi recognized him: the man who existed before that day, when he lost his wife. His eyes held that soft sympathy that rarely made itself vulnerable to anyone anymore. "Do we not?"

     Nobutoshi considered this thoughtfully. He knew, objectively, his father was right. Jin was always right. Hinata had done terrible things. They may have been scared out of their mind, they may have been keeping promises... but they made the decision to cross a line. They did it again. And again. And again. There was no defending it.

     "I trust you do not harbor the same arrogance," Jin warned. "Spare them the shame. When we return, I need you to come forward against them."

     "Yes, father. I understand."

[ghostussy]

Secondo x Reader (Platonic! Think of it as like, a dad moment.)

     Secondo helping a young reader with arthritis. 

     Reader does use trans tape in this fic!

     The weather? Cold and rainy. My joints? slowly dying. Enjoy the fic. The reader can be as young as you want, as long as it is around working age. I am nineteen for context. 

/ / / 

     Secondo met you at the front door of the Ministry when you finally arrived home from work. He chuckled as he watched you run from your car to meet him, becoming soaked from the pouring rain in the process. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, escorting you to your quarters as quickly as possible. 

     This ritual started when you first came to the Ministry and could not find your way back to your bedroom after work. Often it would be late, and Secondo would be the only one left awake and wandering the halls. After several days of accidentally bumping into him and asking him to lead you back, he finally began meeting you at the front door. You did learn your way around with time, but still Secondo insisted on meeting you at the door. To be perfectly honest, you looked forward to meeting him each day. 

     “Secondo, please,” you pleaded as you turned another corner, “slow down. I cannot walk that fast.” 

     “Ah, bambino, whatever is the matter? Are you unwell?”

     “No, it’s just...” you cringed, stopping in your tracks as pain shot through all the joints in your legs. He stopped walking as well. “It’s arthritis.”

     “Arthritis?”

     “Yeah. It’s just because it’s raining, and cold.”

     “I understood that part; I have arthritis as well, you see.” He looked down at you. “What I do not understand is how you, a child, can have arthritis.”

     You let out a small laugh. “You and me both.” You took a few steps forward, limping slightly until the pain in your stiff joints subsided. “I have an autoimmune disorder that causes rheumatoid arthritis. Basically my immune system is not only attacking my thyroid, but my joints as well. Very annoying, very inconvenient.”

     He started walking next to you once again, though rather slowly to match your pace.��“I see.”

     “It’s normally not this bad,” you continued, “I don’t have to take any medications for it. I’m sure that will change in the future, but for now it’s fine with just ibuprofen. Hey, how is yours not flared up right now? It’s raining, and cold outside. I’m jealous.” 

     “It was earlier, but I have taken some painkillers for it. It seems as though you’re having a much more difficult time walking that I certainly did. I just cannot believe it has occurred in somebody so young.”

     “Ah, well. I have a young mind, but a body that is as old as fuck.” You stopped once again, leaning onto a table for support. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You felt the pain radiate throughout all the joints in your legs; it was more focused on your hips, but your knees were awful as well. It was becoming difficult to stand. 

    Secondo placed a hand on your back to steady you. “Are you alright?”

     “Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” the pain was evident in your voice. “I just need a second. Oh man, I cannot wait to crawl into bed and just pass the fuck out. I am so tired.”

     “Would you like me to carry you?”

     “It’s alright, Secondo. Don’t feel obligated, seriously. I’ll be fine in a sec.” You winced again as the pain unrelentingly throbbed in your ankles now. You could tell that they were swollen, as well as your knees. Your knuckles hurt like hell, and you could tell that they were definitely also swollen. Damn.

     He moved behind you, swooping you up into his arms effortlessly. “Our definitions of ‘fine’ differ greatly, child.” 

     The sudden lack of weight sent a dull ache through your bones, followed by a wave of relief. A tired sigh escaped your lips as you laid your head on his shoulder, relaxing into him a bit. “Oh. Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he began walking to your room. You decided to make conversation.

     “Wanna know something stupid?” 

     “Do I?”

     “My elderly dog and I have one stupid thing in common. You’ll never guess what it is.” 

     “Arthritis?”

     “How’d you guess?”

     He shot you a look. “I’m just that smart, I suppose.”

     He stopped outside your door. “Do you have any epsom salt?”

     “No. Why would I?”

     “You need to take a bath with epsom salt. It works wonders,” He set you on your feet carefully. “I keep plenty on hand. Would you like me to get you some?”

     Though you hated to admit it, a hot bath sounded amazing. “Oh, please. Then I will purchase some more tomorrow.” 

     “Of course. Why don’t you run the water, and I will be right back with the salts?”

     “Sounds good to me.”

. . .

     He returned a few moments later with a hefty bag of the salt. You watched as he dumped quite a bit into the water, and you wondered if you really needed quite so much. 

     “Siamo pronti. As soon as it is full, you may get in. Would you like me to stay with you in case you need something?” You noticed the worry in his eyes. 

     You shrugged. “Sure, if you’re not doing anything else. Let me change first, though.” 

     “Ah, of course.” He stepped out of the bathroom, and you followed, moving slowly over to the dresser to find an old pair of shorts. You also grabbed a clean pair of pajamas to take with you as well, so that you could change once you were done. 

     You went back into the bathroom and changed into the shorts, then removed your shirt. You double checked that your trans tape was still in place, then allowed Secondo to enter the bathroom. 

     He held out his hand, helping you into the bathtub. You slowly sank into the hot water until you were covered up to your chin, feeling the heat seep through your aching bones and joints. You let out a breathy sigh, leaning your head back onto the side of the tub. Though the salt hadn’t begun to work yet, the heat alone was comforting enough that you felt as though you could fall asleep. Secondo watched as he took a seat next to the tub. 

     A few minutes of silence passed, and you felt the salt beginning to work. The pain relief was surprisingly fast, and liberating. It was the first time in several hours that you felt like you could move your joints freely without pain or stiffness. The aches and pains seemed to leak out of your joints, instead being seemingly replaced with a newfound drowsiness. Your head lulled back and your eyes closed in content.

     “Secondo?” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

     “Yes?” 

     “This shit is fucking amazing.” You looked at him and opened your eyes. 

     He let out a laugh. “I am glad. I would be untruthful if I said that I did not have the same reaction the first time I tried it.” He reached over to you and ruffled your hair. “I am glad it is helping.” 

     You let out a small hum as you closed your eyes once more. You felt relaxed and comforted now that your pain was almost gone. You were getting more sleepy now as well. 

     The older man took note of this.

     Gently, he ran a hand through your hair, working through the knots and scratching lightly at your scalp. You allowed him to do so, lacking the energy to tell him to stop. It felt nice anyway. Steadily, your breaths evened out, and your heartbeat slowed. You felt yourself drifting off.

     A few moments later, Secondo stopped playing with your hair and tried to rouse you. After all, you couldn’t stay here all night. 

     “Cara, it is time to wake up. We must get you rinsed, then we will get you to bed. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

     You let out a sleepy whine, then opened your eyes. “Fine.” You pulled the plug on the drain, shivering as the water emptied slowly. “I’ll take a quick shower if you want to wait out there.”

     He nodded, stepping out of the bathroom. 

. . .

     Once you were showered and dressed in your pajamas, you also exited the bathroom. Secondo was sat on the bed, reading something on his phone. When he saw you he placed it down and walked over to you. “Are you feeling better now?”

     “Lots actually, thank you.” 

     “Of course. Now, I do believe it is time, ah, how did you put it? Oh! It is time for you to simply crawl into bed and pass the fuck out.”

     “Yes, it certainly is.” You covered a yawn with your hand. “Although, do you want to stay and watch a movie with me first? It is still early yet.”

     “Ah- sure, why not.”

     Not long after, the two of you were settled in your bed amongst the large collection of blankets and stuffed animals that you kept. He sat up, leaning slightly against the headboard. You were curled up next to him, head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The room was dark, only illuminated by the light of the tv. Quietly, you stifled a yawn; if you thought you were exhausted earlier, you were twice as tired now. The pain seemed to have taken quite the toll on you. 

     Secondo looked down at you, noticing your sleepy look. He rubbed your arm as you curled further into him. He allowed you to do so; after all, he knew better than anyone what it felt like to deal with unrelenting joint pain. He was glad that he could be your source of comfort; though he truly wished that you hadn’t needed it at your young age. Nonetheless, you suffered, and would continue to suffer with your condition in the future. For now though, you were safe and content, sleeping within his secure hold as the rain poured down outside. 

[butterela-healthy]

Benefits of Yoga for Healthy body

Yoga is the best exercise for maintaining, improving, and building your health . The benefits of yoga are incredible. it helps to relax your body and feel fresh and energetic. You can be an expert in yoga with regular practice regularly and with yoga you can feel better or fresh from head to toe.

The physical and mental health benefits of yoga are the best thing it offers to people of all ages or gender. And, if you’re going through an illness, recovering from surgery, or living with a chronic condition, yoga is the best way to help you with all these things.

Here are some health benefits of yoga:

Improves Strength and balanced

Yoga is the best way to improve your strength and balance. Deep breathing in yoga is helpful for improving blood in the body. It also warms up muscles and holding a pose can build strength and balance.

Try: Tree Pose

Balance on one foot, while holding the other foot to the calf or above the knee (but never on the knee) at a right angle. Tyr to focus on any one thing which is in front of you, while you balance for one minute. It can help you increase your strength and balance very effectively.

Help for back pain relief

Yoga is the best exercise for stretching your body. It is a good exercise for stretching to reduce your body pain and improve strength in people with lower back pain. And helps them to some relief from back pain. This is the most recommended first-line treatment for chronic lower back pain

Try: Cat-Cow Pose

Get on all fours, placing your palms underneath your shoulders and your knees underneath your hips. Drop your stomach down toward the floor. Then, draw your navel toward your spine, arching your spine like a cat stretching. This yoga pose a regularly is very helpful to you for reducing your lower back pain

Yoga can ease arthritis symptoms

Ease arthritis symptoms, swollen joints, and discomfort of the tender are one of the good benefits of yoga for those people who has arthritis problem (Source1).

Benefits for improving heart health

Regular practice of yoga may reduce levels of stress, depression, and body-wide inflammation that is contributing to improving your heart health. And help to fight with those types of diseases which is contributing to heart disease, including high blood pressure and excess weight.

Try it: Downward Dog Pose

Get on all fours, then tuck your toes under and bring your sitting bones up, so that you make a triangle shape. Keep a slight bend in your knees, while lengthening your spine and tailbone. This yoga pose is a good way to improve your heart health. You need to have some days of regular practice to do this pose much easier way.

Relax your body, helps for better sleep

Regular yoga with consistency can help you get in the right mindset, and relax your body, and mind. It is a very nice benefits of yoga for those people who are not getting better sleep or woke up in the middle of their sleep. Yoga helps prepare your body for better and good sleep.

Try it: Legs-Up-the-Wall Pose

Sit with your left side against a wall, then gently turn right and lift your to rest against the wall, keeping your back on the floor and sitting bones close to the wall. You can remain in this position for 15 to 30 minutes. This can help you for a better or nice sleep.

Energy and brighter moods

Yoga can boost your energy which can help you to do your work energetically. It also helps you to increase your creativity level. Regular practicing yoga is a way that can change your bad feelings, bad mood, and depression into good and brighter ones. For this, you need to understand or practice yoga poses with another one who knows better.

Yoga helps you manage stress

According to the National Institutes of Health, scientific evidence shows that yoga can support stress management, mental health, mindfulness, healthy eating, weight loss, and quality sleep. Right now most of the population on this planet have some stress issue. For those people, yoga is a very beneficial exercise for stress management or increasing their creativity.

Try It: Corpse Pose (Savasana)

Stretched out gently with your limbs, away from the body, with facing up palms. Try to deep breaths and clear your mind with all other thoughts. You can hold this pose for 15 to 30 minutes. This pose is very beneficial for stress management or improving mental health.

Improve flexibility

Yoga helps you to improve your flexibility. This can helps you for making your body flexible and do your other work effectively.

Improve the immune system

Regular yoga can improve your immune system. And helps your body to fight any type of disease effectively. For improving the immune system regular yoga is very beneficial.

 Yoga connects you with a supportive community

When you participate in any yoga class or group can you’re your loneliness and provide you an environment for group healing and support. It helps you to connect with all people who was interested in yoga and you also learned from them not only yoga but other many useful or important things.

Those are some very beneficial health benefits of yoga that can help you for a better or healthy life.

[goelvetpharmaofficial]

Swelling Of Joints In Pets | Osteoarthritis Symptoms & Treatment

Osteoarthritis in dogs is a prevalent issue in dogs, particularly in older and heavier breeds. Early detection of the disease and prompt implementation of suitable management can enable the dog to live a full and active life. Alternative approaches, such as homeopathy therapy, are offering the best results because there is no cure for this degenerative ailment through traditional treatment. Osteoarthritis, commonly known as Degenerative Joint Disease, is a degenerative joint inflammation caused by cartilage degeneration. Osteoarthritis in dogs can affect any joint in the body, but it is most common in the limbs and lower spine. Cartilage acts as a cushion in healthy joints, allowing them to move smoothly through their complete range of motion.

Osteoarthritis can affect any breed of dog, especially as they get older. However, some circumstances, such as ligament fractures or rips caused by repetitive stress from athletic activities in large or giant breeds such as German Shepherds, Labrador Retrievers, and Golden Retrievers, can predispose a dog to this illness. Obesity, age, particularly in middle-aged to elderly dogs, diseases that affect the joints, such as Lyme's disease, inappropriate diet, poor conformation, genetic factors, and so on could all be contributing causes.

Inflammation of joints, lameness, shifting pain owing to the swelling of joints (LYME DISEASE) linked with fever and anorexia, inflamed eyes for any reason, or pain in the joints as in the case of arthritis can all be treated with INFLASULE for pets.

INFLASULE, like homeopathic treatments, works on the premise of "similia similibuscuranter," which means "like cures like." As a result, formulations that mimic the symptoms of a diseased animal in a healthy animal are employed to create this miracle medication recipe to treat inflammation of joints caused by a variety of factors. It's a recipe created by a well-known Indian veterinarian after speaking with numerous homeopaths and undertaking extensive field testing over time.

Goel Vet Pharma is a Chittorgarh-based approach to homeopathic solutions for veterinary problems. Goel Vet Pharma Private Limited provides homeopathic solutions to the various sicknesses and conditions for cattle, sheep, goats, dogs, and cats. With more than 10,000 professionals in the team of Goel Vet team, the company prescribes its products to over 10 lakh animals and treats various diseases with their Homeopathic Veterinary medicines in Cows, Buffalo, and pet animals. They are also known for introducing homeopathic supplements for pets for pet parents who are concerned about the weak condition of their pets. Goel Vet Pharma is available online and also has a Goel Vet Pharma application on Playstore. Goel Pharma is ISO 9001-2008 certified, FDA approved and certified in production, consultation, and distribution in the arena of Homeopathic Veterinary Medicine all over India. Goel Vet Pharma company is set up by Dr. R K Goel who was a scholar and pioneer in homeopathic services for animals. He had come up with various formulations for diseases like mastitis, FMD, HS, meningitis, etc with high success rates during his 33-year long service. He has compiled all his work to form the Goel Vet Pharma for dedication to building a strong homeopathic reign in the veterinary sector.

[saintobio]

underground fight club. (2)

↳ iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

summary: gym trainer by day, underground fighter by night—Hajime Iwaizumi gives you a front row access to Tokyo’s biggest underground fight club after setting his eyes on you as his shiny new toy. little does he know, you’re there to infiltrate the illegal underground fighting scene with another purpose in mind.

genre: angst, smut, underground fighter au, 18+

warnings: strong language, reference to guns, degradation, manipulation, dacryphilia, gagging, spitting, oral (giving), hair pulling, explicit sexual content, violence (between fighters), blood/injuries

a/n: hey guys, how are we feeling fighter!iwa bc i am: barking ;) very long chapter ahead! reblogs would be appreciated, ty and enjoy!!

masterlist -> part three

“You slept with him.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

You let out a weary sigh as you stared at Tobio from across your seat with an elbow propped on the desk. He was sitting with his legs stretched forward and his body slouched back in his chair like he was at the leisure of his home. He was dressed in very casual clothes that consisted of a dark blue oversized shirt and some black pants—his hair disheveled, his knuckles swollen. He held an icepack on his face to lessen the dark bruise that he obtained on his left jaw after fighting with Kentarou the other night and you were reminded of just how much damage the guy did to his face.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” you reiterated more firmly, but he refused to believe. “I swear, I didn’t—can you sit up properly?”

Tobio was adamant on shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Stop denying. I literally saw you two leave.”

“So? Doesn’t mean I slept with him,” you argued, unwilling to admit that you did almost hookup with Iwaizumi. If being fingered classified it as ‘sleeping’ together then, whatever. You still would never admit it.

He scoffed at your refusal to say the truth. “You have a fucking hickey.”

Can he just...

“TMPD Officer Tobio Kageyama,” you spoke, deadpanned. “What’s it to you, anyway? My sex life is none of your damn business, so why don’t you just shut up and mind yours?”

The guy somehow found your reaction entertaining. “Intelligence Agent Y/N L/N, I know it’s none of my business but you need to stop lying—”

The loud sound of a folder being slammed against the desk startled the both of you and you could see Chief Director Matsuda glowering at you two in disappointment. You and Tobio instantly shut your mouth after realizing that this wasn’t the perfect time and place to be playing around.

“This is a joint investigation with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department and the Public Security Investigation Agency and the last thing I wanna see is two of my undercover agents fighting like cats and dogs in my office, understand?”

“Yessir,” you both answered in unison.

Director Matsuda wasn’t really an authoritarian leader by nature, in fact, there were times he would joke around with his agents but this particular case was just beginning to stress him out and you could understand why.

To make it simple, Tobio was a young police officer in the TMPD hoping to be promoted as a police detective while you were an agent for the PSIA that was offered to take part in this special assignment at the request of your father who was a Chief Investigator. The reason why you and Tobio were appointed to go undercover was because they needed agents who were young and unsuspecting which were the exact qualities they required to be able to infiltrate a very exclusive organization.

The thing was, this whole investigation was more than just the underground fight club. Sure, it was part of the case, but it was just an entryway into the bigger picture.

“While you two are busy foolin’ around, I’m gonna have to remind you that someone in that fighting club is responsible for the illicit manufacturing and trafficking of firearms that we have discovered over the course of three months,” Director Matsuda carefully reminded as he paced back and forth behind his desk. “They’re supplying ammunition for criminals and we can’t easily stop crimes if our suspects have powerful guns, can we?”

“Do we have more leads, Chief?” Tobio casually asked, trying to sit up straight. “A pixelated picture of a black Evo isn’t enough. Not all dudes even bring their cars there.”

Director Matsuda sighed and you realized that Tobio made a point. There were hardly any cars that night when Oikawa parked his car outside of the club and you guessed it was perhaps because they would catch some unwanted attention if passerby’s see many cars parked outside an abandoned warehouse.

“Akaashi is on it to find more clues,” the director said before glancing at you. “Your father’s also working with the PSIA to obtain more information based on the CCTV footages on the building parking lot where they made the unauthorized gun dealership.”

Keiji Akaashi was a Special Investigator who worked under your dad’s supervision and he was the one who obtained the CCTV screenshots of the Mitsubishi Evo that was caught in the unlawful situation 3 months ago. Apparently, the car was owned by someone who often visited the underground fight club because the small ‘Tokyo Fight Night’ sticker on its window made it a possible lead to the dealer.

“I don’t think it’s Hajime,” you stated, earning their attention. “He drives a pick-up truck.”

“You’re defending him ‘cause you sleep with him,” Tobio huffed in disbelief. “That can’t be his only car.”

Goddamn, this guy was infuriating but he was right about the latter. “I know it might not be his only car but it’s the only one I’ve seen. It can either be between his friends, but I need more time to crack this case.”

Besides, you really didn’t feel like Iwaizumi had anything to do with it. It seemed like the guy solely lived for the whole underground fighting. He even owned a gym for fuck’s sake. You considered that he didn’t have to participate in the illegal sale of ammunition because he already made enough money for himself.

“I only have one task for the both of you,” Director Matsuda ordered as he looked between you and Kageyama. “Infiltrate the fight club, find the dealer, and then we’ll get to the supplier. Don’t blow each other’s covers or we’re gonna have a hard time cleaning up the mess you’ll make. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” you responded submissively, however Tobio was annoyingly sneering at you. “The hell you laughin’ at?”

At this point, Director Matsuda was already preoccupied by his secretary who came up to him to provide her reports and said that you and Kageyama were dismissed.

For now, Tobio removed the icepack from his face and gave you a taunting smirk. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to gain Iwaizumi’s trust? I had to get into a street fight just to have his attention but you managed to have it all in one night. That’s pussy privilege.”

“Shut up.” You crossed your arms. Although admittedly, you were blushing at the thought of how easily Iwaizumi trusted you.

The only thing that ticked you off was how possessive he could be especially after claiming that ‘you belonged to him now’. Was that a good thing? You couldn’t tell.

“He’s my best chance of earning some reputation in that club,” Tobio opened up. “I fucking sacrificed my face for it.”

Now it was your time to laugh at him. “What kinda lousy punches were you throwing in there, anyway? Did you even learn self defense at the police academy?”

“Why don’t you try being—agh, fuck,” he winced from the pain on his jaw, immediately putting the icepack back on it. “Don’t make me talk. I need to rest.”

And in an instant, he darted out of the office and left like the huge prick he was.

“No way, your ex-boyfriend cheated on you?”

The last hour of your shift was spent having boy talks with Becca and you ended up telling her about your ex from a year ago that you caught in bed with another girl.

“Yeah, he’s a dick,” you said. “I’m so glad I left him, though.”

You could never stay after he cheated because the feelings you had for him was long gone after he betrayed you. It was pretty stupid, actually. He was sleeping around just because he wasn’t satisfied with the time you were giving him. He knew your job could be hectic but that shouldn’t be enough reason for him to look at someone else if he really did love you.

Becca scrunched her nose in disgust. “Men are trash, but I’m glad Issei isn’t.”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, he does seem like a nice boyfriend to you.”

You checked the schedule for today and saw that Iwaizumi had two more trainees for the day. Based on their schedules, available trainers during MWF were Iwaizumi and Becca while the TThS schedule were for Issei and Hanamaki.

For a moment, you got distracted from your desk after seeing Iwaizumi getting way too close to his female trainee as he held her by the waist and guided her on how to do a proper roundhouse kick. She was giggling and whispering into his ear while he was smiling through it with his hands traveling on her hip.

Get a fucking room.

You heard Becca’s chuckle after she caught the look on your face and proceeded to give you an advice. “Be careful with Iwa. He’s got a lot of girls following him around.”

“I can see,” you noted, averting your eyes away from him. You shouldn’t even be getting jealous in the first place. What were you thinking? You were here because you were appointed to play a role that could help you in obtaining the necessary intel for the investigation, not to simply fool around with Iwaizumi. It was bad enough that your infatuation led you to having these unnecessary feelings for him when you should be knowing your limits. Surely, Chief Director Matsuda would hardly give any single damn whether you sleep with Hajime or not as long as you’d be able to stick to your assigned role and provide enough source when you report back to the office.

However, this was still not right.

But you didn’t know why you were more drawn to him either. The fact that the nature of your relationship in itself was risky, the fact that you wanted to get closer to him without barriers, the fact that you were a fucking undercover agent who found interest at a man who was breaking the law—why were you so captivated by the feeling? You wanted to continue it. You wanted to proceed whatever relations you had with Iwaizumi, sexual or not, because your heart was telling you to get to know him better. He had you wrapped around his fingers without realizing it.

When the clock struck 5, you were already rearranging the desk for the next receptionist on night shift and saw the girl coming out of the shower room after her training session with the man of your interest. You didn’t know if she did it on purpose but she specifically wore a plunging neckline that showed her main asset and you were quick to notice how Iwaizumi’s wandering eyes fed into it.

“Hey, nice session,” she flirtatiously told him just before she’d leave. “I had fun today.”

Iwaizumi returned her smile and winked at her. “Pleasure’s mine. See you again next week, gorgeous.”

Silently huffing, you decided to just head to the locker room and gather your stuff as you prepared to leave. You no longer wanted to witness another second of that man flirting with another girl after telling you that you belonged to him. Maybe it was a bit irrational of you, but he shouldn’t be claiming his possession on you when he was flirting with other women at the same time. Thankfully, there was no one else in the locker room when you came in because they’d have seen your annoyed expression. It didn’t take long though until you could smell the familiar scent approaching behind you. You suddenly couldn’t think straight.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi whispered on your ear as he held you from behind. “Is my princess going home?”

You held your breath and decided to be stubborn. “What do you think, boss?”

He released a low chuckle before leaving soft kisses on the crook of your neck. “I don’t think so. Stay with me for a little.”

It was challenging to ever stop yourself from submitting to his kisses because they placed your whole body on fire. Even his scent alone was enough to make your heart pound, plus his kisses? Cloud nine. He later twisted your hip so you could face him and he was looking down at you with a wanton gaze.

“I have to go,” you claimed, but didn’t even make an effort to move from his hold.

Iwaizumi responded with a shake of his head and a peck on your lips. You gave him a slight push but he found your resistance even more satisfying. “What’s wrong?”

You looked away knowing that when you did meet his gaze, you were going to fall for the trap. “I said I have to go and you have more girls waiting for you in there.”

He caught on and stared at you for the longest minute of your life before he showed entertainment at the reaction you were showing. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you quickly denied. You finally had the courage to move away from his grip and head back out, but before you could fully make it out of the locker room, you were surprised when he hastily pulled you into the storage room while locking the door.

It was barely lit and the room was full of gym equipments, mats, and boxing materials but it was the idea being alone with him that caused your heart to beat like crazy. “Hajime, what are you—”

“I won’t have another trainee until six,” he informed, pulling you by the waist. “Do something for me ‘til then.”

You scoffed, gently pushing him by the chest. “Why didn’t you ask that girl to do it for you, then? I’m sure she’d love to do it.”

The simper he displayed across his face was meant to ridicule you. And he kept the same expression on until he unbuttoned half of your shirt and exposed your red laced bra. “Stay still, princess.”

Your hand was on the back of his head when he dug his face on your chest, keeping you pinned against the wall as he sucked on your collarbone. “H-Hey.”

He was suckling on the skin and leaving dark purple marks all over—from your collar bone, to the valley between your breasts. Your tensed body became relaxed by the time he was satisfied with the amount of hickeys he had left before he proceeded to kiss you on the lips. You were breathing each other in with the desperate movements of your lips like you were sucking the life out of one another. You’ve never been kissed with tremendous fervor and it was achingly satisfying.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled your hair and made you look at his olive eyes—your innocent eyes met with his predatory ones. “You think you have the fucking right to be jealous?”

You breathed heavily as you were startled by his sudden aggression. “N-No.”

“Do you think you can monopolize me?” he probed, tauntingly. Each second that passed made his grip tighter and you were already wincing from the stretch on your scalp. “Answer me.”

“No,” you stated, furrowing your brows and frowning in protest. “But it’s fucking unfair that you’re saying I belong to you.”

“Because that’s how it works, princess.” He softened his hold on your hair and slid his hand down on your nape as he gave you more gentle smooch. “Get on your knees.”

Your eyes widened at his request and your heart was pounding from your chest. Why did you find this extremely attractive? Why couldn’t you resist him?

“Wh-Why?”

“Just do it.”

Maybe you were fucking stupid, because you did get on your knees like an obedient little girl and Iwaizumi was evidently aroused from it. He made you grab the waistband of his black trackpants along with his Calvin Klein boxers, peeling them down enough until his manhood sprung free.

His thick, veiny cock was right on your face, all hard and ready for you to enjoy. It was of the perfect size with his girth proportionate to his length and just about pleasing to a woman’s eyes. He had a stern gaze on you as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, unable to completely slide it down due to the lack of lubrication. “Put it in your mouth,” he ordered. “I don’t wanna feel no fuckin’ teeth.”

You took a hard swallow before you positioned his tip on your mouth, allowing your tongue to have a taste of the precum leaking from it. It was salty, musky, and you were hollowing your cheeks when you started sucking on it like lollipop. He released a guttural moan at the sight of his cock disappearing inside your mouth and this made him impatiently force all of it into the back of your throat.

“Agh, fuck.” He threw his head back while you gagged at the sudden oral penetration and your tears were beginning to pool on the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, baby.”

You released his dick with a pop and utilized your hand to give him pleasuring strokes. “Your cock’s so big,” you told him, pumping his shaft at face level. You ran your tongue on the skin under his incredible length starting from below going upwards.

He smiled smugly down at you, holding on to his member before using it to give your puckered lips a few playful slaps. “Spit on it.”

You obliged to his request and drew in a spit that was thick enough to coat his throbbing cock. You used your hand to vigorously pump his length before putting his hardened member fully back inside your mouth. It was amazing how you could feel an ache between your legs while pleasuring the gorgeous man before you and you were getting off to the sound of his moans with the slightest bob of your head.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” he lowly chuckled, pulling your hair into a ponytail as he strictly kept eye contact with you. “You’re gonna swallow every drop of my cum like the slut you are, get it?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, it was an order.

When you were allowing him to go deeper inside of your cavern, he started thrusting on his own pace while keeping your head still. The loud squelching noises and your muffled whimpers filled up the whole storage room but he didn’t pause to let you breathe. He continued fucking your face roughly, tilting your head so his tip could hit your cheek, and he was groaning at the feeling of your mouth acting as a suction to his dick. He repositioned himself back into your throat and pulled your hair so you could take him ‘balls deep’ as they would say.

Fuck, at that point, you were crying. Light tears were brimming from your eyes as his thrusts got faster and rougher. Still, you kept your eyes on him just as he told you. He looked ridiculously hot with his eyebrows creased and his lips parted to release his raspy moans until eventually, you felt hot spurts of seed shooting straight into the back of your throat. You already swallowed even before you got to taste them and by the time he pulled out of you, you were coughing and gasping for breath.

“Good girl, c’mere.” He pulled his pants back up before also pulling you into his arms. He caressed your face and wiped the tears on your cheek to kiss your lips gently. “Was I too rough?”

You wanted to say yes, but he might hold back next time if you did and to be brutally honest, you wanted him to keep going all out. “No, it was alright.”

Iwaizumi was like a switch. One minute, he was aggressive. The next, he’d be gentle.

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, feeling assured, before he tapped your ass and held your hand as the both of you walked out of the storage room. “Wait for me to finish here. I wanna spend some time with you.”

You didn’t expect that ‘spending some time’ meant that you were going to be in his apartment cuddling and literally being in the most ‘Netflix and chill’ situation. You believed if you didn’t have your period, he would probably be fucking your brains out right now because this man had such a high sex drive. You would love to do it, however, this was better—just chilling, cuddling in bed, watching random movies. Being intimate with this guy felt like a crime because you were allowing yourself to get close to him without thinking of the possible consequences it could bring. It could bite you back in the ass in the future, but you didn’t want to think of that right now. All you knew was that he wasn’t the primary suspect for the investigation and that was one less problem to worry about.

Besides, Hajime was a simple guy and it reflected through the setup of his own home. His apartment wasn’t small, but it also wasn’t extremely spacious. It was just at the perfect size for a fitness junkie who lived alone by himself. You didn’t want to think of the amount of women he’d brought home but you were certain that you weren’t the first one either.

“When did you start to, like, be interested in mixed martial arts?” you asked with your head rested on his toned chest. Your hand was under his shirt to touch his rock hard abs while his own hand was rubbing your back.

He pondered, searching the answer from the back of his mind. “I’ve always been into it. My dad was an instructor before and he used to hold MMA classes when I was young. My mom’s also a fitness trainer so you can say I’ve been exposed to this lifestyle my whole life.”

It was nice to hear him open up about it because you could finally see his life through his perspective. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

Your innocent questioned turned the atmosphere grim. You didn’t mean to ask a sensitive question, but it was just a question that naturally came up without much thought.

“Sorry, if that’s...” you paused, peeking at his face.

He simply shook his head and waved it off. “It’s fine, princess. They’re still alive, they’re in California. We moved there when I was eighteen but I moved back here ‘cause this is where my home is.”

Oh.. “California?” you wowed. “Do they still visit you here in Japan?”

“No,” he answered. “My dad’s bedridden but my mom looks after him.”

Oh my god... How could he say it so casually? You were beginning to feel awful at how you were making him tell you about the details in his life that were clearly traumatic, but it just seemed that he was taking it by himself to be transparent with you.

“There was a time when we were drowning in debt that we could barely survive, my dad got hired by an organization as a bodyguard since he can fight,” he recalled, staring at the ceiling while you listened intently. “He didn’t realize that he was working for the mafia before he got to quit, but police came into our house one night, arrested him without warrant and beat him brutally in front of me just to force information out of him. He didn’t have any, so they hit the back of his head and it damaged certain nerves in his brain that caused his vegetative state now. We only got to move to California with the help of my aunt and my sister, for his safety.”

Your heart hurt for him because you could feel how that awful memory was deeply etched in his mind and he could never forget it. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you softly whispered, hugging him closer for some comfort.

His breathing was static while he held you in his arms. “That’s why I fucking hate the police, you know? They did it to my dad without mercy. From then on, I swore to myself I’ll beat up any cop whoever tries to get in my business. The reason why I do underground fights is because the violence helps me release the pent up anger I have. You know when I’m inside the octagon, I just pretend I’m fighting against a cop and I get aggressive enough to beat them.”

He chuckled darkly but you found silence after hearing those words. It was frightening. You weren’t exactly a cop, but you were an agent who worked closely with the law enforcement and you were a hundred percent certain that Iwaizumi would hate your whole existence when he found out, especially the fact that you were currently undercover and lying to his face.

You didn’t even want to think about what would happen when that day comes.

“—what about you?” he asked, cutting you off your trance realizing that you have missed his question. “Where’s your family?”

“Kansai,” you answered, lost in your own thoughts.

Iwaizumi’s brows creased into confusion. “I thought you said your family moved back here to Tokyo?”

Shit. “My mom and dad separated,” you quickly clarified. “I’m only here with my dad.”

That wasn’t a lie, your parents did separate. Except, your mom was in another country and not in Kansai.

“Where does your dad work?” he inquired and you were mentally cursing yourself as you were trying to recall the fake identity that was provided to you.

“He a real-estate agent,” you answered firmly.

Iwaizumi, however, kept asking for more. “Why’d you apply to be a gym receptionist, then? Your dad earns a lot, does he?”

Don’t blow your cover. Don’t blow your cover.

“I wanna make money independently,” you said to him. “Besides, I took sports science in college but didn’t finish my degree so it’s hard to get a decent job like yours.”

Lies. You took Forensic Science.

You decided to distract him before he could ask further questions by leaving light kisses on his jawline. “Kiss me.”

Thankfully, he was easy to succumb as he smiled, leaning closer until you were nose-to-nose. “Pucker up, princess.”

Your second time at the underground fight club was because Iwaizumi told you to watch his fight. You were excited to do so because you’ve been wanting to see what he could do inside the octagon. You knew he wasn’t going to disappoint but you were also curious if he was really as good as Becca described.

That Friday night, the club was packed more than the last and the current fight between fighters Ryunosuke Tanaka aka Buzzcut and Koutarou Bokuto who was already introduced to you as Rampage. There was a vast difference between their weight class with Buzzcut leaning towards bantamweight and Rampage under light heavyweight. Bokuto still found it hard to defeat Tanaka because the guy had insane techniques using Karate with a mix of Muay Thai, but the winner for that fight was still none other than the powerhouse boxer.

The buff dude was even screaming around saying, “I’m still the best after all!” as he basked in his victory.

You were on the front row by the time Iwaizumi’s match was coming up. For tonight, he was going to fight against Akinori Konoha, who went under the nickname Jack of All Trades because apparently his skills ranged between Taekwondo, Muay Thai, and Kickboxing. All stand attacks.

“Isn’t he like, very different from Hajime’s fighting style?” you asked, glancing between both Oikawa and Becca who were beside you. “Haji focuses on BJJ and grappling, right?”

Becca shook her head to correct you. “What makes Iwa great is that he’s familiar with all fighting styles. He’s just exceptionally good in some areas, but he knows how to adjust his style depending on the type of fighter he’s up against.”

Damn. That was fucking sexy of him.

“You don’t have to worry about it. He’s gonna win,” Oikawa confidently claimed as you heard the crowd roar.

You suddenly recalled how Oikawa apparently did Capoeira and you were curious. “Tooru, are you gonna fight soon?”

He shrugged. “Maybe next week against Miya.”

Iwaizumi then appeared on the sideline with his usual black shorts and dark green handwraps. You glanced at the tiger tattoo on his chest and realized that he was heading towards you.

“Princess, put this on for me,” he said, handing his MMA gloves to you. He stretched his hand out and you carefully inserted his fingers inside the gloves while he was talking to Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan, you better grapple him and put him on guillotine choke,” Tooru told him, patting his back. “If you win tonight, Y/N’s gonna give you pussy.”

You sent Tooru a look of disbelief. “I didn’t say that!”

Iwaizumi snortled as he briefly glanced at his opponent from the other side and then back at you. “Wanna see me ravage him, princess?”

You nodded once after securing his gloves around his wrist. “Be careful, okay?”

“Yo, Tiger.” Kuroo called from behind as he called him to get inside the octagon cage. “It’s time to get in.”

Both Oikawa and Issei gave him fistbumps. “Good luck, bro.”

You were stunned when Iwaizumi leaned in to kiss you on the lips while earning looks of intrigue from everyone in that place. He later smiled and winked at you before running towards the octagon to meet with his opponent.

All the while, you could barely process what just happened. You just didn’t expect that he’d kiss you in front of everyone and now you were seen as ‘Young Tiger’s girl’ as if it was to let everyone know that they couldn’t hit on you.

Nonetheless, it was pretty fucking cool how they played El Chapo when Iwaizumi and Konoha entered the octagon cage, facing each other and listening to the rules reminded by Hanamaki who was still the acting referee for the night. Iwaizumi was putting his mouthpiece on as he gave the Jack of All Trades a staredown in a typical act of intimidation. Konoha, however, was unfazed by the Young Tiger’s presence despite the overpowering cheers your man was receiving from the crowd.

“Let’s go, Young T!” Becca screamed, clapping her hands in encouragement.

Bokuto and Kuroo were also standing behind you as they cheered for the guys. You could hear Bokuto betting on Konoha while Kuroo stayed loyal to Iwaizumi.

The ring girl walked around the cage with a cardboard sign that indicated Round 1 and almost immediately, the two opponents exchanged fistbumps before they circled each other.

You couldn’t understand why you were so damn nervous when you watched Iwaizumi doing a hustle and charging at the guy who was quick to make his own move. Konoha tried to hit with a jab but Hajime tilted his body to dodge the attack, and in return, he threw a right hook punch.

You finally saw it with your own two eyes. Iwaizumi had quick attacks, almost fast movements that the eyes could barely catch as he hit from everywhere. He was ruthless and unstoppable.

“Hell yeah, that’s my bro!” Oikawa proudly grinned as you watched how Konoha lost balance from Iwaizumi’s violent hits.

Konoha retaliated with a downward roundhouse kick that lightly hit the side of Young Tiger’s head. If Iwaizumi didn’t have fast reflexes, the impact would have given him a concussion but this only made him exhilarated. Lord, you could never forget the smile on his face after he realized that Konoha was actually a decent fighter who wouldn’t back down easily. It was like he was thrilled and electrified by the challenge to win against his opponent.

When Becca told you that Young Tiger was bloodthirsty, this was exactly what she meant.

Throughout the next few rounds, the attacks given by Iwaizumi were some hooks and straight punches along with some axe kicks and foot jabs. His best and most brutal attack was when he clinched the guy before sending a horizontal knee strike to his left torso. It was the first time throughout the match where the undefeated champion used a BJJ technique and that was a very bad sign for Konoha, knowing that once Iwaizumi got into the zone and started performing his Jiu Jitsu skills, it was over.

You felt bad for the dirty-blond guy because he was absolutely thrashed, annihilated without mercy.

But he was a true fighter because he didn’t fully submit to Iwaizumi despite his blackeye and possibly broken rib.

“Haji,” you muttered, holding your hands together as you watched a very aggressive Konoha successfully hitting Iwaizumi’s face with a killer elbow strike. “Oh my god, no!”

There was blood coming out of Iwaizumi’s nose but he didn’t let it distract his focus. His eyebrows were even all scrunched up as he prepared for his next move.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. He’s got this,” Becca reassured to you.

Oikawa cupped his hands around his mouth before amusingly yelling, “Iwa, he’s a cop! Kill him!”

You then remembered how Iwaizumi told you that he just had to imagine that his opponent was his most hated person and that was enough for him to bring out his full potential.

You could feel your pulse quickening when he clinched the Jack of All Trades using the back of his arm, wrapping it around the guy’s neck while his legs were locked around his torso. You realized that it was his deadly guillotine choke and the crowd were overhyping the mastered technique as Konoha tried to resist from Iwaizumi’s strong hold to no avail. His face was turning red from the lack of oxygen but Hajime gave him no mercy.

With a desperate tap on Iwaizumi’s body, the fight was over. Konoha lost by submission and was barely breathing when the undefeated Young Tiger released him. He soon ran around the octagon following his victory and his trademark victory song, the Travis Scott version of Crank That was playing on the background.

Hajime Iwaizumi, without a doubt, was a fucking animal.

After the fight, Iwaizumi was surrounded by his fans and other underground fighters who praised the last attack he did on Konoha that earned him another victory. It was impossible to have Iwaizumi’s attention while he was still being flocked with people so you took that opportunity to take a quick bathroom break.

However, you didn’t expect that Tobio would suddenly snatch you out of nowhere and take you inside the fire exit.

Your eyes were wide as you didn’t expect to see him here tonight. “What are you doing? Don’t you have a fight?”

He was catching his breath when looked at you intently. “Next week. Listen, I have something to—” he paused when his eyes caught on the hickeys around your chest that your blouse barely covered. “What in the actual fuck?”

Here we go again. “It’s none of your b—”

“You’re a fucking Intelligence Officer, not a prostitute!” he angrily snapped and you were highly offended by it. “Why are you sleeping with a criminal?”

You stood in a defensive stance. “He’s not guilty unless proven. You don’t know him.”

“And you do?” he laughed, sardonically. “You know that’s a dumb reasoning.”

God. Why was he so mad about it? He could literally just mind his business while you two dealt with the case individually. There was no need to pry on whoever you were hooking up with.

You exhaled and glared at him. “What do you want from me?”

You figured that Tobio wanted to argue more but decided against it because he had another important information to tell you. “Listen to me, while the fight was going on, I saw the Evo outside the damn parking lot.”

The Evo? As in the...

“Shit. Where is it now?” you asked in panic because holy shit.

He shook his head in frustration. “The car left before I could catch the license plate but now I’m sure as hell that the suspect was here and left. We need to find out who that person is so go out there and try to see if you know anyone who snuck out of the warehouse during the fight.”

You pursed your lips as you tried to think deeply. “It’s not anyone from Hajime’s circle, I was with them.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “Whatever, just do what you need to do and I’ll do mine.”

You really couldn’t believe that the suspect was in the warehouse and there was a huge possibility that you’ve crossed paths. In fact, it might have been one of the few people that was introduced to you today.

Tobio gave you a look of disapproval as you two left the fire exit but you froze from your spot when you saw Hajime looking at the two of you with a suspicious stare.

At that moment, your heart pumped heavily from your chest.

“Had fun sneaking around behind my back?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

index.

PSIA = FBI (Japan equivalent)

CIRO = CIA (Japan equivalent)

TMPD = Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

general taglist: @x-cloudyyyy @iwazubean @elianetsantana @cottonheadedninnymugggins @centvry @kageyamakock @sunnsettee @bluesylveon2 @tsukkisfatsimp @cuddlesslut @mysteriousparker @asdfghjkl7things @02hhsailor @anejuuuuoy @minswags-posts @chemnerdkuroo @misssugarless @deeznutss @tanakax123 @oikawa-bubs @lust4keiji @black-kuroover @stel9 @tsumuuwu @daylghits @semibaby @crescenttooru @ems1des @the-golden-jhope @wonyoschubs @bakus-stuff

ufc taglist: @uwubby-1 @afire24 @lovingcupcakeavenue @lore-olympian @stankbootybaby @bongofrito @winunk @tsukkiswifeey @toumie @alltimeluw @nxynxy @agaashesmilktea @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @kuroosacchi @idiomaticpunk @zoebuttler126

[teeth-farie]

Kinktober Day 6: Bondage | Shibari

Lucio/GN Reader

☞. . . I’m not too happy with this one, specifically with how much bondage is involved, but I hope you all enjoy it :)

He’s gone the entire day with your ropes wrapped around his body. He’d even wore a shirt that didn’t show his chest, much to his own distaste. You told him that the fun was in keeping it a secret. To be quite honest, Lucio didn’t care about who saw it; in fact, he liked being on display. But he knew your rules, and you didn’t like to share.

His chambers couldn’t welcome him quickly enough. You’re waiting for him, an extra length of gold rope laying in your lap. Your cool exterior makes him sweat, a calm demeanor that intimidates. “Come here, pet.”

Lucio can’t clamber to you quickly enough, falling onto his knees before you. You pet his head, threading your fingers through his blonde hair. “Let me see those pretty ropes.”

Agile fingers unbutton his shirt, flashes of pale skin and twisting restraints exposing themselves. Shimmering strands of gold rope wrap around his chest and shoulders, dipping down into his waistband. “You did good, keeping these on.” You caress his face, trailing a finger down his jaw. “How about I reward you?” He nods, blood pooling between his legs. You smile, a wolfish grin full of promise and mischief. You stand, circling behind him. His arms are pulled back, crossed behind his back and secured with your rope. “Stand.”

And he does, heeled shoes clicking against the floor as he catches his balance. You’ve thoroughly beat the brat from him, leaving an obedient boy behind, one who craves your attention and affection. Really, it’s surprising what three years of deprivation can cause.

You loop the rope around his neck in a makeshift collar and leash, giving it a testing tug. Lucio groans, following forward in reflex. You take your place sitting on the bed, forcing him to stay standing in front of you. “For your reward,” you begin, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down his thighs. The rope wraps around his thighs and groin, pressing into the joints of his hips. “I’ll let you set the pace.” You grab his cock, giving a few pumps before you become still. “Now, be a good boy and fuck my hand.”

Lucio shivers, slowly grinding against your hand. It’s warm and soft, and all his restraint flies out the window. He rocks his hips, thrusting into your fist with a newfound desperation. It’s hard with his heels, keeping a firm stance, and even harder with his hands tied behind his back. Maybe that’s why you did this—even with a reward, you always make him work for it, make him beg.

You tug the leash and Lucio nearly tumbles forward, stumbling over himself. Inevitably, his forehead comes to rest against yours, amber eyes locked on yours—frenzied and wide. You tighten your fist and he bites down on his lip, the tiny fang of his canines digging into his skin.

You kiss him, just barely brushing your lips against his. His eyebrows furrow, hips pumping, fists clenched behind his back. He wants more, he wants to grab and cling and kiss you harsher. He wants to feel your teeth dig into him, your tongue down his throat, anything.

“You look pathetic like this.” You grin, a lazy smirk gracing your lips. “Humping my hand like a dog.” You tug on the rope again, and Lucio’s nose presses against yours. “Do you want some kisses?” Your voice takes a sweeter lilt. Lucio nods quickly, hissing when your thumb digs into the head. “Yesss,”

“Then bark. Come on, woof like the dog you are.” There’s something sadistic in your eyes, like a haze swirling in your iris. Lucio finds himself wanting to drown in it. The humility burns under his skin. He licks his lips, whining so pitifully as you squeeze the base of his cock.

“Woof,”

The ropes burn tight around his wrists, digging into his throat where you’re so insistently tugging. It teases the idea of strangling him, robbing him of his breath. Maybe, if he’s truly a good boy, you’ll do just that.

You finally allow him to kiss you, and he does so sloppily. He’s urgent, shoving his tongue into your mouth and biting on your lips. You forgo your grip on the makeshift leash to grab his face, pulling him back. “Settle! Is that anyway for you to behave?” You squeeze his cock tightly, a warning that he takes with a choked gasp. Your fingers still press harshly into his cheeks, puckering his lips in a way that only fuels his humiliation. He whimpers, and shakes his head. You relinquish your grip on his face and grab the rope again, wrapping it around your fist. “Sit on my lap, come on.” You widen your legs, offering a thigh for him to clamber up on. Lucio follows your orders, settling on your lap, moaning so pitifully at the feeling of your cool skin pressing against his burning, swollen dick.

You feel behind him, gripping onto the ropes criss-crossing around his arms. You pull on the restraints and his back arches in pure reflex, bending into a near perfect arc. His hips jut forward, smearing precum in your leg.

“There we go, little Lucio. You can have my leg tonight.”

[fairy-writes]

could you do a one-shot angst of the ranpo that your s/o is in the hospital for this sick or seriously injured please?

I’LL SOLVE THIS CASE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Edogawa Ranpo x Gender Neutral!Reader

TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF CAR CRASH ACCIDENT INJURIES

L/N = Last Name

__________________________________________________________________________

Ranpo paced in the visitor’s lounge of the hospital.

He was the only one left. He had declined any rest, and the idea of leaving was out of the question. It was well past midnight and nearing three in the morning.

He had gotten the call eight hours ago.

You had been in a car accident. Police had reason to believe the driver who hit you had done it on purpose.

When he got the call, he immediately demanded someone take him to the hospital, shouting at anyone who had gotten in his way. Unfortunately, Yosano was out of the country on a mission and couldn’t help your injuries, so you had to wait until she got back before healing you.

If you survived, that is.

Doctors said the car accident was severe. You had been t-boned and actually ejected out the passenger side of your car by an explosion and into the window display of a furniture store before anyone could get to you. Paramedics said they hadn’t expected you to survive before making it to the hospital, not with as bad as your injuries had been.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention, and he whipped around to see the chief of surgery and two nurses. Blood splattered the fronts of their surgical gown covers; they hadn’t even had the chance to change yet before delivering the news.

“Mr. Edogawa Ranpo?” The doctor asked, peeling off his gloves and tossing them into a trash can.

“That’s me. How-”

“It was a harsh surgery. L/N sustained massive burns all over their body as well as lacerations and broken bones. But we have substantial reason to believe that if they make it through the night, they’ll pull through.” Ranpo felt his knees shake and nearly give way but steeled himself.

If you made it through the night, you would be okay.

You would be okay.

You had to be.

The doctor left, and one of the nurses took over.

“I can take you to see them if you’d like.” She offered, and Ranpo immediately nodded.

“Yes. I want- no, I need to see them.” He declared, and she nodded, but she didn’t look happy; she looked nervous.

And that made Ranpo nervous.

“It’s worse than it seems, isn’t it.” He whispered, and the nurse nodded solemnly.

“It’s a miracle they survived at all.” She said quietly and led him down the halls to your hospital room. Then, just outside the door, she paused and turned to Ranpo.

“I should caution you. It looks awful. And until your skill user can get here, they are fighting for their life. Just be wary that they won’t look the same.” She said before leaving Ranpo to his own devices. With a swallow, he turned the door handle and opened the door.

The room stunk of antiseptic. Ranpo could barely see your hair through all the wrappings around your face. It was swollen and bruised, lacerations covering your lips where the glass had cut them, and superficial burns disfigured your nose and face. You didn’t open your eyes. Your arms were stretched out in front of you, suspended in the air and steel pins stuck out from your knuckles and finger joints.

Bandages covered every inch of your body, and large casts encased both of your legs. A chest brace covered your chest, and Ranpo could barely make out the hospital gown underneath all of it. And to top it off, a neck brace kept you from moving your head at all from where it lay cushioned on the pillows.

Ranpo called your name softly, and you stirred, letting out a soft moan of pain as you awakened and all the pain came rushing back into your consciousness. He felt terrible as he crept forward and reached out, setting his hand as lightly as he could against your arm that wasn’t covered in injuries. He repeated your name, and he saw your head stir once more, trying to shift to look at him through bruise-swollen eyes.

“It’s me, Ranpo.” He said softly, and your hands twitched, you letting out a soft sigh of relief and pain at having someone there you recognized.

Against his will, he felt tears well up in his eyes, and he scrubbed furiously at them with his free hand that wasn’t touching you.

“They haven’t found the guy yet. Police think it was on purpose. I’m going to take a look at it soon, but I wanted to see how you were doing.” He said and saw tears leak out from under your eyelids, soaking the bandages wrapping your face. He felt his lips curl in a harsh sneer, and he clenched his hands into fists in the fabric of his pants.

“I’ll find this man, I promise you. I’ll solve this case, I swear it.”

[tangledstarlight]

You really asking for angsty prompts this morning huh?

#4 for Wille and Alex? (I just love them a lot and think they’re pretty great and there’s smthg about how they’re so soft with each other IT MAKES ME CRY)

i really did, and then i wrote this and honestly, it’s just very sweet not any angst in sight despite what the triggers might suggest gfgdh i just think alex should get to carry willie somewhere 🤷🏻‍♀️ thank you for sending one!! 💕

hurt/comfort dialogue prompts!!

( triggers warnings!! injury and blood mention ) 

4. Can you walk? I’d be happy to carry you.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Alex calls as he watches Willie start walking up the stairs in front of the closed museum, skateboard tucked under one arm and white helmet glinting the street lights. 

“What? Don’t believe I can do it?” There’s a challenge in Willie’s voice as he looks over his shoulder at him and Alex rolls his eyes a little. 

“I didn’t say that,” he blows out a sigh, leaning against the little wall on the side of the stairs as Willie makes it to the top. Alex watches as he checks the strap on his helmet and pats the pads on his elbows –– which sure, okay, Alex had started getting him to wear, but he was just concerned! A broken elbow could seriously hurt! –– and throws a thumbs up down to him.

Alex watches it happen in what feels like slow motion. Willie’s setting his board down at the top, wheels start turning as he pushes off, a few blissful seconds as he moves down the smooth expanse of concrete in the middle, then a wheel hits something, and he’s falling, rolling, tumbling to the ground with a thud that makes Alex wince. 

Pushing away from the wall he runs over to his boyfriend who’s slowly pushing himself up onto his knees (and mentally, Alex adds knee pads to his list of things to buy for the skater) with a hissed breath. 

“Are you okay?” he asks crouching down next to him, a gentle hand on his back as Willie tilts his scrapped palms towards him. 

“Had worse,” there’s a wry smile on his face as he looks up at him and Alex shakes his head. 

“I don’t know who’s worse,” Alex mutters, pulling at the zip on his fanny pack to find some wipes, “You or Luke for getting hurt. 

“Oh you gotta say Luke for that one,” Willie starts, holding his hands out when Alex tears off the top of the antiseptic wipe and carries on his thought at his raised brow, “He’d pick a fight with a lamppost if it looked at one you guys funny and get hurt when he lost, I just get hurt by the ground on the rare occasions that accidentally I fall.” 

“That–– okay,” Alex shakes his head, eyes on his job, “You do remember that the way we met was because you knocked me down right? And you fell off your board.” 

“Who said that was an accident?” 

Alex looks up at him, eyes slightly squinted as he tries to decide if he’s joking or telling the truth. But it’s hard to tell by the growing smile on his face and the gleam in his eye. It could be either. Huffing out a laugh Alex rolls his eyes, poking Willie gently in the cheek while he balls up the dirty wipe in his other hand. 

“You’re impossible.” 

There’s a bin near where he’d previously been standing next to the wall and Alex is all of one step towards it when he hears Willie let out a gasp of pain behind him. Turning around quickly he sees Willie standing awkwardly bent over, both hands gripping the ankle of his right leg slightly off the ground. 

“What? What happened?” Alex is back by his side in a heartbeat, one hand on his lower back and the other on his shoulder to help keep him steady. 

“Think I twisted my ankle,” Willie grits out, glancing up at him with a wince. And it’s not good but it’s also not the worst news so Alex can’t help but sigh slightly in relief. 

“Okay, let's sit you back down then.” Hopping slightly, Alex leads Willie over the stairs he’d climbed up only minutes before and helps him sit down on the third from the bottom. Willie starts rubbing at his ankle, rolling up the cuffs of his jeans to see the slightly swollen joint. 

Chewing on his bottom lip Alex paces –– finally –– towards the bin and throws out the wipe and back over to Willie, eyeing the injured ankle with a minor sense of trepidation about the walk back to their flat. 

“Can you walk?” he finally asks, stopping in front of Willie and bending down so their eye level, “I’d be happy to carry you.” 

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and he knows immediately by the wide grin stretching across Willie’s face that he’s about to be used as transport. 

“Bridal style?” Willie asks, looking at him innocently with wide eyes that might have worked when they’d first started dating but Alex has been saying no to the combined puppy dog eyes of Luke and Reggie since he was eight, he’s immune.

“Only when we’re married,” he says, dropping a quick kiss on Willie’s hair line before turning around and looking at him over his shoulder, “Jump on.” 

Turning back around Alex doesn’t see him get up, but he does feel as Willie wraps his arms around his neck, and his legs around his waist. With a small grunt, he pushes up from the ground, one hand gently gripping his sore ankle and the other readjusts his fanny pack on his chest. 

“You good?” He asks, turning his head a little so he can peer at Willie slightly who’s resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go home,” he says gently, breath ghosting across his jaw that makes Alex suppress a slight shiver before a kiss is pressed into its place. Checking once more then Willie’s secure on his back and that they’ve not left anything behind, Alex ducks his head down to press a light kiss to Willie’s knuckles where they’re linked around his neck and starts walking home.

[spectralscathath]

Run Boy Run, This World is Not Made For You

Grown men shouldn't beat up kids. Mercury knows that in his bones.

Spoilers for RWBY Volume 8: "Fault". Ao3 link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hazel had left the room.

Mercury stayed perched in the alcove he'd lodged himself into, the Grimm muscle pulsing around him as he used the flesh and sludge to hide where he could in this place. When fighting and running failed, Mercury fell back on hiding.

He dropped down, boots silent despite their weight as he took quick, quiet steps into the room, just to see what all the fuss was about. Emerald was being boring and horndogging after Cinder with her fucked-up mommy issues, and Mercury knew better than to stay in any public areas in case Tyrian got bored and wanted to play a rousing round of 'pick on Mercury'. Fuck that shit.

He slipped in, the smell of blood and vomit hitting his nose. A luckier man would have flinched. Mercury barely registered it. He studied the tiny form in a fuck-ugly green jacket, the kid's back to him.

That was the kid from Haven. The Ozpin kid.

He noticed the kid was shaking at the same time he heard tiny whimpers, and it rang in his ears with too much familiarity.

a ring with a ram's head insignia, a fist with a missing finger, knuckles gnarled and knobbled like tree bark-

"you think you can talk back to me, boy?"

pain blooming in his eye, something cracking in his cheek-

Mercury shook his head and walked over out of morbid curiosity, prowling around the kid like a hungry dog slank around free food, suspicious of a catch.

The kid was in bad shape. His skin swollen and mottled with an ugly rainbow of bruises, one eye swollen shut and his nose crunched in like some kind of fucked-up bulldog, weeping blood and snot all over his face. His arms and legs were curled tight, gangly childish limbs pulled close to protect the squishy bits of the body, but he wasn't curled so tight into a ball. Mercury clocked the broken ribs from that alone, the way each breath wheezed and hitched extra confirmation.

The kid wasn't crying.

Not for lack of trying, however.

One eye was scrunched shut, tears clumped on the lashes as each attempt at a heaving sob turned into a reedy whistle, unable to get the air in for a real cry, unable to get it out either. Vomit coated the boys front, like he'd been hit in the stomach enough to empty his guts. Probably had, knowing Hazel's hits.

the heavy swing of leather before a metal buckle cracked against his forearm, thrown up in desperation-

a growl. an insult. a vice-like grip on his wrist, grinding the bones together until it hurt, wrenching his arm down out of the way-

skin split on his jaw, down to bloodied bone-

Mercury gritted his teeth, shoving away memories of a boy's voice, high and too young, whimpering and apologising for a broken rule that he didn't know existed until Dad said he'd fucked up. He'd been so fucking weak back then. Pathetic.

Eventually crying had turned to anger, and Mercury had gotten bigger, started yelling back, hitting back. Dad hadn't liked that.

His legs ached even though there was nothing there that could ache.

He dropped down into a crouch, a bloodshot green-gold eye opening as the kid finally registered someone was there, trying to cringe away like a dog that had been kicked, raising his hands weakly in front of his face as a shield. Mercury absently noted that forearms didn't bend that way.

broken fingers dabbing water into open wounds, trying to bandage them up as dad snored downstairs, a bottle in one hand and blood on the other. biting back any sound as he tried to fix himself up so he could do it all over again tomorrow. hide, found, beating, quiet. he just wanted it to end.

shaking hands with wrenched fingers did their best, but scars stayed forever.

"no self-respecting assassin uses just one hand, c'mere you little shit-"

The crooked fingers on Mercury's right hand had never fully aligned themselves, and sometimes he could tell a storm was coming when they started to twinge.

Mercury wondered what the fuck he was gonna do now. He'd sated his curiosity. He'd seen what was going on in here.

What now?

He should leave. Before Salem found out and he ended up a heap of blood and snot like this kid.

He should just go.

"you think crying out for help's gonna do anything, you fucking crybaby?" the rough smell of cheap whiskey made him gag. "ain't no one gonna hear you out here. toughen up and take it like a man."

No one ever helped. He had to kill Dad himself.

The thought of this kid trying to do the same to Hazel punched a laugh out of him, the kid flinching bodily at the sound.

Mercury reached for his belt, pulling out the utility knife he kept on the back, emptying his cargo pockets of the small first aid kit he'd carried everywhere, unwilling to ever part from the one thing that had been key to him making it this long.

Oscar flinched with every sound and movement Mercury made, a streaming hiss escaping between his teeth. Mercury paused for a moment, listening, and the breathy sound turned to familiar words.

"pleasepleasepleasepleasedonthurtmeplease-"

Mercury reached out with calloused fingers and gloved hands, cutting the kid's jacket off him with efficient movements before he began shredding the ugly lump  of fabric into usable strips.

He tapped the kid's jaw, carefully keeping it light. "Oi. Eyes open, squirt. Eat this-" he shoved the white tablet at him, garbage painkillers Merc only used whenever the pain that constantly wracked through his body became bad enough that he didn't want to move.

The kid complied, something under the mess of burst blood vessels and swollen skin pulling a face at the taste. Little fucker.

Mercury didn't say anything else, not knowing what to say as he used a formerly-disgusting jacket for makeshift bandages, not bothering to give the kid a count as he wrenched a broken forearm back into place and tied it off.

He dabbed away the blood, snot and tears, until the kid looked slightly more human and less like a butcher's slab. That big puppy dog's eye followed his movements, and the kid stopped flinching back from him.

Mercury finished his work and put everything away, metal joints creaking from being in a crouch for so long.

"... thank you." The kid rasped out, throat hoarse. Mercury didn't have any water to give him. Sucked for the kid.

"Don't thank me." Mercury stood up, dusting his hands free of the mess. The kid would learn. Any time spent healing meant more shit to break the  next day. Mercury was just prolonging the rest of the kid's life, probably because he was just as much of a sadist as everyone else in this hellhole. Attack dogs didn't make for healers.

"Try pass out early next time, if you can. Might work." Didn't for Mercury, once dad copped on and started waking him up. But hey, Hazel was stupid, could work on dumb muscle like him.

The kid looked like he was about to say something else, and Mercury walked away before he could.

"getting soft, boy."

No he fucking wasn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am Manifesting 'Oscar is the Dionysus to Merc's Hermes and therefore Merc is getting the kid outta there’   ✨ ✨ ✨

[historyteachershanemadej]

Would you write a piece about Ryan and Shane shot gunning? Like maybe Ryan showing Shane how it works and they end up just making out while high? It can escalate or not, I’m cool with either!

I love shot gunning so much, here you go! This one was lots of fun so I kinda went off <3 

CW for weed but that should be it! 

Ryan’s room was filled with the smell of weed, the sunlight peeking through his blinds giving the rising wisps of smoke a ghost-like life to them and Shane lifted a heavy arm to pass through it, disruptive. He lolled his head over to look at Ryan who was laying on the floor next to him, head tipped back, exhaling smoke through an open mouth and Shane forgot to breathe for a moment. With his neck so exposed and the afternoon sunlight washed all over him, Ryan looked golden. Like a marble statue but bronze...no wait, gold..

Okay, Shane was a little stoned but Ryan always looked that good, you know? Thick haze of smoke over Shane’s brain or not, it was totally unfair. “So, smoked out of a fruit, we got that one down,” Ryan said, passing over the hollowed out strawberry with a lit joint sticking out of it to Shane, “now what other stoner staples have you never done?” He inquired. 

It all started with a picture Ryan saw on some douchey 420 page he followed of some gigantic fruit bong. “Man, it’s been forever since I’ve done something like that.” Ryan said, showing him the picture and Shane scoffed, saying it was stupid. Ryan proceeded to go on for 30 minutes on the different ‘stoner milestones’ that apparently everyone in the world who smokes needs to do, and every one that he listed of course Shane hadn’t, which set Ryan off on a bucket list for him. 

“Gravity bong?” “No way in hell I’m doing that.” “Use a page out of a bible for a joint?” “Do you own a bible, Ryan?” “Well...no but I probably should.” “You ever smoked out of a Volcano?” “Oh, yeah, actually” There was a few beats of silence before Ryan softly asked, “Have you ever shotgunned with someone?” Shane’s hazy vision came back into focus and he looked over at Ryan, who was already watching him with an intensity that surprised him a little. “No, I’ve not done that one either.” He answered and rolled off his back and to his side to face Ryan, soft smile on his lips, lifting the end of the strawberry to his lips and sucking in another lungful of smoke, maintaining eye contact as he passed it over. Ryan took it, sighing a little at the brush of their fingers. “D’you wanna?” He asked, eyes dropping from Shane’s to his lips and back and Shane felt a jump in his belly. 

“Ryan, we’ve never kissed before.” Shane said but his face betrayed him, a smile spreading over his features. He’d do pretty much anything to have Ryan close in any way possible, of course he’d want this. “But you want to!” Ryan exclaims as he watches the smile the other is unable to contain and presses the question. “C’mon Shane, let me teach you, you’ll like it.” Shane couldn’t help the frustrated noise that came out of him and he nodded his head enthusiastically. “Okay, okay, yeah. I’m down Ry.” 

Ryan had them both sit up and he crowded in close to him. “Okay so, when I bring my mouth to yours you're just gonna inhale, but lightly, yeah?”  Shane’s palms were sweating and he rubbed them on his jeans, nodding and giving a little breathless laugh. “I’m ready for it, little guy, show me whatcha got.” He teased as he watched Ryan inhale, bringing smoke into his lungs before leaning in close, grabbing Shane gently by the collar and bringing him forward for their mouths to meet. He left his mouth a little open as Ryan pressed his lips to his and as he started to exhale, Shane inhaled, taking all that he gave him into his lungs. Before pulling away from him Ryan gave a closed mouth kiss to the side of his mouth and Shane exhaled the smoke into the air above them. “S’nice.” Ryan said, absentmindedly, grinning at him and it was so easy to mirror it back. “Yeah.” Shane exhaled. “Again?”

They passed lungfuls of smoke to each other a few times, each time both of them getting bolder, pressing harder kisses until Ryan was smushing the butt of the joint and crawling into Shane’s lap, where his back was resting against Ryan’s wall. “You gonna kiss me still?” He asked sweetly, giving him his best puppy dog eyes and Shane slid a hand up his back and into his hair, letting the other rest on the younger’s thigh. “Ryan, I’d kiss you all day if you’d let me.” Ryan's eyes brighten and he hummed happily. With that he brought their mouths together, kissing him deep, hands on Ryan's neck and hip. Ryan was so responsive in his arms, running his hands down Shane’s chest, up his arms, kissing him back hard, with such enthusiasm that their teeth clacked and Shane couldn’t care less that the fists Ryan was making in his favorite button up would fuck up the fabric. 

Ryan was the first to break apart for breath, chest heaving and his mouth red and a little swollen. “Shane, Shane, I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.” He gasped and Shane tightened the hold he had on Ryan’s waist. “God, me too, Ry, can’t believe we’re doing this, wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, fuck.” Shane admits, pressing kisses to his neck and the underside of his jaw. Ryan whined and rolled his hips in Shane’s lap, gasping when he felt the hard press of Shane’s cock against his ass, body acting before mind and he started rocking down on him, looping his arms around Shane’s neck. 

“Wish you would've told me, you could’ve had me, Shane, you can have me now, fuck,” He babbles as Shane holds him tight, rutting into Ryan’s ass. “Yeah?” Shane asked, he never let himself imagine these scenarios, too afraid of giving his heart the wrong idea, never thought he could have this. Have Ryan squirming and hard in his lap, kissing him like he didn’t give a fuck about air. He tugged at the bottom of Ryan’s shirt and helped him pull it over his head, hands immediately finding themselves on these smooth expanse of his chest, mapping it out greedy, letting his hands cup the bottom of his pecs before smoothing his thumbs across his nipples, back and forth gently. “Oh, oh fuck, Shane, please.” He keened, rocking his hips with more intent on Shane’s cock, causing a deep groan out of him. 

“Can I-can I please get my mouth on you? Need it so bad, want to taste you Shane, please.” He could tell from the shamelessness before seeing his glassy eyes how gone Ryan was, he could only imagine he was leaking in his underwear. “God, you do need it bad, don’t you little guy?” He said as he maneuvered Ryan off his lap, chuckling at the needy whine he gave at the loss of touch. “Shhh now, just gonna stand so you can suck my cock, that sound good, angel?” He mused, drunk with the feeling of dominance Ryan was giving him, the way he was looking up at him like Shane hung the stars. “Please.” He shuffled up to his knees as Shane worked open his belt and the front of his jeans, stopping just before pulling them down to catch Ryan’s eye for a moment. A question in this eyes. “Please, Shane.” He says, clarity and determination in his voice and that’s all Shane needed to hear. 

The first touch of Ryan’s hand, one steadying himself on Shane’s thigh, the other gently wrapping around his length sent all the breath out of his lungs. “God, Shane, your dick is so nice.” He mused, stroking him slowly from root to tip and Shane squeezed his hands together. "I'm so mad it took us so long to do this." Was the last thing he said before licking a stripe up the underside of his length and suckled at the head. Shane let his head fall back and hit the wall with a thud and he whispered, "Fuck, Ryan." 

He could tell Ryan didn't have much experience in this department so he refrained from placing a hand on his head and did his best to stay still, letting him get a feel for what he's doing. He had a hand stroking the length that he couldn't get into his mouth and what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Shane had never seen someone look so happy to suck a cock. Ryan pulled off, gasping for breath, spreading his drool down Shane's shaft at smiled up at him.

"This is the first time I've done this, it's fun." Ryan admitted in a small voice and Shane had to squeeze his eyes and clench his entire being from coming right there. "Jesus, Ryan. You're gonna kill me." He groaned and ran a hand through Ryan's hair, matted at the forehead from a little sweat. "Y'look perfect like this, so good." He praised and that's all Ryan needed to get his mouth back on him, pressing down even further this time.

"Never thought we could have this, didn't let myself think about it, God, Ryan." He murmured, placing a hand over Ryan's cheek and jaw, feeling his cock fuck gently into his mouth, watching Ryan's eyes roll back and the hand gripping his hip dig his fingernails in. "M'close, Ry." He warned. 

Ryan looked up at Shane and took his hand and placed it over Shane's on the back of his head, a signal to please keep going. "Shit, sweetheart, fuck." He groaned and tightened his grip in Ryan's hair, using the leverage to fuck just a little deeper into his throat. 

Ryan let his mouth be used, going limp and loving the view of Shane losing control above him. He felt the swell of Shane in his mouth and prepared himself before Shane even said, "Gonna come, Ry, god, fuck." He lurched himself forward even more and swallowed around him and Shane was done for, moaning soft as he came down Ryan's throat. 

Ryan fell back on his knees, wiping at his mouth and swallowing around the newfound soreness in his throat. He looked up at Shane yet again, who was panting and tucking himself back into his pants. "I loved that." Ryan giggled as Shane used the wall to help lower him to the floor. "You? God, I'm the one who just came their brains out. My knees are jelly, you stole my kneecaps, Bergara." He chucked and slumped next to him. "C'mere." He said and pulled Ryan into a kiss. 

Ryan crowded himself on top of Shane's sprawled legs, kissing him for all it's worth, mouth falling open with a whimper when Shane pressed a thigh between his, against his straining erection. "Need me to take care of you, honey?" Shane whispered, petting the back of Ryan's neck as he rutted against Shane's thigh like a horny teenager. "Please, Shane, need you to take care of me, please." He whined, pressing needy kisses to the older man's neck. 

"C'mere, Ry, I'm gonna lay on the floor, I want you to get on top of me and fuck my mouth, okay?" He explained as he pulled Ryan off his lap. Ryan nodded desperately, his cheeks down the darkest shade of pink he's ever seen on him. Shane settled on the floor of Ryan's bedroom and motioned for the other to straddle his face. "Shane, I'm totally not gonna last long." He warned in a small voice, pulling himself out of his underwear. "That's okay, baby, not like we can't do this again, yeah?" Shane asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice with that question. Ryan hummed happily as he wiggled his underwear down a little to fully expose himself. 

"Please, big guy. Wanna do this with you all the time." Ryan said with a soft and sincere smile, leaning down a little to align himself with Shane's mouth. "Ready?" When Shane nodded with a slack mouth Ryan pushed in, groaning at the heat. Shane brought both arms up to wrap around Ryan's waist again and forced Ryan's length completely down his throat, breathing heavy through his nose. 

"Shit, Shane, how the fuck-" He cursed, rocking his hips forward and crying out at the slick tight heat of his throat, meeting no resistance from him. He's gonna have to ask for tips later. "Gonna, gonna fuck your mouth now." He grits out through clenched teeth. Only a few rolls of his hips already had him at the edge and he scrambled for a grip on Shane's hair, not able to stop the grunts and moans falling out of his mouth. "Coming, Shane, fuck, I'm gonna cum." He managed to get out before he's coming down Shane's throat, humping his face through his comedown before collapsing next to Shane, both trying to catch their breath. 

"Fuck, that can't be a one time thing." Ryan finally says at their breath events out, looking over at Shane. Shane smiles back, reaching a hand out to tangle his fingers with Ryan's. "Yeah, no. Absolutely not. I can pencil this in again in like...another hour." He hums jokingly, admiring the sweaty flush of Ryan's face and chest. 

[nanabrainrot]

Hello hello~ I really enjoyed Same Old, Same old and I was wondering if you can write something about Joker having an S/O who gets really injured because someone knew of their connection with him and how he would react? :>

Of course!! Thank you for requesting! I initially started jotting some headcanons that got a bit lengthy until I decided to make a fic instead 💚 hope you enjoy !

Inevitably

Summary: You watch Joker get abused for years before he became the man he was today. For the first time, you come instead, body litered with bruises and dirtied scrapes and watch him do what you wish you could have done a long time ago. After all, an eye for an eye.

Pairing: Joker/Reader, Arthur Fleck/Reader

Warning: violence, cigarette smoking, murder, swearing

You were gone for 13 hours when you come home, limping in silence across the dark alleys of Gotham. Even though Joker had come and go for hours at a time, even after timely shifts, you managed to be home after 14 hours max if you were working. The dry/erase calendar propped on the wall marked that you worked yesterday until what was supposed to be 9 at night. Arthur sat on the couch, anxious bouncing his legs, clad in orange argyle print pajama pants, waiting, waiting for you to frolick through the door, groceries in hand, and your keys on the other hand, that keychain of a furry heart jumping around. And he does see the keychain in the doorway, you standing next to it, nose still drooling dark red blood, cheek bright red, lip busted and bruises on your wrists and the fury that pulses through him is otherworldly. All of him feels the animal in him want to sit you down, tell him who it was, where it was, why this happened but - but, the dull look in your eyes draws him away from the festering fire in his chest. Later, he thought, as he stood up. You could tell his muscles were tense as rock when he stood stiffly, trying to look calm and collected as he rove over to you.

“Go to the bathroom, y/n.” You oblige, limping undeniably. As Arthur hears your sharp breaths as you sat on the toilet lid, you heard the front door slam shut with more violence than you expected. A part of you expected some disturbing reaction from him and, there it was, you just hoped in your heart of hearts that he would care for you first before the rampage began; care for you the way you did so long for him. So he does.

His calloused hands turn on a warm bath, draw back the layers of bloody clothes, your favorite bra was cut on the side from a knife, your nice cardigan missing its buttons from being literally ripped off you, the sleeves of your long-sleeve literally cut, lines cut across your arms and legs through the fabric of your clothes, some new, some old. You look at him with big, puppydog eyes, like a dog in a shelter looking sad, distrusting, after being hit. He brushed through your hair with a wide tooth comb, trying to get some blood out, trying not to be too rough; he was getting riled up as you cried not so silently from the pain of the cuts, hands clutching tight on the rim of the bathtub. The water fucking hurt on the new wounds, but you were so dirty from scrambling away from the warehouse and tripping over and over, falling from the pain, getting more dirt in the wounds, scraping your knees, your new shoes are dirty and he screaming behind you, running not quick enough due to his fat self and you’re running toward the bay and —

“It’s the best I can do.” Joker’s on his knees on front of you, whose sitting nude on the edge of the bathtub, his green eyes are empty and full at the same time and you can see in the blue paint under his eyes are dribbling from crying. He was crying for you. You sit there, hair wet and dripping down your back, watching his back as he stalks out of the restroom. You hadn’t realized how fully lost in thought you were until you realized the bath ended some time ago and you stared at the array of bandages, silly Disney patterns covering your legs, medical wrap on your arms. When he comes back in the bathroom, he’s fully dressed. Blood orange fabric lines his body, the bright green button-up contrasting with his pale neck, adam apple bobbing as he swallowed his potential tears. His warm hands are holding a pair of old gym cobalt blue shorts from college you used for bed now and a thin white camisole; you see your favorite socks, fuzzy mint green aloe socks, and smile a bit. He remembers so much about you, everything you love remains with him. He helps you dress, letting you hold onto his shoulders, tightly gripping the shoulder pads in lip-biting pain as he slides on the gym shorts, frowning at the hiss you let out when he settles the tight waistline snugly on your hips. The fabric of his waistcoat mesmerizes you as he pulls the white camisole over your raised arms, whimpering at your sore shoulder joints from being held behind your back. He kisses the top of each foot before he slides on the socks for you, guiding you like a seeing eye dog to the sofa from the bathroom.

You sit on the sofa, head hung in shame, dripping the water from your hair onto the sofa’s printed fabric, almost waiting to be scolded. This had never happened before, not to you, and all of you didn’t want to tell Joker. You remembered what the rotund man, olive skinned and weird curling brown hair atop his big head, said: “If you tell the fucking clown something, tell him this wouldn’t have happened if he gave Eustice his fucking guns. Ernie sends his regards.”

“Tell me who, y/n,” he breathes out some ciagrette smoke from the other side of the sofa, lips tightened around the filter after every tense puff, “I’ll find out anyway. I need to know who put their hands on you.” You breathed a deep breath, hands fidgeting with the medical wraps on your wrists, swallowing thickly before saying, “A man named Ernie sends his regards and, um, something about a Eustice guy’s guns.” You lowered your eyes and sniffled weakly, “My legs hurt, Art.” The other side of the couch creaked as he stood up and leaned over, pressing a long kiss against the top of your head. His greasepaint smudges at the mouth from your wet hair and the tightness of his lips tell you you want nothing to do with the aftermath of this inevitable truth: being with Joker was a danger. But everything was a danger; you could die in a derailed train, or slip in the shower and break your neck, anything. Being with Joker was the danger that gave you an adrenaline rush, but that momentary bullshit when you reach the top of a roller coaster; this would go on until one of you bit the sharp end of a bullet one day or another.

The door clicks open. “I’ll be back. I love you.” The door doesn’t close. It never does until you say it back. “I love you too, Arthur.”

The door clicks shut.

You have work the next day, the shift agonizing on your cuts but you continue anyway. Joker made good but dishonest money these days but, regardless of his pushes for you to be his little housepet, you wanted to work. You were a good, honest worker who collected their paycheck every week for working hard. You knew his housepet schpiel would hit you harder since your ugly run-in with the men he met with whenever he left the apartment too long. When you head home, you’re unsurprised but concerned by the lack of Arthur in the living room. You hear the shower running and grin, but it fades quick after the sharp pain from your swollen cheek hits you. You settle on the couch after discarding your sneakers by the entryway, slowly slipping off your jacket to mind the cuts and the news is on and — the news is on.

Ernie is on the television. Not alive, the pretty newscaster has a picture of his big, swollen face next to her, as she monotonously ran off the news: “This just in, police responded to a noise disturbance call in West Gotham, at the intersection of Elm Avenue and Horatio Court, so be advised to steer clear of that area due to the ongoing investigation. Ernie Poulimas has been found in the middle of the street, dead from what appears to be an execution style gunshot wound to the head, his arms and legs tied behind him, nude in the street. The words ‘hands off her’ carved into his back. If you have any information, contact the GCPD with —”

Arms encircle you as you stare at the screen with wide, horrified eyes. Somewhere in your gut, satisfaction at his death remains dormant, disguised by the shock in your face, but Joker doesn’t see it, as wet green droplets drip onto your work shirt as he nuzzles into your neck from behind the couch, wet as a dog. “You never have to worry again. Never again.”

Your stomach drops at the news, but... somewhere in you lies the sheer satisfaction of knowing no crime goes unpunished, not with the Joker. Never with the Joker.

[the-headbop-wraith]

2_26 Reoccurring Theme

“It’s a gorgeous day,” Vivi greeted, when Arthur returned.  Plumes of thick white mist trailed from the Styrofoam cups carried in either of his hands, and between his fingers he clutched the plastic lids.  Both were coffee, something she wasn’t fanatical for but sometimes the taste of it could knock her back on her feet.

Vivi sat on the vans back bumper, computer on her lap with its small universe of tabs and websites opened.  She absentmindedly cycled through the windows, passing the time and watching the day reach momentum.  Her night had been full of research and data, theories and sudden outbursts of intriguing facts to share with the others; Arthur was spent in the first fifteen minutes but Lewis had kept up with her until fatigue won at last.  She was almost convinced she had exhausted what resources were available – legends and rumors ranged from the old like La Llorona, to the sketchy Slender man – the prospects for missing children always distressing, the dire truth of what they sought.

Arthur sat the cups down beside Vivi, then reached into one pocket and pulled out handfuls upon handfuls of sugar and honey packets, along with another package of gum.  “How’d you sleep?” he began.  He stretched out his fingers over the little pile of packets and took a breath.  He could tell Vivi was watching, though she didn’t show it.

“Good.  It got cold last night,” she said, with a yawn.  “How were you?”

Nearly all of the honey packets went into one coffee cup.  Arthur stirred it and handed it to Vivi.  “Could’ve been better,” he admitted.  “I don’t do well in this weather.  Ugh!”  He went to the sugar next, tearing the little packets apart and haphazardly dumping the white silt into his cup.  “My eyeballs feel like swollen grapes.”  For emphasis he rubbed at his eyes with the armband on his metal wrist.

“It‘s cause you‘re so skinny.”  Vivi blew on her cup and tried to sip her beverage.  She winced when the hot liquid hit her tongue.  “You can afford to eat more.”

Arthur shrugged, with his good shoulder, and raised his cup.  “I try?”  Vivi looked at him.  “I have a high metabolism?”

“Okay-okay.”  She smiled. The hot cup in her hands felt good seeping through her palms, and the warm mist spilled over her knuckles. “All that running you do.”  She swirled the dark liquid around.

“Don’t blame that.  It’s the only way I can stay out of trouble.”  Arthur carefully stirred his coffee and raised the cup to his lips -

A shriek sliced across the parking lot, followed by a barrage of barks. Dimitri’s voice hollered out in a panic, but whatever was said couldn’t seep through the thick walls around the doors of the van.  Arthur snorted into his cup sending hot liquid splattering over his metal hand.

“Bloody hell, I should’a known better!” he stammered.  He passed the cup to his good hand and shook his dripping hand. “It’s hard to clean this!”

Vivi set her cup and the laptop aside and snatched at Arthur’s hand. “You’ll get it in the seams.”  She pulled the sleeve of her coat over her palm and soaked up the excess liquid.  “Lemme have the cup.  Hurry.”

A dark shape flew by, pursued by two smaller forms.  Mystery was barking up a storm, racing after Dimitri and Lewis.  “He’s gonna get you!” Lewis chimed out, skipping ahead.  Dimitri was too busy ducking and dodging Mystery’s erratic charges to see the bright sparks kicked up around Lewis’ feet.  “Careful Dimitri, look out!”  And Mystery yapped and bounced around the boy.

“Help me Lews’s!  Help!” The three charged by the van, Mystery’s hyper yips fading.

“I don’t think I can!” Lewis called back, still skipping, always a step ahead of the two, or at least Dimitri.

Vivi sprint around the vans side.  “Lewis! What have I told you about teasing Mystery!  I won’t tolerate it!”

“I didn’t start it this time, I swear!” yelled Lewis, as Dimitri ducked around his side.  “Whoa, careful!  Watch it!”

The three sprinted into the empty lot between the motel and an antique shop, the grounds coated in browning grass and snatches of green weeds struggling under the biting cold.  A piece of cement hidden in the grass caught Dimitri’s leg and he went tumbling, on top of Mystery when the dog darted under his fall.  The two rolled over and over, as Lewis trots to a halt.

“Help!”  Dimitri yelped.  “He’s got me, he won’t let me go!”  Mystery put his paws across Dimitri’s chest and nipped at the boys hands as he tried to push him off.  Finally, Dimitri jostles Mystery off his perch, but the dog refuses to move away and settles to roll over onto his back across Dimitri’s lap.  “Save me?”

Arthur steps up beside Vivi and gestures to the group.  “Ah, look at our children,” he said, imitating a sharp Irish accent.  “Don’t they make ye proud.”

“Mystery!  You better settle down!  You don’t know your own strength.”  Vivi smirked. “Not often he acts like a dog, hmm?” She watched as Arthur flexed his fingers, working out the stickiness that held to his joints.  “I’m not wrong to think,” her voice trailed off, and Vivi shook her head.  “I’m not sure… what we’re gonna find, but… this has been good for us.  For Dimitri.  Looking at him, you wouldn’t imagine what he’s hiding from.”

Arthur hummed a sound, and looked past his hand.  “I can’t get it off my mind.”

“I know.”

“Going back now, I dunno.  It’ll hurt him,” Arthur murmured.  “He’s past mourning.  That’s all it is.”  He remembered leaving the mansion, Vivi’s sorrow.  Not reliving, but experiencing it for the first time.  In a way that was cruel.

Arthur listened to the happy shrieks.  “This is a mistake,” he muttered.  “You know that.  Maybe it’s not too late, we could – ”  Vivi called out, bulldozing through his words.

“Are you three ready?” Vivi called.  “I know you’ve got some important business going on there, but the coffee’s getting cold.”  Arthur sighed.  Across the road, simultaneous groans wound out from the three.

Arthur takes stock of Vivi’s wistful stare on Lewis, as the tall figure hoists Dimitri out from under Mystery and dashes away.  Mystery gives chase.  “I’m taking a wild guess here, and say that Lewis didn’t realize how much he missed his sisters.”

Vivi stiffened and jerked to Arthur.  She mouthed a ‘What?’  and gathered up handfuls of her blue hair.  “The obituary didn’t mention… shit, did it mention that?  Why wouldn‘t I see— ?”  She exhales and drags her hands over her eyes.  Arthur waits, grimacing, as Vivi wrestles control over her face.  In the meantime, Dimitri is screaming as Mystery snaps at his feet.  “He never talks about them.”

Arthur blinked and pulled his fists up in front of his chest.  “No, I guess he wouldn’t.”  He paused and thought it over, and murmured, mostly to himself, “Some small kindness.”

“I’ll feel better,” Vivi murmured, as she fixed her hairband back in place.  “You too.  Once we get settled and take a look around.”  That was her hope.  She did her best to smile as a calamity of barks and giggles crashed towards them. In the lead pranced Mystery, yapping and panting a wispy white trail as Lewis pursued.  

“I think you’re safe now,” Lewis said.  Dimitri was hanging from his left arm, well above Mystery’s head. “What’s up?”  He lowered his arm when Dimitri let go.

“Watch out for the coffee,” Arthur choked, as he hurried to catch Mystery at the bumper.  Dimitri stumbled after them wheezing in pace with the dog.  “Think you can endure another hour of hurry up and waiting?”

“Meh,” Dimitri quipped.  “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Lewis waited until Dimitri and Arthur climbed into the van, then turned to Vivi and slanted his brow behind the thick tint of the sunglasses.  “Is everything okay?”

Vivi nods.  “We were just talking.  Mostly about where to stop along the way.”  She points out Lewis’ arm, where the sleeve of his jacket was pulled back revealing a portion of his wrist.  A small peep escaped Vivi, and she snapped a hand up to her mouth.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look.”

Lewis recoiled slightly and put a hand to his frayed sleeve.  “No-no, you’re fine.  I’m— Did I upset you?”  

Vivi shook her head behind her hand.  “Never.”  She squint her eyes, as if she wanted to close them.  “How could you ask such a thing?”

There were two possible reactions Lewis had anticipated.  One, Vivi would have been all over him with the questions and the ogling, probably the more favored outcome.  Or, she would have been repulsed by his thin veil; the latter scenario Lewis doubted but, he didn’t like mirrors.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Lewis twittered.  But it did matter, it mattered to Vivi.  She hadn’t moved.  What was it? He tugged at the sleeve of his jacket and let his ethereal suggestion calm, recoil.  “Did you…. wanna see?”

At first Vivi wouldn’t answer, she refused to look at Lewis.  “Am I allowed?  I mean, you don’t mind?  Oh… wait - ”

“Relax.  Look.” Lewis unbuttoned the jacket sleeve and pulled it back over his arm.  He took Vivi’s other hand when she began to raise it to her chin.  “I’m telling you,” he said, gently.  “It’s okay.”  He moved her hand to the underside of his wrist.  “See.  Just, y’know, me.”

Vivi pressed her lips together as she smiled.  She lowered her other hand down and set it over Lewis’ arm.  “I wasn’t worried.  I know it’s you,” she said.  It was funny in a laughable sort of way, that Lewis’ reluctance was based wholly on his assumption she could somehow not accept him.  “I didn’t want you to do anything you weren’t ready for. How do I say this?”  She gripped his arm and frowned.  “I can get ‘a little’ excited when it comes to the paranormal stuff, but you’re not just a ghost.  This is different.  I don‘t want to force you into situations you‘re not comfortable with. You don’t always let me know when it bothers you, though sometimes I can tell, but still I forget….”

“You‘re perfect, Vi,” Lewis said.  He clasped her hands in his and leaned down to kiss her knuckles.  “You worry too much.  Don’t do that, I—” He stopped and the frown returned to his brow. He studied her carefully.  “You’re under a lot of stress, and staying up late hasn’t helped.”

“You figure?” Vivi chuckles.  “Research has no end.”  She traced the bleached segments over his fingers with her thumb.  A low rumble emitted from Lewis.

“That feels nice,” he said.  She was about to say something, but Lewis snapped his head up.  Vivi spun around.

“Ooh, uh….” Arthur stuttered, head poking out just past the door. “Sorry, um…. You guys ready…?”

“Yes,” Vivi mumbled.  “Yeah. He’s right, we should – we should get going.”  She released Lewis’ hands and backed away.  “We’ll continue… later?”

Lewis caught the direction of Arthur‘s gaze and quickly fixed the sleeve of his jacket.  “Yes,” said the ghost.  “I mean, later then….that is.”  He let his voice sputter off.  Vivi was already gone, inside the van.  Thumps and bumping roved around, as the passengers organized themselves and their belongings. Lewis went to the driver side door. Voices muttered around; one was hissing, it sounded like Arthur.  Then Dimitri’s groan:

“Were they kissing?”

Lewis’ hand slipped through the doors latch.  Meanwhile, the brief chatter of excitement flared up within - Myster’s yips along with, ’what have you told him’ and ’I said nothing,’ among other variations of those two phrases and the confusion that ignited.  It took a few attempts by Lewis before he was able to grip the handle and get the door open.  He began to have doubts once he was situated behind the steering wheel. He waited until Arthur and Vivi’s ‘conversation’ had drawn to an awkward lull.

“Art.”  Lewis tried to remove the hitch in his tone, but he lacked the will.  “Could you drive for a bit?”  He glanced into the back when the others went quiet.

“You mean for the rest of the way?” Arthur said.  Lewis scooted over, and Arthur plopped down in the driver seat. He leaned over to set his Styrofoam cup in the holder and checked the other cup slot for the keys.  They keys were already in the ignition.

“No,” Lewis said.  He looked at his hands as Arthur turned the key.  The van roared to life and Arthur toggled the gas pedal, before letting the brooding purr settle into its rhythm.  “I don’t feel too… hmm, set.   On the driving.”  He paused. “Estamos bien?”

Arthur reversed the van, but before leaving the car lot he took the time to fiddle with the radio, cycling through the parched static and high-low of songs and commercial jingles. “What?”

“Look up?” Lewis hissed.  Arthur sighed and craned his head up, enough to catch the edge of the ghost in his peripheral.  “I’ll be right here.  Are you cool with that?”

Arthur flopped back and stared at Lewis.  “Y-yeah, I wouldn’t ask—” Arthur took a breath and tightened his fist on the steering wheel.  “Whatever you want.”  He made a point to lean far over in his seat to see the side mirror as he turned the van, and navigated them from the motels parking lot.  By late noon, the amber transport was merged with traffic, traveling on a stretch of road beneath clouds darkening in the distance.

After Arthur, Vivi drove, then, it was Arthur again, the two of them alternating between each stop.  If traffic wasn’t bad or they weren’t in the cities, Dimitri could sit up front and watch the scenery.  There was a big fuss over finding where the seatbelt had gone for the middle seat, until Vivi managed to drag it out from between the seats.  The miles flew by.  A blink and it was five gone, a short nap and over a fifty more now in the past.

Open plains and fields of farmland thinned out, cattle, ravaged fields of dirt were soon gone.  Trees became numerous and tall, and suddenly the road was surrounded by thick groves of oaks, here and between the large meadow filled with shrubs and creeping vines. It was familiar territory for Dimitri but unwelcomed.  He remembered the same landscape when they had moved – tall trees, meadows at the edge of open paths through the woods, enticing the curious explorer; wild groves that adventures could explore for years and never find their way out from; wilderness that could never be tamed by man and his civilization.  His father might disagree, but what did his father know?

As the clouds thickened the chill became unbearable, and Dimitri figured couldn’t be much worse in the back.  Traffic was getting thick anyway and soon one of the two, Arthur or Lewis, would gently request he relocate himself.  He didn’t mind, though he hadn’t let on how much he despised cops at this point.  They hadn’t caught onto his hints, anyhow.

Vivi raised her head from Mystery when Dimitri lowered himself from the seat.  A bit of gauze was wound around the dogs paw, but upon seeing their new company Mystery gave Vivi’s hair a lick and stepped over to Dimitri.  Vivi had warned him the dog liked chicken, and a chicken sandwich was what Dimitri had been nibbling on for the past hour.

“You had your own,” Dimitri muttered.  He held his sandwich out of Mystery’s reach as he moved to the vans back.

Mystery sat down and flattened his ears back.  True, but it wasn’t yours.  The dog raised his bandage paw for inspection.

Vivi sniggered, and returned to the work laid out atop a flattened grocery bag. Dimitri half expected some comment about, how finishing his sandwich would save him the trouble.  But none of them ever said such things.  Instead, Vivi focused on the shiny piece of rock or crystal she whittled at while she wasn’t driving.

Layers of notebooks and a few open texts lay open around the blue clothed girl, which she glanced at frequently under the pale glow of the camping lamp beside her.  A small brown case near her knees was filled with various small tools, needles, knives, some Dimitri didn’t recognize.  Vivi’s scarf was tightened around her lower face and she wore a pair of goggles.  The plastic bag was filled with dust and chunks of glittery bits of the rock/crystal.  Whenever the van hit a bump or rough spot the camping lamp flashed, threatening its impending annoyance.  Vivi kept her hands steady throughout this, but nicks were impossible to avoid.

Dimitri watched her work for a bit as he munched his food.  He didn’t look at the dog as he nudged Mystery away. “So, what’s it?” he asked, at last.

Vivi took a dirty buff cloth and rubbed away some of the excess powder from the stones surface. “Don’t get too close, the dust is really bad for you,” she warned.  “It’s a kind of totem.  For protection.”  She took the smaller knife and carved along grooves in the surface.  “Some people have animal guides, sometimes it’s a plant that offers prosperity.  Or words, words can be very powerful.”

Dimitri nodded as he chewed on his sandwich.  “A girl called me a rotten toad once,” he said, around a mouthful of chicken and bread.  “Made me feel like trash.”

Vivi tries not to laugh.  At least he couldn’t see her smirk under the sweater.  “Not what I meant, but I think you get the point.” She took a stiff cloth and rubbed it over the stones grooves.  “Would you hand over my bag?”

Dimitri took the indicated bag from beside the vans wall and shoved it over. “You really believe this hocus pocus, voodoo stuff?”  He poked at one of the cuvees stuffed with wrapped bundles of sage, and rolled rice paper. They had so much stuff, some of it packed away in Tupperware, most of it he’d never seen.

“Unwavering belief isn’t a requirement, but it does help.”  Vivi pulled out a container of water and used it to rinse the rock off.  The carved sides darken and it glisten under the light of the lamp.  She put the water container away, and produced a small wooden box.  From the box she pulled forth a few strands of metal, chains.  “This is for you.”  She ran one of the chains through the small hole in the rocks pointed tip, and blew over its surface as the water dries.

“Um… thanks,” Dimitri murmured.  He took the offered stone/crystal, he wasn’t sure.  It was flat on one side, and the new carvings on the surfaces were sharp along the deepened grooves.  “Are you sure?  You spent a long time on this?  I’m not supposed to accept stuff from strangers.”  Dimitri shut his mouth and stared at Vivi, puzzled by his own words. Vivi had already taken off the goggles, and was collecting the bag of powder with its chunks of rock.  She was laboriously careful not to let the contents go everywhere as she rolled up the bag.  “You’ve done -”

“Shh,” Vivi hissed, and held up a finger.  “This might be the most important thing you ever own.”  She shuffled over and took the stone in his hands, and moved his finger to trace along the smoothed edges.  “I’ve seen this rune in many books.  It offers protection from those that wish to harm. Keep it safe, and it will help keep you safe.”  She took the two ends of the chain and connected them behind his head.

Dimitri held the stone at chains length and turned it around.  He had his doubts about a piece of rock, but he could appreciate the skill and uniqueness that created it.  “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered.

Mystery was inches from where his half eaten sandwich was held low beside Dimitri, and momentarily unguarded.  The dog frowned and sat back.  You’re not interested in finishing it.  He tilts his head and flicked an ear when Vivi cursed under her breath.

The lamp kept honest to its threats and went out.  “Stupid short,” Vivi groaned.  She pat its side, and the light flashed a few times, but ultimately went out for good in the end.  “Batteries.” Mystery had already retrieved the rumpled shopping bag and tiptoed over to Vivi.  She paused to gather up the carving tools and stuffed the small brown case back into her bag.  “Thank you,” Vivi said, and gave Mystery a scratch behind the ear.  “But stop trying to take his food.”  Mystery grinned.

“Heads up, we’re getting into the town now,” Lewis called.  He spun around in his seat and draped his arm along the bench seats backside.  Dimitri wilted a bit.  “You want to… sit up front?”

It felt like years – could it have been years?  Dimitri stared at what was visible of the cold gray sky through the tilted windshield, and felt ill inside.  He pulled the folds of his coat tighter around his sides and lowered his head from Lewis’ gaze.  “I don’t think so,” he answered. “It’s nothing new.”  That day had been a dreary, gray sky too, rain pouring as he ran, like in some cliché movie.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Lewis hummed, gesturing with his palm.  Not for the first time, Dimitri found himself unable to look away from the gloved hand.  Something was off about it, but he couldn’t place what.

Vivi finished cleaning up, and shoved the little camping lamp aside. She had half a mind to kick it. “Where are we exactly?” she prompted, as she crept up on the bench seat.

“A main road,” Arthur mumbled, through his gum.  He blew a small bubble and let it pop.  “If I know roads, it cuts right through.  Traffics heavy.”  He eased on the brake when a car decided to streak across the lane in front of them.  “Stupid ass— ”

“Language,” Lewis rattled.

High in the sky the clouds had turned dark, ashy.  The hour wasn’t late but the winter months had come fast and the temperature was on a steady decline.  The numerous roads that crisscrossed over the main highway were surrounded by brown patches of yards, and trees gone bare.  The town was in the gulley of the valley with larger forests and meadows lurking in the distance, bleeding together in gray woodlands and snippets of small neighborhoods.

“Is the heater even on?” Vivi asked, voice misting.

Arthur leaned over and tugged at the air vents.  “Yeah,” he said, doubt in his voice.  “I think the weather report mentioned snow, or sleet.  You think the backs cold, try sitting between these windows.”  For emphasis he shuddered and raised his flesh hand to his face and blew on his knuckles.

Dimitri gave Mystery the rest of his sandwich and knelt near Vivi, far enough below the backseat that he couldn’t glance up to see out the windows. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“I’m wondering about that,” Vivi spoke, voice thoughtful.  She adjusts her glasses, and looked down at Dimitri.  “Do you want us to drop you off at your house?  You can get a good nights rest in your own bed, check in with your parents?” It wasn’t idea to send Dimitri off on his own, and take a chance his parents renewing a frantic search for his ‘abductors,’ or people tying the van in with his reappearance.  She missed the short glance Lewis sent her way.

Dimitri shook his head.  Mystery curled up beside him, and the boy strokes the dog’s fluffy mane.  “I’m not ready for that,” he whispered.  “I don���t care if I have to sleep on a bench in some park, I -”

“It’s fine,” Vivi assured.  “Let’s find a room for Dimitri tonight, and pick up a map of the town.”  Dimitri nods slowly.  “I have a motel in mind, but we should stop for directions.  The laptop cra— bugged out before I could write up a map.”

The van needed gas anyway.  While they were stopped Arthur fueled up and Vivi went into the store for directions, and came back with the map.  Traffic began spilling off the main road at a steady rate, provoking Arthur to relocate the van to the other side of the quick marts parking lot, and out of sight.

“Another walk?”  Vivi asked, as she flattened out the map over the dashboard.  She pressed her chin down onto the puffy scarf as she scanned over the lines on the map, a pen in hand.

Arthur was returning with the empty ice box, struggling to fling out the last droplets of water as he moved by the vans open passenger door.  “I’m not sure, he didn’t say anything,” called the mechanic.  His voice resumed when the back doors creaked open, and Arthur slid in the cooler box. “You know how he does it.  I blink and he’s gone.  Why do we keep drinks in here?  We could store them in the floor compartments.”

The leather jacket was resting on the passenger seat, beside Vivi.  She glanced over at the coat, pen dangling from her lips as she mused.  The martial of the elbows was getting cracked and stretched, the sleeves and coat edges had become frayed and crispy; the black pieces crumbled between her fingers as she touched it.  She held the loose sleeve between the wrist and elbow, and let it drape over her fingers. As far as she knew, it was the only article of ‘clothing’ that Lewis owned.

“You know I like Dimitri,” Arthur said, as he stepped up behind Vivi. “He’s a good kid, and I really want to help, but we’re walking a precarious line.”  He put his hands around the headrest and motioned the small map Vivi had pinned over the dashboard.  “Now we’re in his hometown, someone is bound to recognize him.”

“I’ve thought it over,” Vivi said.  “That’s why we’re leaving him at the motel while we search around.  We need to talk to some people, get more information on the kids that’ve gone missing.”  She chewed on the pens tip and pondered.  There was the story Dimitri gave, and then there were the dangers of seeking answers of their own.  Arthur wasn’t wrong in his concerns.

“Someone will see him,” Arthur insisted.  “We should find out where he lives and leave him with his folks.  It can’t be that hard, there has to be a poster somewhere.”

“We’re not doing that,” Vivi hissed.  She glanced back at Arthur with the edge of her eye.  “He doesn’t feel safe, and I don’t blame him.”

“I know, honest I do,” Arthur said, and sighed.  He rubbed the back of his head, and winced at his own frigid fingers on his skin.  “He’s practically lost his kid brother, and he survived by not relying a whole lot on people.”  Vivi turned her head more to look at Arthur.  “And FYI, he’s started to notice things.”

Vivi resumes scrutinizing the map and tries to focus on the crisscrossing roads, the center square, the names of streets and sub districts.  “He hasn’t talked to you?”

“Who?  Um,” Arthur paused, and leaned over to look out the open door.  “I told him to.  Lew took it the wrong way, as usual.” That last bit he muttered to himself.  “It worries me he doesn’t, he keeps it to himself.” He watched Vivi as she absorbed herself in the map and gnawed on the pens end.  “I can’t say anything, because what if it’s all in my head?”  He flung his arms up and snapped them back onto the bench seat.

“Have a little faith, Artie,” she murmured, and circled a spot on the map. “Dimitri’s personal feelings seem stronger than his instincts.”

“That’s the whole point.”  Arthur pressed his chin onto the headrest and dug his fingers into his scalp, one set colder than ice on his skin.  “Ugh! I don’t care what he thinks, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to believe the stuff we do.  But if he gets an idea—”

A sharp pop spat from the radio, followed by soft tunes and garbled static.  The vans ceiling light flashed, and Vivi shivered visibly from the sudden chill that crept through her coat.  Arthur let out a shrill yowl as he staggered backwards and tumbled around over the floorboard in the back.

“Take it easy,” Lewis chides, voice odd and distorted.

“Why do you do that?” Arthur yelped, breathless.  “Always!  Always, right next to me.”  He cringed back when Lewis leaned towards him, voice rasping through his jaw.

“It’s not like I can do it out there, with people watching.”

Vivi spun around and folded her arms over the seat.  “Art does have a point,” she hummed.  Arthur’s face turned white, and he ducked down behind Lewis as if looking for something, maybe the ice chest.

“Is that the map?” Lewis’ voice crackled.  Vivi pivoted and scooted over, as the ghost slid through the passenger side of the seat.  He pulled up the jacket and sort of melted - pulled it on around himself.  He paused while zipping up the front, and lay a tender hand over the locket.  A moment later he noted Vivi watching him, and pulled his hands back to entwined his fingers together.  He directed his index fingers, gun like, toward the map.  “You’re making plans.”

Vivi nods.  “Were you scouting?”  She marked up a line of road over the map.

“I thought about it,” Lewis hummed, his voice coming back more.  “But decided better.  I’ll wait till tonight, when we know where we’re going.”  Vivi smirked.  Lewis was still skull faced, but he was moving on to fix that.  He turned the rear view mirror towards him and gripped the thin slice of reflection.  He glimpsed back at Arthur, once the other had ceased fumbling around.  “And no.  He won’t find out.”  He pulled the sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and fiddled with the handles.

Arthur moved closer to Vivi and set his hands, carefully, over the headrest above her.  “It’s not really a life choice, now is it?” The same moment that sentence left his lips, Arthur recoiled.  Vivi glance over at Lewis and caught the vivid stark white of his skull through his face, still fresh from the illusion.  Arthur withdrew his arms.  “Sorry, I’m sorry….” he burbled.

Lewis set a hand over his face and looked aside.  “It doesn’t bother me. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”  His shape seemed to retract within the coat, or deflate.  “Calm down Art, that’s not helping.”  Arthur was silent.  “It’s getting colder, isn’t it?  Don’t you have a coat?”  Arthur looked up when Lewis turned to him.

Vivi heaved a breath.  These two. “He doesn’t like to wear long sleeves, ‘cause the lint gets into the joints,” she answers.  Arthur made a silent motion to rebuke the comment, but Vivi beat him to it.  “I dunno why you act like it’s some kind of big secrete!  I get it, sleeves make your arm high maintenance.”

“It’s not like that,” Arthur blurted.  He glanced at Lewis, who was staring at his artificial limb like it was the first time he’d seen it.  “The friction and the static, it—” He snapped his mouth shut when Mystery scraped over the back bumper into the van, not far behind him was Dimitri.  Arthur wrenched around at the sudden entrance of the two. “We were waiting for you!”

Lewis fumbled to get his sunglasses on— dropped them, and ducked down to retrieve them off the floorboard.  Vivi sighed through her fingers and just gazed up through the windshield, at the darkening sky.  “No doubt about it.  I place all my confidence in you both.”

__

A room was rented for Dimitri and he was dropped off with his all worldly possessions, and one Mystery, to keep company and watch.  While he was safe and warm, the Mystery Skulls began scouring the small town for clues or guidance to the children’s disappearances. Vivi had one map with the areas marked where the children were seen last, but aside from that not much else. Thus far only Dimitri’s account of what children, some from his own school, had gone missing but not those from the general area of the town.

It was while they were streaking along one of the thoroughfares that Vivi came up with her next idea.  “I want to find out if the kids had anything in common, that might’ve led to their abduction.”

“Geez, Vi,” Arthur grumbled.  The lights from high streetlamps flash over the two in obnoxious patterns.  “You sound like some kind of PI detective.”  Vivi didn’t answer, she was focused on the map and the notebook opened up on her lap.

“We are detectives,” Lewis replied.  “And professionals.”  He was trying to organize the back of the van, a lost cause as far as he was concerned but it helped pass the time.

“Do you wanna drive?”  Arthur slipped down in his seat more, anticipating another one of Lewis’ weird scratchy hisses.

A toneless, “No.” was the answer.

An hour later, the Hall of Records was only mere minutes away from closing.  The janitor had already made her pass through the glistening halls of polished stone, pristine painted crème walls, and blazing fluorescent lights.  The receptionist at the entrance was logging out of his desk computer and packing up his shoulder bag with books and folders.  Outside, the sky was already pitch black and the few white and yellow lights barely glimmered through the wintery haze as flakes began to fall.  Next pay check he would order one of those thermal coats, the one with the warming pad and the cup holder.  All his colleagues had at least one.

The slow tapping of footfalls clicked through the quiet hall, and the receptionist, Dillan, was certain he was not alone.  Odd, the front doors should have been latched by the janitor when she began.

“I have a delivery.”  Dillan jumped at the voice, and the speaker tensed.  “Sorry.  Hey, can you sign for it?”

Dillan stared out of his glassed in office at the figure.  The person was not very tall and their brown hat hid most the face, but for a goatee that had to be in violation of some sort of dress code.  This seemed highly suspicious.  “Yes?”

The Delivery man blew a bubble with the gum he chewed and popped it, the snap echoed across the empty corridor that the two alone shared.  The Delivery man resumed chewing, and held out a clipboard with a small box perched atop, a crisp address label was stretched across the box.  The Delivery man pulls his hat up a bit to look Dillan in the eye.  “I’m kind of in a pinch, running late.  Are you gonna sign, or not?”  He wore white warming sleeves that clashed with his brown shirt and pants, and black gloves.

“Who’s it for?” Dillan inquired.  He had already slid the little glass door of his office window open and accepted the clipboard with box through.  He scanned over the page clipped down, everything seemed in order. He signed his name.

“Dunno.  I don’t tamper with the mail.  And initial.” The delivery man indicated a box on the paper with his finger.  “Groovy. You have a safe evening, and bundle up.” The man tipped his hat and, with clipboard under arm, and walked right on out.

Dillan watched him leave, then looked at the little box.  It had the Hall of Records address, and was labeled Archives.  He gave the box a shake and listened to its contents thump inside.  It might’ve been more labeling, but it didn’t feel like a box full of labels nor did it look like the boxes for labeling.  It had to be something else.

A chill crept up his spine.  It was getting late, and he was starving.  He locked the office window, but made sure it was secure before he turned away.  He took up the small parcel, swung his coat from his chair and slipped it over his shoulders, and stepped out of his office.

Archives were located in the basement levels, and could be reached under one of the large staircases that led to the upper floors.  Through the town was too small to afford renovations for the lower, unused levels, the government had seen it fit to update the Archives with a serial database.  The computer database was in its own alcove off to the side, guarded by a thick fence bolted into the low ceiling.  The rows and shelves of hard copy information stretched beyond into the depths of the basements thick shadows, protected only by a sprinkler system, security cameras, and more tall thick fencing.

Even in mid-winter the corridors of the interior ‘cave’ were warmed by the tireless diligence of the computer network, but that creeping chill seemed to soak into Dillan’s bones no matter where he went.  He sprint along the fence to the other side of the room, like a child racing from the hungry beast dwelling in the basement.  It was so childish, but he was reminded keenly of his grandpas old home, and that creepy cellar where they had to do laundry in the summer.  He’d have spent more time down there since it was the most tolerable place in the entire house temperature wise, but it was so creepy!

Dillan dashed the last yard to the desk with other mail order boxes of supplies, some still unopened and perhaps forgotten.  He stuffed the small box among the others and high tailed it out of there.  Lucky no one was there to see him scramble up the steps.

The light clicked out and the box remained among its companions, patient, lingering beneath the faint glimmer of the blinking lights of the surveillance cameras above.  Throughout the room raised a steady hum from the computer, miniscule fans whirring to gush icy air through broiling circuit boards.  The room itself had its own refrigeration unit, separate from the building above.

One by one surveillance cameras fail, beady lights hovering in the ceiling blimp out one by one.  The room becomes impossibly dark, but for a softly burning flame drifting down from the ceiling.  It alights on the cement floor near the desk of stacked boxes, and ignites into a vibrant burst of flames.  The fire subsides as it drinks in the surrounding shadows, the inky shape solidifies into a fine suit, bleached ribs, and a skull topped by a buoyant pompadour.

Embers linger on his suit, and Lewis dusts them off as he leans forward and takes up the small box.  He only need a bit of focus, a mild taint irritation to conjure a sharp claw to cut through the plastic tape.  Inside the box is a camera and a walkie-talkie.  “Come in Bluebird, this is Dapper Ghost, over.”  He turns and walks along the corridor scanning through the visible serial codes labeled along the tall metal shelves.  There are so many rows, stacked up to the low ceiling and only a few ladders that he can make out.  He grimaces and raises the communicator up to his jaw.  “Do you read me?”

“I thought we weren’t doing codenames.”  A pause.  “Over.”

“Humor me,” he said, and took stock of the imposing fence placed before him.

Passing through fences was a simple matter, but not when one forgets they are carrying two solid objects that must be carefully slipped through small openings in the fence.  All the more frustrating when one is trying to become partially insubstantial and not drop these devices onto the cement floor.

Lewis gave up.  He crouched down and just shoved the camera and walkie-talker through openings in the fence.  The entire time Vivi was asking questions and began to get worried when he refused to answer. “Lewis?  What’s going on?  You okay?”

He was huffing flames before he managed to calm down.  “That is the million dollar question.”  The communicator gave a sharp screech in response. Calm.  Calm-calm-calm.  Internally, he was thankful Vivi had not been present to see that.  She hadn’t stopped teasing him about that other matter.

Lewis went over the shelves present, some stuffed with files and papers of all sizes, some spaces in between stacked high with plain brown boxes crushed under the weight.  “Any idea what I should be looking for?  Over.” He ran a finger along the labels tacked down by tape.  Numbers and a few letters.

“Some names,” Vivi answered.  The van was parked across the road from the Hall of Record.  She sat bundled up in the driver side, her notebook open with the list of children names that matched up with Dimitri’s information. Light flakes descended beneath the edges of the windshield wipers, reflecting yellows through the patterns of white.  In the vans back Arthur fumbled around, redressing into his usual attire with the little camping lamp stationed nearby to help him not get lost in his shirt. “We’ll go in alphabetical order. Over.”  She turns to Arthur when he slips down in the seat beside her, and hugged him.  “You were great!”

“You know this is a federal offense,” Arthur grumbled, as he flopped his arms down.  “Impersonating a mail carrier, trespassing on government property.  These gloves and those sleeves!”  He tore a black glove off and tossed it into the back.

“It was your idea,” Vivi said, smirking.  She pulled the glove off his good hand when his attempts had failed.

“I didn’t think you nuts would take me seriously!” Arthur bundled his arms around his sides and sulked.  “And it’s cold.”

“You should have left the sleeves on, then.”  She raised the communicator to her scarf top and called back. “Dapper Ghost, you read? Over.”  There came silence.  “Dapper?” Arthur peered at her and edged forward on his seat.

“Read you,” the voice wasn’t a voice, it was garbled in some places, hard to comprehend.  But Vivi and Arthur spent years decoding EVPs, and Lewis made the effort to project a voice through as clearly as he could manage without lungs.  Some of the next sentence was choppy, but his voice ended with a, “—got idea.”

“Don’t do anything risky,” Arthur warns.  “Like, blow up,” he mutters, and hoped Lewis couldn’t hear that. “At least he can’t leave fingerprints.”

“Art, please,” Vivi whispers.  She returns her attention to the walkie-talkie.  “What you got, Dapper?”

The computerized database was on, but that wasn’t the problem.  It required a password to log in, and three wrong passwords would lock the entire system.  “The King wouldn’t by any chance know some possible passwords for a government database?” Lewis sputtered.  “Over.”

A long pause followed, then a, “Nope.”  Arthur’s voice prattled on.  “Maybe forget about that, and go to work the old fashion way?”

“Well,” Lewis said.  He set the camera and the walkie-talkie aside on the polished wood of the desk, then placed his hands on the flat screen.  The screen sputtered on bright, glittering over his suit and bones with the logo for the Archives Database.  Lewis jerked his hands back when the screen skipped, static pulsed through with a brief image before the normal display reappeared.  He plucked up the communicator and replied, “I’m gonna try something, Bluebird.  If you lose contact with me, don’t worry.  I’ll be back soon.”

Vivi’s voice screeched through.  “Lewis, wait!  What’re you saying—”

“Trust me,” he said back.  He wasn’t sure if Vivi heard or not while she was trying to get through.  Rather leave the communicator to chatter on, he took the computer mouse from the desk and wrapped the cord tightly about the speaker toggle, and set aside the two items.  He steadied his ethereal projection and pressed his hands onto the screen.  It sputtered and flashed as before, but this time he had anticipated it.

Flashlights were simple, on - off.  Yes or no.  Lamps were the same, lightbulbs, like… blinking.  He could make a mirror show what he wanted others to see, and he could project his image into the rhythmic strobe flashes of a camera if he focused the right way.  But it took energy to project.

Wires, circuits, electrical current.  Lewis let it absorb him, download his spectral manifestation.  The computer highway was a jumble of light and noise, stimuli trying to inform him all at once what business the machine had; code, images, stabbing bits of failed syntax clambering through and over without ebbing against his invading presence.  All of it stalled for a moment, grinding in the most literal sense over itself until the programs loosened and resumed the hectic flight.  What passed for Lewis amalgamated consciousness withered within a vague sense of placement.  Static ripped through him and a rising sensation of heat enveloped his ethereal self, but it wasn’t his fire. How do you drive this thing?  Was his last coherent thought before white tore out of him, and a deafening shriek filled his being.

[bekahfics]

Plenty

"The week was going poorly." An exhausting week has the left the members banged up and in need of some Advil, hugs, and a good rest. Luckily they have each other.

(also can be found on ao3!) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week was going poorly. Concert after concert had left all of the members exhausted and in want of some much needed food and rest. And yet the following evening they had found themselves in the gym. The trainers were usually insistent that they needed to keep their fitness up or things would just get harder. They would have a twelve hour flight to sleep on the following day anyway.

However, Jimin was quickly turned away by the trainer. His neck was heavily taped and the managers had seen him down muscle relaxers and Advil in the car earlier.

“I will be fine. A bit of soreness won’t kill me.” Jimin whined as the team trainer pushed him towards the door by the small of his back.

“For the love of God, I can feel the tense muscles in your back and you can hardly turn your head at all. Not to mention you were limping on your way in here. You think we can’t see all the tape under your shirt and sweats.” The stern eyes of the trainer bore into his skin.

“But I-”

“No buts; off to the pool with you. Stretch a bit. Take it easy.”

“I’m just a tad tired. I really think I will be fine. I’ll lift lighter weights and I’ll skip running if you really do-” He brought forth his best puppy dog eyes.

“Jimin. Bed or pool. Those are your options.” Jimin had a feeling he wasn’t going to win this battle.

“Pool…” Jimin murmured trudging towards the door.

“Good. The hot tub should relax your muscles a bit.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with much of an argument. The trainer was right. His muscles ached and pulsed. His neck was stiff and immobile. The trainer's hand had left a residual throb in his back, even from the soft touch.  He could barely hide his limp as he wobbled out of the weight room and towards the elevator to retrieve his swim trunks.

As he rounded the corner he slammed into a tall body. Jimin crumpled to the floor with a soft cry. The strong arms of manager Sejin caught him before he hit the floor. Though it didn’t save him from the pulsing pain of his neck as it whipped backwards.

“Shit, you ok? I was just looking for you. Trainer said you would need your suit.” Sejin’s voice was deep, and perfectly soothing to the exhausted singer. He melted into his side as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

It was only then that Yoongi spoke up. Jimin had yet to notice him standing beside their manager. He had been too busy falling to the floor to see his second eldest hyung.

“Oh Minnie, you want to go back upstairs and lay down? Hyung will come with...”

Jimin released another hitching sob. He hurt. Even with the support of his manager, his bad knee trembled beneath his weight. His neck and shoulder pulsed beneath layers of athletic tape and muscle creams. And now he was going to get out of shape and gain weight and disappoint everyone and-

“N-no. I just want to go to the gym.” He drew in a deep breath as his cheeks heated with the embarrassment of crying, not only in front of his hyung and manager, but in the middle of a hotel for no reason. He wasn’t dying. He was fine.

“Sorry. S-sorry. I’m just going to go get my swimming trunks.” Jimin dragged his hand across his eyes in a desperate attempt to minimize the salt on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Yoongi stepped forward, drawing his dongsaeng into an uncharacteristic hug. His grasp was firm but gentle on the younger’s aching form. “It’s alright. We have your swimsuit. And I’m not allowed at the gym either.”

The bulk of Yoongi’s shoulder brace was suddenly so apparent to Jimin. His hyung must have been banned from the gym session also. He burrowed his face into his hyung’s chest and wiped the salt from his eyes. Yoongi's breath was warm on his neck and his hand circled pleasantly over taunted muscles.

“It’s ok.” Yoongi’s voice rasped in his ear. The familiar lilt of Gyeongsang satoori eased the anxious pounding of blood in Jimin’s ears. “Let’s go swim, okay?”

Jimin rubbed the bottom of his nose with the pudgy side of his index finger. Sejin nudged the orange material of his bathing suit into the crook of his arm.

“Yeah… yeah. Ok. Let’s go swim.” Jimin resisted the urge to nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water lapped at their chins as they swam. The indoor pool was filled with steam from the hot tub in the corner, and the humid air eased the dryness of Jimin’s throat. As he floated in the shallow end of the pool, Jimin couldn’t help but sigh.

Yoongi was swimming lazily a few feet away. His brace was off but a handful of athletic tape remained, though Jimin knew his shoulder pain wouldn’t be eased by it. The car accident he had been in during debut had left him with horrific nerve pain. Some days he was mercifully without pain, and others the burning sensation spread from his neck down to his fingertips and through his spine. Going by the stubborn wrinkle between his brows and his pouty lips, it seemed today was a rather bad day.

Jimin slipped beneath the cool water and paddled his way towards his hyung. He flung water into his face and giggled as Yoongi sputtered. The pair began to splash aggressively, bursting into the laughter at the distraught sight of one another's face as they squinted through water droplets and aching shoulders.

“Hey!” Yoongi cried as Jimin sent a wave of water cascading over his head.

The pool door slammed shut and the splashing immediately ceased as the youngest walked into the room with manager Sejin guiding him. Jungkook’s nose was flushed red and tears clung to his cheeks. The boys watched anxiously as he was settled on a sun chair, laying on his stomach with his head hidden in his arms.

The elder members exchanged worried glances as they made their way towards the edge of the pool. They clung to the edge, allowing the water to take the weight off their joints and splashing ever so slightly, Sejin began to guide the massage tool over the maknae’s legs. Though they all knew the instrument (jokingly called “The Hammer '' amongst the team for it’s odd appearance) greatly eased muscle pain, it hurt in the moment.

Jimin turned to Yoongi, eyes wide with pity. Yoongi sighed in understanding.

It appeared that half the team had been banished to the pool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook moaned into his forearm as his manager massaged his legs. His head pounded with exhaustion. His half assed work out had only lasted about five minutes before the trainer had forced him out of the gym.

He had run out of tears a few minutes ago and could only manage a pitiful sniffle when Sejin asked if he was ok.

“All done Jungkookie. Go get dressed, alright?” Sejin offered him a hand.

Jungkook peeled his burning eyes open. He must have dozed off in the lounger. As he dragged himself to his feet, Jungkook could feel the eyes of his hyungs searing into his back. His cheeks flushed red but he accepted the swimsuit from his manager before trudging off to the changing room, rubbing his eyes gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s alright.” Sejin said preemptively, turning back to the other members. “ I was working out with Taehyung but the trainer called me over.”

“Is he hurt?” Jimin’s brow furrowed with worry and his full lips tugged downward at the corners.

“Exhausted. Sore. Overworked. He just needs some time off. We thought a bit of splashing in the pool might help. The warm water might ease some of the pain too. I was thinking that the other mem-”

As Jungkook wobbled back into the room, goggles dangling from his wrist, the conversation faded.

“Hi Kookie! Come swim with us!” Jimin invited enthusiastically, splashing some water towards his dongsaeng playfully.

Jungkook set towards the edge of the pool, attempting to dive in, he broke the surface of the water. His aching muscles wouldn’t cooperate. The water splashed over the edge of the pool. But he swam quickly towards his hyungs and crashed into Yoongi’s open arms.

“Oh, it’s alright. You’re ok.” Yoongi crooned into the youngest’s ear. It was clear that he was exhausted. Though they avoided babying him, in times like these Jungkook’s wide eyes and big nose overtook those unspoken rules. “Shh, it’ll pass. It’s alright.”

“Let’s swim a bit then we will get some Advil and food. Maybe some ice…” Jimin ran a hand through Jungkook's drenched hair, pushing the bangs from his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook took a shaky breath. “let’s just swim.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Yoongi had finished all of his physical therapy exercises and Jimin was completing the last of his stretches on the kiddie step of the pool. Jungkook floated across the deep end of the pool, long limbs spread wide like a starfish.

Though they were chatting idly, the room was filled with an overwhelming peace. The scent of chlorine and aloe hung in the air.

Yoongi had volunteered to massage Jimin’s neck, he could manage it just fine with his good arm and the younger was clearly hurting. Initially Jimin had agreed happily, now he regretted it. Another moan escaped his mouth as his fingers dug into an especially tender spot.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi muttered, easing the pressure of his touch, “All done.”

“S’ok. It feels good… mostly.” Jimin was ready for a nap, or a new body. The swim had eased some of the tension but none of the pain. He was ready for another dose of painkillers.

It seemed that Yoongi was too, as he reached into the pocket of his discarded sweats for a beat up sleeve of pills. He popped two out and swallowed hard to down them without water.

“Thank you, hyungie” Jimin said softly as he settled back into the deeper water. He gave his knee a good rub as he gently shifted some weight on the swollen joint.

Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement as he squirmed his way across the step into the shallow end of the pool.

They floated in peace with only their faces and toes peeking up above the water. Jungkook could feel the tension leaving his shoulders. The water was perfect. Warm enough to be comfortable but not nearly warm enough to feel hot.

The peace was quickly ruined when the handle of the door slammed into the wall and four sweaty boys hurled themselves half clothed into the pool. Hoseok and Jin landed just next to Jungkook, submerging him in their wakes. Taehyung had penciled jumped in softly, settling next to Yoongi with hardly a splash. The last one in, Namjoon had hurtled himself into the pool and landed just on top of Jimin’s feet.

The dancer was dragged underwater by his hyung’s weight and his shrill of pain was hidden in a trail of bubbles. He clawed his way to the surface and clung to the edge of the pool. His knee pulsed from the unforeseen attack, Jimin had just managed to cough up the water in his lungs, when he noticed Namjoon’s large hand patting his back and his other arm snaked around his waist to hold him up.

“Shit I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful. I just didn’t realize I was going to go so far when I jumped and, ” Namjoon blubbered his apology.

“Hyung,” Jimin rasped, effectively cutting him off. “It’s alright. You didn’t mean to.”

“Can I do anything? I know your knee is messed up and that definitely didn’t help.”

“I think I’m going to go lay in the hot tub for a bit. Trainer thought it might help. The hot water.”

“Honestly, we should all do that.” Hoseok piped up from the other side of the pool where he was now floating beside Jungkook on a pool noodle.

Namjoon kept his hand tucked around Jimin’s waist, bearing as much of his weight as possible, as the pair limped across the pool deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once settling in the hot tub, an unusual silence overtook the group. Jimin nestled up to a jet in the wall, allowing the gushing water to ease his back pain. Jungkook seemed to have a similar idea, though he was half asleep on Jin’s shoulder by the time the whole group had settled into the tub.

“ Tough day, huh?” Taehyung awkwardly broke the silence.

“Hmmhmm, but we will endure. That’s what tylenol is for afterall.” Yoongi contributed.

“I’m more of an Advil guy myself.”

“Same here, Tae.” Jimin piped up. “Besides Yoongi hyung, you don’t take over the counter painkiller anymore.”

“Right. Only the strong stuff for our hyungie!” Tae wiggled his eyebrows in an overdramatization of seduction.

“It’s not my fault they don’t do anything for the nerve pain” Yoongi pouted. “You make it sound like I’m sort of a drug addict!”

The members exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. It would take a lot of Advil and ice to get everyone to sleep soundly tonight. And perhaps a few managers to lean on before they got to their rooms at all. But for now, there was the hot tub, the laughter, and each other. Pain or no pain; Jimin though that was plenty.

[stusbunker]

Feels Like the First Time

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester/ Rowena Macleod

Written for @spnkinkbingo​

Square Filled: Amnesia

Word Count: ~3400

Summary: Rowena takes Sam seriously and indulges them both.

Lovely Banner made by @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Warnings: 18yo+, memory wipe, smut, multiple orgasms, hinted public sex, size difference, magically enhanced sex, annoyed as hell Dean.

^*^*^

He sensed her presence before she said a word, a subtle tingle that started at the base of his neck and sank down his spine, pulling his shoulders back and head up. Sam stood tall; his eyes darting about until he was reassured what the instinctive alarm meant. In unnatural quiet, Rowena had draped herself against the doorframe, amused yet calculating as she watched them ready the ingredients. He couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of her, coiffed and elegant, something so out of place in his boots-on-the-ground, blood-under-the-fingernails kind of life.

               “Hello, boys,” Rowena purred, decadent eyes sinking into his very being.

               “Bout time you showed up,” Dean grumbled, dropping the spell book he had been using onto the table beside the muslin mat. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and gave her a knowing shrug.

               “A bit surly aren’t ye? What’s a matter Dean, flask dry already?” Rowena bated, holding her hair to the side as she unwrapped the belt on her coat. Beneath it she was dressed in a rich maroon blazer, accented with gold, her tiny waist pinched by a matching pencil skirt. The cream-colored blouse was only a shade darker than her porcelain skin. Sam couldn’t help but wonder what was softer the satin or the parts of her it covered. Quickly, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and his eyes off their witch-to-the-rescue to help finish preparing the ingredients for the spell.

               Sam couldn’t get his hands to work properly, they were thicker now, the joints moving sluggishly. But, eventually, he had the dry ingredients diced as Rowena mixed the mucus and moss. Dean seemed to teeter over them, unsure what to do as he waited, constantly blowing or patting at his hair.

               “Alright, side-by-side you go,” she instructed with a curt nod. She paced in front of them as they settled in place, shallow bowl in her left hand as she began to recite the spell. She stopped in front of Sam first, eyes wide as she continued to chant, when he didn’t understand she beckoned him lower with a quick tug at his neck with her free hand. With a cackle from Dean, they both bent over, allowing her to cover their foreheads with the tar like concoction. At least, it didn’t smell like anything worse than a mud mask, Dean thought.

               Once Sam and Dean wore matching bands of sludge over their brows Rowena finished the spell, voice rising in pristine Latin. The moment the final word was spoken, they both fell to the floor, unconscious. Rowena daintily stepped over their bulk of muscle and limbs, to return her ingredients to their containers. She left the hunters where they lay and made her way to the library.

               An hour later, that is where Sam found her, sipping on Dean’s hidden stash of Scotch, reading. Being back in his own body again magnified every sensation, from the weight of his footsteps to the fit of his clothes. Though mostly it was the hunger, the raw aching need to touch and to take, to fill and be filled. Sam needed her and now that his hands were again his to control; he didn’t hesitate. Without a word he fell to his knees at her feet, hands resting beside her delicate shoulders on the wooden chair. If she was shocked by his antics, she didn’t let on. With a silent plea and panting breaths Sam huffed out his desperation with hazel intensity.

               Carefully setting her glass down, Rowena reached up, and crumbled the remnants of the spell from his face. Her tiny fingers were cold yet soothing, and Sam leaned into her touch, eyes closing in submission.

               She leaned forwards, rubied lips gliding passed his until she spoke hot and dark into his ear, “I don’t suppose you’d like to thank me in private?”

               Sam’s whole body shuddered, and a strangled groan was the only audible sound before he cupped her face and kissed her senseless. She broke away and snaked her hands behind his neck, locking him to her as she rubbed her nose against his. With matching grins and general disregard for Dean who was also righted, but stumbling out of the dungeon, they tucked away in Sam’s room for the foreseeable future.

               Hours later, they lay naked in each other's arms, Sam’s fingers threading through Rowena’s bright hair as she walked her nails over his chest. They sighed in the contented warmth, a mutual relief in ending up there at last. She was silently pleased that he was the one to instigate it after all his inane posturing, but he was a Winchester after all. Rowena nipped up his jaw as he faced the ceiling, lids heavy above a blissful smirk. His dimples were simply scandalous, of course she had to bite each one once they popped up again. Sam’s hand left her hair, sinking to drag her hip tight to his side. It simply fell back, teasing the cleft of her backside, one massive hand encasing her.

               “I can’t believe that actually happened,” Sam said softly, devilishly down his nose to her.

               “Don’t tell me you need a reminder already, Samuel, I’m too sore for that yet,” Rowena warned, eyes melodramatically aghast.

               Sam chuckled, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “No, just, it’d been a long time comin’.”

               “Really now?” Rowena deadpanned. “I wonder why, Mister High-and-Mighty…”

               Sam swatted her ass, dragging her on top of him as he feigned innocence. “Well, you are completely out of my league.”

               Rowena’s bottom lip popped out in consideration before she nodded. “True, poor boy. What will I do with one such as you?”

               She began to rock along his reawakened cock, graceful glides of her supple skin against his, nails digging into his upper arms as she looked him over. Sam hummed appreciatively as she sank down onto him, hot and swollen. “Thought you were sore.”

               She raised an eyebrow in return. “I thought you knew better than to question me. I take what I want,” her teeth were tight over the last word, before she leaned forward and kissed Sam again. His hands gripped her ribcage, thumbs tracing beneath her perfect tits as he thrust back into her. She arched backwards with cantered grace, letting the depths of her magic pull their bodies into a final crescendo. It was maddening how amazing it was. Sam crashed in a state of euphoria that seemed too much for his mind to process. Maybe it was Rowena’s lingering magic, maybe it was just her, but Sam no longer believed Heaven existed on the other side of a sandbox.

               “Oh gods,” Rowena fell forward with a hearty moan, her chest firm and comforting, a slender smothering Sam welcomed. He nuzzled the edge of a nipple, pinning her narrow waist in a hearty hug.

               “That was—” Sam sputtered.

               “Aye,” Rowena agreed, smiling easily as she took her turn to play with his hair.

               “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we can top that,” Sam sighed, delighted and dazed by their coupling. “Maybe it was because it was our first time—"

               “Hardly,” she tatted.

               “You know what I mean,” Sam stared at her suddenly serious, perhaps even a little self-conscious. Sam looked up at her with those puppy dog eyes that she couldn’t stand. “I’d do it all over again.”

Rowena gave a noncommittal reply before slinking her legs together and dropping to the floor. She dragged the comforter back onto the bed to cocoon inside as her body temperature evened. She let Sam hold her tight, finding his hand over her elbow oddly soothing as she drifted off with Sam’s natural furnace adding to her warmth. She awoke with the crack of dawn, and sinful inspiration.

^*^*^

               “So, she’d just bail on you? Kinda harsh,” Dean patted Sam’s back as he sat alone in the kitchen.

Sam turned to his brother in confusion. “Who bailed? What are you talking about?”

Dean stared at Sam and then shifted his weight on his feet and leaned in to really focus on him. “Rowena? Witch? About yea-high?”

“Rowena? Why would Rowena be bailing on me? I haven’t seen her in weeks,” Sam laughed awkwardly. “You okay, man? Still drunk maybe?”

Dean swallowed a mouthful of scalding hot coffee and choked. Once he could get the words out, he came back at Sam, “Trying to play it sly, really?! After the fucking show you guys put on last night. I think I went deaf in this ear trying to drown you guys out.”

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam tried not to laugh, but Dean’s absurd aggression over the impossible implication of hooking up with Rowena made it difficult.

“Listen, you don’t want to admit to getting walked out on, fine. But I have just one question. Carpet match the drapes?” Dean’s eyebrows pitched over his mug. Sam stood up without an answer, shaking his head at his brother’s asinine inquiry.

^*^*^

               Their next case, Rowena appeared out of the woodwork, sashaying into the crime scene with credentials from Scotland Yard and a mean streak a mile long. The locals were falling all over themselves with ma’ams and manners. Dean was not amused, especially when Sam’s voice dropped and got exponentially clumsier whenever she glanced his way.

               “Why are you here?!” Dean snapped once he was left alone with her at the morgue.

               “Hello, Rowena. Nice to see you again. Thanks for getting our heads back in our bodies after we blundered it up! Like always,” Rowena retorted, doing a horrible mockery of Dean’s voice.

               Dean sighed, waiting for her rant to run its course. He read over the medical examiner’s report before pulling back the sheet on the latest victim, noticing intricate tattoos on the insides of each wrist.

               “Seriously, what’s your angle? This case barely hit our radar, what’s it to you?” Dean pressed.

               “I’m not the culprit, if that’s what you mean to say!” Rowena primped, tisking at Dean as he continued to look over the body.

“Got something to say, spit it out,” Dean snipped from across the room.

Rowena shrugged dramatically. “It’s nothing, dear. Just a wee bit of ectoplasm along the nasal passage and defensive wounds along one side of the body. But I’m sure a lifelong hunter, a professional of your caliber, noticed such things.”

Dean double flashed his phone’s flashlight up the guy’s nose to find Rowena correct, his head slumped in defeat. He called Sam at the victim’s house, in the process trying not to let Rowena out of his sight. “We got ecto on the vic.”

“Vengeful spirit, huh,” Sam thought aloud. “Okay, well, meet back at the motel? Figure out who we gotta burn?”

“Sounds good. Hide the china though, Glinda hasn’t gone back to Oz,” Dean lamented.

“Whatever you say,” Sam agreed.

^*^*^

               Rowena appreciated a man that could handle physical labor, watching Sam dig the rocky grave was quite a sight. Especially since he was always more the studious type, though she knew firsthand what kind of power his body held. And she wasn’t done with him. The air seemed to hum around them as they watched Dean set the bones on fire, Sam glancing down at her as she reached up to his hair, pulling away dead grass from his efforts. Her dark eyes reflected the flames and Sam lost all sense of control, he crashed into her, mouth open and hands tugging. Dean didn’t even bother complaining, he just walked away as Sam pinned her against a tree. He let Sam walk back to the motel for that traumatizing visual.              

^*^*^

               Their third first time was after a long case when Rowena hadn’t been able to counteract the aftermath of another witch’s botched spell. Visibly shaken over her unexpected shortcomings, Sam held her tight as she tried not to cry. His large hand trailed over her back in languid motions, warm and soothing.

               “You did what you could, no one blames you,” Sam murmured.

               “I bloody should be able to clean up after an amateur, Samuel. I’ve been doing this for so long, maybe I am getting rusty,” she trailed off, not meaning to continue the trail of thought aloud.

               “Hey, look at me?” Sam demanded, pulling her face up towards his with a whisk of his fingertips over her jaw. “You are as sharp as ever. Don’t let someone else’s mistakes take away from what you are.”

               “And what’s that, hmm?” Rowena hummed, eyes sparkling against Sam’s intense affirmation.

               “The most badass witch I have ever—” Sam huffed until his face broke open into a grin of a much younger man. “You’re amazing, you know that. I don’t have to tell you.”

               She tightened her fists into his shirts. “But it sounds so much better when you say it, dear.”

               Sam wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her controlled façade, thick thumb tracing her sharp cheekbone until they fell into a breath of a kiss. Tender and timid.

               “I didn’t figure you’d be a gentle one,” Rowena teased, pressing against him in urgency. They moved in a trance of silent adoration and gentle longing towards Sam’s room. There, they went slowly, lips and hands exploring each other in layers. The hunger grew in his eyes as he saw each fresh strip of flesh, pale and ageless against her overstated lingerie. He kissed down her taut stomach, stubble burning as he tore away the delicate fabric keeping him from tasting her at last. He sank between her thighs as a pilgrim at a prayer rail, gracious and pleading. Swearing oaths and praising her name. She fell apart flushed with emotion; uncertain she could continue such games.

               Sam tucked her into his side, holding her close as he sank into her. Filling her without his lips, eyes or hands ever leaving her skin. She writhed beneath him, keening every version of his name, shaking as he grunted into her hair, sweet nothings that meant more than anything had before. His hand splayed over her heart as he found his release, her name a promise on his lips.

               She woke him with her twisted smile teasing him until he opened his eyes, her nimble fingers dwarfed by his length. He lay back and watched her work, yesterday’s makeup fading onto a somehow younger looking face. Her ancient eyes couldn’t fool him though, they poured out the things she hadn’t said, giving Sam much more than the sweet pulse of her tongue could offer. His throat bobbed as he clenched his jaw, straining as she took him deeper, cupping his balls as her wordless syllables pulled him over the edge in the still morning air.

               Rowena climbed up his body, leaning back against the pillows in signature refinement as Sam groaned and stretched his waking limbs. He kissed her cheek before heading to relieve himself, lingering on the sight of her in his bed. She drank in his proud smirk before burying herself back into his sheets. He woke her late in the morning, with a strong cup of tea and a shy smile.

               “So, Dean’s gone for a few hours, running errands. I don’t really know what you do for fun, but I was kind of hoping we could spend some time together?” Sam stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Rowena to blow him off completely.

               Gracefully she set her cup on his desk. She stood, tugging at the neck of his tee shirt so it fell to the back of her knees. “Sam, my idea of fun is precisely what you’ve spent your life fighting against. I’m a witch. You’re a hunter.”

               “What are you saying?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest, straightening to his full height. “Are you telling me that you didn’t want this?”

               “No!” She said firmly, turning away. “Perhaps--- it was just all just well and good. Truly, the best. But—I’ve not been honest with ye. And I don’t think you’d want me taking up your free time if you knew everything.”

               “Rowena, what did you do?” Sam relaxed as she dropped back to his bed, looking almost childlike in his shirt, hands gripping the edge of the mattress.

               “It was something you said, the first time. The real first time, a sheoid,” she leaned into each word, eyes pleading for his patience.

               “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam sank beside her, anger and curiosity battling within him.

               “Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve shared your bed. You said you wished we could do it all over again and I thought—” Rowena couldn’t help but smile at the memory, but her voice stumbled once she saw the pain in his eyes.

               “You tricked me,” Sam sighed.

               She turned to face him, pulling his hand into her lap, snugly in her own. “Just a wee memory patch, I can take it away if you’d like?”

               “How many?” Sam said evenly, glaring slightly into her eyes.

               “How many patches or how many bouts? You need to be more specific,” Rowena teased, tongue clipping each word out.

               Sam’s eyes bulged, inhaling deeply through his nose. “Both.”

               “Just two patches, but it was quite a few rounds. I dare say your stamina is—” Rowena started to gush, blowing out her appreciation as she watched Sam squirm.

               “You’re gonna fix my memories, but I need to know one thing before you go digging in my head again.” Sam pointed at her with his free hand.

               “Alright then, out with it,” Rowena rolled her eyes, leaning back to rest on her hands, crossing her bare legs at him.

               “What made you stop? You could have kept leading me along, having your way with me and wiping the slate clean. But something was different today. Why?” Sam’s voice pulled her apart, his eyes intense and knowing. He challenged her in a way only he could and she hated him for it.

               She chewed on her tongue before making a pathetic offer. “I could just leave them lie. You’d be none the wiser and I could be on my way.”

               Sam shook his head at her, the air thick as she felt the remnants of her emotional walls drift away on the breeze.

               “You! You, stupid moose. You come in here with tea, proper strength and sugars and then you stand there, like you do. Tall and offering up your day, like some doaty loun.” Rowena groans and presses her hands to his temples, frustrated she kept going.

               “Because I’m done pretending, Sam. I don’t want you to forget. Satisfied?”

               Sam held her wrists, and searched her eyes, before he could say anything, she kissed him. All of her inhibitions and pretense left on the floor beside her gown. She kissed him like it would be the last time, but he didn’t let her go. He pulled her onto his lap until neither one could breathe.

               “Do it.” Sam leered out of the tops of his eyes. “Before you make me forget again.” He winked at her then. She began muttering under her breath, nails digging into his scalp as she peeled away the layers dulling his memories. It was over in less than a minute. Sam’s eyes slammed closed, too many sensations flooded his system as he remembered pulling splinters out of his knuckles, unspoken for sore muscles and jaw falling into place along their lost timeline.

               “There. Good as new?” Rowena waited for Sam to reply.

               “You fixed us. Why would you hide that?” Sam wondered aloud. Rowena tried to shrug it off, standing as she collected her clothing.

               “Hey—I’m not mad,” Sam pulled her back to him, holding her waist as she stood between his feet. “Don’t do that ever again, but I’m good, if we're good?”

               “We as in—” Rowena grumbled.

               “Us,” Sam nodded infectiously, dimples pulling her from her shell. She rolled her eyes and huffed defiantly.

               “Fine. You want a fecking hen, Samuel. You have one. Happy?” Rowena pushed him playfully.

               “Yup,” Sam pulled her back with him, popping the p. She giggled against his lips as he tucked her hair out his way.

               Later that day, Dean returned, startled to find Sam and Rowena reading on the couch together. She had her hair back and barely any makeup on, but the way Sam was looking at her, Dean didn’t point out the shift. A glib ‘finally’ his only celebration.

^*^*^

[yourdeepestfathoms]

I’m still embarrassed but here’s some lady in waiting Inner Monster designs because I really wanna talk about them

Bessie/TB- TB is a tall, humanoid monster that is mainly naked in appearance. The skin on her chest, just below her breasts and ending at her last rib, is missing, the edges frayed and mangled, with her ribs and lungs exposed. The ribs are cracked and chipped, some even missing entirely, and her lungs look infected and swollen. Her breasts are still intact, but lack nipples. In addition, TB wears what could be considered promiscuous clothes, mostly colored black and red, similar to sadomasochism- a chain and collar wrapped around her neck, numerous leather straps, buckles, chains, and flesh hooks covering her form. Her skin is pale, much like Bessie’s, and her hair is choppy and short. She lacks eyes, instead having dark, flesh-colored sockets. Two circular saw blades on either side of the head come around from the back and dig into the eye sockets. Her extremely thin stomach is littered with dozens of angry red cuts and her back has long scratches and bruises stretching down the span of skin. Emerging from her shoulder blades are wide, bat-like wings made of flesh and have chains and barbed wire hooking into them, attaching the limbs to her lower back and waist. Her legs are hock jointed. When she speaks, blood constantly oozes and bubbles and leaks from her mouth. A crown of thorns sits around her head. She also has a vertebra-like tail.

Maria/Helel- Helel appears in the form of a cherubim, a winged angelic being described in biblical tradition as attending on God. It has four heads in total- on the right, a pure white bunny covered in black ink to symbolize guilt; on the left, a donkey with its snout tried shut to symbolize humility; at the back of the neck, an iridescent snake to symbolize cleverness; and at the front, a maned human with the eyes and mouth of a lion. Six wings with piercing eyes hidden beneath the feathers lie upon the back. The arms and legs are that of a lion’s, while the rest of the body is bare, pale flesh with no defining genitals or breasts. Large, thick horns curl upwards from the temples of the lion-human head and form a perfect circle that almost connects. In between the space of either horn, there is a glowing ball that should never be touched by human hands.

Maggie/Dogface- Dogface is human-like in appearance with half of its face missing- as in: flesh ripped off and only muscle and flashes of skull remain. Whatever is left on the other side has dog-like facial features, a canine tongue, and teeth poking out of the lips. Its good eye has a large, black tear stain running down the cheek. The body is grimy, gaunt, and nude, with wounds all over. The wounds have turned into maws and are filled with razor sharp teeth. The largest mouth is down the inner arms, stretching from the inner elbow to the wrist. The arms in general reach down to the knees and are furry, like the legs, and the hands look as if claws have been shoved into the fingers, painfully overlapping the actual nails. Fur bristles along its spine in patches. Near its rear, there are two tails with mouths on the ends. Tied around the waist is a white rope, the only thing it seems to wear, with a lumpy, bloody sack hanging from one side. It is said that the sack holds Anne Boleyn’s head.

Joan/Mothwing- Mothwing simply appears as a plague doctor...or at least on the outside. It is unknown as to what lies beneath its cloak and mask.

[whumpywhumper]

Darling

Thanks be to @0idril0 for allowing me to bounce ideas off of her when she should be sleeping

TW: elements of noncon

Edit for Masterpost and because formatting was a mess

* * * 

Markus knew better than to go into the city at night without his grahm but Illyn had asked to borrow it. Told him she needed to copy it because she had seen something in her auger that scared her. 

He was strong enough that he didn’t always need a grahm. Adept enough that he could protect himself. The grahm made it easier—made it to where he didn’t have to think about it. So he’d told her not to worry about it. 

He should have listened. Should have thought. 

All he needed was some damn copper wire to finish this project. He was aggravated and cranky as hell from working into the small hours of the night. Caffeine only got him so far and he figured it was only a short trip to his shop and back on his bike. Then he could sleep. 

His client was coming for his amulet in the morning, it had to be finished. The poor old man was in desperate need of some help with his arthritis. His poor swollen joints had cried out to Markus’s senses without even touching them and his doctor prescribed medications weren’t cutting it. So he’d come to Markus. 

He’d wanted to help. He’d just wanted to help. 

He turned the corner just two blocks from the shop, keys to his bike in one hand and spool of copper wire in the other, happy to go home and finish the project when the form had come from the shadow. Markus hadn’t even had the opportunity to cry out before he was slammed into the brick of the alley wall with a hand over his mouth. “MMPH!!” he clawed at the arm, his nails not getting any traction. 

A dark chuckle rumbled into his ear, “That’s not going to work very well, darling.” 

Markus’s eyes widened when they finally took in the pale form in front of him. “Shitfuckdamn,” he thought with a frantic grab at the white crystal on his belt. A shackle of a hand encircled his wrist, slapping it to the brick above his head. Markus tried for the other hand and the fingers on his face tightened like a vice, threatening to break his teeth from his jaw. 

The vampire lifted its lips in an approximation of a human smile when his captive stilled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Hmm, maybe you are smart after all. I was curious why a witch would go anywhere I could sense him without some protection. Only thing I could think was that he must be stupid.” The vampire’s voice was like dark honey fresh from the comb, deep and thick, coating Markus’s entire body. Making him shiver.  

A thought wormed his way to the front of his brain. The vampire was beautiful. Blond hair worn long and curling at his collar bone. A five o’clock shadow highlighting a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His blue eyes looked kind, maybe he wasn’t—

Markus sucked in a shuddering breath, throwing up any kind of defenses that he could scrabble together with his wayward magic. The vampire grinned outright this time, feeling Markus gather the energies from the air. He drew closer to his prey, “Oh, you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?” His eyes were no longer blue but a deep abyssal black. 

The trapped witch trembled, realizing how outclassed he was against the blond. Vampires were just as much mental creatures as they were physical. Could make a human walk to their deaths and thank them at the end, screaming in ecstasy, when they drew every last drop of lifeblood from their quivering bodies. Markus could only pray to be so lucky. 

The vampire slotted a thigh between Markus’s legs, turning his face to the side, and purring into the crook of his neck. "Mmm, beautiful, you smell wonderful." To anyone looking in the alley, they would look like a couple of lovers, locked in a passionate embrace. Markus was frozen, fear pounding in his throat, feeling weak and powerless against the stronger man. The hand around his wrist was tight, strong, grinding the bones together hard enough that he had to suppress a wince. 

He felt damp breath on the tendons of his throat and an instinctual fear knocked on the back of Markus’s head. He acted. Struck out with his magic, a small burst of light erupting from one of his rings, bright enough to make the vampire flinch. He ripped the hand from his face, “Ma’Ventus!”  

A gust of concussive force flung the vampire into the opposite wall. Into a garbage can. Markus stumbled at the sudden cold feeling roiling through his gut, stopping himself from falling by the grace of a nearby door handle. He did not like using that much magic without a damn proper focus. A shake of his dark head and he staggered away. One foot in front of the other, eyes skimming over the alleyway. He needed to get away. His keys. Where were his keys? 

He gave up the search when he heard a low growl from the garbage can and his stagger turned into a dead sprint. A quick hand to his belt and Markus palmed the white crystal. His last resort. Thick boots splashed through the puddles of the city alleyway. His shop? He spun the corner, trying the locked door. Nope, and tempered glass made busting in a non-option. He kept going. 

None of the other shops had lights on. He dodged corners and ran through the deserted streets. Fast footsteps dogged his every turn, catching up. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he chanted to himself, breath rasping down his raw throat. 

Markus heard it before he really felt it. 

A sharp crack against the night air shoved him forward and his boot shattered the calm of a puddle as he stumbled. What the fuck? Pain, white hot, erupted from his shoulder and he cried out as he fell, twisting in the air to land on his back. He pressed his hand to his shoulder and it and the crystal came away red. Blood? Had he been shot?! 

Laughter ricocheted down the street, and Markus felt his heart thud to a wild tempo in his chest when the vampire spoke, “I got tired of running you lot down a long time ago.” 

Eyes blurry with pain induced tears, Markus focused on the vampire as he sauntered up to his prone prey. He held a small caliber pistol in a casual grip. Fuck. He tried to scramble backward, away from the predator advancing upon him, but the vampire clucked. Raised the gun. “Don’t move.” 

An hysterical thought bubbled up, “So, I’m either going to be shot, again, or be this douchebag’s next meal. Great. Awesome.” Markus stilled, swallowing bile, and gripped his crystal tighter. He had one shot. 

The vampire strode forward until he stood over Markus, straddling his waist. The gun trained between his eyes. “I always wondered what one of your kind tasted like,” he said, a thoughtful tone to his honeyed voice. “I’ve never had the opportunity. . . “ Black pooled into the vampire’s eyes and he licked his lips, eyes locked on his bleeding shoulder. 

The witch stared, breaths short, feeling a queasy panic start to thrum in his gut. Markus had heard all of the fireside stories. 

Don’t let a vampire catch you, the taste of magic is addicting. 

A vamp’ got Enry. Took him to the nest and passed him around before he        got away. Poor guy’s never been the same.  

They can’t turn you, but that only makes you sweeter. 

The vampire dropped to his knees, one hand holding the gun between Markus’s eyes and the other coming to rest on his throat. His hands were cold on Markus’s still living skin and he swallowed, feeling his fluttering heartbeat against those strong fingers. Those soulless eyes were intent, the witch didn’t dare move, didn’t fight when the vampire knocked his hand away from the bullet wound. “Guh!” He couldn’t help the groan that was pulled out of his chest when the blond dug his thumb into the weeping opening, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

The blond grinned, “Did that hurt, darling?” His thumb dripped blood. Markus’s blood. The witch trembled, breaths coming quickly. The vampire took his eyes from his prey, his lids hooded and full of desire, lips open and heavy with anticipation.  He tucked his thumb into his mouth and Markus struck, shoving his fist into the vampire’s face. 

He poured energy into the crystal, feeling cold leech up his arm and into his chest, as sunlight burst from his palm. A howl and the vampire recoiled, flesh boiling, the gun falling to the side as he brought his hands up to claw at his melting face. Markus pivoted his hips, throwing his attacker, and clambered to his hands and knees. “Gogogogogo,” the vampire’s howl spurred him onward even as it turned to a choking gurgle. 

Markus ran. 

He didn’t stop running until he physically couldn’t anymore. Bending at the waist and panting great heaving gulps of oxygen down his acid-laced throat. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down his nose. He held the stitch in his ribs and glanced around, feeling a sense of foreboding rising through him. He’d run to the warehouse district. Not a hard thing to do in this city, not in the slum that his little storefront was in, but still dark and deserted. 

Breathing heavily, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed. The ringtone echoed against the empty building. 

“Hello?” 

Relief rushed through him and Markus felt his knees try to give out at the sleep raspy voice. “Illyn?” he whimpered. 

“Markus? What’s wrong?!”

He laughed, shaky and small. “I think I found what was in your auger.” 

“Oh my god, what was it? Where are you?” 

He swallowed against the stone in his throat, “I’m not sure, ran from my shop into the warehouse district.” 

“Fuck, okay, do you see any street signs?” 

“No, I don’t even see any building signs.” 

“Okay, send me the location from your phone.” His hands shook as he did as she asked. “Are you hurt?” 

Markus choked back a hysterical giggle, “He fucking shot me Illyn.”

“He WHAT?!” A door slammed over the speaker and Markus heard her car startup. 

“Yeah, in my shoulder,” he tucked the phone against his cheek and good shoulder, gripping the bullet wound. His hand came away slick. “I’m still bleeding.”

“Holy shit, put pressure on it. Can you heal any of it?” 

He shook his head, feeling cold and exhaustion creeping into every iota of his body. “I’m tapped. Had to use a lot to get away. I don’t have the right materials on me anyway.” Markus leaned against the empty warehouse, the rough brick catching in his leather jacket as he slid down. 

“Okay, hold on for me, alright? My phone says I’m ten minutes away. Can you get under a street light?” 

“I don’t think so. . . Illyn, m’really tired.” 

“Stay with me, baby, okay? Stay with me. I know you’re tired. You probably used too much magic at once. Remember how I got so sick that one time I tried to impress you? Huh?” 

He gave a weak chuckle, “I ‘member. Passed out on the floor. Had to carry you home.” 

“Yeah, yeah you did. This time I get to carry you home, ‘kay? Keep talking to me baby, let me know you’re there.” 

Markus hummed, letting his eyes slide closed, “M’kay. . . Illyn?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Want my grahm back, kay?” 

A choked laugh, “Of course baby. Anything you want.” 

Something took the phone away from Markus and his eyes snapped open. A horrified scream poured out of his mouth, cut off by a hand around his throat. 

“Markus?! Markus?” 

“Is that your name, darling? Markus?” The vampire held the phone to his ear and picked the witch up, forcing him to his feet. “It suits you.” 

The vampire’s smile was hideous. The human carapace of his face had been ripped away by Markus’s sunlight. It left the gray leather of an ancient corpse, the blond hair replaced by stringy white. His nose was just gone, a bat-like snout in its place. 

“I’m sorry, your friend can’t come to the phone right now.” Markus could hear Illyn on the phone, cursing and calling for him. “Don’t worry, I will take very good care of him.” The delicate machine crumpled in the vampire’s fist, glass shattering and tinkling to the ground. 

Markus grabbed at the hand around his throat. A harsh rasp coloring the night air when he tried to draw air past the blockage. Fear choked him as much as the hand around his throat.

“You were not very nice to me earlier, darling. You hurt my feelings.” The vampire drew closer and Marcus turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt fingertips brush across his cheek to trace down his jaw. “I think I’m going to have to teach you some manners.” His head was forced back by a vicious grip on his hair and Markus clenched his teeth as he tried to push at his attacker’s shoulders. He may as well have been pushing the wall at his back. 

The vampire chuckled at Markus’s struggles, moving the hand from his throat to caress down his chest, across his stomach, and to press him closer by a hand on the small of his back. Markus shuddered at the familiarity of the gesture. The way it made him arch against the taller man. He couldn’t push the vampire away. Couldn’t shake his head. He felt dampness laying thick and heavy on his eyelashes. 

Fuckfuckfuck. 

Something cold and wet ran up the side of Markus’s neck and he gasped in surprise. His eyes shooting open. All he could see was the cloudy night sky, thick with smog and light pollution. He tried to jerk away but was held closer. The arm going around his back to crush his ribs to the firm chest in front of him. 

Markus strained against the hold, his breaths short and painful. Sharp points of hard teeth tugged delicately on the thick muscle of his neck. He was fucking playing with him. An angry flush washed through him, “Just get it over with you asshole!”

A soft puff of air against the wet line on his throat and the arm around him became bruising, “As you wish.” 

Markus grunted when the vampire’s sharp fangs pierced into the side of his neck. Hands clenching into his attacker’s jacket at the pain. He tried to jerk away and gasped when the vampire sank his teeth in farther, tightening his hold to make his ribs creak in protest. He fought to breathe, ragged and shallow. The hand in his hair forced his head back to an even more awkward angle and he groaned as it stretched his neck against the fangs in his flesh. 

He could feel the vampire’s lips sealed tightly around the entry wound in his throat. A slight sucking sensation whenever the vampire swallowed. The soft touch of his tongue. 

Fear fluttered in Markus’s chest as the vampire steadily drank. He pulled at the back of the vampire’s jacket, tried to get traction with his boots. “Enough...stop, stop.” 

A soft moan of pleasure rose at his begging and Markus whimpered at the tingling numbness that started to work its way through his extremities.  The clouds twirled overhead and he felt his heart racing in his chest. Damnit, nononono...

Markus’s knees gave way after a few more eternal moments and a short broken sound dropped from his chest at the extra weight on his ribs. At the way the vampire’s fangs tore further into his skin. “Stop. . . No, stop, I—I can’t. . .” The clench of his hands went slack as the cruel grip on his hair loosened. 

The vampire cradled the witch to him. Drawing him closer so his face came to rest in the crook of the other’s neck as the other hand kneaded into the lax muscle of Markus’s back. A thumb rubbed soothing circles into the nape of Markus’s neck and his eyes fluttered closed, gifting butterfly kisses to his attacker.  

The vampire shuddered and pulled away from Markus’s neck with a soft, wet sound. His tongue laved at the marks he’d left and Markus gave a weak mewl of pain. Stop, it hurts, please please, stop. The vampire nipped at the curve of Markus’s jaw, sharp points making his prey quiver in his arms. 

“Fuck darling, that was. . . “ he shivered and nuzzled at Markus’s neck, pushing him against the wall to hold him there with the weight of his body. Markus’s attacker ran his hand up and down his side to find the seam of his t-shirt. To find the bare skin underneath. 

The witch pulled a convulsive breath and twitched at the touch. Tried to draw away. A growl made the hair stand up on his neck and he stilled with a low whine. “Good boy” the vampire breathed, his thumb digging into his side. Pressing into one of the delicate pressure points above his hip bone. Markus groaned, head still lying limp on the vampire’s shoulder. He shook his head, a gentle rocking back and forth on his forehead, his finger’s twitching against the vampire’s back. 

The hand on the back of his head slid under his jaw and rolled his head to rest on the brick wall, “Look at me, beautiful. I want to see you, see those lovely green eyes.” Markus mumbled something that was supposed to be a denial and the vampire tsked at him, patting his cheek in an almost slap. “Look at me, Markus.” 

Markus flinched at the sound of his name falling from that fanged mouth. He swallowed thickly and blinked his eyes open with a herculean effort. They burned with fatigue, taking too long to focus on the vampire’s face in front of him. The blond façade from before had been replaced, black eyes peering out of flawless pale skin. A pink flush dusted his newly whole cheeks and his eyelids hung heavy with want. 

The vampire smiled at him when he was able to focus, “There you are, darling.” He rubbed his thumb along the fang marks and Markus whimpered, breath catching in his tight chest. “I’ve heard the rumors of how sweet your kind are but I never believed them. I can feel the magic, your magic, running through me,” he giggled, actually giggled, and brought his face up to Markus’s. Almost kissing him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve felt drunk since I was human.” A pink tongue flickered out of his mouth to lick a red smear at the corner of a full lip. “That’s been a very long time for me.” He shuddered, rubbing himself against Markus, and drug his hand farther up his torso, along the bare skin. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to give that—to give you—up.” The blonde’s smile turned feral. 

Oh fuck, no, please, nonononono. . .

Markus trembled when lips met his neck again, a shiver running along his spine when the vampire whispered, lips tickling the sensitive skin, “I guess I’ll have to take you with me before your friend gets here.” Fangs sunk in a second time and Markus cried out, broken and small, when the pain was reignited. He gasped at air with short and shallow expansions of his lungs while his eyelids slid shut. His entire body went limp, heart thundering behind his breastbone. Finding an irregular aching beat. 

Unconsciousness loomed like a dark shadow and he was barely aware when the vampire pulled away from him to scoop his non-responsive body into his arms. As he slid under, into the darkness, a soft breath puffed at the top of his head, into his hair. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take excellent care of you.”