#anyway i hit my knee and now its bruised :’)

[osachiyo]

˖ 𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 ! — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai & jouno

𔘓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — n/sfw content (mdni), hurt + comfort, degradation, tit slapping, use of safe word, ooc in fyodor’s but idc let a girl dream, spanking, rough sex, face fucking, sadism, dacryphilia, toys, role-playing in jouno’s, overstimulation, reader doesn't actually use a safe word in chuuya's (its not possible with a mouthful of cock i promise), cunilingus, one of my only fics where fyodor isn't a toxic little shit so 🤷🏽‍♀️ ps. don't steal my headers !!

𔘓 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — here it is, the bsd version ! sorry for taking so long to finish this, there were some.. distractions 😓 i honestly did not expect this many people to request it *sob* anyways, happy reading and i hope ya'll enjoy ! NOT PROOFREAD !!

like this post? then view my masterlist for more !

“ ‘samu—!” You squealed, tugging on your boyfriend's hair as he moaned into your cunt, doing nothing but giving you more of that toe-curling pleasure.

"Mmh - don't interrupt my meal, darl'," he leaned back for some air only before spitting on your puffy cunt and driving back in. Large, bandaged hands were pushing your hips down on the bed to keep you in place— to let him have his favourite meal in peace, as he told you.

You couldn't recall how many times you came on his tongue— absolutely drenching his beautiful face with your juices, and he loved it. But you, on the other hand, were starting to get exhausted - no, you were exhausted, chest heaving as you tried to keep up with the hot coil in your lower tummy, threatening to snap any moment.

Dazai would know your limits if it were any other day - he'd know just when to stop, but today was exhausting for him too— and the entire day he was thinking of burying his face between his pretty little girlfriend's thighs - it never failed to melt all of his stress away and fuck did it work like a charm - all thoughts but the taste of your pretty cunt left his mind once he finally tasted you. Including the fact that you had your own limits and needed a break - no matter how pleasurable the feeling of his tongue felt against your swollen cunt— you needed a break.

You hesitantly moaned out the safe word, sinking into the mattress in exhaustion as you watch Dazai blink in confusion, before immediately pulling away from you. The bandaged hand that was previously pinning you down with fervor was now caressing your thigh gently.

"Are you alright, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?" He was calm, eyeing you for any sign of hurt or discomfort. You only shied away from his gaze, fingers fingers fiddling with the satin sheets as you shook your head - "no.. just tired, 'samu." He nodded, a pout gracing his lips - the pink muscle glossy from your combined slick and saliva, "aww, was that too much for my pretty baby?" You only rolled your eyes, playfully hitting his chest as he laughed, planting a kiss on your temple with a soft "I love you so much."

"I love you too," You giggled as Dazai buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the bruises he gave you earlier that night as an apology.

Chuuya had a rough day, his underlings being "fucking dumb and not getting shit right as usual," in his words. So like the good little girlfriend you were, you were generous enough to offer your hard working boyfriend some "stress relief".

That's how you ended up on your knees in front of the ginger haired man— who was still fully dressed, seated on the fancy black leather couch as you choked on his cock.

Loud growls and words of praise left his chapped lips in hurried curses, a gloved hand pushing your head down to take his cock in fully, basically making you deepthroat him. "God, pretty f-fuckin' girl, my good girl - such a good fuucking- argh—! fuckfuckfuck! Just like that baby, take this fuckin' cock.." He threw his head back against the headrest of the couch, hips now thrusting erratically up to your mouth, fat balls slapping against your chin as you gagged around him. Tears streaked freely down your stuffed cheeks, making him hiss out curses— fuck, you were such a pretty crier.

If he were only more focused and not drunk off of the pleasure of your warm and inviting mouth swallowing him whole, he'd notice your panicked whines, the way you dug your nails into the muscle of his thighs - scratching and trying to pull away from his cock, even slapping them in panic.

You couldn't breathe— you felt lightheaded and if Chuuya kept going, you'd surely faint from the lack of air.

As if right on cue, Chuuya finally remembered that you needed to breathe— hurriedly letting go of your hair and pulling you off his cock, his heart broke once he saw you coughing and sputtering on the floor, your face scrunched up in pain as air finally entered your lungs.

"Shit— doll, are you okay? Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby," he sounded genuinely guilty, and he was! He'd never want to actually hurt you unless you asked for it, and he felt so fucking bad. You nodded in response, leaning your head against his thigh as you finally breathed normally— tears, snot, drool and his precum dripping down your chin.

" 'm sorry for ruining this, Chuu. I know today was stressfu—" Chuuya cut you off with a click of his tongue, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown gracing his pretty lips, "What're you talking 'bout, baby? You didn't ruin anything," he sighed, "c'mere."

He put his hands under your arms before tugging you up in his lap, gently wiping your face with his gloved hands before pressing sweet kisses on your whole face while whispering sweet nothings about how much he loves you— how good you are for him. The ticklish feeling of his kisses made you giggle— sounding like sweet music to his ears.

After all, no matter how much he likes to see you crying and sniffling for him, he'd always prefer your adorable little giggles.

"Slap!"

You choked out a moan at the harsh impact of your husband's hand cracking down on your ass— his hand gently rubbed the heated skin as an apology, but you knew it was only a facade. "How many was that, dear?" He mused, tone nothing but unkind and condescending. It make you feel small, and ashamed— but you also couldn't deny the way your pussy gushed out more and more slick with each hit— and he made sure to belittle you for it.

"T-twenty six?" You stuttered, thighs twitching in anticipation as Fyodor ran a slim finger up and down your soaked folds, collecting the slick on his finger before shoving it inside.

"Mmh—! Fedya p-please.." You begged, which inly made him grin devilishly— god, he was so handsome. "Please what? You have to be more specific than that," he muttered as he shoved a second finger in your drooling cunt— his free hand kneading the battered skin of your ass but you could care less about the sting.

"P-please! Make me cum—!" You gasped when another brutal smack was landed on your poor ass, the soft fat rippling as his hand met your skin. "And who do you think you are to tell me what to do?" His voice grew stern. You flinched when he flipped you on your back, basically throwing you on the pristine white mattress of your shared bed.

You landed on the bed with a soft "oof!", it wasn't long before Fyodor joined you in bed, basically ripping your cute little babydoll dress off of you as greedy hands cupped your tits, his gaze ferocious— you've never seen him like this. "You're such a naughty girl, aren't you?" He growled— kicking your legs apart to nudge a knee between them - against your bare, sopping cunt. "Fedya—" You got cut off by your own pained yelp as Fyodor tangled his fingers into your hair, yanking your head back to reveal your throat— the soft and sensitive skin just begging him to bite it - mark you up as his.

"Hush now, slut." He scoffed, harshly biting down on the column of your throat— as you let out a pained gasp. It hurt like hell.

You don't know what happened but you didn't like this anymore, you didn’t want to be treated roughly anymore, didn’t wanna be called mean names— you weren’t even processing the harsh words coming out of his mouth, you just wanted it to stop.

“Red, S-stop— red!” You whimpered, sniffling as Fyodor’s movements came to a halt. He let go of his tight grip on your hair— instead gently scooping you up in his arms and cradling you, hushing your little whines.

He silently scanned you before saying anything, dry lips pulled into a frown. You certainly didn’t look hurt… was it something he said? “What happened, darling?” He questioned, voice calm and soothing— a contrast to your own broken one. “Too rough,” you pouted up at him, burying your face further in his chest.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, love. I should’ve been gentler, huh?” He brushed a stray hair from your face, before gently massaging your scalp— easing the burn from him pulling it earlier. “ ‘s okay, fedya,” you sighed, he was so good with his fingers (in more ways than one).

“I love you, dear,” kissing the crown of your head, a soft smile tugged at his lips. “I love you too!” You smiled back. A moment of silence passed as you stayed in his embrace, before speaking up again,

“You’re doing the dishes tonight, by the way.”

“…Fair enough.”

"You're so cute when you get like this," Nikolai cooed, voice drowned out by the sound of his hips smacking against your ass. He had you in a full nelson, your back flush against his chest, strong arms hooked under your knees to hold you up in the air as he thrusted into the warmth of your spasming cunt. "Ngh— 's too much - kolya—" you slurred, head falling back against his shoulder. God, his stamina was no fucking joke— you thought, jaw unhinged as you let out wanton moans. His thighs were absolutely drenched with a nasty mixture of your slick and his cum from the previous rounds— making a "pap! pap! pap!" noise everytime they met your ass. The whole thing was dirty, messy and so fucking lewd— his favorite combination.

"Oh hush now— you say it's too much but—" he gave a mean slap to your bouncing tits, making you squeal and kick your legs at the pained pleasure. "You're just gushing all over me— how am I supposed to believe it's too much for you, hm, dove?" His breath was hot against your ear, making you shudder— "ca— can't! please!" You sobbed, but your tears did nothing more but get him more fired up - shit, you looked the prettiest when you cried.

But the thing is— you actually weren't lying, it was really getting too much for you. But apparently Nikolai was too pussy drunk to recognize the exhaustion on your face. He was going too fast - too hard, you could barely process anything he was saying or even think straight. It was practically a miracle that you even remembered your safe word— "c-clown— clown!!"

It took Kolya some time to process the words falling out of your mouth— brutal thrusts coming to a halt as soon as he realized you just said your safe word out loud. As much as he wanted to ask you what was wrong, he knew he had to place you somewhere comfortable first - make sure you're doing okay. He gently pulled out of you with a wet 'pop!', hissing as your tight walls kept clinging onto him.

Being as soft and gentle as possible, he unhooked his arm from under your knees, flipping you to carry you bridal style - before placing you down on the bed and kneeling in front of you.

"Are you okay, pretty?" His voice was soft— a surprising contrast to how he was manhandling you just seconds before. You nodded, fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks, which he gently wiped for you. "Talk to me, sweetheart," he pouted - brushing some stray hair out of your face and planting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. " 'm okay," you rasped, cringing at the way your voice cracked. Nikolai nodded, getting up and quickly getting a glass of water for you.

You gratefully took the glass from him, the cool water immediately calming your burning throat. "Are you hurt anywhere, baby?" He questioned, taking the empty glass from you, before placing it on the nightstand. You shook your head, "no, jus' tired, is all."

"So does that mean we can continue late—"

"Kolya!"

“Well, aren’t you just pathetic?” Jouno grinned, holding the wand vibrator against your clit while pumping the bright pink dildo in and out of you, making you squeal and kick your legs— hips bucking up to meet the toys.

“Please, officer— wanna cum s’ bad!” You sobbed, wrists straining against the leather restraints he had put on you. Jouno hummed, his hand speeding up, thrusting the toy even harder and faster in and out— as he rubbed the wand in circles on your throbbing clit.

“Oh, I bet you do— but, I don’t know if you deserve it yet..” he had a faux pout of his face, pressing the vibrator even firmer against your nub - making you see stars.

He had been at this for hours— getting you so close to reaching your peak before cruelly ripping it away from your grasp, only giving you fragment of the mind-numbing pleasure that you so desperately wanted to feel— and let’s not forget about the mean, degrading words falling from his lips - calling you a worthless slut, who’s only purpose is for his pleasure and his pleasure only. You felt like slapping the cocky grin off his face.

It didn’t feel good for you anymore— instead made you feel terrible, really. The continuous edging with the cruel words took a greater toll on you than both of you had imagined, which led you to eventually sob out the safe word.

Jouno stopped immediately after you blurted out the safe word, quickly but calmly pulling the dildo out of you before removing the wand, placing both of the toys on a nearby table.

He went over to unclasp your restraints, heart tugging at the way you sniffled and hiccuped— fuck, he took it too far.

A frown graced his lips once he felt the marks on your wrists from pulling at the restraints for so long— but before anything else, he had to make sure you’re okay. After all, your safety is the most important to him.

“Are you alright, darling?” He leaned closer, pulling off his slick-coated glasses and chucking them somewhere— wiping your tear soaked cheeks with his now clean hands. You let out a pitiful whimper before nodding, “ you’re too mean and— i still.. w-wanna cum..”

Jouno’s lips quirked up to reveal a cocky smirk— but he couldn’t be more relieved that you were okay - not that he’d ever show it. “Of course, pretty girl— my little crybaby wants to be treated nicely, hm?” He grinned, hand reaching down to flick at your nipple.

“Don’t tease!” You whined, but you still couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Okay, okay— I’ll treat you like the princess you are,” He snickered, kissing the top of your head before picking you up— taking you to the bed to take you like he had been aching to all this time.

©sachiyoh — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[antiquarianfics]

Dark and Bloody Ground

So you violently murdered a man? So what? You did it in the name of love.

a/n: This is super loosely inspired by the song "Dark and Bloody Ground" by Ruston Kelly. Great song if you haven't heard it. Anyway, this is super gory and violent, but it's still a little fluffy... Hope you like it.

warning(s): Profanity, gore, extreme violence, sort of a hostage type situation, only kind of proofed.

note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliate characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Blood. Blood everywhere. It’s on the ground, on the body, on your hands, on your face. The scene looks as if a toddler was given a box of crayons—all shades of red—and a coloring sheet. It’s horrific. Blood splattered, crayon scribbled—however you look at it.

Your breathing is erratic, heavy breaths shake your body as your lungs struggle to take in air. You’ve over exerted yourself, but you can’t find even a smidgen of a fuck to give.

There’s a dull ache in your knees where you’re sat on them; you lean back to distribute some weight onto your heels. Once your knees are slightly alleviated, you become more aware of the constant ringing in your ears, the ringing that has been constant since the moment you pulled your weapon. Then, you notice the soreness in your fingers and glance down to where your hands are clenched in fists, your knuckles busted and bruised. Looking around, you see a bloodied knife a few feet away: your gun is still in its holster.

You look up at the bloodbath in front of you—the dead men in front of you.

Did I even pull my gun?

The ringing in your ears is deafening, and you can’t focus on anything other than the carnage. Or, you can’t until you hear Bucky call for you. Wait. Bucky.

The moment your brain processes Bucky’s voice, it’s as if someone hits the fast forward button until your brain catches up with what is actively happening around you. The ringing squeals until it doesn’t; your head swivels until your eyes lock on their target.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeats. “Doll.” He slides next to you on his knees slowly, grimacing slightly as he moves.

Bucky’s eyes are filled with worry, his every movement cautious. He takes in your current state, but he saw the whole thing. He saw you kill the man who lay dead before you. He watched as the deceased attempted to fight back, how he got a few minor licks in, and how it was for naught. Still, though, Bucky is cautious as he looks at you--as he tries to make sure you're okay.

"Oh, baby," you say, voice low and hoarse. You smile softly and raise a hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Bucky smiles sadly, his own hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I've missed you, too."

"Are you okay?" You ask, concern palpable.

"I am now. You've got me, Doll."

You nod. "Yeah, I've got you."

Bucky looks around the facility he'd been held prisoner in for weeks. The drab appearance had changed quickly in your fury; he'd never seen you like that before.

—

Bucky coughed as the HYDRA operative kicked him in the gut. In most cases, Bucky would have already killed the guy, but he'd been starved and neglected for days, pumped full of a chemical that lessened the effectiveness of the super soldier serum, and his body thus has been struggling to fight off a nasty infection from a three day old stab wound.

"I'll ask again, Winter Soldier. Where is it?" The man in charge, an unassuming man in a pressed gray suit, asks in an even tone.

"I'll tell 'ya again," Bucky spits, "fuck. you."

"Very well. Again." The man waves his hand carelessly in a 'go ahead' motion.

The HYDRA operative kicks Bucky again. That's when the door to the torture chamber opens, and there you stand with a stolen keycard held to the door.

Your eyes land on Bucky on the ground, then they shift to the operative carrying out the torture, and then they settle on the man in the suit. Bucky knows you see red.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward and hit the button to shut the door behind you, stopping an escape. Then, in a flash, you've thrown your knife into the HYDRA operative's head. The operative drops, his body twitching slightly before stilling, and blood slowly begins to pool from his cracked skull.

The moment the knife leaves your hand, you step forward and swing at the man in the suit. The man side steps, lets out a 'Who do you think you are?' before being silenced by your fist to his jaw. You punch the man again and he stumbles backward; he quickly manages to get his footing and takes a swing at you. He lands a punch to your gut and one to your face, but neither deters you. You pivot around him as he lunges forward and then kick him in the back. The man falls to the ground, manages to turn over onto his back, and he is immediately met by another right hook to the face as you jump on him. You straddle the guy as you repeatedly hit him: you feel as the man's jaw cracks, as his cheekbone splinters. You're vaguely aware when each hit feels less solid, when the man beneath you finally stills. You feel weightless, a bit gone, as you slide off of the man onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.

—

"We gotta get out of here," Bucky says, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you murdering for him.

You nod and stand up with a light groan, grasping Bucky's hand and pulling him up with you. You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders, helping him walk as you make your escape.

—

Hours later, you and Bucky have not said much to one another. When you made it back to the jet, you were more worried about patching Bucky up and getting him something to eat than talking. Then, when he tried to say something, you shushed him and told him to get some rest. Now, though, as you're sitting next to his hospital bed in the med bay, and now that you know he's alright, you finally choose to talk about what happened.

"Bucky?" You say quietly, trying not to disturb him if he's asleep. You're hoping, selfishly, that he is.

"Hmm?" He hums, turning his head slightly and opening his tired eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry. About today. I, uh. I know that was a lot..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You saved me. I should be thanking you; you shouldn't be apologizing."

You give him a tense smile.

"It's just. When I saw what they were doing to you... I saw red, Buck. I was so angry at them for hurting you, and I was scared. I just... I didn't think. But they didn't have to do all those awful things to you."

"I know."

"It makes me sick to think about."

"I know."

"You deserve so much better."

"I know."

You raise an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

"You do?"

"Well, I better. My girl violently killed two men because she thinks so."

You giggle. Despite everything, you giggle. Bucky smiles.

"Anyway," Bucky says, a light tone enveloping his words, "you know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he teases.

"Especially when she has on her killing shoes," you laugh lightly.

"Mhmm. C'mere, Lizzie Borden." He holds out an arm for you as he scoots over to make room. You climb into the small bed with him, tucking yourself away into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair.

[simpforwebtoonmen]

★lookism characters with an s/o with a similar fighting style as Bayonetta pt.2

feat. Johan Seong, Zack Lee, Mira Kim

So the first one did pretty good so im gonna do a second one :) (edit: it's been ages since i've posted (i fell out of my hyper fixation on lookism BUT NOW ITS BACK YIPPIE) and college is sort of kicking me in the ass rn) not proofread

sorry zack fans but his part is really short...

★Johan Seong

Everyone knows of his "copy and paste" abilities, right? Even with little knowledge of a fighting technique, he's almost always been able to pull it off without any difficulty.

So why is it that he can't copy your technique?

He groaned, his hands on his knees as he panted, letting beads of sweat drip from his forehead and his shirt just slightly damp from the sweating. He hasn't been able to catch up with you at all during this training session. The way you'd fly through the air with no trouble, as if there wasn't such a thing as wind resistance. You were so quick with your movement, making it hard for him to even catch up with you. And even if he could predict your dodging technique, he couldn't predict where you'd dodge or if you'd try and land a blow onto him. You were so predictable yet so unpredictable as you'd never do the same thing twice, there was always something new with you.

"Goddammit," he muttered to himself, growing frustrated with his own slow movement, or rather what's slow compared to you. Usually he's quickly against most opponents, but of course you aren't one of those opponents. You giggle, "uh oh, looks like someone's struggling. Wanna call quits? No shame in doing so, Baby," your words were not comforting in anyway, your teasing tone giving away your true intentions. And who was Johan to not give into your obvious trap.

He wiped the sweat off of his face, and with a deep breath in he straightened himself up. Getting into a fighting position, one you havent seen before, he raises a hand, beckoning you to come forward with his pointer and middle finger, "you fuckin' wish."

With a laugh, you got into position as well, "finally gonna take me seriously?" you teased, your lips curled into a beautiful grin.

And with that, you finally make the first move, jumping up and forward toward your boyfriend. Your left leg winding back just as quickly as it landed a kick on your boyfriend's face.

-

"aww, you poor thing! I'm so sorry! lemme kiss it better," you apologized, taking Johan's face into your hands, careful to not grab too hard and to avoid bruises and bumps. Softly and gently, you peppered his face with kisses. And despite his frustration towards you, he let you do as you pleased (as if he didn't enjoy your coddling and kisses. The pink on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know).

★Zack Lee

"Do I look like I need help?"

"yes, very much so."

He sighs, "alright fine, but don't you dare get hurt!"

You laugh, "yeah, that's funny." that earned a confused look from zack and an even funnier look when you stood on your hands kicked your heel into a workers nose, causing a messy nose bleed and most likely a broken nose.

"what the fu-" his distraction and attention on you left him open, a rather weak punch to the jaw causing him to get his head back in the game.

Just as he takes down the second to last worker, he's almost taken out by the last one but is saved when a chain wraps around his torso and is yanked against the ground, his head hitting the ground first causing him to pass out.

On the other side of that chain was you. How were you able to slam a man 3x your size to the ground with a chain no less? Zack has dated you for a pretty long time but has known you as a friend for longer, and he's had no idea how or when you've acquired such skills. but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking about marriage right now.

"hello? Zack? Earth to Zack!...what the hell is wrong with this dude-"

"marriage..."

"okay, what the flip man."

★Mira Kim

it was supposed to be a peaceful and fun date. And it was for a while. You and your girlfriend, Mira, first got coffee at your favorite cafe, then went shopping at the local mall, and now as your leaving the mall's arcade, hand in hand with Mira, a group of mall stop you from exiting.

"what do we have here?" the one in front, who also happened to be the tallest and most menacing, mocked the two of you. Mira, unafraid and not one to give into bullying or intimidation, replied, "we're on a date, can't you see that?" she raised hers and your connected hands, showing them evidence.

The tall one laughs, his three lackeys laughing along with him, "oh sweetie, I know you can do a lot better than," he looked you up and down, "that." He takes a step closer to Mira, though she stands her ground, refusing to move or let go of your hand. She already knew you had her back, though she's never seen you in action, the stories told from Zack is enough to tell her that you're more than capable of protecting her and yourself.

The man smiles, his hot breath wafting in Mira's face causing her to scrunch her nose in disgust. "I'm a much better person to be going with, doncha think?" it was much worse for Mira when he talked.

And just when the man was about to move closer, he was rough shoved backwards. "yeah, that's enough," you step in front of Mira, realizing that this man was taking it too far and would go farther if he could.

But apparently, the shove backwards was not enough hint for him. "mother fucker!" he wasted no time throwing a punch at you. You deflect it by simply shoving his arm away followed by a kick underneath his chin. he damn near flies backward and onto his back, your leg straight upward in front of you for a few seconds before you slowly lower it back down.

Mira stood behind you, stunned with her hand covering her mouth. Her shock increases when she realizes that the man was now unconscious as his three goonies try to shake him awake. They try to point fingers at you, blaming him for his 'death', which was ridiculous because it was very clear that he was still breathing by the way his chest rose up and down. Of course their accusations cease when you smile down at them, your smile full of mischief and malice.

They end up dragging away their leader and you and Mira were able enjoy the rest of your date in the mall in peace.

"(name)"

"yes, sweets?"

"that was really hot..."

[moonshynecybin]

16 + rosquez + extra smooches if its in the canon timeline

16. accidental i love yous during sex.

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dante... okay so these guys are such crazy asses who hate vulnerability that i think the only way this would happen is through them accidentally psychically BEAMING i love you at the other via eye contact during insane sex and the other somehow recieving that message. telepaths only. like they are PR merchants they love to choose their words if this is post-break up it will nottttt be an accident..... and i thought about doing pre-sepang but that made me SAD ! anyways this beat my ass. bon apetit

“I love, ah, you are just—“ Vale says as Marc sinks down on him, palms braced on the hot center of his chest. “Christ, the way you take it.”

Marc hitches himself a little further onto Vale’s dick, taking a breath in, and letting it out slowly. He’s all the way in, now. He closes his eyes. They haven't done this —Marc on top– since before everything. He needs a second.

“— You are going to kill me,” Vale groans, hands tender on Marc’s skin. A possessive hand high on the side of his thigh, sliding Marc’s knee forwards on the bed— managing his position, a little. “Okay?”

Marc nods, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. It's a lot. 

Vale pulls his own leg up a few inches, looking for leverage and finding it— and the movement tugs at Marc’s slick hole, drags hotly against his prostate, a zip of indescribable feeling that makes him shiver and jolt, stomach jumping. Bright pleasure snakes its way through him, cutting away at everything else.

Vale sees it hit him and curves a smile Marc’s way, lifting a hand to grip Marc’s ass and keep him where he wants him, the other skating the curve of his side and feeling the muscles work. “Better?”

Words don't— he whines, digging his fingers into Vale’s shoulder, and arches his back obscenely, grinding back onto Vale. It is better, and he wants more, chasing that angle.

“Greedy,” Vale laughs, and Marc nods, lip still caught between his teeth. He's sure it’s white with pressure at this point. He starts to move, getting a rhythm going, putting some power into his thighs, thick cock dragging smoothly inside him. He hears Vale’s throat click.

“You were gone too long.” He finally answers, probably too truthfully—  It's been two weeks, since they’ve seen each other, and Marc has spent the entire evening on edge, waiting for the academy guys to clear out so he can get Vale to himself, spread out so nicely on the bed for him, pulling Marc onto his cock with a hand on his ass.

“You missed it,” Vale gasps, as Marc drives down with a twist of his hips. It’s not a question. “You needed it,”

“Yeah,” Dragged out of him like it hurts, dick rubbing the skin of Vale’s abdomen. Vale flexes up, twitching into Marc, and Marc has to squeeze his eyes shut at the feeling. He leans forwards, legs trembling, and lands a hand on Vale’s chin, directing him. Lazy blue eyes snap to his. He just, he needs— 

“Watch me,” Marc asks, rolling his hips, and he’s on top but he feels like the one that’s pinned, split open, held down by the hands on him. He flexes his pelvis, legs spread wide, and Vale spasms, thumb digging hard into bone. He’ll have bruises tomorrow, happy reminders. 

Marc had asked for attention, and Vale gives it to him, eyes roaming over him— a captive audience. His face is open, his eyes lidded— his gaze lingers on Marc’s face, his chest, the cut of his abs, his dick, red and drooling between his legs,his hole, where Vale is holding him open. Marc gives him a second— he knows he’s a picture. 

He spreads his legs and puts on a show. 

Vale’s brow furrows as Marc picks up the pace, and a soft sound punches out from him. Marc’s lips twitch, of course Vale catches it, and he answers with a grin of his own, throwing a joke out as he catches his breath. Hot amusement fills Marc up, sweet as honey.

“You can really ride, eh?” Is what Vale goes with— always happy to bring a double meaning to a phrase.

“That’s what they tell me.” Marc laughs, breathless when Vale gets his knees under him and fucks upwards, hands a gentle counterpoint cupping his waist, devastating. “World champion.”

He looks at Vale. Absorbs his face, the laughter lines there, leftover from their joke— the track of his eyeline trails over Marc’s body, genuine happiness making him boyish, curls askew from where Marc had dragged his fingers through it earlier. His face is open, as unguarded as Marc’s seen it. Rapt.

I love you, Vale’s eyes say. I love you, and it’s unmistakable. Hits Marc like a bullet.

Marc stops moving, realization gossamer in his mind, chest heaving. Vale’s hips jerk once, involuntary, dragging a choked sound out of Marc, before they stop as well.

“Are you okay?” Vale asks, panting, worry coloring his voice. He tries to sit up and Marc leans on him, palms to his chest, holding him to the bed, leveraging his strength. He doesn’t usually do that in bed, content for Vale to do the manhandling—and it makes Vale look up at him with wide,  confused eyes.

“I love you.” Marc says, intent, holding onto Vale’s gaze with both hands. Holding him in his palms. He has to know, at this point, after everything, but they’ve never said it, and a frightful need to verbalize the feeling rises up in him, overwhelming. 

There's a second as Vale’s face does something complicated, expressions flashing in quick succession, tight concern giving way to surprise. There's a moment of silence. There’s a bolt of fear. Maybe he read him wrong.

And then he smiles like the dawn breaking, and Marc is flying.

“I love you.” Vale answers. Like he means it.

“You love me?” Now that Marc’s heard it once, he reaches for it again. Greedy, Vale had said.

Vale’s cock is still snugged up inside him, an undeniable pressure. He clenches, watches Vale’s chest hitch.

“I love you,”

He starts to move, watches Vale’s eyes flutter, watches him make a low sound, dropping his hands to Marc’s thighs and giving them a slight squeeze.

“I love you.”

Marc leans forwards, hips still working, and kisses Vale, messy. He can’t stop saying it, thinking it, asking it.

“You love me,”

Their breath is fast now, frantic, caught in the moment with each other, and he answers. Every time Marc asks, he answers, the feeling huge between them, indisputable as Vale reaches for Marc’s cock, leans up to gasp into his mouth, kissing him hard and messy. Two jerky strokes, and Marc comes, crying out, dripping onto Vale’s stomach.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Vale sounds desperate, intense. His hands are everywhere, his hips stutter.

“I love you.” Marc’s not even sure if he’s asking or saying anymore, repetition becoming religion, legs still working, thighs trembling as he rises and falls, that edge of too-much that he enjoys so much coming into play. Sunlight streams in through the curtains, and Vale locks up when he comes, clutching at Marc's skin, breathing deep and fast against his neck.

“I love you.”

[szynkaaa]

03. In Which a Stinky Monkey Needs a Bath

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... And one time, while traveling through the New West, you were not in the greatest mood. 

You were walking couple of paces ahead of me, gripping your staff tightly, and I was trying my best to keep up with you. It wasn’t easy, with the snow reaching my knees. Least with you wading through it at the front, all I had to do was walking into the trail you left behind. 

Normally, you’d walk next to me. It’s mostly to make sure that nothing was attacking me from behind when you were walking too far ahead, but then at some point I think you started to enjoy my company. It was also easier for you to shove me aside into safety in case we got ambushed. Better have bruises from the impact than a massive gnarly gash across the back.  

Another tell-sign that you were miffed: You walked with you shoulder all tensed up, and your tail was poised up higher than usual moving slowly left and right.  

If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say it might have something to do with the really weird looking monkey (that looked like it hasn’t bathed in decades and could use a full bottle of body lotion), wearing read loose pants and a mask as a necklace around his neck. We first spotted him sitting on a roof top of an abandoned building surrounded by frozen corpses.  

He was eating a fruit before he heard us coming. It didn’t seem like that monkey appreciated us interrupting his meal time – he looked fairly annoyed. His black soulless eyes swept over me, looking more and more annoyed, but then the mood instantly shifted when his eyes landed on you. Black orbs widened up in surprise, something akin to fear flashed across his face and finally settled what seems to be smugness? The monkey let out a hiss before casually dropping his fruit from the roof down onto one of the frozen corpses and hey what do you know, one of my worst nightmares came true: it came alive.  

Loud cracking sound echoed through the howling wind, the frozen corpse moving its limbs that have not been used in a long time, and grabbed for the weapon close to it, before coming swinging at us with a loud roar.  

Thankfully, you already dashed ahead to beat the living (or un-living?) crap out of the frozen corpse before it could even hit any of us.  

All I could think in that moment while watching the other monkey running away on his four was ‘Damn. There are more frozen corpses ahead of us and I haven’t had any coffee for a long time to deal with this crap’ and ‘fuck me sideways, this is like every horror scenario coming true and I did not fucking sign up for this’, and ‘dear god please just let this day end a warm hot spring would be really nice right now’.  

And I was right. I warm hot spring would be really fucking nice right now because someone had to chase after the crusty looking monkey – while beating up all the frozen corpses on the chase. Very nice of you to make sure I didn’t have to deal with them, it still would have been nice if you could have waited for me, was what I was thinking while running through the snow and against the wind to catch up with you.  

By the time I caught up with you, I broke up in sweat, and was panting slightly. I don’t really consider myself badly out of shape – I think I’m pretty fit for my age. But running through knee high snow, with the wind blowing against you and also wearing thick winter clothes that I bartered from a village we passed by, it made the jog up a bit more challenging than usual.  

And now I’m sweating and really hoping that the sweat won’t cool off too fast on my body and hopefully I won’t catch a cold in this miserable weather-  

The wind blew into my direction, carrying a hefty stank with it; rotten egg sewers system stank mixed with a lactose intolerant person who forgot to take their lactose pills and decided to go for that boba tea anyway because you only live once (could not be me).  

I immediately clamped my gloved hand over the lower half of my face, squinting through the howling wind to see where the fuck that smell came from.  

Pop quiz time!  

Question 1: Where did the stank come from 

Your monkey (not the crusty looking one) somehow managed to find a hot spring. The stronger the sulfur rotten egg smell, the better the mineral in the water is for your skin. 

One of the frozen corpses he beat up turned out to be a hollow shell, and upon breaking it releases a horrible gas that smells like rotten eggs.  

The very crusty looking monkey that looks like he should be buried 20 feet deep you are fighting right now keeps flashing you his behind and farting on your monkey. 

Question 2: What do you do in this situation.  

Take cover, stay out of this fight, do not get involved.  

One up the crust monkey. His farts are smelly? Well guess what maybe the Destined One’s even worse with his vegetarian diet. 

Throw a well-aimed snowball to help out your comrade. 

Question 3: When was the last time you told your loved ones ‘I love you’ before you got spirited away? 

Very recently, you always say ‘I love you’ to them at the end of a conversation like it’s the last one. Life is short and you never know what will happen. 

You don’t remember. You barely talk to your ‘loved’ ones anymore, life keeping you busy. Your last conversations were shallow catch up, and you realize that you have slowly pushed all the people in your life away and now you regret not playing a more active part in their lives anymore. 

This is all just a bad dream. Soon you will wake up, surrounded by your loved ones and that is when you tell them that you love them and you are glad to be able to see their faces again.  

And BOY did I wish the answer to question three was c, and I bet you, the Destined One, wished the same thing because you looked like you were fighting for your life (and fresh oxygen) against the monkey.  

He truly had the audacity to be flashing his thankfully covered butt at you several times and let out stinky farts, and I was wondering why the hell were you not dodging it. Or at least it looked like you were trying to, but failing miserably.  

Part of me had to respect the crusty monkey for being able to let out farts on command.  

If it wasn’t for the frequent fart attacks, I’d say you were holding up pretty well in the fight. But I can also see that with each fart-attack, you were getting more and more agitated, your attacks and moves becoming more frantic an un-coordinated. Who could blame you, if it was me, I’d also getting pissed and just want to whack everything wildly around me.  

I was lucky that the crusty monkey has not decided to attack me, and decided mayhap I should help you out a bit lest you die of being stank up, and I don’t think anyone would want that written on their grave.  

The Destined One, died by fart. You were loved and you will be missed.  

Spotting a small rock at my feet, I crouched down and started to roll it around in the snow, until it was fully covered and then getting bigger and bigger. Then I picked up the freshly made snowball, threw it in the air and caught it with my hand to test the weight. Not too light, but also not too heavy. Good enough to give someone a good smack.  

I looked back up again to see how you were faring in the battle – crusty monkey stuck his sword to the ground and was using it as a pole to swing around in a circle, kicking you back in the process. You tumbled back a few times, fell into the snow. 

As you got up to shake off the snow, and the crusty monkey laughing at you, I took this chance to aim and throw the snowball as hard as I can at the farting monkey. The snowball breezed through the air, hitting the crusty monkey square on the side of his face as he was busy laughing at you. It didn’t really do any damage enough, but it was enough to distract him. He turned his head into the direction of where the snowball came from, while his hand moving to grip his sword. That was enough time for you to adjust your grip on your staff and charge at him with a battle yell. One jump, you moved your free hand to grip your stuff, lift it up above your head and then went to smack the other monkey.  

He stumbled back couple of paces, before growling at you, and then decided that this was a fight he cannot win and disappeared in a wind of black dust.  

Coward.  

I came out of my hiding place, standing next to you, watching after the black dust wind flying off into the distance. 

And then another waft of wind blew into my direction. 

“Oh God, you need a bath, Kiwi.”, I groaned out, covering my nose and again and waving my free hand in front of my face in hopes to make the bad smell disappear.  

And I suppose you did not appreciate that comment.  

So not were you only pissed because of getting constantly farted, your travel companion – me – made a not-so-nice-remark about your current predicament, after you made sure you killed all the frozen corpses and fought the crusty monkey off.  

Seeing you walking in front of me with your tail showing that you were angry... I really was a shitty companion sometimes, was I?  

Just I was about to open my mouth to apologize to you, you suddenly stopped walking and I almost walked into you. Puzzled, I wanted to ask what happened and if there was something dangerous in front of us, but then I saw you turning your head up, your nose started sniffling something in the air. I copied you, but I couldn’t really smell anything out of the ordinary beside the cold winter air.  

You followed your nose, and seeing as I have nowhere better to go, I followed wherever your nose was taking you. It soon led us to an abandoned run-down shack. Not the first time we have come across during our travel, and we have used countless of those as a temporary shelter. The closer we got to the shelter, the more I can smell it in the air: rotten egg. 

Please don’t tell me this is the shelter of the crusty monkey and you are here for a round two-  

Instead of going inside the shelter, you walked around it. You briefly paused, and turned around to see if I was still following you. And then you nodded your head forward, in a follow-me gesture. So that probably means you were not going into another stinky fight.  

Curious now, I followed you. The rotten egg smell hung stronger in the air, followed by some steam, and I felt how the temperature in the air was getting warmer too, until you I saw what it was that caught your nose. 

A hot spring.  

I couldn’t believe our luck, this god-forsaken cold place really had a hot spring! Steam was rising from the water, fogging up the area. The giant rock pieces places around the spring indicates that the placement was deliberate – perhaps someone used to live here and made good use of the spring?  

“Alright game plan,” I announced, clapping my hands together and then pointed at you “You. Strip off your clothes-” your eyebrows raised up high “and just leave them in the corner over there. I’ll wash them for you while you’re washing up yourself in the hot spring.” My type A personality is coming out. Having something that vaguely resembles a plan made me feel good, it gave me the illusion that I was in control in a situation outside my control. 

As I was giving you instructions, I fumbled in my bag for the bar of soap I purchased in our last village and threw it at you, which you caught with just one hand. You moved it up to your nose to smell it.  

“And after you’re done, it’s my turn to wash up. See if you can find anything to eat while I’m cleaning myself up. Don’t give me that look, he farted on your clothes. You can’t wash yourself up and then put the smelly clothes back on! We can set up a fire and let them dry overnight.”  

I looked at you expectantly with my hands on my hips. You let out a sigh, realizing that this is not a fight you want to fight and I was right (for once), so you started to unstrap the leg and arm and shoulder armor pieces off first.  

I nodded, a triumphant grin on my face. “Alright, I’ll see if there is anything inside this shelter and then come back for your dirty clothes.” 

After accidentally walking on you in your birth suit for the fourth time, I have gotten used to seeing you butt-naked. I didn’t have much problem with nudity in general. When you live in a city with few nudist beaches, and pedal past by it on a bike in summer, you get used to see all kinds of different body shapes and forms and at some point, they all just blur together. Plus... not that I will ever admit it to your face, but you were kind of nice to look at? 

I also don’t think that you had a big problem with me seeing you naked. If anything, I think after the third time I walked in on you, a wide smug grin spread across the face, your eyes twinkling. I would even say, you enjoyed that I was admiring the view. I still decided to give you the courtesy of some privacy while you were taking off your clothes for your well-deserved bath.  

The funny thing though was that you get flustered seeing me naked. That one time, I wasn’t even fully naked, I was walking around topless with a bra on, trying to look for an ointment Xu Dog oh-so-nicely made for me to put it on my wounds. When you looked up to see what I was doing, and I turned around to ask if you had seen it somewhere, your eyes where wide open and your face red, staring at the amount of skin I was showing. When I was about to ask you if you have seen the ointment somewhere, you got up without a word and left the cave. Your ears were also burning red, and for the rest of the day you couldn’t look me in the eyes.  

And the next time, because the freaking desert was freaking hot and at that point I didn’t care if I’ll get badly sunburnt, I was about to take off my hanfu overcoat. You turned around to see what the rustling was about, and as you saw me slipping my arm off the sleeves, ready to walk around in my bra. My actions made you stop in your track, and your face started to burn up again. You grabbed the collars of my hanfu, pushed my arm back into the sleeves and then made sure that my hanfu coat was neatly tucked and properly worn.  

Since then, I have been more conscious about my nudity around you. It never felt like you were shaming me for it though. If anything, I think you were just flustered? Your tail would be hanging low but waggling back and forth – a sign that you were happy or excited. Or maybe both. 

Your tail told a different story than your actions.  

I shed off my own heavy coat and took off my gloves to make it easier to search for some things in my bag. There was one last mandarin fruit sitting at the bottom of my bag – frozen by now due to the freezing temperature, but if I let it sit close to the hot spring, maybe the steam will thaw it up again. 

I peeked outside and saw the pile of clothes neatly folded up in the spot I pointed at, your armor pieces also neatly laid out next to them. You were already sitting in the hot spring, arms spread out and along with your head, resting on a rock. The tension in your shoulders were gone, finally relaxed after wandering for the whole day and fighting countless of enemies. You were sitting with your back towards me. 

The back of your head really looked like a kiwi fruit. 

Your ears perked up when I started to move towards you, but you didn’t move your head to look at me.  

Placing the mandarin on the ground, I then took off my boots, followed by the socks. The socks I stuffed into my boots, and then I proceeded to roll up my pants until they reached mid-thigh. You finally turned your head around to see what I was doing, and then whipped around to stare at my oh-so-naked legs with wide-saucer eyes, your face flushing red again. Could be the steam, could be my legs, who knows. 

And it’s not like my legs were in their best shape. The skin around it looked like cracked desert surface, desperately in need of a good moisturizer. Shaving my legs was also a luxury I could not afford here – not that it should matter to you anyway. You are fully covered in fur, so that makes you to be the last person on earth allowed to judge the hairy state of my legs.  

Like on clockwork, I noticed the water surface beginning to move faster – probably caused by your tail underwater waggling.  

“Scooch over.” I said, this time not caring that you were flustered from seeing some skin, and then moved to sit on the rock close to where you were, carefully dipping one toe in to test the temperature.  

Heaven, it was heaven. 

I then sunk my whole leg into the water, soon followed by my second leg, just sitting at the edge enjoying the heat. I cannot wait for you to be done with your bath so I could clean myself too.  

You’ve turned your head away to look the over way, the tips of your ear bright red, but your body remained close to where I was sitting. 

It was kind of endearing how the sight of my skin made you flustered liked this. 

Remembering I had a mandarin to thaw and snack on, I reached for it on the ground and then placed it on top of your head.  

“There, now you look like a capybara taking a bath in a hot spring.” I said, grinning.  

Your hand grabbed for the mandarin I placed on the top of your head, and you turned around to look at my quizzically.  

I suppose you wouldn’t know what a capybara is, since they originally come from South America. I tried my best to explain to you what a capybara looks like, using my hands gesturing to the shape of the animal. 

To this date, you still didn’t know what a capybara looks like (but you appreciated me trying to explain it to you).  

“Can you put the mandarin in the hot spring for a few seconds so it thaws?” I asked, and you nodded, doing as I asked you to.  

After a minute or so, the mandarin was warm, and you poked a hole with your long thumb nail at the top of the fruit, and then started peeling it. You started to peel one side from the top to the bottom, then moved to the next section, until you were left with a flower shaped mandarin peel. Plucking it off and putting it aside, you then split the fruit in half, reaching it towards me. 

I flashed you a thankful smile, and just as I was about to grab for it, you quickly moved your hand back, enough that I couldn’t reach for the piece anymore. My hand, mid frozen at the spot where my half of the fruit was before. You were looking at my stony faced, but your brown eyes were glittering with mischief.  

Look who decided to be a piece of shit now. 

Pursing my lips and looking at you, I slowly reached out my hand again for the fruit, not breaking eye contact.  

I thought I was fast by swiping down to grab it, but you anticipated it and moved your hand even further back again. This time, your face broke into a grin, mirth written all over it.  

I wanted to be annoyed at you, but your smile was infectious and I felt my own lips turning up. Fine, this is how you want to play it huh? I leaned forward, determined to get my well-deserved dose of vitamin C, and you moved your arm further back, out of my reach.  

I rested my hand on one of the rocks, stretching out my own arm. Unluckily, the rock my hand was one came loose and slipped under me, and I lost my balance. I was not able to find ahold of something else to grab on, and felt how my entire body was falling forward.  

At the same time, the grin dropped from your face and you started to panic too. You were also moving, your arms now reaching out to catch me, but it was too late: In a desperate attempt to grab onto something, anything, my two arms wrapped around your neck and your arms around my torso.  

And then I dragged us both underwater. 

Let it be known to the entire New West that the last thing I shouted before going underwater was “My mandarin!” 

The smell of sulfur was the last thing I smelt before water filled up my nose, the burning sensation sitting up high. A pair of strong arms that were already wrapped around my torso then pulled me up, I gasped for air. My hair was clinging to my face now, my clothes soaked. Using my wet sleeves to wipe my eyes, I then opened them, only to be staring at your worried gaze, still holding me around my torso. 

I coughed again, rasped my throat. “I’m- I’m okay.”  

Your shoulders sacked in relief, your tail swinging left and right, splashing the water around it.  

You... were always looking out for me, and making sure that I was okay. Remembering how earlier today I hurt your feelings with that bath comment, I realized that now might be the best time to apologize.  

“I’m sorry what I said about you needing a bath.” I started, and your tail stopped moving, you looked at me intensely. “It was a shitty thing of me to say after you fought against him. If it wasn’t for you, I would not be standing here.”  

Your eyebrows softened, and you moved your right hand up to my shoulder, squeezing it three times reassuringly - ‘we are good, everything is ok’. 

A heavy weight fell off my shoulders and I smiled. Running a hand through my wet hair, I spotted the soap bar sitting on a rock. 

“Well, since I’m inside the hot spring, might as well take a bath now.” I reached my hand into the water to untie my belt, which got me the desired reaction out of you – a little payback was in order. 

You let go of me, as if I was burning your hands, and then turned around and waded as fast as you could towards the edge, and pulled yourself up, stalking away.  

I watched your retreating form, your tails waggling left and right. I didn’t want you to have the last ‘word’ though, so I bit my cheeks before shouting after your retreating form: “You have a really nice ass!” 

You slammed the door to the run-down shelter shut and I threw my head back, laughing.  

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦ ✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

My apartment came with a separate shower and a bathtub. I never used the bathtub for its intended use (it was an over glorified laundry basket for the longest time), until now. Now I take weekly baths in it, sometimes also three times a week.  

You loved taking baths together. You would claim that a king needs a pair of hands to help him clean the fur – and plenty other monkeys would kill to be in that position. The pout on your lips never stopped not being cute whenever I would shoot back with a ‘well, then why don’t you get the other monkeys to help you wash up then’. But you also knew that I would always give in in the end and help you wash up and then dry and comb your fur. In return, you did the same thing for me: scrubbing the spots in the back that were hard for me to reach, washing my hair, and then make me sit between your legs while you combed through them.  

Now I take my baths alone.  

[selfpositiveundertale]

Long post.

TW: car accident

Hey everyone. I'm not doing great.

I've already been having a hard time with migraines getting absolutely out of hand and interfering with literally everything in my life, but yesterday I had my first car accident. The meme I just posted is relevant. It was my fault but thankfully only me in the vehicle. Other than bruised knees(I'm short so I had the seat pulled up close so I could reach the pedals) and some mild rug burns where the air bag got me on my left hand and my neck (I had instinctively raised my arms to protect my face), I don't think I was injured in any way my chiropractor couldn't fix. Definitely jarred my entire skeleton and dislocated some ribs and messed up my neck but what else is new. I didn't hit my head and nothing hurts in any way I'm not already deeply familiar with. Surprisingly I haven't gotten a migraine yet but I'm fully expecting one soon.

Really good thing I wasn't wearing my sunglasses. I lost the pendent off my necklace though. It must have broken off when the air bag blew and then fallen into the road when I got out of the vehicle.

My vehicle is totaled. Not a great loss since the thing was on its last legs anyway but it sucks not having my own transportation now, even if I could only drive in town and couldn't leave town because it wouldn't make it far on the interstate. It would start shaking like a leaf any time I went over 50 mph and I didn't like that. I'm really sore and tired and shaken up but I'm getting through it.

My husband came immediately when I called him and he talked to the car insurance company and called his boss to take the rest of the day off work so he could be with me.

The people in the other car were mostly okay other than the man having a cut on his forehead and his wife having a scraped knee but both of their babies were completely unharmed, thank goodness. Nobody was mad at me, possibly because I was hysterical panicking inconsolable and kept apologizing and asking if they were okay. They were also on their way to the car dealership to see about getting a new vehicle anyway, so I think they'll be fine.

I made an appointment with my chiropractor this morning and he checked everything and basically said I was in pretty bad shape but not really any worse than usual, which was a great relief but not surprising. He fixed the ribs, my shoulder blades, neck, and hands and gave me some samples of a supplement he said might help the soreness. I'm also taking my painkillers, OTC pain medicine, and applying arnica cream to the bruises.

I've been so tired and sore and haven't been up to doing much of anything except eating my feelings but I'm making sure my pets get fed and helping my husband get ready for work in the morning. I don't think I'll be able to meal prep anything for him like I normally do and he says it's okay, he's not expecting anything of me if I don't feel up to it and he doesn't mind buying his breakfast and lunch.

I fear the financial repercussions of this, especially since things have already been very tight due to several sudden veterinary expenses. The cat gods looked at us and went "kittens upon you and your household" so in the last 4 weeks there have been 2 vet visits for a tiny baby runt of a kitten my husband found alone and abandoned at his workplace, one for a very pregnant stray kitty that followed a family member home and popped out 7 babies, and one for my dog when she caught a UTI. We think she's over it by now but I'm taking her back to the vet Friday for a recheck. It's been hard with her because she's been refusing to eat her dry food and we've been having to buy wet food as well as chicken breast and white rice and alternating between the wet food and a bland diet when the antibiotics made her tummy upset. I'm really hoping that by Friday I'll be brave enough to drive. The vet isn't far and my mom is going to let me take her old car for whatever I need until we manage to get me another used vehicle.

I know the car insurance is going to go up because of the crash even though now there's one less vehicle on it, and I'm praying to the heavens that I don't have to actually go to a doctor and get checked out because of the crash.

I need to see a doctor anyway about the migraines that are now coming several times a week and affecting me in unsettling ways like impairing my speech, making me nauseous when I use my eyeballs for their intended purpose, and even made me collapse once. But the clinic I usually go to because the price is income based is in the next town and I'd definitely have to have my husband take time off work to take me. I also fear they'll refer me to a neurologist. I'm certain I need to see one but since I don't have health insurance and the process for getting financial assistance at any given specialist office is (probably deliberately) incredibly difficult and tedious and almost not even worth the effort, it just doesn't seem feasible at this time.

I am trying to make things to stock my Etsy shop so I can make some money but at the moment I just don't have the energy for it. But maybe I should try anyway. The simple repetitive action of crocheting while listening to a book or Old Gods Of Appalachia might help me settle down and feel more normal. My hands ache but my compression gloves might help.

Things are just extremely scary and very painful right now. Staying determined is hard but I'm trying. I'm trying so hard.

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

[zabimarushoney67]

You may simply consider this a gush/confess if you wish.

There's something romantic to me in the complete trust involved in domination. Another person allowing themselves to become vulnerable and pliable for me.

I think its something Jushiro would enjoy. The trust involved I mean. Even in a non-sexual context. Just the intimate control involved in massaging someone (massage scenarios 👌👌👌).

Anyways, ramble done

-@dragon-anon

So anyway here you go! After a few months, I finally decided to come up with the massage scenarios/one shots for our beloved bleach captains! Our white haired angel Jūshirō being the first star of the show of course 🥰 Thanks a million for being so active here I appreciate it so much 😭🙏🏼, I hope you enjoy!👋🏽😋

🌸The Art of Touching You🌸

SS👀FLUFF💟MDI⚠️

-My take on massage one shot, story scenario thingies idk what you call them (from two different perspectives giving one, and receiving one) from 3 of our beloved bleach captains! Giving referring to reader x character and Receiving referring to character x reader

Lineup: Jūshirō Ukitake, Shunsui Kyoraku, Byakua Kuchiki

Warnings: Some groping but we’re massaging so it’s kind of an occupational hazard, medium language, roaming hands, tongue kisses, moaning from pain relief(?), brat tamer byakuya! !Minors do not interact! Mostly sfw 😜

🌸Jūshirō Ukitake🌸

💠Giving: Jūshirō places the last box, scribbled in big black sharpie, “Living Room”, down on the fluffy carpet. Dusting his hands in a clapping motion, he sighs happily staring at the stacked boxes that laid waist to the living room. Some opened and some still securely taped from the move. Taking a lone lamp from the craziness, he places it next to the sofa and turns it on before shuffling to meet you in the kitchen for dinner ideas.

Opened Chinese containers, used chopsticks, and fortune cookie wrappers decorated the rough set up area you and Jūshirō called in for the night. “You’re so tense tonight Shiro,” you speak to him in gentle consideration, knowing just how hard he’s worked today to make this move happen.

Your thumbs press into a tough knot that had formed over Jūshirō’s left shoulder, “thank your for bringing all the boxes in today, my love.” You hum gently in praise for his good work. Jūshirō sits shirtless between your legs on the floor, his hair pulled into a messy man-bun as you took place on the sofa behind him.

A stupid reality TV show played as subtle background noise, your TV sitting upon the still-packed away TV stand. A disgruntled groan left Jūshirō’s lips now and then as you pushed on his tender muscles. “Not so rough now, babe.” He hisses through his teeth and forces his bottom lip in a soft pout. The pad of your thumb swipes in large circles over the knot repetitively. “I’m sorry Shiro, I just don’t want this thing getting any worse.” You swoon apologetically at him slowly working your hands up to the back of his neck.

You had figured to give the knot some rest before you accidentally bruise him there. Jūshirō hums contently at the feeling of your gentle hands squeezing the muscles where his neck meets his back, rubbing more gentle circles between his shoulder blades. You catch yourself smiling fondly when you see Jūshirō hang his head under your fingertips. Jūshirō closed his eyes, fighting off the sleep that hung over him with each rotation.

Massage work quickly became mindless with the passing time. Cackling loudly at the TV, you followed along with the episode. This show was straight ridiculous, with it’s over dramatized couples fighting for pathetic reasons. It gave you something to focus on as your hands gripped and groped your boyfriends strong arms —the same ones you couldn’t wait to be held in later. Jūshirō sat quietly with his arms hanging over your knees, holding onto your shins with his large hands.

Gentle moans leave his mouth as you hit a tense spot under his bicep. His soft noises turn your attention there forcing your movements into soft kneads, running the muscle up and down under your palm.

Jūshirō’s lanky body melted like putty as you molded and reworked all the spots once more. Rolling his head into your lap his eyes landed in yours. “I love it when you touch me,” his voice sounding soft and faint. He’s so pretty, you thought as your heart fluttered from the look on his sleepy face, it bloomed a blushing smile on your own. “Well, I love touching you,” you cooed sweetly at him, placing your hands on his face you leaned in to place a kiss on his soft lips.

Move in day had been a success, now your life together can truly start. Forever is out there somewhere but it started here, in this peaceful serenity first.

——————————————————————————

💠Receiving: These late hours were surely going to be the death of you at some point, you thought rolling your neck around. Stretching your arms in front of you and locking your fingers together, you swivel around in your desk chair. “Time to finally leave,” you sang happily grabbing your purse and keys from besides your desk drawer.

The office was in desperate need of overtime workers, and making a little more cash sounded pretty good to you when the email was sent out. It originally was only planned over the holidays but it bled further into the advancing Spring Semester Quota. The money was good, but it was leaving your relationship stagnant and tense, and you solemnly missed your husband, his gentle embrace, his dazzling smile.

Spending more time at the office and less of it at home made for missing a lot of things. Birthdays, get-togethers, holidays, and dates all becoming stressors and ‘extras’, then being genuine memories you create with the ones you’re supposed to love.

Opening your door and stepping through the threshold, the entryway desk digital clock flashes 11:02 pm on its black LED surface. You quietly pushed the door shut behind you and took a deep breath of your home's comfortable air. The house was dim and quiet, Jūshirō was probably sleeping you thought sadly, but he had been nice enough to leave some lights on for you.

Hanging your purse on the wall rack you kicked your heels off on the rubber mat meant for household shoes. They perched against Jūshirō’s work shoes that lay so nicely side by side and up against the wall. You smile softly thinking of the beautiful life you’ve managed to create with the man you love.

“Are you just getting home?” Jūshirō’s smooth, quiet voice jolts you from your reminiscent thoughts and thwarted you back into reality. “I thought you’d be in bed by now,” you say in surprise to his sudden appearance on the stairway. “Couldn’t sleep,” he sighed leaning an elbow on the column to the railing. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you spoke, sounding rigid —this wasn’t like either of you but going weeks, months, probably, without one another has deeply rooted this uncomfortable tension. For you anyway.

You nervously bit your bottom lip and looked down at your toes as they wiggled on the cool, dark wood floor. “How was your day,” Jūshirō pushes, noticing the slight discomfort you presented in his presence. “Long. Exhausting, you know. The usual.” You sighed out, chuckling to yourself by your nervous reaction to your husband. It didn’t feel as if you had been married to him for 10 years, but you certainly had. Getting married in your early twenties, and starting adulthood early got you here, in your own beautiful home with Jūshirō.

Taking a the last step down to your level, Jūshirō prowls behind you like a tiger, eying you up and down in your sleek pencil skirt and frilly white blouse, admiring how fitted it was around your waist. “What are you doing?” You ask stilling in your spot as he stood at your back. “What I can’t hug my wife?” “Maybe, give her a much needed massage after a long day?” Jūshirō chides you jokingly.

He laughs heartily, draping his arms around you from behind, swaddling you up against his solid chest, trapping you there. “I just-,” you stop, feeling an ache in your chest. “You work a lot.” Jūshirō began, “but, that will never change how much I love you.” His patience and fiery warmth, left you with fuzzy feelings and a deep blush covering your face. Tears collected at your corners, threatening to fall down your cheeks as you had assumed Jūshirō was fed up with your schedule.

He gently released you with a kiss on your temple. His big hands landed on your slouching shoulders. With steady and continuous pressure, he squeezed and unsqueezed your exhausted body. Pressing and ringing out your built up, untamed stress. For weeks, it had felt like the world was taking residence upon your back. Getting heavier with each passing week of long days, and 35+ hours of overtime. Jūshirō provided you with the care you desired at the exact moment you truly needed it.

Jūshirō pressed both thumbs in between your shoulder blades and rubbed in deep circles there. He could feel your upper back crack under his thumb pads. You groaned deeply with his generously applied pressure in the sorest part of your body. Your slouching habit had developed and matured to an unhealthy amount of time spent that way. You swore to yourself to correct it eventually, and Jūshirō’s loving massage was helping wonders, you couldn’t possibly ruin it by slouching more tomorrow.

Moving his fingers up to your neck, Jūshirō pushes your head down to elongate your muscles and making his thumbs trek easier along them. Swiftly up and down, his long thumbs roamed, stretching out the taut skin. “Fuck..” you breathed through your nose, the pressure was hard to bare but so needed. You dared not to halt Jūshirō’s skilled fingers.

What had meant to be a quick, simple, and loving gesture turned into a long, deep tissue massage standing in your entryway. Jūshirō kept rubbing and squeezing because he noticed just how much you sank into his touch, relaxing as you stood under him. It was sweet, and the first time he’s got to see you so relieved in weeks. The comfortable silence, your soft breathing, and little groans flooded Jūshirō’s heart with such warming joy, he couldn’t resist the grin on his face.

All these years, good and bad, you have always been a hard worker and a dependable person to him. Even now, Jūshirō understood that everything you’ve done as of late, was for the sake of your peaceful life together. Even if you never noticed the hard work you put in, Jūshirō saw it and appreciated everything you had ever sacrificed for him and your happiness together.

Kissing the back of your head, Jūshirō pulls you back into his arms overflowing with adoration for you. “I love you my dear,” “thank you for everything that you do.” He speaks softly in your ears as the clock strikes midnight.

——————————————————————————

🌸Shunsui Kyoraku🌸

💠Giving: The radiant sun beat down on Shunsui’s tanned, muscled back. Laying underneath and soaking up the UV rays on a lounge chair, Shunsui’s long brown hair gently swayed in the salty wind as it was collected at his shoulders and upper back. This vacation was the best idea you had come up with by far.

Getting tired of the rural, in the mountains, Japanese getaways you two usually plan, this one was different. This one, landed you in the tropics of the islands. Palm trees, salty sea spray, hot golden sand, a cozy balcony, and an impeccable view of the vast blue ocean from the presidential suite, spoke of luxury and deep relaxation for you both.

A couple bottles of Tequila and Rum lay empty on the ground around Shunsui’s napping body. His beloved sake being scarce around the island, he’s had to settle for something more attuned to the culture around here. Finding out that he’s terribly addicted to piña-coladas was shocking, even for him. The fruity drink had quickly become his favorite choice anywhere you two had settled for drinks and food.

Opening the balcony door, you sway onto the warm cobbled stone of the beautifully decorated area. A colada and a chic glass filled with a sex on the beach in your hands. Gaudy pink sunglasses cover your eyes, protecting them from the sun. You place the drinks on the glass end table between the lounge chairs and slowly crank the umbrella over the sitting area. Your sheer white sun cover twirled in the breeze, slinking across your smooth skin and down your shoulders as you sat across your sleeping, incredibly handsome fiancé.

“I had some drinks ordered for us babe,” you said with a cute smile on your lips. Kicking your bare feet out and crossing them, you lay relaxed on your palms as they sink into the plush cushions. Shunsui’s smoky eyes peered open at you and a lazy smile grows across his face. “Mah, look at you,” “looking all delectable and delicious underneath the blue sky,” “my lady, is smokin’,” “and I’m one lucky man,” His deep voice purred as he pushed out his lips out against the soft cloth in admiration.

Pushing himself from his position he reaches for his colada and falls back in place on his belly. Missing the straw a few times before catching it with his lips, he finally pulls a first sip, humming happily as the pineapple and coconut flavors exploded in his parched maw. Bringing his golden aviator styled glasses down over his face, Shunsui sprawls back out on the chair, resting his head on crossed arms.

Seeing him so relaxed and carefree was rare, you gazed lovingly over his slumped body. Recently his job has become his entire world. Even at home, he spends long hours in his study, reviewing purchase orders, numbers, and stocks. So studying him now, soaking in all the fruits of his labor was satisfying for you, to say the least.

Sipping down your drink and setting the empty glass down on the table, had made room for some playful thoughts to cross your mind. Without thinking, your body crawled over his back. Spreading your knees you sat down on the back of his thighs and ran your fingers up his smooth, hot back. So warm, and such a pretty color- you thought as his burning skin moved under your fingers. A warm groan leaves Shunsui as he feels you spread your hands over his back, pushing up his spine and back down again.

“Where’s all this coming from, petal?” Shunsui hums, sorely hiding his appreciation for your efforts within his question. “I honest to God, couldn’t give you an exact answer, my love.” “I just felt like touching you, and,” “you work very hard.” “For me, for you, for our life together, and for your company.”

Your pure honesty made Shunsui’s heart swell up with emotion in his chest. He smiles fondly from your genuine words from where he lay under you. “Now look at us, living it up in the tropics,” you say the sound of your laugh getting lost in your words. “Think of it, as my token of appreciation for you, baby.” You coo. Your smile never leaving your lips, as you leaned down to place supple kisses on his shoulders.

“This was all your idea, my love.” “The best idea, might I add,” Shunsui teases playfully, grinning now after hearing your happily given praise. Your hands continue their exploration over the expanse of his back. Your eyes scanning all his delicious muscle lines, remembering each little freckle and sun spot that decorated his broad shoulders and upper back.

You knead his lower back and up his sides, quieting a moan that bubbles up as you felt his muscles flex under your hands. He’s so fucking yummy —your mind fills with all the times he’s flexed during sex, and how it drove you wild every time. This time was no different. Shunsui’s physique alone, was enough to make you drool like a puppy waiting for a treat.

You simply couldn’t help yourself as you laid down over his body and started smooching his skin. Your swimsuit covered breast pushed against his back as you arched into him. Softly licking and nibbling at him with your plush lips. “Mm fuck, petal.” “Keep doing that and you’re gonna have a hard problem in your hands” Shunsui drawls out, tugging on his lower lip between his perfect teeth. “I just can’t help myself Shun,” “I can stop, if you want me to.” You pout with a sly grin on your face. Knowing him, it would be the last thing he’d want. “No, no, no.” “Please, continue.” He spit out quickly, making you giggle as you already knew.

Your playful teasing, flirtatious giggles, and roaming hands turned into heavy panting and shrill screams as Shunsui soared you to brand new heights, right there on that lounge chair. The evening panned perfectly, ending the day with shaking legs, soft kisses, and some damn good sleep in the cali king bed. Prepping you two for another day full of adventure as you sank deeper into your week long vacation, with the love of your life.

——————————————————————————

💠Receiving: The sound of water hissing as it’s tossed on hot stones sizzled through the air. The thick, humid heat of the sauna stuck to your skin as you slouched against the wood paneling. Shunsui ladles another hefty dose of water over the rocks, filling the room with more steam. His built body glistened, slick with sweat and his chest hair clinging against his pecs. Leaning back on the wood Shunsui places his arms on the ledge behind you, breathing in deeply as his sore muscles relaxed with the soothing heat.

You lean into his body, your towel straining to hold up against your cleavage. Shunsui’s eyes glance down at your body as you move into him, your skin effortlessly slides against his and it’s kind of a turn on — he wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself. A gentle smile spreads on his lips from your close contact and the delightful view of your towel squished bosom. “Well aren’t you just adorable,” Shunsui coos at you, blush covering his cheeks as he peered into your owlish blinking eyes.

“I figured you’d be to hot to cuddle in here,” he says affectionately, bringing and arm down and around your shoulder. “It is but, it’s a good kind of heat,” you admit smiling as he presses you against his bare chest. “This is really helping,” you say quietly, making Shunsui look curiously down at you. “Are you sore?” He inquires with a slight frown on his face. “Yeah, a little,” you sigh deeply through your nose, the hot air stinging your nostrils. “I’m so sorry,” “I tried to be gentle this time, I swear!” Shunsui pouts squeezing your shoulder under his palm. “Not from that you pervert!” You screech, playfully smacking his chest over and over.

“If not from that,” “then why are you sore, my love?” Shunsui grins, chuckling at your reaction and embarrassedly blushed face. “I did something to my shoulder,” “I don’t know what, maybe lifting something,” “but it hurts anytime I move it.” You explain, gently rotating your shoulder. You wince with a grimace as it came around full circle. “I see, do you want me to rub it,” “maybe the heat and my skilled hands can help relieve some of that tension,” Shunsui flirts, playfully pursing his lips at you. “I would actually really enjoy a massage right now,” “but don’t get any ideas Kyoraku!” You hiss, hoping your tone will sate that sexual demon that dwells in the pits of Shunsui’s mind.

“On my life,” “I just want to help you feel better,” Shunsui says placing a large palm over his heart. “Okay, I believe you,” you say with a shrug swiveling around to face away from the man. Lifting his heavy body, he flows with your movement as he placed his fingers in your towel, tugging it gently. Swatting his hand away you peek behind your shoulder, “you just said you’d help, what do you think you’re doing?” You glare at him, Shunsui lifts his hands quickly away from you as if you burned him. His pitiful face gleamed back at you, “Nothing! I’m trying to move the towel so I can get more room for my hands,” “honest.” He swore still not bringing his hands down.

“You could’ve just said that, I am so sorry,” you laugh out loud feeling stupidly relieved. “Anywhere else I wouldn’t be so on edge, but this is a public sauna,” “anyone could walk in at any time.” You rambled on apologetically to Shunsui as he lowered his hands to his lap. “It’s okay,” “I understand my love, no worries,” he grinned, his handsome smile beaming back at you. His calm demeanor allowed you some room to relax as you took your place facing away from him. Shunsui tries again this time with notification about the removal of your towel, making you snort with laughter.

Gently pulling your towel down you went to hold the front of it over your chest, modestly trying to cover your soft mounds from any random eyes that may intervene. Shunsui’s large palms run up your back, pushing inward against your spine. You couldn’t help the fit of giggles and a squeal that roused from your mouth, it tickled. “Shun baby, you need to do more pressure,” you said through your fits, arching your back away from his hands. “I’m ticklish! you know that,” you pouted, groaning as your tummy hurt from your laughter.

Shunsui sat behind you silently losing himself in his own laughter fits, his shoulders shook as he clasped a hand over his mouth . “I’m sorry petal, let me try again,” he says forcing his fits away. His sudden serious demeanor change wasn’t helping the situation, as you two fell right back into a spree of fits together. “Okay seriously, help me!” You whined out, still laughing at the current humorous situation.

“Yes of course dear,” Shunsui said with a wide smile still on his face. Moments like these were so precious to him. When you two were goofy together, everything in the world felt possible. Calming himself Shunsui raises his hands once more, this time settling for your shoulders first. His strong rough hands squeezed hard, forcing a groan to leave your throat. Gently pressing his thumbs in time with his squeezing hands felt like pure heaven, the steamy air relaxed your muscles making them more pliable under Shunsui’s duress.

Strongly gripping your shoulders, Shunsui moved them in gentle circles, reveling in the sound of your moans. Knowing he could make you moan without the sex was incredibly satisfying for him. Learning to please you in other ways was beneficial information. Especially, if you two decided to keep this friends-with-benefits thing going. Shunsui loved you, deeply, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it yet. Nervous that you would reject his offer and never speak to him again. That was his biggest fear, he simply couldn’t survive your rejection. One day though —he hoped and held faith that it would happen, that maybe you felt the same for him.

Running his grip down your arms and roaming them back up and over your shoulders had you in pure bliss. You swayed freely with his hands as they took care of you. “I’m gonna touch your back,” Shunsui warns as his fingers rest on your shoulders. “Thanks for the heads up, chief,” you acknowledge with a thumbs up, bracing yourself for his touch. Pressing his fingers in your shoulders, Shunsui drags them down to the tips of your shoulder blades. “You okay?” He hums before continuing, being very cautious now about your ticklish nature. “Yeah..” you respond weakly, feeling the excitement bubble and roll in your belly.

Laying his hands flat on your back, his thumbs swipe up and down the blade. Shunsui digs his thumbs and palms into your back and slowly moves them around. You could feel the excitement leaving as you surrendered your vulnerable back to his hands. The gentle rotation lulling the tensed muscle that was causing your shoulder pain. “You really are skilled with your hands,” you groan out feeling the pinched muscles release. “I’m happy to hear that from you y/n-chan,” Shunsui smiles gratefully, happy to make you feel good.

Not long after starting the rejuvenating massage, someone else crashed the party as they took place on the empty side of the sauna. Helping you tie your towel back in place, Shunsui apologetically shrugged at you. Shunsui was upset himself to, as he started to enjoy the feeling of your weight sinking into his hands. Figuring it was about time to head back to your room, Shunsui takes your hand and holds it the entire way back. Silently hoping you would let him continue his handiwork, and maybe a little more.

——————————————————————————

🌸Byakua Kuchiki🌸

💠Giving: The front door swung shut, closing gently with a click as it met the threshold. Byakuya takes a hefty swig of his water bottle before hanging his mesh gym bag on the coat rack. “How was your work out?” You ask from your pile of blankets and bowl of chips on the sofa. It was about 3pm in the afternoon, and you had decided today was the day you did absolutely nothing. It was your last day off out of the week, work and being productive were the last things on your mind.

Puffing on your peach mango vape, you mindlessly watched criminal history and murder mysteries on YouTube. “It was good,” Byakuya says as he strolled to you in the living room, where you sat perched in the corner of the sofa.

The lives you lived together were entirely different from one another. Byakuya was up early, 7am on the dot. Creating his to-do lists and making a healthy breakfast before he headed to work or the gym. While you on the other hand, woke up late often, worked, came home, barely ate unless reminded, smoked your weed, and played your video games when you had the free time. Separated, but perfect when meshed together.

Instead of sitting on the couch with you, Byakuya grabs one of the decorative, large sitting pillows and sits on the ground, in front of you. Laying his head back he can feel your shins crossed underneath his neck. “Is this all you’ve done today babe,” Byakuya teases you with a smile. “Yeah? What of it?” You furrow your brows, the sarcasm in your voice poorly hidden as you stared ahead at your video, hitting your vape again. “Just curious,” Byakuya chides, his smile widening as he lowered his head to what you were watching.

Grabbing the sides of his head you leaned down to him, “What are you gonna do about it, tough guy?” You joke as your smooch his head over and over. Byakuya blindly reaches around with his hands until he found your head, “Don’t test me little girl,” “you’ll be sorry,” he says playfully before leaning his head back once more. Your lips holding a crafty smile hovered above his, “Oh, is that what you think?” “You don’t scare me, you big teddy bear.” Your smile grows bigger as you ended the teasing match. Kissing him softly for tax, you lean back and break free from his clutches.

As Byakuya lowered his head he twists it with his fingers forcing a few loud cracks and pops, as his neck released. “Whew, that was a good one,” you acknowledged with a small golf clap. Chuckling at you he grips the back of his neck and rubs it softly. “My neck has been giving me hell the last few days,” Byakuya sighs as he heavily drops his hand into his lap. “Hey..” he paused hoping you were paying attention, “you wanna rub me down?” He asks. With a mouth full of chips and a wave of your hand you respond, “later, this video is finally getting good.” “I… I didn’t mean it like that,” Byakuya says a blush covering his cheekbones.

“A massage babe,” he says bringing his hands together in front of him. “But babe, it’s my last day off,” you whined with pouty lips, still dedicated to your long list of doing nothing today. “Please babe,” Byakuya says with his eyes clenched shut and a whine equally as loud as yours. “I’ll love you forever,” He says rolling his head into your lap, his hands still clasped together in prayer. You groan loudly with an eye-roll, “Okay fine, just stop your whining you big lug.” You say with slight irritation as you pause your video and resort to some music to fill the quiet instead.

“C’mon, Take off your shirt,” You shrug with a sigh, curling your fingers in an upward motion. “You don’t gotta sound so excited to see me shirtless, babe.” Byakuya says laughing as he hoists his soft grey shirt over his head. His long raven black hair fell down his shoulders, and over his chest as he crumpled his shirt and tossed it to the side.

“I’ve heard just about enough out of you,” you snark at him as you gather his hair and push it all to one shoulder. “Lean forward so I can see what I’m working with,” you say as your hands gently push on his shoulders. “Yes mamas,” “anything for you,” Byakuya schmoozes with pursed lips, feeling all to giddy about your hands touching him.

Leaning forward and settling there, you smack your hands harshly down on his shoulders, and lazily flail your hands across his upper back. “Hey, Hey!” Byakuya barks raising his arms to break up your goofy movements. “Behave,” he said with a grin laughing with you. Your giggle fit subsided into a smile as you start squeezing on his sculpted shoulders. You begin his massage by pressing your thumbs into his muscles, slowly scrunching your hands from the sides of his shoulders to his neck.

Byakuya sighs gently, hanging his head to give you more space for your fingers. Rowing your thumb pads under his neck, you start pushing your thumbs along the bone in an upward motion. “Shit…” Byakuya breathes his hair hiding his clenched jaw as you had already found the exact spot that was hurting him. “Right there babe,” he says as his head fell further. “Do you need more pressure?” “Or is this okay?” You ask him hoping you weren’t being to rough. “It’s perfect,” he hums a smile spreading across his face.

Soft music lulled over your nice sound system, as rain began to tap and drip down the living room windows. Byakuya rested his elbows on his knees as you continued your slow presses into his neck. “Fuck that feels good,” Byakuya groans, “thank you babe, seriously.” He continued, moaning as your thumbs find a good rhythm and pressure along his neckline.

“You owe me later,” “hope you’re aware of that,” you say with a few swipes of your thumbs. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you want.” Byakuya waves you off, enjoying his massage to his fullest capabilities. “Whatever I want, you say?” A big grin sprawls over your face as possibilities started swarming your head. “Oh boy.” Byakuya says almost regretfully, as he knew you would come up with the most obscene thing for him to do later.

After a moment of your silence, worry quickly exuded from Byakuya. “Okay out with it woman,” “What do you want in exchange?” He inquired carefully, bracing himself for something silly like a strip tease, or walking around the apartment bare-ass naked for the night. “Hmmm let me think about it,” you say softly, taking some consideration and deliberately thinking over your options. “I think I would like,” you drawl out with a hum. “I think I would like a bouquet of roses,” “a nice dinner on the boardwalk,” “and a pint of Ben n’ Jerry’s ice cream.” “Yeah that sounds nice,” you squint, nodding your head in approval.

A loud sigh of relief leaves Byakuya’s lips. “Oh thank god,” he says breathily, placing a palm over his chest. “I was preparing for something way worse,” he says chuckling, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he truly believed you’d make him embarrass himself. “What like a strip tease?” You ask curiously, “that was one of them yeah,” Byakuya’s laugh suddenly switching to nervousness.

“Fuck man! that would’ve been such a great idea,” you sway backwards with howling laughter, “can I change my idea?” You say with a wide grin and your hands clasped together. “Absolutely not!” Byakuya said shaking his head quickly and waving his finger in a ‘no’ fashion. “Oh c’mon, no fair!” You whine again, sorely wishing you had said the strip tease instead.

——————————————————————————

💠Receiving: Byakuya settled into the steaming bathtub, extending his hand towards you he helps you in. Taking his slender fingers in your own you gently step in, the water feeling hotter than usual.

“Something the matter?” Byakuya stated, peeking at you through his free falling bangs hanging out from his put up hair. “No, not at all,” you wave your free hand, trying not to provoke him in any way. “Why are you still standing then y/n?” “Get in.” His voice sounded demanding when he spoke, spooking you just a bit. “Yes sir, sorry sir.” You submit quickly biting your lip, hearing his voice like that always riled you up.

“You’re sure nothing is wrong?” Byakuya pressed, his gentler side coming out to play. “No sir, the water was just a little warm,” you say settling between his long, muscular legs. “I’ll be sure to mention that to them,” he said smoothly, his arms laying on the rim of the pristinely white tub. ‘Them’ referring to the house servant’s that were directly employed under Byakuya.

Being a big time CEO and multimillionaire came with its perks, and dating one was a new experience for you. You had never seen yourself in a big fancy, modern loft that overlooked the bustling city. Yet here you were, sipping on bubbly champagne in the same tub you and Byakua bathed together in during the week.

The steam filled bathroom smelled faintly of Byakuya’s expensive cologne, and plenty of jasmine and sage. That being the choice of bath oil he had picked for the night. Falling back gently you laid your naked body down on Byakuya’s solid chest. Your head swept to its natural position on his left shoulder.

His muscles felt good against your back, you hummed in contentment at the feel of him there. This being, the only real intimate time you got during Byakua’s busy schedule. It was always the thing you looked forward to since he always cleared that schedule, just for you.

Your arms snaked around your stomach as you got comfy on your boyfriends body, the hot water lapping just above your chest. Byakuya was silent, his eyes were hooded as he breathed your essence in. Your close proximity, and the view of your naked body underneath him made his palms itch to touch you.

Bringing a hand from the side of the tub, he gently touches your shoulder. Dragging his finger up your neck he watched as your head fell further, exposing the whole side of your neck. studying your beauty in all its glory. He swiped your loose hair behind your neck, watching as it made contact with the water, the strands soaking it up against his collarbones.

“How was your day, beautiful?” His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room. “It was okay.” You breathed out, playfully swishing the water with your fingers. Nothing of extreme importance had happened today, you thought. You just patiently waited all day for work to be over with, so you could be swindled up in your bath time with Bya.

“Just okay?” Byakuya asks curiously his lips curling up in a crafty smile. Still gently running his finger up and down your neck, he slowly moves his hands down in the water. “Yeah, I’ve actually been waiting for this all day,” you giggle from his light touches, goosebumps popping up on your skin that lay uncovered by the bath water. The sound of your laugh exploded in the room, as Byakuya’s sneaky free hand gripped your side under his fingers. His surprise attacks were always so cute, it was like he had a sonar for knowing the right exact time for any and everything.

Pushing you up with his body he runs his hand along your belly holding you steady against him. Your squeals and happy giggles made what was usually a cold heart, warm and full. He grinned against your soft skin, slowly smooching your exposed neck. “Oh, you’ve been waiting?” He growls against your neck, lightly biting your sensitive skin. “Ah! Yes sir!” You squeak out from the feeling of his canines digging into your neck.

“Me too, baby.” He agreed honestly and kissed the bite mark gently in truce. “I love bath time with you Bya,” you replied cutely placing your hands on his knees that sat above the water. “I love it too,” Byakuya replied softly as he held you gently from behind, his head being sported on your shoulder.

Kissing the space behind your ear, Byakuya scoots back just enough to put some space between his body and you. His hands sat at your waist, his thumbs resting against your lower back. Bath time usually consisted of you two chatting, drinking, relaxing, and massaging one another.

That’s why it was your favorite, all of Byakuya’s time, affection, attention, and hands were implied for your care and only that. Gently pressing into your back with his thumb pads, he rocked his thumbs back and forth working on your tense muscle there.

Byakuya never talked about your job or what you did for a living. He simply didn’t have the time, or the interest to delve into your personal life that way. He could take care of you for the rest of your life with the money he had, but you needed your independence — which he throughly understood. But your body was always so tense and stressed. It would be wrong for him, not to be concerned about what the hell you were doing at work all day.

It truly didn’t matter what you did, where you went, who you were with. As long as you always returned to him that’s all he needed from you. So that he could care for you and make sure somebody does something about your stressed body, because you surely didn’t —brat. Byakuya smirks as his mind ran with thoughts of you.

With open hands he runs his pressed thumbs up to your middle spine, holding onto your sides gently. His fingertips skimmed the sides of your breast forcing a breathy moan to leave your parted lips.

Byakuya watched intently as he worked your muscles under his thumbs. His eyes devoured your smooth skin and the way it glistened under the warm light, little water droplets decorating the expanse of your shoulder blades. The fragrant, expensive bath oil did wonders with your tired skin while also making it easier for Byakuya’s fingers and thumbs to work it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he purred in adoration, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, as always sir.” You say quietly, your body relaxing deeply from his pressurized movements. Straightening out your back, Byakuyas skilled hands move to your neck.

Gently placing his hands at the apex, his fingers wrap softly around your throat. Teasingly squeezing you there, Byakuya audibly groaned when the sound of your dramatic, over-the-top moan filled his ears. He cursed you for sounding so sexy and for testing him every single fucking day.

Stirring under the water he forcibly calms his mind. As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t about to give into the temptation of taking you right here, in the bath tub. He pushed his filthy thoughts to the side and got back to molding his hands all over your neck and shoulders. The feeling of his gentle hands and even gentler squeezes, you found yourself yawning at the relaxation that slowly took over your body.

Byakuya noticed how slumped your shoulders had become since he started rubbing them, he smiled softly to himself knowing you could feel safe with him. “What do ya say…” “We move this party to the bedroom?” Byakuya spoke to you softly giving you the option to choose. “Am I getting a full body massage tonight?” You inquired, raising your eyebrow and pursing your lips at the idea. “If that’s what you want,” Byakuya replied with a nonchalant shrugging motion.

“Yes!” You say in selfish victory, it wasn’t often for him to give you exactly what you wanted when money wasn’t involved. So any opportunity you had to exploit free time with Bya, you ran with it. Byakuya also had to be in the mood to do something before doing it, especially when it came to his precious free time from the company he ran. ~And he calls me the brat.~

Stepping from the tub, Byakuya pulls you up and hands you a towel. Just as you finished drying you suddenly feel your feet leaving the ground. A scream leaves you as your thrown over Byakuya’s strong shoulder. Giving your bare ass a harsh smack, he carries you into the bedroom against your will.

“If I’m spending the time, I’m gonna do what I want.” He fronts to you as you whine loudly, screeching for him to put you down as your flail your legs. “Bya put me down! You fucker!” You yell, smacking and gripping the skin of his back under your palms. “Fighting me isn’t going to get you anywhere,” he snarks as he tosses you onto his huge bed.

Smiling wolfishly down at your surprised face, Byakuya placed his hands on your knees and climbed in front of you. Leaning over you, his long fingers cup your chin and force your stare to his. Kissing you deeply, he slides his tongue into your mouth to toy with yours. A sigh leaves his nose as you willingly accepted his mouth, your hands coming up to rest on his face. Placing his weight on a palm next to your head, his fingers slide up to the side of your cheek as he continued with his fervent kisses.

Pulling away from you, he lays his forehead on yours feeling himself stiffen with your soft rousing moans. “I promised you a full body massage right?” He asked hoping you would just let him continue with his needs for you. “You absolutely did sir!” “And acting all sexy won’t get you out of it,” you smile devilishly like the brat you are right to his face.

Putting a finger on his chin you push him away softly, and reluctantly Byakuya falls away sitting back on his heels. “Alright,” he huffs. Regaining his composure and straightening his posture, his brown eyes look down at your splayed out body before him. With a giddy shake of your hips you peer up at him, your hand covering your shit-eating grin. “Turn over.” He demands that cold, forceful voice returning as it seeped down into your eardrums. He’s so serious right now, better be nice — you admonished yourself with a sly smile on your face, putting your brat tendencies on hold, for now.

——————————————————————————

-WOO! That’s some content right there! If you enjoyed likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are appreciated and help my page grow! Let me write more content! Thank you for tuning in and reading!

-Writing this was so fun! I kinda want to do a another captains one and maybe some Lieutenants! Lmk what you think 🤔

🌸FOLLOW ME YA FUCKIN IDIOTS I LOVE YOU🌸

@dragon-anon

[whump-mania]

Decided to write what happens behind the scenes between Hunter and Vincent in this Dark Leader drabble. This one’s sort of intense!

TWs for mentioned noncon (not explicit), eye whump/light gore, torture, beating, drugging, stripping/non-sexual almost nudity, vomiting, cursing)

previous / next (technically this is a prequel tho)

Hunter had Vincent bound to a chair. The man was very, very difficult to take down at first. He needed several doses of a sedative plunged into him to make him fully pliant. It was annoying, sure, but now, Hunter had him right where he wanted him.

“You’re a…motherfucker…” Vincent slurred, still feeling the effects of the sedative. His limbs were jelly and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from showing his disdain for the man.

Hunter snorted. “Okay, buddy.” He walked around to the front of the chair after securing the barbed wire he used to tie Vincent there, removing the protective gloves he had on. “Now, I want you nice and bruised for when little Quinn gets here…where to start…” Hunter scanned up and down the man’s body.

“I think we should start by giving me a little more skin to work with.” Hunter took the scissors he’d used for the wire out of his back pocket. Vincent tried to struggle at the sight of them, but he could barely move.

When his clothes had been cut away, leaving him in his boxers, Vincent didn’t show any shame. He knew what Hunter was trying to do. He wasn’t strong enough to hurt him at Vincent’s best. He was trying to break down his mind. Humiliate him.

“Not…gonna work,” Vincent mumbled, fighting to stay awake. “…’m not afraid of you.” His long hair fell in front of his face.

“I don’t see why not. Look at your situation here, Vince.” Hunter gestured to him. “Which one of us has the power here? The guy drugged out of his mind in his fucking underwear? Didn’t think so.”

Somehow, Vincent managed to laugh. “You’ll…you’ll never be Daniel,” he said, smiling weakly at Hunter. “Fuckin…knockoff.”

Hunter stopped smiling. He leaned over Vincent and placed a hand on the chair, lifting one of his knees and resting it in the space between Vincent’s legs.

“I live in Quinn’s nightmares. You know how I know that? I tied them to my bed one night and watched their night terrors for hours. I counted twelve times that they said my name.”

Hunter leaned in closer. “Did you know that Daniel never even thought about fucking Quinn until I did it myself?” He gripped Vincent’s hair and leaned in so that their foreheads were touching.

“I am the fucking catalyst. I’ll never be Daniel, huh? Well he’ll never be me.”

With strength that Vincent wasn’t expecting, Hunter threw the chair down. Vincent cried out when his head hit the floor and the barbed wire cut into his bare skin. He felt blood in his mouth, but he barely had time to figure out where it was coming from when a kick landed on his mouth. Hunter kicked him over and over, his position allowing him no protection from the assault.

Vincent vaguely felt himself and the chair being pulled back up into its regular position before being dragged to a corner of the room. It had a dirty mirror there, and Vincent was confused as to why Hunter had moved them there.

Hunter leaned over the back of the chair and ran his fingers through Vincent’s hair, pulling at it or scratching his scalp when he had the chance. “Why do you keep it down to your shoulders like this anyway?” He asked with feigned interest. When Vincent didn’t answer, he took the scissors out of his pocket and held the sharp end at Vincent’s throat.

“None ‘f you’re…fucking business,” Vincent said through gritted teeth.

Hunter hummed and moved the scissors up to Vincent’s hair. He opened the blades and held a fistful of it, making sure Vincent could see what was happening in the mirror.

Vincent’s eyes widened a little bit. “W-Wait—”

Hunter smirked evilly and chopped a large chunk of hair from Vincent’s head. He let it drop in the man’s lap and moved onto another fistful. He cut with no care, gleefully making a mess of Vincent’s head.

Vincent tried struggling at first, but the movement just made his skin rip and the forced haircut worse. He sobbed quietly as he let Hunter cut away at his hair, the hair that he’d promised himself to keep long in honor of his mother.

When Vincent’s hair was an uneven mess, Hunter pocketed the scissors again. “What was that again? You’re not scared of me?” He forced Vincent’s head up to look at himself. “Just now realizing how ugly you are, aren’t you?”

Hunter laughed and left the chair for a moment. Vincent stared back at himself. He was barely recognizable. He hated how he looked.

Vincent flinched when he heard Hunter loudly shuffling around. He narrowed his eyes. No. He hated him.

He timed it out. He was able to watch when Hunter walked back to him with the help of the mirror. When Hunter was close enough, Vincent used all the force he could to push himself backward and knock Hunter to the floor with himself and the chair on top of him.

Hunter screamed when the barbed wire scratched his arms and face. He tried to use his legs to kick the chair off, but Vincent kept all of his weight on him.

Biting the inside of his cheek and squeezing his eyes shut, Hunter let the wire cut his arm and ripped himself from under the chair. He panted and kicked Vincent in the throat where he lied on the floor, still bound. Vincent spat some blood out, but he was proud of how much he’d made Hunter bleed.

He didn’t know that pride would be short-lived.

Hunter returned with a bottle of pills. Unmarked, Vincent noticed. That made him nervous. He tried to bite at Hunter’s fingers when four pills were shoved into his mouth, but he was too quick. Hunter pinched Vincent’s nose shut and massaged down his throat to make him swallow the strange pills. A shot of panic surged through him when he swallowed them. What was going to happen to him?

“Seems like two doses wasn’t enough for you. Go back to sleep, bitch.” Hunter knocked Vincent out cold.

~

When Vincent woke up, all he knew was pain. He immediately started screaming at whatever was hurting him so horribly. It seemed all localized somewhere near his head, but it was so intense that he couldn’t place it.

Hunter watched him squirm on the ground where he’d left him. He didn’t bother with restraints yet. He knew Vincent would be in far too much pain to even think about fighting back. He knelt down next to him and covered his mouth, muffling the man’s screaming.

“You’ll learn not to underestimate me again,” Hunter said darkly. Vincent noticed that he was wearing surgical gloves. They were bloody. What the hell did that mean?

“I was thinking that when Quinn comes by, I can give them a little piece of you,” Hunter continued. He walked to a nearby table and held up a small, clear bag in front of Vincent’s face.

When Vincent saw what was inside, he started shaking. He brought a trembling hand up to his right eye, only to find a thick, blood-soaked bandage there.

He had only just realized that he could only see out of his left.

Hunter sighed when the other man expelled his stomach on the floor next to him from the shock of what had happened. He put the bag back in the icebox he had on the table and removed his bloody gloves. When Vincent had emptied his stomach, Hunter dragged him by his now short hair to another corner of the room. He straddled Vincent and held the man’s wrists over his head, staring down at him. He smiled.

“I had fun. I hope Quinn says something stupid and I get to keep both of you,” he said gleefully. “And imagine how much fun Danny will have with you. He’s becoming a real sadist, thanks to me.”

Vincent sobbed and shut his eyes at the sound of Hunter’s devious laughter.

tag list: @tears-and-lilies @whumpasaurus101 @whmp @freefallingup13 @sadistgalore @firewheeesky @authorofemotion @whatwhumpcomments @wingedwhump @mammonsemptycreditcard @eilarchswhump @whumblrwork @ficklefuddle @mylifeisonthebookshelf @lizzydizzyyo @whump-cravings @whumpcreations

[a-whispering-echo]

Childhood, Pasta, Rabbit

hi! have one of the oneshots from my oneshot book on Ao3! as a treat!

this features pretty shitty child abuse from an older sibling to note! both verbal and physical, as well as threats and the use of poison! dont read if you dont feel comfortable with that! i entirely understand, stay safe <3

for the rest of you...

The pen wasn't worth stealing.

It wasn't really anything special anyway, just a regular ballpoint pen, but its cover was a pretty shade of blue, and the top part was clear, with small beads inside that rattles when you shook it. He just wanted it, and not even to keep! He only wanted to shake it a few times, in futile hopes the clatter of charms might deafen the roaring noise in the back of his head.

It likely wouldn't, but at this point he'd try anything.

Clutching his bunny, he'd reached up, hand crawling over his brothers desk while he was looking away, and was almost there when the fist slammed down on his tiny hand.

Yelping in pain, Sans flinched back. As he clutched his teddy close to his chest, he stared up at the glaring eyes of his brother.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

He knows better than to respond by now.

Eyes downcast, he shuffles his feet, surreptitiously rubbing at his now bruising hand. It was always better if he didn't say anything, he usually gave up if he didn't talk back.

"Huh? I know you're not mute! You gabble on all the fucking time! Speak! And look me in the eye when i'm speaking to you!"

Hesitantly, he turns his face up, locking gazes with the furious glower from his brother, his jaw clenched hard.

"I-"

The sound of the impact echoed around the now dead silent room.

Face stinging, he clenched his eyes shut. His ears rang as little white dots filled his vision, struggling to stay upright as the ground swayed below him.

"Useless shit."

He didn't stop at the slap.

Punches, kicks, hits of all kinds. He even brought out attacks at some point. Sans wouldn't be able to tell you what happened exactly, it was all a blur really, but he definitely could remember the pain, and what happened next.

Papyrus brought out the blue magic.

He'd always been brilliant at it, and there was once a time where Sans would stand in awe at the incredibly power his brother wielded, able to pick up entire people with but a flick of his wrist. Able to save him from certainly terrible falls.

He wasn't saving him anymore.

Picking his soul up, Papyrus flipped the gravity on Sans multiple times - left, up, down, left, right, down, up, right - disorienting him enough that he didn't notice when the next fling took him longer to reach the wall, and once he had, it was too late.

Sans' leg snapped with a deafening crack.

Wailing and bawling in pain, he clutched at his bunny, now stained in his own blood, in the vain hope it might save him. He wasn't a baby, he knew it couldn't, but something about staring into it calming button eyes brought a sense of serenity to him normally, now it couldn't.

God, it hurt so much, he can't breathe-

He needs to get away, where to doesn't matter, just away, away-

He starts crawling, knees bucking due to the weight being put on his fractured leg, but that doesn't matter, doesn't matter…

The weight of his heavy heeled shoe came crushing down on his head, forcing him to stay still, "Try and run again, and I'll break your other leg." He spoke, his voice a threatening growl, as he grabbed Sans by his non broken leg, and dragged him towards the staircase.

He flung the tiny body on the bottom step of the staircase with little care for how its owner landed, "Sit there and don't move, I'll know if you do, I'm always watching you."

And with that, he walked to the kitchen, leaving Sans whimpering on the stairs.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, just that it was long enough for darkness to fall, and the shadows that crept through the corners of his vision to grow, before Papyrus came back, grabbing him by the ears on his hood, and dragging him to the table.

"Eat."

The spaghetti didn't… look right, but he hadn't eaten in days, and his magic stores were beginning to eat themselves, and at this point, he was willing to risk eating the discoloured and slimy looking noodles he had been offered.

They didn't taste right either.

"Papy,… that tasted funny." He whispered, looking up at his brother standing over him, and he looked strangely.. yellow? Like someone had sun-bleached his eyelights, as the world looked sweetly honey toned. Maybe, he was wrong all along, maybe his brother was good, because the halo of light that surrounded him made him look holy, like an angel come to correct his sins he had been accused of all his life.

A few minutes later, he felt awful, his soul beating strangely, speeding up, before slowing down after a while. He'd lost sensation in his arms and legs, but when he'd looked down to check if they were still even there, they were twitching, like someone had attached string to fingers to make him dance in an unwilling puppet show.

Abnormally enlarged eyelights stare at his brother in shock, begging him silently for help. His brother only smiled.

"You'll be gone before anyone even notices anythings wrong."

Hyperventilating, the skeleton sat up, clutching at the small rabbit toy he'd kept all these years, still faintly stained with his own blood, trying desperately to hide his tears as he bit down on the hood of his jacket to muffle his cries.

"…Dust?"

Backing away from the shadow creeping closer, Dust backs away as much as he can, but mostly just wedging himself in the gap between the wall and the bed frame, "No, no please.. please don't…" He flinches away from the hand reaching for him, ready to hit him-

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay, it was… just a nightmare…" The monster holds him close to their chest, slowly rocking the trembling form in a way the was strangely calming.

"They can't hurt you anymore."

[mojogojocasahouse]

indecent proposals

Pairing: Alhaitham x Kaveh

The Grand Sage of the Akademiya is being fucked absolutely stupid by the Light of Kshahrewar. If only all of the people beneath them right now knew what was happening. 

c: masturbation, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, top kaveh/bottom alhaitham, implied verse kaveh/alhaitham, sex in the Grand Sage's office, needy alhaitham, porn without plot

18+ only

“Kaveh…” 

The name slipped from his lips like a prayer. Alhaitham was holed up in his current, temporary office–that of the Grand Sage–his cock tight in his grip, teeth gnashed and sweat dripping down his temple. An early morning had gotten him off on the wrong foot, the sight of his “roommate” sprawled across the bed they shared amidst silky sheets still seared into his head. The rising sun filtering through the gauzy curtains had set Kaveh’s porcelain skin aglow, his blond hair mussed around his face both from sleep and Alhaitham’s fingers in their activities the night before.

He’d had to resist nipping at the curve of Kaveh’s neck and pulling the smaller man’s pliant body flush against his chest, because the second sleepy fingers instinctively entwined with his he’d simply have forgotten his duties and responsibilities all together. Sort of like he was now.

“Kaveh…” he whines again, frustration growing, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t replicate the feeling of the architect exploring his body like he’d designed it himself.

“What’s this?” a familiar lilt sings out and Alhaitham’s eyes snap open, “Miss me that much already?”

Busted.

“And to think I thought you’d had your fill last night,” Kaveh continues as he saunters closer to the desk, casting Mehrak aside and unclasping the brooch at his neck.

Alhaitham watches as the red cape falls to the floor, mortified and so fucking turned on his tongue is paralyzed. His gaze is transfixed as Kaveh approaches, spins the large chair Alhaitham is slumped over in, and drops to his knees.

“Don’t mess my hair up,” Kaveh warns as he pushes his blond tresses to one side, “I’m meeting a client in an hour.”

As much as Alhaitham hates this job, he’s never been more grateful for the seclusion of its office. Kaveh bats at the Acting Grand Sage’s hand, quickly replacing the grip of a fist with the warm, wet heat of his throat. Alhaitham forgets the previous instruction and takes two fists of soft, silky hair, pushing his cock deeper and burying Kaveh’s nose in the thatch of course, silver curls at his base. His growling moan echoes off the walls, head falling back in bliss as he feels Kaveh ignoring the urge to gag, if he had any wits about him at all he’d praise Kaveh just the way he likes. But all he can think about is how good it feels every time Kaveh’s body fights at his intrusion.

He’s hit with a scolding swat to his thigh, Kaveh’s ruby irises glaring up at him for disobeying the one rule he’d set forth, refusing to move before Alhaitham removes his iron grip. But Alhaitham is too far gone, all he can think about is holding his frenemy turned roommate turned lover in place and thrusting down his gullet until the wet sounds of his dick bruising Kaveh’s throat drowns out his own pathetic mewling. He’s well aware he’ll be paying for it sooner rather than later, the fury in those fiery eyes warning him. It’s too bad for Kaveh that it’s his rage Alhaitham wants. 

“Just behave yourself,” Alhaitham snaps as he stands, keeping himself sheathed and then using his newfound leverage, “I’ll fix your hair for you after.”

There’s no use in Kaveh worrying about his hair when he’s dripping with his own spit anyway. His chin and chest are soaked, saliva and precum bubbling at the corners of his mouth. It’s so lewd and obscene it has Alhaitham’s balls drawing upwards and his pace picking up, Kaveh’s nails digging into the tight black fabric of Alhaitham’s pants as he settles in for the onslaught. Alhaitham is so close his skin prickles, air burning as he forces it into his lungs, and he’s left having to make a quick decision if he’d rather come down Kaveh’s throat or during Kaveh’s attempt at retaliation.

A decision is made for him when Kaveh reaches up and cups his balls, massaging as he laves his tongue out when Althaitham slows in his deliberations. Alhaitham hisses in approval, slamming his hips back in and spurting hot, thick ropes down as deep as he can get them. Kaveh doesn’t even bat an eye, not so much as a flinch as he swallows down every drop. 

“I had one request!” 

Unfortunately, Kaveh’s nonchalance to what had just transpired leaves him of sound mind, and as soon as Alhaitham frees his mouth, he’s scolding. 

“I said don’t mess up my hair! And what do you do seconds later…”

Here comes the part Alhaitham was craving, needing. It doesn’t happen often, but today it’s exactly what he wants. Despite how small in stature Kaveh is, he’s got enough strength to manhandle Alhaitham, aided by the larger man’s cooperation. Paper sticks to Alhaitham’s sweat-dampened cheek as he’s bent over the desk, a slew of research proposals he was supposed to have been reviewing instead of fantasizing about the man shoving both of their pants down and kicking Alhaitham’s feet into a wider stance. He should be signing documents with the pens Kaveh is currently throwing around in a drawer searching for the small bottle of lubricant he knows Alhaitham keeps there just in case. His mind should be mulling over which scholars were worthy of his approval, not begging silently for something to just fill him up already. 

Cool, slick fingers press against Alhaitham’s hole, Kaveh’s touch incapable of being rough even when he’s mad. 

“Is this what you want?” Kaveh asks, skepticism laced in his tone.

“Yes,” Alhaitham assures, his entrance clenching around nothing but anticipation. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Just fuck me, Kaveh.”

They can talk about it later. It’s not like it’s a big deal anyway, Alhaitham just wants to let his brain go quiet, and taking all Kaveh has to give feels like the perfect solution. But there’s caution in Kaveh’s motions now, those lithe fingers massaging the puckered ring at a pace that’s just too slow. 

A feral snarl rips from Alhaitham’s chest, the small bottle of lube that had been set on the desk within reach. He coats his own fingers, nudging Kaveh out of the way and sinking his middle digit into himself. 

“Hey!” Kaveh protests, but he does nothing to stop Alhaitham as he works his hole open. That’s fine, he can enjoy watching. 

Two palms spread Alhaitham’s cheeks when he adds a second finger, scissoring himself loose enough to fit a third under Kaveh’s watchful, reverent gaze. The Scribe’s eyes flit between the architect’s face and the way he was lazily fisting his cock, flushed red and pearling at the tip. The pink tint of arousal on his skin in that deep V cut shirt contrasts beautifully with the flowing white fabric, and it’s a shame Alhaitham is above begging because he can’t reach as deep as he wants to—needs to—but the sight of Kaveh practically panting watching Alhaitham finger his own ass urges him to continue for a least a few moments longer. 

“I’m ready,” Alhaitham groans as frustration burns deep in his belly, “Or are you just going to stand there?”

“Pardon me for enjoying the show,” Kaveh replies, roughly pinning Alhaitham’s wrist to the small of his back.

After gently pushing the head through the tight barrier and giving Althaitham a moment to adjust, Kaveh pushes himself in to the hilt. A slight punishment, no doubt, but one that has Alhaitham crying out in relief. Kaveh is built long and thin everywhere, and every thrust has his dick carving its way to where Alhaitham needs him most. The blonde mewls and whimpers unrestrained; Alhaitham has always loved that about him, his ability to project his bliss so openly and without shame. It’s something Alhaitham is still working on, but when the head of Kaveh’s shaft kisses his prostate, his own low-pitched whines mingle in the air with his lover’s. 

“Right there,” Alhaitham moans, Kaveh somehow getting deeper so more of his cock drags along the sensitive bundle of nerves, “Kaveh…”

“I know, I know,” Kaveh soothes, his voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“Harder…”

With his free hand, Kaveh yanks Alhaitham’s back flush with his chest by a fistful of hair, the new position sending sparks flying behind Alhaitham’s eyes. His wrist is finally released, only for the hand that had restrained him to move to his cock, already hard and weeping once again. 

It’s like Kaveh is splitting him open from this angle, he can feel every inch dragging in and out of his ass, each thrust of Kaveh’s hips rippling up his spine and searing out all the way into his fingertips. The hand around his shaft pumps in perfect synchrony with the battering his prostate is taking, leaving Alhaitham nothing but a babbling, incoherent mess. He can’t form a single word on his tongue, nor can he control the symphony of pathetic sounds falling from his mouth, slackened jaw and all.

The Grand Sage of the Akademiya is being fucked absolutely stupid by the Light of Kshahrewar. If only all of the people beneath them right now knew what was happening. 

Alhaitham wants to collapse forward, but Kaveh is holding his boneless, slack body in place as he ruts mercilessly into warm, wet heat, Alhaitham is going to be feeling him for hours. It’ll be just as intended. Kaveh’s taken to swirling his thumb through the sticky mess shining on the head of Alhaitham’s cock, his teeth grazing over the shell of Alhaitham’s ears. Kaveh is the only thing Alhaitham can focus on; the slight floral scent that clings to his skin, his hot breath against his neck, how he’s filled almost to the point of breaking, and the heat blossoming in his gut is nothing but a euphoric culmination of it all.

“You feel so good,” Kaveh purrs, “I want you to come for me. Come on my cock, Haitham.”

It’s not in Alhaitham’s power to disobey. Kaveh’s palm is there to capture his prize, white hot and thick, allowing Alhaitham to limply fall back onto his desk, panting and shivering from overstimulation and exertion. The architect begins gliding his fist over the Scribe’s softening cock, lubricated by Alhaitham’s own spend, the shock of it tensing his body much to Kaveh’s delight. A debauched cry falls from the blonde’s mouth as Alhaitham begins to squirm in an attempt to ease the burning, but Kaveh’s hold is unforgiving.

“S’too much!” Alhaitham cries, Kaveh’s shaft still battering into his now-gaping hole, “Kaveh…”

“You should see yourself,” Kaveh pants, his eyes locked on Alhaitham’s reddened rim stretched around his dick, “So, so beautiful.”

Beautiful? He feels disgusting. He’s coated in his own cum and sweat, clothes sticking to his searing skin uncomfortably, Kaveh still bullying his way into his guts–disgusting, but satisfied. So, so satisfied. He knows Kaveh’s close when both hands grip his hips hard enough to bruise, purple marks he’ll marvel at in the mirror later this evening, his senior’s pace picking up while his head falls back in bliss. 

“Inside?” Kaveh asks in a raspy tone, and all Alhaitham can do is nod.

A wretching cry of his name fills the entire room, Kaveh painting Alhaitham’s insides with ropes of cum, his cock fucking it deep into the silver-haired man’s stomach. He’ll be feeling it the rest of the day, reminding him of the man waiting at home for him. When Kaveh pulls out, Alhaitham groans at the loss, but sighs in relief as featherlight kisses press to each of his burning asscheeks. He winces when the cool air hits his skin, Kaveh’s light affections enough to keep the discomfort bearable.

“Thank you,” Alhaitham sighs, Kaveh laughing against his skin before standing and pulling Alhaitham’s pants back into place and then fixing his own, “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Oh…” Kaveh titters as Alhaitham holds to his word, spinning to begin fixing the braid and clips adorning soft blonde hair, “I…forgot my key again.”

A mess of sweat-soaked silver hair falls to the shoulder in front of him. Some things never change.

Masterlist

[seancekitsch]

Could we get perv!Richie with a fem!reader that doesn't know he's Ghostface until the 3rd act and he finds her in a closet?

happy belated to jack quaid 🧡

Darkness was never associated with safety for you up until this point. Now, the darkness is the only thing saving you. To you, light pouring into this closet right now would mean certain death, and further solidify your place in the horror trope hierarchy.

If Ghostface were to find you right now, it would probably have you marked down as somewhere between Tatum from the original or Robbie from a few years ago. Which, come to think of it, is not the worst place to be, but you’d rather survive this movie than be one of the iconic kills.

I hope Richie is okay, you think, and then curse yourself because really you should be hoping everyone’s okay. But is it really that selfish to hope for good things for yourself and your best friend? Even if that means you’re the only survivors? I mean, sure you want more people to survive, but who’s ever heard of a final group?

You push yourself back further into the closet, armed with only a coat hanger and trying not to trip over Christmas decorations. A crash and a scream downstairs make you tense up. Who died? But if it’s someone else, it’s not you. Thats all you have to keep telling yourself.

“If you’re hiding, show yourself!” you hear the voice of the one and only Sidney Prescott distantly in the house, and not even a moment later you’re bathed in the cheap yellow overhead light of the hallway.

Fuck, it’s all over. It’s all over. You close your eyes as tightly as you can, trying your hardest not to tremble as you stand your ground, coat hanger clutched in a palm you hope doesn’t feel sweaty.

No noise follows, just the feeling of leather smooth against your jawline, the touch gentle and caring. Your shoulders slump, and you relax against the touch, maybe foolishly as you open your eyes.

“Is this the part where I beg for my life?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think of using any self preservation. The ghost face mask mere inches from your own only shakes its head no. No, thats fitting. There will be no begging for your life, just a steel blade to the chest or neck, and if you’re lucky, it’ll be quick. Instead of a knife though, Ghostface advances, pushing until your back hits the wall on the other side of the closet.

“Talk about seven minutes in hell,” your stupid mouth gets the better of you again, and you really shouldn’t be joking at a time like this. Ghostface towers over you as they pull the closet doors shut again behind you.

“Shut up, stop making me laugh,” comes the muffled voice of your best friend beneath the mask. Wait. What?

“Rich…?” you ask, finally now starting to tremble, and his gloved hand trails from your jaw down to your throat, and then further down the v neck of your shirt, stopping just at your bare sternum.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he groans, and you feel yourself wanting to pull the mask off.

“Welcome to my movie,” Richie says, pushing his knee between your thighs. Holy shit, it’s like a fucked up version of your day dreams. Your hands move to pull off the mask, slowly like you’re trying to convince yourself it’s real. You can’t even see his face in the darkness, but you feel like you can picture the expression on his face anyway; his brows knitted together seriously and his lips curled into that little smile he gets when he has an idea.

“I thought it was weird you told Sam you’d never seen these,” you admit, and he presses himself even closer to you, leather clad fingers sliding from your sternum to trace the underwire of your bra and spread out warm along your rib cage.

“You let me lie,” he whispers against your ear, stubble rubbing against your cheek, “That’s how I knew you’d let me do this.”

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, licking and sucking at it roughly, sure to bruise.

“I’m not—,” you pause to catch your breath, coat hanger long forgotten as your arms snake around his neck, “I’m not exactly letting you do anything.”

He bites down hard, and you almost yelp. God forbid you get caught like this, so you stifle it as best you can.

“You’re not exactly saying no.”

His leg between your thighs presses further, sweet friction to rile you up, and his hand comes down to your waist. His grip on you tightens, and slowly he starts to rock you back and forth on his thigh as he continues to kiss and bite at your neck.

“Fuck,” you whisper, leaning your head back against the wall and giving into Richie’s movements. Your fingers tangle in his curls and you move your hips along with his hands. It’s not enough to get you off, but honestly it is enough to make you go along with whatever Richie says.

“That’s right baby,” he says between kisses, “Have a plan for you.”

His lips finally make their way up to yours, and he kisses you firmly. He tastes a little like the bud light he drank earlier, but you couldn’t mind that now.

“What’s that?” you manage to ask with your mouth still slightly pressed to his.

He pulls back, only for a moment.

“All you gotta do is stay hidden and looking pretty for me,” he punctuates his sentence by rocking himself harder against you. You feel yourself nodding against him, instantly and without really thinking about what he’s saying.

“And then I’ll come get you and make you a star. Would you like that baby?” He rocks his hips a little faster this time, groaning himself when he ruts himself against your hip. You can’t help the whimper that escapes your throat.

“Yeah, knew you’d like that. Knew you’d want this,” he pants.

Footsteps slowly climb the stairs, creaking against the hardwood that probably hasn’t been replaced since the first time a bloodbath took place here. Richie quickly untangles himself from you, and you whine at the loss of contact. He fumbles to pull the robe off himself and push it amongst the Christmas decorations all around your feet.

“Play along for me again, alright?” He places himself right back against you and kisses you again, this time his hand reaching down between your bodies to cup your sex over your jeans. Your knees feel ready to buckle at such a simple act, and…

he pulls apart from you at just the right time.

The door gets yanked open and light floods in again, this time to Sidney Prescott waving a gun in your faces as you both hold up your arms in surrender. Then another Ghostface runs up on you, Richie shouting

“Holy shit! It’s Ghostface!”

as if he wasn’t also just wearing the mask. He pulls you out of the closet roughly, pushing you in front of him to run to keep his sights on you. You, Richie and Sidney all make it back downstairs, with Richie pushing you and practically herding you different directions.

The moment you’re out of Sidney’s sight, he stops and wraps his arm around you; not quite a hug, something more possessive.

“Garage,” he whispers, “Hide for me. Gonna finish my movie.”

You nod and he gives you one last kiss, before roughly pushing you off him towards the living room.

Your feet carry you to the garage without a second thought.

[spacesymbol]

heyyyyy. crazy month and a half, am i right? 😅

my sincerest apologies for the truckload of reblogs.... plus even more sincere apologies if i reblogged a very old post of yours that you forgot about 😭

ive had those sitting in my drafts for a WHILE so that they wouldnt get drowned in my likes.... but i have some weird mental hangup about posting here without also posting a Life Update..... but i kept procrastinating actually writing a Life Update..... so here we are!!

anyways. that being said. LIFE UPDATE TIME!!!!! (no cut since theres actually some very important stuff in here)

first and somewhat foremost, i submitted SEVEN college applications exactly a month ago. for context, my entire applying list (as of right now) is only nine schools. and i procrastinated SO HARD on the application materials.... it was soooo bad. basically mid october to early november was the most stressed i have ever felt in recent memory 😁👍 and i coped with it soooo well, as i historically always do (sarcasm)

the fall play(s) also recently came and went!!! the rehearsal process wasnt that bad, it was moreso just anxiety provoking since i was constantly saying "yeah it (the show) will come together eventually" even when opening night was a few days away... but the show(s) did come together!! at least, my two scenes did. i honestly can't speak for anyone else, but my scenes both went fine during all three performances with minor errors, if any

although, the week of performances and the last few days of tech was so very brutal. i had to be in the theater until 8pm or later every single day of that week (november 18th to the 23rd), which meant i was in school for over twelve hours each school day. i had to put a lot of things on the backburner to focus on the show (and not losing my mind) that week, and schoolwork was one of them.... so i am currently once again in overdue assignments hell. my classes have been fine other than that though!!!

my mental, emotional, and physical health also definitely have been on the backburner for a WHILE now.... a wonderful example is how i havent seen my therapist in two months now, and for context, im supposed to see her once a week!!! so im clearly doing fine (sarcasm). its weird though, the play honestly wasnt that distressing for me, since i had already hit mental rock bottom earlier that month because of college applications

my physical health has also Not Been Good at all.... one of my scenes in the play (the gay one) involved a shit ton of stage falls.... and our stage is made of polished wood. we took all the necessary precautions to protect my bad knee (knee pads), but that didnt do much to prevent the ridiculous amount of bruising all over my body that i still have a week after the final show.....

eating has also been Bad. but i wont go into details about that 🫶 ive been able to keep having regular appointments with my dietitian, so genuinely dont worry about that. i will be fine!!

ive also been like. mentally checked out for a while, i guess. like i mentioned, ive been doing some research into dissociative disorders and symptoms to get more clarity on if im a system or not (which i do have an answer on btw), and i think the best term to describe it is depersonalization?

and uh. okay this is actually really important. about the system thing, i came to the conclusion after a LOT of research and self reflection that i do not think i am (or ever was) a plural system. i dont think i should post the entire esaay i wrote on how i came to this conclusion (because i dont think most of you want to read all that). but if any mutuals want, i am MORE than happy to dm the whole explanation, since i know it might raise some eyebrows that i suddenly dont identify that way anymore

however, the tldr is that im pretty sure i have dissociative amnesia instead, because i never once experienced amnesia between the personas that i thought were alters, and these personas were never really that separate from me, moreso extensions of me in terms of personality, if that makes sense. there were also some.... quirks of how my "system" operated that also made me suspicious, like how i was basically always frontstuck, and how my "frequent fronters" ALWAYS aligned with my interests at the time. i honestly think that i only arrived at the conclusion that i was a system in the first place because of the environment i was in at the time (the majority my friends at the time had the system realization and were talking about it), and the fact that no one ever really questioned me being one. which im NOT saying that i wish people had, since thats rightfully a very rude thing to do, but i definitely would have benefited from someone kindly calling all that into question, yknow?

the biggest takeaway though, should be that i didnt know until very recently. there is a world of difference between intentionally lying about being a system, and unknowingly being wrong about being a system. the MOMENT i started to suspect that i was wrong, i made it known here (in the previous Life Update) and on twitter, and i refrained from using any system terminology for myself until i came to a definitive conclusion, which i only did recently. additionally, i recently removed the system section from my pronouns dot cc, and my simplyplural account is still up, but obviously not in use

ummm. other personal updates.... im hopefully going to start legal and medical transition soon?? my stepsister (also trans) has been pushing my mom and stepdad for it as a result of the election, which sparks the conversation for me by extension

as you can probably tell by the majority of the recent reblogs, the release of season 2 reawakened my dormant arcane hyperfixation 😭 it somehow came back even stronger??? if any of you happen to remember my jayvik posting from november 2021, you deserve a spacesymbol elders discount....

what else..... oh um!!!! i had an awesome joe cool (snoopy) costume for halloween this year that i made extremely last minute :)

okay. okay!!!!!!! in terms of the future!!!! im on thanksgiving break right now until this tuesday and the break is Extremely welcome.... the spring musical (aka my final high school theater show) has already been announced, and its curtains, which should be exciting, but i dont have to think about that for a While....

in terms of like Immediately upcoming things, my schools robotics team has our first qualifier coming up so im gonna have to lock in on preparing for that soon.... for college stuff, i should be getting two decisions fairly soon (one from my early decision school and one from a rolling deadlines school), and i have two more applications for early january, but all i really have to do for them is finish writing their supplements..... so HOPEFULLY i should be slightly more active on here??? i feel like every time i say that i end up jinxing myself for inactivity, though. so honestly, who knows!!! but i dont really have as much of a Pressing Reason to not be active here, i guess

thats all.... jesus fuck i wrote a lot. my bad!!! no wonder i procrastinated writing this GODDAMN!!!!

[sacredwrath]

P2. Care

Medical inaccuracies, caretaking, wound care, broken bones mention, past torture, past captivity

Misha jumps into action the second Logan is out of the room. Jesse has curled in on themself, which is definitely not helping their ribs. She can see at least two broken. She's going to need more than just her kit.

"Nora, can you grab clean rags and pain meds? Get the ibuprofen at least and make everyone give you anything they have that's stronger." Nora nods, still looking shaken and rushes from the room.

"Ok Jes, is this all of it? Are your legs ok?"

The give a slow shake of their head "my left leg is..." they trail off "it's fucked"

"That's ok, we'll take care of it. Isa, grab the emergency sheers from my bag."

Misha keeps a tight grip on her emotions as the pants come away. Jesse was right the leg is well and truly fucked. She can see bruising through the splint and all up and down its length. It's badly swollen from the knee down and the ankle looks broken.

"Jes what happened?"

They shake their head, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Jes I have to know so I can help you. I don't need... details, I just- is it broken?"

"It's broken. I don't know exactly..." They trail off. "He- he hit me." Tears flash in their eyes, "with a crowbar. I tried- I couldn't make him stop." Misha reaches for them but they flinch away and her stomach clenches.

Isa comes closer, placing her hand next to them, not quite touching. "We've got you now Jes. It'll be ok. You're safe now."

They wipe vigorously at their eyes, nodding and clearly trying to force a smile. Misha wants to give them time, let them cry, but their injuries come first.

"You don't have to say what happened. Just, is it broken? I don't want to take the splint off unless I have to, but I need to know the injuries." She is grateful to all her medical training. As long as she can forget it's Jesse sitting in front of her she can treat this like just another patient.

"I- it's broken. The shin at least. The knee... I don't know. I think it was dislocated or something, it might've been broken too, I don't know."

"And who treated it? Were they a professional?"

There's a long pause "Adrian Morgan" their voice shakes "he- h- he... he's... he-" they clear their throat and try again "I don't think he's a medical professional, but he has... ex- experience."

She scoffs at that, efficiently checking the splint. "ok, well it does look pretty good.” She admits. Without x rays she won't be able to tell exactly what's broken. "When did all this happen?"

Their eyebrows furrow "less than three days ago? Maybe?" She nods, noting their confusion. Concussion maybe?

“Ok, and why isn't there a cast?”

Jesse shrugs apologetically. “Im sorry. I-” Their voice drops to a whisper again. “I don't think he wanted to waste supplies.”

Misha forcefully calms herself, catching Isa’s eye. She doesn't think she's ever seen their face so stoney.

"Ok, well, was it splinted right after it was broken?"

"No, that happened the next day."

They left you like that for a whole day? she tucks it away. Later.

"How does it feel now? Any numbness? Tingling?"

"I had tingling earlier. It's gone now though, and wasn't from that… I don't think." She doesn't want to know, she asks anyway.

"where was it from?" They flinch, eyes darting away from her gaze again. "Jes I’m sorry I have to ask, but tingling can be dangerous. I need to know what happened to be able to help you.”

“Electricity of some kind.” They whisper, eyes becoming unfocused.

“When was this?”

“I-” Their voice gets even smaller. “Before that man came for me. Was that… yesterday?”

“No, that was earlier today Jes” She says as softly as she can manage, adding “It's been a long day.”

Jesse laughs, it sounds panicked, high and tight, “Oh.”

Residual tingling from electricity isn't terribly uncommon, and is less immediately dangerous than a spinal injury, so Misha dismisses it for now.

"Your leg seems ok, all things considered.” She tries to be reassuring. “I’ll have to put a real cast on it, but I dont have the supplies for that right now and since it's swelling so much it's probably better to wait. I don't want to take the splint off before I can replace it unless I absolutely have to, so do you think this Adrian knew what he was doing?" Misha doesn't miss their flinch at the name and makes a mental note not to say it again.

“I- I think so. At least enough to not let it kill me right away.” Misha's lips purse. She’ll have to take it off and make sure the bastard set it well enough to heal, but for now, it can wait.

The door pops open to Nora carrying several yellow pill bottles and an armload of towels.

"Here" she deposits the supplies on the counter next to Jesse and sits next to Isa on the lip of the tub. They both look overwhelmed, but she might need their help.

"Thanks" Misha shoots them a humorless smile. "Ok jes, are you on any medication right now? Did they give you pills or anything?"

"No?"

“Are you sure? I don't want to give you too much of anything.”

They hesitate. “I’m not totally sure. He never gave me pills before, but…” They trail off. “I don't remember much before the car.” They search the floor, almost guilty.

"How about food? When's the last time you ate?" They hesitate again, for too long, face scrunching up as they try to remember.

"I don't know. It's been..." they trail off "I'm sorry, I just don't remember, they gave me some bread maybe a week ago?"

Misha tries to relax her jaw, soften her expression. It doesn't do the patient any good to see you worry, she reminds herself. She shouldn't have to ask, but

"And how about water, have you had anything to drink?"

"Yes, definitely. They gave me some a few days ago, more water than food."

"Ok good!" She keeps her voice as light as possible. "Nora, can you grab Jes some water and electrolytes? And also tell someone in the kitchen to heat up the bone broth in the cupboard?" They nod and hurry from the room

"While we wait for food I'm going to start cleaning you up ok? And I want you to take these. Don't worry, it's just Advil. Don't want to give you anything else till you've eaten, and we can be totally sure there's nothing else in your system." she holds out four pills "Is it alright if I start with your back?"

Jesse nods, turning slightly giving Misha access.

Misha wets a rag and begins cleaning the blood from the least damaged areas first, waiting for the pain meds to kick in. They probably won't do much, but any little bit helps.

Nora slips back through the door. "Martin's heating soup. He said he'll bring it when it's ready."

"Good. How's Logan?"

They shrug. "He left the house, apparently."

Probably for the best. She works through the wounds methodically, letting herself be carried away in the work.

She wishes she still had access to the hospitals equipment, but even if she did taking Jes there with AQUA after them would be suicide. She'll just have to make due with what she has.

Misha struggles to keep her emotions in check as she cleans and bandages each wound. She doesn't want to think about where they came from, but each screams it's own brutal story at her.

Hundreds of cuts layered over one another. Burns running up their arms and covering their feet. Broken and poorly healed fingers. Missing fingernails. Broken teeth.

Whoever did this needs to be castrated.

When shes finally done, she records a list of their injuries and watches Isa feed her patient soup.

Isa whispers comfort, but Jesse hardly looks conscious. They stare off into the shower, mechanically accepting the soup.

Of course it was always a possibility this would be what they found when they finally got Jesse out, but somehow Misha never really considered it seriously. Nothing this bad has happened to anyone in their little family. Maybe it was naivety, but she'd never really thought it would.

Their team is so far from being a serious threat to AQUA she just didnt really think theyd waste their time on people like them.

Ever since AQUA started taking the place of government entities, their lives had become a chaotic fight for survival. But survival usually meant fighting for resources, clean water, food, and shelter. They were always able to look out for each other and fight AQUA in order to survive, but never had she imagined AQUA would waste its time on people like them. They aren't a military group or sect of assassins. They're just regular people, trying to survive.

It retrospect it does seem hopelessly naive.

Suddenly she has to know. It's sensitive, she probably shouldn't ask, but she has to know

“Jesse?”

They look at her, haunted eyes looking almost nothing like the eyes of her friend.

“Why-” she doesn't know how to form her question, but the one word is enough

“They wanted me to give you all up.” They say simply

“Why didn't you?” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper

They look baffled. "How could I?"

Prev | masterpost | next

Tag list: @whumpacabra

[imhereformysciencefriends]

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 3: Hurt/comfort!!!!

One of my fave prompts. Read on AO3 here

”What better warrior to keep the beasts at bay than one who is a beast herself?”

--

Rotting teeth sunk into a chunk of already-rotting flesh, fingernails protruding from green skin pulsing with bloat scraped along her forearm. She ignored it, as she always ignored it. They couldn’t zombify a zombie, so she was fine. She dropped her axe into the already-spilling-brains of one and slit her sword across the throat of another. Shields weren’t necessary. She was already a zombie, so she was fine. She was a perfect warrior to keep back the hoards. So she was fine. Dual wielding was pretty sick, anyway.

She was tired.

She knocked another zombie off her and drove her sword through its heart.

She wasn’t supposed to be able to feel tired. The part of her brain that should’ve been in charge of that was supposed to be rotted through.

She was tired.

She brought her axe down again, driving it through rotting flesh and bone and into the soft earth beneath.

She was the champion. The Warrior. The savior of them all. She wasn’t supposed to be able to feel tired. Her axe shouldn’t feel this heavy. Why was she struggling to dislodge it from the earth? She was better than that.

She was tired.

Hands, decaying, bloated or rotting or withered or more bone than flesh, grasped at her ankles, her shins, her knees, her thighs, her hips.

Moans filled her ears, higher and higher, closer and closer. Her clothing was tugged downwards, as the zombies at her waist climbed upwards.

Her sword dropped from her hand, pulled by some unseen force swallowed in the mass of flesh and stench and bodies.

The Warrior was tired.

At some point, her knees gave out.

--

The familiar sound of metal cutting through rotten flesh was the first sensation she regained. The much less familiar sound of rotting hands banging against a wooden shield followed. The Warrior forced her eyes open, groaning much akin to the rotting bodies around her.

Well.

They were less around her now. She ached like a bitch, but aside from her strewn weapons and the trampled grass, she was surrounded by empty air. Her aggressors had either wandered off, or…

Were all distracted by the shiny new human with pristine skin. A human in a red riding cloak stood, just a ways off, with bright red eyes and an almost-manic grin, pale brown hair swaying with her movements, blocking and swinging at the zombies that shambled towards her. At her hip, a wolfdog growled and lunged, the two making for an efficient team. The zombies fell to her weapon much like they had once fallen to the Warrior’s, before she’d grown the ability to fatigue.

She was still fatigued, all told. And every inch of her ached from bites and scabs and bruises the shambling mass had left on her. She tried to get up, and found even just getting herself halfway to sitting was an agonizing labor.

“Oh, one more over there,” mentioned the perky, bloodstained woman, and the Warrior moaned.

“No…” she called, exhausted and pained. She shuffled slightly away on her elbows, but was in too much pain to really get far. “Don’t worry about me! I’m fine where I am, you stay over there!”

“Oh!” The stomp stomp stomp of good, sensible boots and the pitter patter of wolfpaws. “You can talk!”

“Sure can.”

“You’re a person!”

Well, that was debatable.

The woman sat on her haunches in front of the Warrior, and she stared up at her with an unamused look. Hm. Women weren’t generally supposed to look that blurry.

“I thought you were dead, mate!”

“Well, technically,” the Warrior started, but then got hit with a bad spell of vertigo and had to lay down again.

“Easy there.” The woman’s wolfdog gave the Warrior a sniff, growled cautiously, like she wasn’t quite sure if she should be growling or not, and then ceased when the woman ruffled her fur. “Easy Tilly. She’s not gonna hurt us.”

Strong arms slid beneath her and hefted her up over the woman’s shoulder. For an ordinary human, she was probably of average size, but the Warrior was massive, thick and heavy and taller than most humans save the rare Ender-hybrid. Little miss cheerful was dwarfed by the massive, bleeding, rotting soldier slung over her back, but didn’t seem to pay that any mind.

“Oof! Let’s get you home. You look like you’ve seen way better days.”

Couldn’t say that was a lie.

“My name’s Pearl! And this is Tilly.”

Tilly gave a cheerful yip at her name, and the Warrior tried not to lose her nonexistent lunch over the woman’s shoulder. All that’d come up would be stomach bile and potentially rot. She wasn’t sure if her own zombification had permeated that far into her internal organs or not. Uninterested in finding out, really.

“What’s your name?”

She didn’t have one. She was the Warrior. She didn’t need to be anything else.

But they were far, far, far from the lands and the peoples that had crafted her. Moving away from that direction. And she was… she was so tired…

“...Cleo.” She’d always liked that name. It seemed more suited to bright eyed girls in ruffled dresses tugging at their mother’s skirts in pursuit of sweets, than a towering warrior with rot all up and down her, but she liked the name and she wanted it and she wanted—

Well. Her wants didn’t matter. It was silly for her to have given herself a name. She should correct it. Before Pearl thought she was a person; or, well, before she thought that anymore than she already did. But Cleo was tired, she was so tired, and everything hurt, and someone else had taken care of the zombies for her.

Oh.

Pearl had killed all the zombies. Pearl and Tilly. They were all gone, still in the quiet earth and laid finally to rest.

Cleo had no further purpose to fulfill, out here.

She should go back to the people who created her. Let them know of her report. Acquire her next mission.

Her heavy eyelids prevented the need for decision making.

--

The sensation of waking up in a bed was something wholly unfamiliar to her. She didn’t need sleep, and phantoms were easy enough to down with a crossbow, once you got used to them.

Cleo stretched her limbs out cautiously. Already, she was in far less pain than she’d fallen asleep with, the bruises faded and yellowed and the cuts all scabbed over and—

Clean. Like, really clean. The rot had been washed out of her rotting bits. The muck had been swabbed from her scabs. She was in her underclothes, which were still slightly damp but gave her a full view of all the many pieces of her body that had been tended to while she was out.

There was a fire crackling merrily away not far from the bed. Her clothes, looking dryer than she did, were hung next to it. Tilly snored softly on a plush rug on the floor, her hindleg twitching as though giving chase in her dreams. Around her were a whole litter of puppies, their pink bellies rounded into little spheres with overeating, their triangular ears flip flopping this way and that.

Cleo, lacking anything better to do, got up and put her clothes on. They were decadently warm from hanging near the fire. Dry and soft. There was a pot of soup on the stove.

Suddenly, overwhelmingly ravenous, Cleo started eating directly from the pot, the wooden stirring spoon instead used to ladle food into her mouth. She ate like a wild animal, like the crazed beasts she was tasked with slaying, kneeling over the scalding metal with little care for the heat, barely pausing for breath and even then, only when she had to. She hardly even tasted the potatoes, the carrots, the rabbit and the creamy base. All that mattered was getting food inside her body as quickly as possible.

She gasped for breath, wooden spoon clattering to the empty bottom when she was done. She swung its stand further from the fire, not wanting to risk singeing the instrument, but also not knowing where else to put it. How long had it been since her last meal? She couldn’t starve, so really, she only ate when it was needed to keep her speed up.

She honestly didn’t need to have eaten the whole pot. What was she, an actual animal? How embarrassing.

“Ohhi~” Pearl greeted, the words all smooshed together and sounding friendly and upbeat. Instantly, Cleo’s cheeks heated. Not only had she eaten the whole thing, by herself, in one sitting, kneeling on the floor, ravenous as a dog, but now she had to let Pearl—the one who had cooked it—know.

“Erm, hello,” she tried, smile feeling fake on her face even to her. “Uh, sorry about your stew. I might have eaten it all.” She chuckled nervously, eyes darting back and forth between the damning pot and her…host?

“Oh!” Pearl darted forward, firewood under one arm and a bag of something or other slung over her other shoulder. She bent at the waist to peer around Cleo, glancing at the empty bottom of the pot. “Well that’s alright! You were pretty banged up when I got you home, your body probably needs it.”

Pearl dumped the firewood near the fireplace and set her bag on the small and rather cluttered table. “I’ll just make more, it’s no biggie. How’re you feeling?”

Better than she had ever felt in her life.

“Alright. Sorry again. I, don’t mean to impose.” Cleo had no frame of reference for how this was supposed to work. Being in someone else’s house. Conversing. Most of what was expected from her was a report and clarifying questions if she had any about orders. Pearl was… not… She wasn’t…

“It’s fine! I don’t get a lot of visitors this far out. It can get pretty lonely: that’s why I have my Tilly!”

At her name, the dog’s leg kicked, but she did not rouse.

“O–oh..? That must be nice.”

“It is! And it’s nice to have you too, so don’t worry about imposing.”

See, Pearl could say that, but Cleo knew just enough about people to know that that was absolutely, 100% not actually true. Cleo was massive, intimidating, not to mention rotting all over. At best the people around her tolerated her, because of what she did, because of what she could do. At worst—

“Even so, I’ll just, I’ll just leave. Sorry again, I really didn’t mean to—”

But as she stood, the world tilted all funny and her left leg gave out.

“Woah there!” Pearl yelped, rushing forward and catching Cleo. Her face burned, mortification as hot as fire (and a strange, fluttering, something else at being held and caught by Pearl, something Cleo couldn’t quite name), but attempting to straighten herself and get off only resulted in her stumbling again.

“Easy, easy, hey! Here, let’s get you back to bed.”

One massive, rotting (but no longer smelly or rot-stained) arm hooked around Pearl’s shoulders, Cleo had to allow herself to be helped back to the bed. She collapsed onto it, looking nowhere but the wool, face undoubtedly red and only made more obvious by the pallor of her skin. She could feel her shoulders hiked up to her ears, and knew what a pathetic sight she must make.

Her, the Warrior, feeble as a lamb and flushed with shame. But Pearl was merciful, or just so cheerfully off her rocker she didn’t realize, and didn’t mention it.

“Stay there and rest up. I’ll make more soup! Soup soup soup.”

“I don’t mean to monopolize your bed,” Cleo mumbled, trying. Trying so hard. She always tried so hard.

“Oh, that’s not my bed! That’s just the bed I use whenever I need to sleep on the ground floor. Tilly can’t climb the tower with me, and sometimes I don’t feel like going all the way up there,” Pearl said, pulling ingredients out of her bag. “That’s actually where I just was! I keep my supplies up there, but I wasn’t about to try and carry you all of the way up!”

“You… live in a tower?” Cleo prompted, desperately clinging to what she hoped was a relatively normal conversation.

“Yup! Stone tower, only one ladder down and up. Super easy to defend; not a lot of zombies have the dexterity to climb that high and even if they do I can just shoot ‘em off.” She poured water into the pot and Cleo felt a fresh wave of guilt. She probably should’ve at least tried to clean it before Pearl started cooking in it again.

“Sorry to drag you down here.” To make her do all that, to force her to fetch her supplies. Really, Cleo was such a waste, what was she even doing here, she needed to go back and report—

“If you apologize to me again I’m gonna throw a spoon at your face,” Pearl said, her cavalier cheer not faltering even slightly.

“You—what?” Cleo blinked at the disparity between her words and her tone.

Pearl giggled, casting a glance over her shoulder. With the hood of her riding cloak down, her brown hair spilled attractively over her shoulder, and her red eyes seemed much more homey and autumnal in the cabin’s firelight than they had on the battlefield.

“I said you’re not bothering me, so you’re not bothering me! If you keep apologizing for nothing, I’m gonna whack ya!”

“I—well I am sorry!” Cleo said, face furrowed in worry and confusion. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get! I warned you!” Pearl half-shouted as she crossed the little living space to scoop the spoon up off the floor. Tilly, finally awoken, cocked her wolfish head at Pearl. “Tilly, I warned her. I told her to her face if she apologized again I’d whack her. Nobody ever listens to me Tilly, I tell you.”

“Maybe they don’t listen because you’re ridiculous,” Cleo groused, but her pride was more wounded than her nose.

Pearl just laughed.

--

Cleo’s strength returned in the coming days, piece by piece. She’d been more injured than she’d originally assumed, and the chunks of muscle the zombies had torn out of her took their sweet ass time regrowing. In that time, the rot along the seams of her resurfaced, too, but Pearl patiently helped Cleo bathe it out of them, the cracks in her skin kept clean and dry and warm.

It was… rather awkward, bathing with another person. But Pearl had the body-shame of a naked animal, no more or less content fully clothed than she was fully nude, and Cleo couldn’t reach all her rotting bits by herself, so Pearl helped her. There was… something else, weird, at being naked around Pearl and seeing Pearl naked, but Cleo didn’t dare try to put a word to it. She wasn’t brave enough for that.

Slowly, she worked her way up to helping Pearl with chores, first sedentary tasks, then helping her haul firewood or stone or tilling dirt out in the garden. Tilly and her pups were now fully accustomed to Cleo’s presence, and darted about her heels happily. She helped play with and groom them, too.

She also worked on regaining her strength, training with her sword and axe. Despite the fact that her muscle was all new and tender-fresh, she felt better than she ever had. Stronger, steadier, more certain on her heavy feet. Was it the food? The gentle way Pearl daubed the rot out of her seams? The sleep? Cleo had never needed such things, but maybe… maybe it was alright for her to want them.

She certainly didn’t miss the phantoms.

The two were out in Pearl’s fields one afternoon, sun high and cheerful in the sky, when Cleo lost herself in thought, staring in the direction she’d come from. She needed to go back. She needed to make her report. She needed to take her next mission. She’d been here, wasting time, long enough.

“Cleo?” Pearl asked, approaching closer and leaning on her hoe. Uncharacteristically quiet, for Pearl. Uncharacteristically knowing. “...You have somewhere you need to go, huh?”

She said it like she was already resigned to the answer. Like Cleo had already broken her heart.

Cleo tore her eyes from the horizon and laid them squarely on the brave and crazed and beautiful woman next to her. She did, was the problem. She needed to go. She needed to forfeit the silly name she’d picked out for herself and resume her purpose. But she wanted—

She wanted…

She smiled, and it didn’t feel so forced. “No, Pearl. I was just, just thinking, you know? What if I stayed?”

Pearl blinked, red eyes wide and shocked. Cleo’s smile deepened.

“What if I stayed here,” she asked, reaching out her large hand to cover Pearl’s much smaller one, to thread their fingers timidly together, “with you?”

What if she stayed. What if she didn’t go back. What if the only time she ever walked in that direction was when she staggered backwards, feet barely catching herself from falling, as Pearl launched herself into her arms, knocking their heads together as she kissed her.

[inneedofsupervision]

Attacca (Chapter 1)

Summary:

Minghao would do everything for his brothers. He doesn't care if they aren't related by blood. Jun, Soonyoung, and Chan are his family and he would fight to keep it this way. Meanwhile, Hansol lives after the motto me, myself, and I. Others see a young man walking aimlessly, but Hansol sees himself enjoying his life in the best company. Himself. Two different worlds clash, when Chew Hansol gets involved in the business of Attacca, one of Seoul's most dangerous mafia gangs, led by his dead father's friend, Choi Seungcheol. Having no other choice but to get on a mission for Attacca, the young man stumbles right into the world of Seoul's inner circle of criminals, only to get missing.

Seventeen Mafia AU

Chapter: Prologue, 1,

Read on Ao3

Curiosity kills the Kitten

"He will not go in there."

"Seungcheol, listen this onc-"

"I said no."

"But-"

The tension in the room rises when Seungcheol gets a hold of Jeonghan's collar. He pulls at the clothes harshly, anger burning in his eyes. Jeonghan tilts his head back a little, unimpressed by the sudden outburst. He stands still, staring right back into the eyes of his leader. Seungcheol's eyes narrow at the stubborn determination he finds in Jeonghan's face.

"He won't go, Jeonghan," hisses the man before letting go of the other. Jeonghan stumbles slightly before straightening his clothes, a frown on his face. 

"You know we don't have another option. It's the only way-"

"Jeonghan!"

Jeonghan shuts his mouth with his lips pressed into a thin line. Seungcheol leans onto his desk, eyes glaring up from under a mob of black, unruly hair. The rings under his eyes have grown darker, Jeonghan notices. 

"These are my last words."

The tone held a warning, and Jeonghan knew better than to argue further. He clicks his tongue in annoyance but leaves. When he walks out of the study room without another word, Seungcheol falls heavily into the large seat behind the desk. He runs a hand through his hair. His eyes fly over the files scattered over his workplace, knowing it's useless to search through them again. Outside the study room, several heads turn in Jeonghan's direction as he walks out. At the questioning gazes, he shakes his head. He hooks a finger under his tie, loosening it a little. The thing made him feel like he gets choked since this morning. 

"Maybe we should talk to him again."

He puts a hand on Joshua's shoulder, shaking his head when their eyes meet.

"Don't talk to him now."

"I'm surprised you would go in there willingly. Haven't you heard the two scream at each other just now?" pipes Seungkwan up from a corner of the room. He pulls his fingers away from his mouth, giving his bitten nails a break to throw Joshua a bewildered look. 

"Not everyone here is a coward, you know?"

Seungkwan huffs. He glares at those who dare to chuckle at Joshua's comment. A frown finds its way on his face as his eyes wander around the room again.

"Where is Hansol anyway?"

____________________________________________________

The fist comes flying straight at him. He ducks and barely avoids getting hit right in the face. The relief is short-lived when a knee shoots up, about to strike his head. Hansol brings his arms up, blocking the kick. The young man grimaces at the contact, his arms bruising. Stumbling back, he takes a short moment to dart his eyes around for something useful.

"Fucking bitch!"

Hansol swallows the victorious grin when the bottle hits his attacker on the forehead, successfully making the man let up from him to hold his bleeding head. Not wasting any time, he takes his jacket off while sprinting through towers of demolished cars. Knowing the ruckus the asshole had caused when he found Hansol, it is bound to have more people coming their way. The man hisses when miscalculating his jump, hitting his chin against a metal container. Biting through the pain, he pulls himself up quickly and throws his jacket over the edge of the metal fence. While the shouting behind him gets louder, Hansol jumps onto the barricade and begins to climb up. 

"You've got to be kidding."

Hansol pulls at the jacket, but it has got stuck on the barbed wire. His eyes fall on the men coming closer, raising his eyebrows at the baseball bat and a bent metal bar two had bought with them. Letting up from the jacket with a sigh, Hansol let himself fall onto the pile of wet cartons leaning next to the street. 

"Fancy bump you've got there."

He points at his forehead, a sly grin spreading on his face. The man tears the iron bar out of the other man's hands, pointing it in Hansol's direction, face red in anger.

"You little bastard. If I get my hands on you-"

Hansol laughs at the threat and gives the man a bird before running when the man starts to climb after him. It's too cold to run in ripped jeans, only held by a makeshift belt and a mere tank-top through the rain, but he could care less. When the adrenaline has run off, Hansol runs a hand through his tangled hair, water running down his neck and face. No one spares the blue-lipped teen a glance as he walks with his hands shoved into his pockets through the streets. People hurry past him to work or search for a dry spot to stand under while it pours down.

Looking through the windows of the shops, he stops when something catches his eye. His hands roam around his pocket, pulling out a couple of bills. Nodding in approvement of what he found, Hansol glances at the pictures hung at the front before going into the shop. 

____________________________________________________

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at the puddle growing on the floor of his office. Mingyu's eyes follow his leader's gaze, mouth forming into a silent "o." 

"I'll get something to clean up. And some clothes," Mingyu adds the last part after glancing at the man next to him, quickly exiting the room. Being left alone in the study, Seungcheol let out a sigh. He beckons Hansol to sit down, but the latter keeps standing in the middle of the office, a look of sheer disinterest plastered on his features.

"Where have you been all day?"

"What, you have noticed I haven't been here?"

It's the first time their eyes are meeting today. Seungcheol frowns at the accusing tone, leaning back in his seat. He crosses his arms and watches the younger man who shakes his dripping hair. Rainwater flies around drops landing on the papers on his desk. Wiping some of the water that hit his cheek, Seungcheol clenches his jaw, holding in the comment that was about to pass his lips. 

Hansol points with his thumb at the door.

"Can I go now?"

"Why do you think I asked for you to come here?"

Hansol glares at the older, impatiently waiting for him to get to the point. He hated being in Seungcheol's office. 

"Can you get to the point, then?"

"Watch your manners, Hansol."

"Oh, excuse me. Could you please enlighten me why you've asked for my presence, Sir?"

To give Hansol credit, he didn't back off, standing his ground when Seungcheol stood up and came around the table. Although he is slightly taller, their leader's glare and posture compensate for the difference in height. Compared to Hansol, Seungcheol is buff. It is visible even under the tailored suit he is wearing. Hansol has worked out a little, gaining some muscle over time, but it wouldn't do any good against someone like Seungcheol. He would get snapped like a twig, but that doesn't stop the younger from raising his chin, a bratty look on his face. They are standing toe on the toe, Seungcheol's eyes hardening. 

"Can you take something seriously, just for a moment?"

"Should I?" asks Hansol, tilting his head to the side. 

Seungcheol seems ready to snap when an awkward cough cuts the tension in the room. 

"I've bought some clothes."

Mingyu stands at the door to the office, a bundle of something in his hands. Seungcheol nods in Hansol's direction, and Mingyu hurries, handing him the clothes. Hansol grimaces at the sight of a gray, plain tracksuit. It definitely belongs to someone bigger than him. He eyes Mingyu, who avoids the look, glancing everywhere but at him.

"Put these on."

Mingyu, always in for the dramatics, lets out a shocked gasp. He turns to face the wall as Hansol pulls his soaked tank top over his head. Hansol unbuckles his belt and slips out of his shoes, loose-fitting pants falling to the ground. While undressing, he keeps staring at Seungcheol, kicking his underwear to the side and pulling on a new pair of boxers. Seungcheol is unimpressed, too used to the younger antics. 

"Follow me," he says after Hansol changes his clothes. He walks after Seungcheol, although against his will and showing that distaste clearly on his face. Mingyu steps to the side, making room for the two to pass. He looks back into the office and pulls a face at the puddle of water and wet clothes scattered on the floor. With slight disgust, he picks up the damp underwear, scrunching his nose before shaking his head. 

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he mutters.

______________________________________________

"What happens if he gets involved in a fight?"

"He won't if he goes according to plan."

"Nothing could go wrong than, as he listens so well."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Seungkwan."

"Isn't this too important to let him go in there?"

"Do you want to go instead, Jihoon?"

"Are you nuts? I get shot as soon as I set foot in there."

"That's what I'm talking about."

"Guys, shouldn't he know at least some self-defense?"

Seungcheol clears his throat. The voices get cut off, all eyes snapping to the pair standing in the doorway. Hansol glares at the hand on his shoulder before glancing at the men gathered around a large table. Jeonghan gets up, the chair scrapping over the ground loudly at the action. 

"I see you've made a decision."

He looks at Seungcheol with a meaningful expression, but Hansol couldn't care less. He wanted to go back to his room. Now.

"Can we get over this quickly?"

Jeonghan's eyes fall on him as if he had just noticed Hansol is there too, and it ticks the younger man off. As if it was that hard not looking right through him. 

The blond in front of him raises an eyebrow, glancing at Seungcheol.

"You haven't told him yet?"

"I thought it would be better with everyone involved to get on the same terms," answers Seungcheol, pushing Hansol slightly towards a free seat at the end of the table. Hansol gets seated between Seungkwan and Mingyu, crossing his arms over his chest. He feels several pairs of eyes on him but ignores the stares, glaring at Seungcheol instead. 

"There is something I need. Something we need, but someone got hands on it before we could."

Hansol leans his head on his hand, wondering why he has to attend one of these meetings. When Seungcheol had taken him in after his parents died, Hansol had a vague idea of what kind of business the older man operated. Over the years, he caught up on some details, either witnessing them on accident or hearing it from his men. But he didn't care back then and doesn't care much now. The only thing mattering is that Seungcheol lets him do what he wants. He never asked Hansol for anything, not forcing him to work under him as Hansol had expected the leader of a ruthless mafia gang to do. Maybe Seungcheol did it out of pity or because he knew Hansols father personally. It doesn't matter to him either way. He had a place to sleep and something to eat. He wouldn't say he is close to any of Seungcheols underlings, but some of them are not bad, although he preferably spends his time alone.

"Wonwoo. Start."

The projector at the ceiling buzzes as it springs to life, throwing the image of a large private estate on the wall. Wonwoo types away at his laptop, and the images change, showing the estate from all sides. It screams wealth with the pools in and outside, broad terraces circling half the mansion. There are a couple of warehouses a short distance behind the main building. 

"This is the current residence of Kim Jaehwan, also known as Wang Yìzé. He recently became a leader after killing his father. To keep the connections his father held, he hosts parties at his estate to appease them."

"What are his latest interests?" cuts Seungcheol in, leaning against the wall, the only person not sitting. 

"He doesn't stray far from his father's business, human trafficking, fight clubs, casinos, and betting. Recently his parties have grown famous for their performances with illegally brought animals."

"He let animals fight now too?"

Hansol nearly huffs at Mingyu sounding distressed at the thought of animals fighting as if all the other stuff Wonwoo listed isn't as troubling. He catches Jihoon sitting in front of him with a solemn expression. He raises an eyebrow at the reaction. Are the people here all animal lovers, or what?

"The object we are looking for is this."

"A hairpin?" Seokmin sounds surprised, and Hansol frowns at the detailed crafted wooden sticks. Wonwoo continues to explain.

"That is a pair of fazan, a Chinese double hairpin. This particular one is rumored to have belonged to the royal family and got stolen hundreds of years ago. There are rumors it has changed its owner, currently possessed by Kim Jaehwan."

"We don't act according to rumors thought."

The glare sent by Wonwoo shut Seungkwan up quickly. Wonwoo hits enter, and the picture of a woman gets thrown onto the wall. All eyes fall onto the green jade stones blinking out of her excessively styled hair. The following image causes several sounds of disgust to echo through the room. A hand gets held before Hansols eyes, and he appreciates Mingyus's gesture, but it has been too late. He is already busy grimacing at the very explicit pictures. 

"As you can see, that woman is one of Jaehwan's escorts. He seeks her out the most in the last couple of months to-"

"We got the point, Wonwoo. Now get that out of my view," complains Seungkwan looking like he's ready to bleach his eyes. "Do I want to know how you've got all these pictures?" he asks while peeking through the crack of his fingers to glare at Wonwoo. The latter shrugs his shoulders, and Hansol swears he catches the hint of a smug grin playing on the bespectacled man's face. 

"I take that as a compliment."

He turns serious again, skipping to the next slide and presenting a timetable.

"Another party is being held on Saturday. There are many people invited. A few more guests won't cause too much attention."

Feeling eyes on him, Hansol slowly began to understand what Wonwoo implied.

"You want me to go?" he asks wide-eyed, turning to Seungcheol. The latter looks stoic, not meeting his eyes. 

"Why should I?"

"You are the only one here that Kim Jaehwan and his people don't know. They would recognize all of us, and we don't have time to hire someone trustworthy to do the job." Hansol doubts he is dependable enough for this type of job. Let alone the risk of getting caught. His expression must have told what he was thinking, as Joshua catches his attention by letting out a short cough.

"You don't have to worry. We will be in contact with you during the whole mission. If you should get into danger, someone from us will get you out."

Hansol is wary for several reasons, not liking where this is going. This plan is utterly crazy. He doesn't doubt these people's abilities. He knows they are experts at what they are doing, or they wouldn't have made it this long. They would get someone out if they need to, but this is Hansol they are speaking off. Having him die would be inconvenient for the sake of the mission, but that's it. The only hope he has is dedication to their leader. If Seungcheol commands someone to get him out, they will get him out. Looking at Seungcheol, Hansol clenches his jaw. He should have run away when he had thought about it from time to time. He cannot believe the man lets him get dragged into this. 

"How am I getting in there? I didn't get invited."

A black, elegant card gets pushed over the table. Hansol stares at it for a moment but takes it when he realizes that he has no choice anyway. The time, date, and location got printed in golden cursive letters. Jihoon looks smug when Hansol glances up with a raised eyebrow. 

"Now you are."

Someone claps in their hands, causing Hansol to flinch slightly. His eyes fall on Jeonghan, who wears a bright grin, and Hansol feels irritated just by looking at him. 

"Now that we have talked this through, we have no time to waste. We need clothes, a plan of the mansion, and a pair of scissors." Hansol keeps seated as suddenly everyone grows busy, going in and out, bringing stuff, or shouting at each other to hurry. The next moment Jeonghan stands at his side, pulling the scrunchy out of his hair. 

"What the hell are you doing? Don't touch me."

He gets ignored, and some water gets sprayed onto his curly hair that falls messily onto his shoulders. Hansol is about to protest, slapping Jeonghan's hands away from his head when he sees the pair of scissors gleaming in the light. The blond put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a look, holding the scissors a little too tightly in his fist. 

"Does my hair needs to be cut?"

"Have you looked into a mirror?" asks Jeonghan, sounding not even sarcastic, irritating the young man. Jeonghan doesn't notice or merely doesn't care if he pisses Hansol off. He continues to talk while he puts some of his hair out of the way and fastens it with silver slides. 

"You are going to a party hosted by one of the richest men in South Korea. Do you think anyone will believe you are on the guest list with this on your head?" He doesn't like to admit it, but Jeonghan has a point. Jeonghan glances down at him before taking his head and forcing him to face the wall.

"And now look straight before I cut your ear off. You look like a rat."

Four hours later, Hansol stands in Seungcheol's office, arms spread wide, while Mingyu pins the suits according to Jihoon's order. The latter walks around him, inspecting Mingyu's work with sharp eyes. Mingyu works quickly and is skilled, experience showing through swiftly moving hands. He sends Hansol an apologetic glance when he catches him yawning. 

"Thank you, Mingyu. That should work."

Jihoon sends Seungcheol a silent look, who nods in agreement. The small man takes it into his own hands to help Hansol take off the suit. He is mindful of the altering, carefully putting it over his arm. Seungcheol rises from his seat. He glances at Jihoon.

"How long?"

"At the end of today, it is finished."

They are left alone in the room as Mingyu follows Jihoon out. Hansol's frown deepens as Seungcheol gestures for him to come closer. With a roll of his eyes, the younger man steps around the desk, letting Seungcheol look at his styled hair up close. Jeonghan had gone out on him, cutting his trademark shoulder-long hair so short, Hansol got reminded of when he was younger. His hazelnut-colored messy locks were dyed and now shining in a midnight black, covering his forehead in light curls. His glare is icy when the older takes his chin in his hand, turning his head slightly from one side to the other, mustering him. Hansol pulls his face out of Seungcheol's hold.

"It look's good on you."

Seungcheol's eyes wander over his new appearance when he raises an eyebrow.

"Don't." Hansol stops the wandering hand, holding it by the wrist. 

"When did you get this?" Seungcheol eyes the piercing sitting high at the shell of Hansol's ear. 

"Before I came here."

The older looks like he wants to say something but decides to leave it. He sits down, taking the papers before him in his hands. "Have you looke-"

Seungcheol raises his eyes at the sound of the door falling shut. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"That kid makes me insane."

_________________________________________________

"Hold your hands up."

If it weren't for the helmet, Hansol would have gotten a concussion. He is sure of it. Hansol blinked in shock at the force that Seokmin had put into the punch aimed at his head. 

"Don't bruise him."

Joshua leans calmly at the wall, watching as Seokmin beats the crap out of Hansol and calls it teaching. Hansol blocks another punch, backing away from Seokmin, whose foot flies dangerously close above his kneecap. It feels cold in the training room, although the sweat glints on his skin. Seokmin grunts at Joshua's comment, looking not even slightly out of breath as he goes after the younger man. 

"Can we take a break?"

Hansol wipes the sweat out of his eyes, catching his breath. His head feels like it's spinning.

"Do you want to get killed?"

Hansol swallows the cutting remark that lies on his lips. He grimaces as an elbow gets hit into his side with a grunt. He quickly turns around, barely catching the fist but stumbles back when Seokmin takes the moment of surprise to hook his free foot behind his ankle. Another hit against his chest, and Hansol finds himself back on the mat. He is straddled by a knee on his chest, Seokmin's underarm cutting off his airway. Hansol begins tapping out, only to panic when the Seokmin does not move. He keeps getting pressed onto the ground, vision growing fuzzy. He claws at the arm before gathering all strength left, grabbing the man's clothes. He pulls with all his might and turns his body as far as he can to the side, barely but successfully shoving the older one-off. He scrambles up hastily, bringing a distance between them, and glares with glassy eyes at the other. 

"I tapped out!"

The older continues to unwrap his hands, unimpressed by the wheezing teen who curses under his breath.

"Why didn't you let up?!"

Seokmin holds on, tilting his head lightly before handing Joshua the tape. The latter watches with amusement how Hansol takes a small step back, wary as the usually cheerful man stands an arm's reach before him.

"Do you think anyone will stop hurting you if you ask them nicely? The people you'll meet are the mafia, Hansol. If you cannot fight, avoid getting into a fight. There is no fairness when it comes to the people you will meet. You either win."

Seokmin closes the distance between them and puts a hand on his shoulder, closing the distance between his lips and Hansols ear.

"Or bleed to death with a knife stuck in your guts."

A fist lands on his side. The punch is not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to get Seokmin's message across. 

________________________________________________

"Don't eat or drink anything. If you have to, pretend and get rid of it without causing attention. Lives are not the only thing people lose at these events." 

Jeonghan clicks his tongue at the yellowish bruise on Hansols throat. Hansol watches through the mirror how Jihoon fuzzes over his hair. The short man sends Minygu a look through the mirror. A moment later, Minygu stands ready with Hansol's suit on a hanger. The foundation feels foreign as Jeonghan hides the traces of the training he went through the last two days. A small plastic case gets handed to him. 

"With your looks, you will get approached with various intentions. Put these lenses in when we finish your makeup."

"I have to wear lenses too?"

"You play the role of an escort. At least put effort into your appearance." 

Hansol shoves down the frustration at the tone Jeonghan talks to him. He spent the last two days going through several hours of combat training. Faces and names of persons with histories that leave him with goosebumps were drilled into his head to avoid him running straight into death's open arms. He had to memorize the plan to get the hairpin until he could recite it in his sleep. Wonwoo wouldn't let him out of his working place before Hansol could explain the whole layout of the mansion to him. When asked why that was important, he received a look of disbelief. Wonwoo had turned in his chair, a thrown on his face.

"Isn't that obvious?"

It baffled Hansol how a single question made him feel so stupid. Embarrassment flushed the tips of his ears red as he stormed off, locking himself into his room.

"How did you manage to mess your eyes up like this?"

At this point, the young man ignores Jeonghan's nagging. He couldn't sleep a wink, feeling restless to the point where he couldn't keep his food down. He spent the last hours before the event in his room, trying to calm down. When he gets pushed to the car and looks approved by Jeonghan and Jihoon, Mingyu is already waiting in the driver's seat. Joshua and Seokmin walked him to the car. Do they think he would try to run away? Hansol feels like running away. But knowing these men, they probably drag him back by the collar. The car door locks with a click, and his eyes follow the two men through the side mirror and walk back into the building. Hansol feels like he will see them for the last time, not that he likes the two.

"You look good."

Mingyu glances at the teenager before he starts the engine. He gets ignored. Hansol stares at the city passing by, lights growing lineless in the dark. Seungcheol had not once come by to see how he was doing. He knew there would be a time when the older got tired of him. Hansol had waited for the day to get kicked out, but he would have never thought he would get sent to his doom like this. Anger makes him ball his hands into fists, knuckles turning white. What are these people going to think will happen? 

Hansol isn't dumb. 

He knew that this mission meant death. 

He doesn't work for Seungcheol. He isn't part of Attacca. He is just a teenager living under the same roof and now getting dragged into this because it is convenient. Although the people under Seungcheol's command did everything to prepare for the mission doesn't mean they have his back. Hansol is on his own. 

"Put this in."

With an indifferent look, he takes the device out of Mingyu's hand. There is a bit of static noise as Hansol puts the communicator into his left ear. It feels cold, and a shudder runs down his back before Wonwoo's voice cracks through the miniature speaker.

"Vernon, can you hear me?"

Right.

He isn't Hansol. 

For this evening, he is Vernon. An escort of a higher-up, roaming around the mansion in search of his partner. Or some fun. Remembering his role and the bundle of nerves in his stomach makes some bile travel the way up. He swallows.

"Yes."

"Then get going."

When the car door falls shut, Hansol feels ready to throw up on the spot, nerves all over the place. He bets to look sick with pale skin hidden under the layer of carefully applied makeup.

"Get a grip. You are Vernon now," he tells himself, grimacing as the car behind him turns around. Now he's really on his own.

The broad-shouldered man at the entrance waits as the young man hands the black invitation over before letting him into the mansion. Vernon gets greeted by dim lights and the smell of cigarettes and expensive perfume lingering in the air. Music plays lightly in the background when he walks down the entrance and into the main room. Scanning his surroundings, Vernon feels relieved, finding the doors and stairs exactly where they should be. At least he can be sure now that he knows where to go. 

Vernon receives a few curious glances here and there, but most people don't spend attention to him. Taking a glass of champagne and getting held to him on a tablet, he gives the waiter a short nod. Blending into the crowd, Vernon glances around. Glasses clink, and people talk in hushed voices while somewhere, a few women laugh as they scoot closer to one of the expensively dressed men. The sound catches Vernon's attention, and he hopes no one notices the light tremor in his hands as he pretends to take a sip of his drink. 

Over the rim of the glass, he stole a glance at the host.

Kim Jaehwan sits on a wide couch. Women sit on both sides, clinging to him while he has one arm wrapped around the waist of the lady to his right. Leaning against the wall, the observing man pretends to drink some more while he watches the room. His eyes fall on a slender woman wearing a green cocktail dress. He observes her walking over to Kim Jaehwan, who welcomes her with open arms, his hands traveling until they lay very low at the woman's back. A waiter approaches them, and as the woman turns her head to talk to him, Vernon's eyes widen slightly. The woman pushes her shoulder-long black hair behind her ear, and Vernon recognizes her face immediately. It's the escort from the pictures. Placing the glass down on his way and acting like he needs to use his mobile phone, Vernon slips out of the crowded room. Slendering through the hallway like he owns the place, no one spares the man a glance as he softly pushes against the small button of the communicator.

"She's not wearing them. I'll search upstairs."

He feels annoyed when all he gets as an answer is a hum from the other side. At least Wonwoo hasn't turned the communicator off completely. At this point, Vernon knows no one will be sad about him getting killed in this place. He is sure of it. Cursing Seungcheol under his breath, he slips into the room that belongs to Kim Jaehwan's favorite woman. 

"This whole evening sucks."

All he wants is to leave this place as quickly as possible, but while he pulls open the seventh drawer without a hint of the desired object, his hope slowly washes down the drain. At the sound of someone approaching, panic peaks, and without thinking, Vernon throws himself down onto the ground with a thud. He grimaces as his elbow hits the foot of the bed most painfully, cursing silently. The voices grow louder. His heart beats fast, and his fingers claw at the blazer in fear as he waits with bated breath under the bed. His neck starts to cramp as he stares intensely at the door to the room.

The footsteps stop in front of the door. 

Vernon's breath stops altogether. 

"Please, don't open. 

Don't you dare open!"

The footsteps continue, growing quiet as the people walk down the hallway. Vernon sacks together. The back of his head hits the floor, but he barely feels the pain, mindlessly staring at the underside of the bed. 

"Have you found them yet?"

Vernon pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing the whole gang of Attacca in his mind. 

"Will you shut up for a moment?"

It annoys him even more that Wonwoo does not sound fazed by the sudden outburst.

"Huh. I didn't say anything."

"Shut it."

Seungcheol could beat him up later for talking to his members in this manner. No, scratch that. If he gets out here alive, Seungcheol can shove these damn hairpins somewhere for all he cares. Vernon is not staying at that damn place any longer than he has to. 

He crawls out from under the bed. 

"Would be too easy like this." mutters the man as he picks a lint from his suit. After checking that he hasn't missed anything, the man carefully exits the room. The second possibility of where the hairpins are could be Kim Jaehwans private bedroom. He knew where to find the mafia leader's bedroom. He also knew the chance of the bedroom getting guarded was very high. 

The hallway is empty as Vernon walks out of the bedroom. 

"That's tacky."

He eyes the paintings on the walls as he passes. There is nothing impressive to the motives of fallen angels nor the thick golden frame holding the pictures. Roaming through the mansion and looking around, it became apparent quickly that Kim Jaehwan enjoys flaunting his wealth. Vernon prefers the simplicity of the place, where Attacca stays more the longer he has to walk around this money-reeking mansion. Nearing his destination, the teen carefully peaks around the corner.

"Holy f-"

He quickly retreats from the corner after catching a glimpse of the two guards standing in front of the door. The men were talking to each other, one of them pushing his jacket back to put his hands into his pockets. The motion reveals a holster under his clothes. The sight of a firearm causes Vernon's mouth to turn dry as he backs up as quickly as possible. How is he going to get in the room now? Knowing Seungcheol, if he gets back without any results, he will get sent here again. 

"Come on, think Hansol!"

He won't have too much time left until someone is going to find him snooping around. Vernon looks around until his eyes fall on the door to the next room. With a soft click, he locks the door before wandering through the study. The sounds from the party below come dull through to the second floor. Taking a paperweight from the table, the teen weighs it in his hands. 

"I could throw this at someone."

Setting the small statue of a tiger back, he eyes the window behind the desk. Opening the glass door behind, he finds a small balcony outside. There are at least two meters between the balcony of the study room and the master bedroom. After checking no one is outdoors, Vernon steps closer to the edge, eyebrow raising as he glances down. If he falls from here, he will hit the stone ground at least four meters in height. Vernon is going to break something. And that will be the last thing to worry about, compared to the consequences he will face when he gets caught.

"This is nuts," mutters the teen, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before climbing onto the stone railing. The wall next to him has nothing to hold on to, meaning he has to jump if he wants to cross the distance between the two balconies. Vernon takes a deep breath. He crouches down a little, avoiding looking down. Before he loses all his courage, Vernon hurries up to get over it.

He jumps.

"Shit!"

While jumping off, Vernon slips a little, the dress shoes not helping much to get a good grip on the smooth stone. He hits his chest against the other balcony, the pain leaving him numb for a second as desperate fingers claw at the posts of the railing. Vernon's arms shake as they hold his weight while his feet kick helplessly into the air. He knows he won't hold on long like this, arms feeling sore already. 

He is not sure how he did it. Maybe it's the mixture of adrenaline and the fear of getting killed or falling, pushing his body to unknown boundaries. With strength he didn't know he had been capable of, Vernon manages to pull himself up enough to swing a leg up to the edge of the balcony. The teen imagines Jihoon slapping the back of his head for him ruining the suit, but Vernon doesn't give a damn about getting it dirty. He sets his shin on the edge of the balcony, ignoring how it cuts into his leg as he pushes himself up. With shaky limbs, Vernon crawls over the railing. Sitting on the ground, he needs a few moments to get his body back under control, hands shaking. For half a minute or so, there is nothing but his pulse soaring in his ears. 

"I'm entering the master bedroom."

"Be careful."

Rolling his eyes at the comment after nearly breaking his legs, Vernon pushes the door open. Locks were the last problem on this mission. Before going in, Vernon keeps quiet, listening closely. Deeming it safe to enter, he pushes the thick dark blue curtain to the side he slips into the large room. He flinches as the party below his feet gets louder suddenly, clapping and cheering reaching up to him. Aware of the guard still presents behind the doors, Vernon walks around as stealthy as a cat. Biting his lip, he glances at the drawer near the door. Creeping closer slowly, he catches pieces of the conversation of the guards.

"- shoot them one day, I tell you. Can't wait for them to be gone."

The other man laughs. "You hate them that much?"

"They freak me out. Aren't you wary of them too?"

Vernon walks carefully, looking over the shelves as he misses a fold on the carpet. He tries regaining balance but stumbles forward, hitting a drawer. At the other end of the drawer, the decor, a small but heavy globe of Calaccata marble, rolls out of its holder. With terror, Vernon watches the globe rolls closer to the edge, knowing he won't be fast enough to catch it. With a loud clatter, the ball of marble hits the floor.

The door bursts open, and the guards rush into the room with their guns drawn. 

"Who is there!? Show yourself, and I shot you in the head only!"

The lights go on, and the men hold their guns close as they walk through the room, searching for the cause of the noise. 

"Is the window shut?" asks one of them, picking up the white-polished ball and eying it with a frown before setting it back in its place. The other guard draws the curtain back, inspecting the lock of the door leading to the balcony. The guard turns back to his partner.

"The lock is intact," informs the man the other, rattling at the closed door, checking its condition. The man at the entrance to the room frowns.

"That's weird. I'll contact the others. We should watch out tonight."

The door lock clicks as they exit the room, leaving a furiously sweating Vernon behind, squished between tailored suits and drawers inside the wardrobe closet. The queasy feeling he had while entering the mansion is back tenfold, and Vernon has to force himself not to throw up what he had eaten the day before. The teen didn't know stress could make him this sick as he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Having escaped death twice in the last ten minutes leaves him shivering as he pushes the communicator in his ear.

"It's not in the master bedroom either. I cannot find it. Get me out of here. Now."

"Have you searched closely?"

A wave of anger washes over the young man at the tint of hesitation that swings into Wonwoo's tone. Hadn't they promised they would get him out in case something happened to him?

"Can you not believe me? It is not in the bedrooms. Now, help me get out of here!" Vernon all but hisses, patience running out. There is some shuffling on the other side before all sounds cut off. The teen freezes as the other side of the line are kept quiet, alarm bells starting to go off inside his head before the sound goes back on.

"Vernon?"

A silent sigh of relief gets stuck in his throat when it's not Wonwoo's voice speaking to him as expected. Fingernails dig into his palms as he tenses, sensing something is wrong about hearing the second leader of Attacca instead of their primary hacker.

"Jeonghan?"

"Wonwoo says you cannot find the hairpins. Is that right?"

"Yes. The hairpins are not in the bedrooms."

He does not like the silence that follows the answer. Why isn't Seungcheol there? He should ask for Seungch-

"That means you haven't searched anywhere else."

He blinks at the words.

"It's an accusation."

Vernon forces himself to uncurl his hands to avoid hurting himself further. 

"I cannot get out here alone."

He speaks calmly but with urgency, hoping to get the point across, mindful of not losing himself as he starts to panic.

"We send someone as soon as you get the hairpins. They have to be there." Jeonghan's tone leaves no room for discussion. Vernon's chest tightens as he realizes what kind of predicament he got caught in.

"Jeonghan,  please!  I can't find them like this," the teen knew he must sound desperate as he was pleading with Jeonghan to get him out. With the crack in his voice, his pride shatters too. All he can think of is to get out of here, away from everything that could and wants to kill him. 

"Then you better hurry up looking for them."

"Jeonghan, let me talk to Seungch-"

The line cuts off.

He stares at the gray trousers dangling in front of his eyes, his head leaning against the wall. Vernon feels numb.

He knew it.

He fucking knew it. 

"You are fucking dumb for believing them, Hansol." 

Running his hands through his hair, he distracted himself as he tried stopping from panicking further. Panicking won't get him out of here. He has to think of something quickly. Crawling out of the closet, the teen looks around, trying to find anything that could help him get out when the guards outside begin to shout. He stares wide-eyed at the door, ready to dive back into the closet any second. 

A new voice calls for the guards.

"They found something outside! You have to come quickly!"

"But the door-"

"Move your asses now. The Boss will skin you if you don't set your priorities straight. Move!"

Staring at the door in confusion, Vernon waits, not believing his luck. He hears footsteps hurrying away from the door. It stays silent as the seconds pass while Vernon blinks before reality sets in. 

"It's now or never," Vernon tells himself and reaches for the doorknob, praying inwardly to get out of here without a bullet in his head. At the sight of an empty hallway, Vernon all but runs it down, passing the ugly paintings and hideously pricey statues, only slowing down when he reaches the stairs. Looking at himself, he quickly dusts the dirt from his trousers before slipping into the guest's bathroom. Splashing some water on his face, Vernon leans with a dripping front over the sink, glancing at the shaken-up teen in the mirror. He needs to calm down. Realistically speaking, even if Vernon decides to take the chance and get out of the party now, the teen wouldn't be able to outrun Attacca. Although he spends most of his time outside, he knows that once they have set a goal, the gang of Attacca doesn't stop until they get what they want. The short training Vernon has faced and seeing how Seungcheol didn't hesitate to send him on this mission had told Vernon enough. To them, he is nothing more than cannon fodder. His only chance is to get the task done and run away after, hoping they will let him up from chasing him since they got what they wanted. Bent down to the faucet, Vernon drank before he dried his face and hands. He scans his appearance, running a hand through his hair to make it look intended messy. Accepting that he cannot adjust more than this, he leaves the bathroom to join the party again. 

To his surprise, he finds the first floor nearly empty. There are a few exceptions of people either sitting very drunk on some chairs and couches or in the middle of getting handsy with each other. Walking past tables with hints of white dust on top, Vernon schools his expression and walks outside. The noise leads him into the spacious patio of the mansion. Wonwoo's voice ghosts around his head, briefing them about the illegal betting. With the knowledge of fights and bets regularly held at Kim Jaehwans parties, Vernon's stomach starts growing queasy as he catches sight of a giant cage in the middle of the patio. Are they watching a cage fight? This event being a party held by a mafia gang, Vernon doesn't want to even think about how bloody these fights must be. It would be fighting till death, knowing Kim Jaehwan's reputation.

Vernon suppresses a flinch at the sudden cheering of the party guests, and he warily walks closer, afraid of what is happening inside the cage. What he sees makes him question if his anticipated idea of what could happen is better or worse than what is happening. The sight presented to Vernon leaves him staring wide-eyed at the small figure, clad in a dark blue suit, who stands inside the cage on a small pedestal. The teen couldn't be older than him, maybe even a few years younger. He notices the young adult wearing something close to a bellboy uniform, and the dress-up feels like a sickening joke, considering the current situation. The teen inside licks his lips, and Vernon sees his legs shiver through the quivering fabric of his trousers. 

"As today is a special day, I'll present you the pride of Kim Jaehwan's private collection."

The young man's voice gets carried through the speakers to the guest, a small microphone pinned at the collar of his uniform. He stretches his arms out as he speaks, smiling widely with fake confidence, and Vernon fears what will happen, not liking the nervous spark in the young eyes. 

Kim Jaehwan is still sitting with the women at his side on an extensive couch between the mass of people. The gang leader gets entertained by one of them sitting on his lap and shoving her assets into his face. Meanwhile, the man's hand stays high on the thigh of his favorite escort. The man is not interested at all in what is happening inside the cage.

With a creak, a grid slowly draws open, and Vernon's eyes fall onto the container connected behind the cage that he has not noticed until now. 

"These guys were not fed until now, so they can be slightly bad-tempered. Please keep that in mind and refrain from-"

There is a hint of panic ghosting over the young man's face as the cheering grows louder when the second grid opens. With growing anticipation, Vernon watches in horror how something huge slowly strides out of the container. Midnight black fur shines in the lights as the gigantic wild cat strides through the tunnel into the cage. Its heavy paws carry the body with ease. Ice-blue eyes flicker around until they land on the man standing with his back to the container. The young man is still trying to get the party guest to listen, but the drunk masses are growing louder, with the panther fixating on the figure in front of him, approaching slowly. 

Before the animal reaches the man, he turns around, waving the panther closer. With fearful fascination, Vernon watches the nearly seven feet long wild cat, whose shoulders are the same height as the man's chest, walk up to the said man, gently dropping down. Its hind legs are pulled close, ready to pounce at any given moment, and its head held high. 

"How long is this going to take? Start already!" someone shouts. The panther's head whips in the direction of the noise, a low growl coming from its chest. The man's eyes flicker through the masses, jaw clenching at the impatient crowd. Vernon's eyes follow the teen's, and he catches him throwing a glance at Kim Jaehwan. The latter tilts his head as he notices the guests grow tired of waiting. A motion of his hand is enough to send the man inside the cage and turning to face the container.

"Come out, you two. Quick."

Vernon stares at the container, but its inside is completely dark, and even when he concentrates, he cannot make out a silhouette. But he does not have to wait long. A growl cuts through the noise of the guest, causing instant silence to fall into the patio. The source of the sound walks with hunched shoulders into the tunnel, orange and black fur at the back stood up straight. The growling deep down its throat doesn't settle until the tiger walks into the cage. Instead of walking up to the man, the tiger went near the fence. The snarl he gives causes the guest nearest to the enclosure to flinch.

"Get back here!"

The teen looks petrified at the outburst of the tiger, eyes wide in shock before he gestures beside him. The tiger strides with something close to indifference up to the panther, settling down at some distance from the other wild cat. The panther does not even glance at the tiger, its blue eyes exclusively fixed on the people outside the cage. 

The last entrance seems almost tame compared to the tiger. The jaguar stepping into the light of the spotlight is taller than the tiger and the panther, Vernon notices. The animal flounces lazily through the tunnel and up to the teen. It lies close to the panther, resting its head on its paws. It licks at his paw sleepily before setting its head down. Its green eyes are watchful as it scans its surroundings. Vernon would be amazed at the gorgeousness of the animals if he wasn't struck by the terror of them cornering their caretaker between them, who looks like he would faint any moment. The teen gestures for the animals to stand up, and they raise at his command.

The guests get entertained by the caretaker, who slowly directs the animals through various acts of their performance. Vernon has to draw his attention away from the teen, who, despite seeming afraid of the animals, handles them with excellent control. While all eyes are on the performance, Vernon walks up to the table close to Kim Jaehwan.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

After concluding that it would be the safest way to interact with only the escorts and servants if he couldn't avoid communicating, he approaches a table of escorts. The women around the table give him a short glance, but at the sight of an attractive young man, they smile curtly. One of them pushes her hair back and throws him a coy smile as she slides a glass of wine in his direction. He gives her a nod and a smile that Joshua has drilled into him before selling down on the only free seat. Crossing his legs and leaning back into the chair, he acts engrossed in the performance like the rest of the guests. Vernon glances around, mindful of not getting caught staring at Kim Jaehwan's escort. He had noticed her carrying a purse while they were inside. It is risky, but since the hairpins are of great value, the possibility of her taking them wherever she goes is high. 

While thinking of a way to get close enough to get a hold of the purse, he nearly missed the woman standing up. Her green dress sparkles as she moves between the tables, vanishing inside the mansion. Vernon waits for a moment before standing up, ready to follow her, when a hand holds him back by the wrist. 

"Approaching her is dangerous. Why don't you choose something safer?"

Slender fingers slip under the sleeve of his blazer, teasing their way up. Vernon blinks in confusion before softly pulling his arm away, taking the woman's hand between his fingers, and holding her gently. Disgusted at himself, he bends down, mouth hovering over her hand as he whispers, only for them to hear.

"I'll come back to you."

Joshua would be proud or maybe hate him for giving a wink that leaves the woman pursing her lips but not holding him back further. He slips from his seat and walks relaxed into the mansion. Once inside, Vernon looks around quickly, afraid of losing sight of the leader's escort. His eyes travel around until he finds the eye-catching green dress vanishing behind a corner. With quick feet, he follows, about to round the corner when hushed voices reach his ear. 

"Nothing is free in this world, pretty." he hears a man saying. Vernon leans against the wall, but no one in the room is in their right mind to pay attention to him eavesdropping. 

"Jaehwan wants his stuff now. Are you going to deny him his wishes?" the woman sounds angry, impatience running in her tone. 

"All I'm saying is that you could repay me for your services."

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the hallway, and Vernon presses his back closer to the wall. The woman's voice sounds icy.

"Suggest anything disgusting like that again, and I plaster your brain in the yard."

Quickly leaning against the wall with his head leaning against his arm, he acts wasted to blend in with the rest of the people inside. Vernon throws a glance at the escort stomping past. Her heels click loud against the ground as she walks further into the mansion. Vernon follows her slowly, watching as she tears open a pack of something suspiciously similar to the white dust he has seen on the other tables. He turns around, avoiding watching her bending over the table. It takes a moment before her head suddenly wipes up, and she stands inside the kitchen, not moving an inch. Vernon has seen people do drugs before, but watching it like this gives him shivers. He observes her shoulders sacking down as she visibly relaxes, a laugh breaking from her lips before she stumbles forward. Her feet carry her to the restroom while her purse lies on the counter, unattended. Vernon quickly walks up and pulls it open. Lipstick, cream, makeup, a pocket knife, and another bag of white pulver, but no hairpins. 

He puts the purse back, leaving the kitchen with increasing frustration and desperation. Where else is he supposed to search? He considers asking Wonwoo for help, but he has lost trust in these people. He finds himself back on the patio, the performance in the cage nearing the end. With the end drawing closer, the people got louder again. It takes Vernon a short moment to notice the atmosphere turning somewhat sour. Not sure of the source for the swing of moods, he stays closer to the walls, watching the spectacle. It seems that the animals are growing wary. They pace around the cage, tails flicking nervously from side to side. 

"I hope you enjoyed this evening's performance." begins the teen, his ending speech, when someone from the audience interrupts.

"When are we getting to see something new? It's getting fucking boring!"

Vernon feels sorry for the young caretaker, who looks like a deer caught in headlights, stuttering a quick apology. While he talks, Vernon's eyes travel back to the tiger, whose eyes are staring at the back of the speaking man. The right ear of the tiger twitches at another shout, and Vernon wishes the caretaker would hurry up. The animal's patience is visibly running out, and Vernon does not want to witness what happens if three wild cats lose their cool around their caretaker. The young man is about to send the animals back to the tunnel when the man who shouted earlier abruptly stands up from his seat. The chair falls back as the clearly intoxicated man frowns, taking the half-filled bottle of wine from the table. 

"I said, it's getting boring!"

There are screams when the bottle bursts against the metal posts, red wine dripping everywhere. Frightened, Vernon watches how the tiger bares its teeth, using the chance to pounce at the unsuspecting caretaker. A terrifying mixture of growling and the sound of something heavy hitting against the cage rips through the surprised screams of the guests. The panther had jumped up at the tiger's actions, snarling at the other and jumping at his neck when the tiger attacked, tackling it with a sickening crash into the metal. The young man in the cage had fallen to the ground in shock. Vernon wants to scream at someone to get the man out of there. He helplessly watches the caretaker crawl backward until his back hits the wall, frozen in fear at the fighting animals. 

The party guests are led inside by the staff. Behind their backs, a new kind of spectacle unfolds, the sounds of angry growling rolling through the patio like thunder. Vernon throws a last glance back as he. Relief washes over him when he sees the tiger still held down by the black beast hovering on top of him. The young caretaker stands outside the cage, watching the animals. Vernon wishes to see if the man is unharmed, when right at that moment, the other turns around, dusting his pants off before glancing up. Their eyes meet for a second, and Vernon gets thrown off by the indifferent expression on the man's face. Before he can wonder what that look could mean, the curtains are closed in front of his face, and he finds himself back where the party had begun. 

The caretaker does not leave his mind while Vernon continues his search for the hairpins. Seeing how he acted inside the cage, the man clearly does not work there on his own accord. But his demeanor outside the enclosure had been so different it left him confused. Vernon is sure the man is getting pushed into doing this work. He couldn't explain it otherwise, and he felt some empathy for the man. While looking around the mansion, Vernon glances out of the windows and into the patio. The cage is empty again, and the tunnel and container are closed. There is no sight of the animals and neither the young man. In the distance, he catches a glimpse at the warehouses, lights flickering on as someone walks between the buildings. 

Do they keep the animals there? Does the young caretaker live there? Vernon doesn't believe Kim Jaehwan lets any of his servants live inside his private mansion. 

"There are not in her purse."

"Vernon? Are you alright? I talked with Jeongha-"

"Spare it. I don't want to hear it. I'll get to you later."

"Vernon, wait-"

He presses the small button for a few seconds, muting the communicator and cutting Wonwoo off. Talking to Jeonghan means he won't get any help until he shows results. He does not need a reminder of that fact every hour. The hallway of the first floor is decorated just as hideous as the one above. The only good thing is the large window front. Vernon's eyes roam over the two rows of warehouses while his thoughts drift back to the events on the patio. How do they even hold the animals? His attention snapped to a figure hurrying down the small path from the mansion to the warehouses, and he does a double take as the person looks back, face getting caught in the light of the terrace.

It's the caretaker.

Quickly looking around, Vernon walks down the rest of the hallway, spotting a glass door leading out onto the terrace. Nobody is outside as he slips out of the mansion, eyes wandering after the young man who vanishes between the warehouses. Vernon does not know why he believed it would be a good idea to walk after the young man, but he has no chance to back out when a guard round the corner of one of the buildings. Hiding behind a car parking at the entrance to what looks like a makeshift sleeping place for the staff, Vernon tries to keep his movement to a minimum. The gravel under his feet shifts as he peaks over the engine hood, glancing around. When Vernon cannot hear the sound of the guard, the teen takes off. He hurries down where he had seen the caretaker go but slowly realizes that he has most likely lost him. Vernon tiptoes his way between the buildings, trying to catch any sight of the young man as he carefully peaks through windows, but his eyes meet nothing but darkness. He has nearly lost hope when he sees a silhouette scurry between the last set of buildings. Taking it as his last chance, Vernon slowly walks down between the warehouses, jumping at the sound of a lamp flackering with a soft noise. He holds his breath, carefully tilting his head and peaking into the ally between the last two warehouses. He catches sight of a door falling shut at the very back, hard to see in the dark. When the door keeps locked, Vernon finally dares to round the corner. The light outside the warehouse does not work, and the teen carefully sets one foot in front of the other, afraid to walk into something. He is halfway down when a crackling noise makes him flinch hard. 

"Vernon?"

Vernon holds a hand over his heart, feeling it racing at the shock of Seungcheol's voice right in his ear.

"Seungcheol?"

It takes a moment before a frown finds its way onto Vernon's face when he realizes that he has muted the communicator. What throws him even more of is Seungcheol speaking to him instead of Wonwoo or Jeonghan. 

"Are you alright? We are getting you out immediately."

The man blinks in confusion at the words before the anger sits in. 

"You ignore me asking for help, and now you want to get me out? Are you kidding me?" 

"Vernon, I'll explain it later. Now come to the entrance. Mingyu is waiting-"

"No, you listen! I-"

He freezes at the sound of gravel crunching behind him. He is about to turn around when a terrifying sound pins him in place. 

"Don't move, or you're dead."

"Vernon? Vernon, what was that?"

Even if he wanted to answer, his tongue stayed in place, and the only sound leaving him, was a faint pathetic whimper as the growling grew louder, right behind him. A heavy hand sat down on his shoulder before arm slings around his throat. The earpiece gets ripped out, and Vernon panics as his only way of getting out of here gets taken from him. As if on commando, he starts trashing, trying to stomp on the man's feet, but before he can land any damage, he finds himself face-shoved into the gravel as his arm gets bent over his back. 

In the distance, he hears Seungcheol calling for him before the communicator gets thrown against the wall, falling between a set of containers. The hand pinning his arm stays, and he feels a knee pressing down between his shoulder blade. He tries grabbing anything, blind in desperation, when his arm gets pulled up higher, earning a muffled cry.

"I said don't move."

Vernon gives out a whimper, completely terrified, as a hand grabs him by the neck, fingers digging painfully into a spot right under his ear. He feels his vision growing blurry with pressure increasing, and a painful moan leaves his lips. 

Hansol feels tears pricking his eyes as the last thing he feels is a wet, warm puff of air against his neck as he gets dragged down between the warehouses before his head falls forward onto his chest and the world around him turns black.

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

alex and tim hatefuck a lot but during one of the times they are getting rough with each other one of them actually gets hurt.

ohhhh my gosh. its late season three, tim is sooo exhausted. constantly having to join jay on all these stupid outings into the woods because hes worried jay will just die if tim doesnt go, meanwhile he knows alex has killed people, has done horrible horrible things. but.

(read more bc it got very long)

but.

they have kinda been having sex for a little while...

tim is pretty sure its an unspoken agreement too. no cameras. no tapes. no telling anyone. and they can be as rough as they want, because who even fucking cares anymore? the first time was in the woods, on the leaves and dirt in the middle of the night. then alex figured out which hotel tim was at, and they did it there. third time, alexs car. and then this time was back to basics, just tim roughing alex up at the doorway of his hotel room, making Sure that the camera was shut off and in the closet, joining tim's. they both bring the cameras every time. probably just habit to carry it around. and at first, they start right up against the door.... then the floor... then the bed and then back to the floor. theres a lot happening. but this is normal for them. its scratching and biting and hissing curses in between messy kisses. and it seems literally like any other time theyve done their little routine, up until the end.

tim is starting to get his shower ready while alex puts his clothes back on and promptly fucks off like usual, except this time he doesnt fuck off, hes kinda just sitting at the little desk in his underwear, squinting down at the shirt he shown up in. tim gives him a very unsubtle side eye. he doesnt want this prick here any longer than necessary. so he snaps something like, what is it. whats taking so long. and alex looks up at him, chest littered in bites bruises, and he mutters that its nothing, but its clearly not nothing, so tim has to sigh and walk over and see what his problem is. and when he gets closer, he notices that alex is looking kinda pale. the bruises showing up more starkly reddish purple against sort of greened, sickly skin. whats with you, he asks again. alex doesnt answer, until tim lightly swats the side of his head and asks again. alex grumbles that he just feels a little....dizzy. at first time is like, oh wow i fucked you so good that youre straight up like sick now? is that it? and alex is all NO >:-( but then it starts becoming clear he really does not feel well, and tim is kind of frustrated because he does still want to shower, and jay is probably going to want to go out looking around the hospital again tomorrow, but tim is a nice guy. he prides himself on still being kind despite the situation hes in. and he does have a little experience with sickly guys who feel like crap and dont know why, so he runs down the usual questions that he asks jay. when did you last sleep? i dont know, yesterday or the day before. have you eaten today? no- wait yes. well what was it? like a protein bar or something i dont know why does it matter??? then, does anything hurt? i dont know, my head i guess. mainly the back of it. and tim thinks back to earlier, and how he had, albeit a bit forcefully, slammed alex into the wall in order to bite the shit out of his neck. and he wonders... hm. could alex...... have hit his head? well, its likely.

so begrudgingly, tim drags alex to the shitty hotel bed, makes him drink a room temperature bottled water, and after wards alex has his head to his knees, empty stomach and pounding head not agreeing with all the water he'd just downed. and as tim rifles through the food he has on him, he wonders, not really for the first time, why they only have ever met at the places tim's staying before. of course, there was alex's car, but that's not really a place to STAY. he tosses some snack stuff to alex, sits on the bed, and asks him, hey, where are you staying these days anyway? alex snatches the food, tearing open one of the packages, and scowls at him. why do you care???? he looks starving. tim gets a scowl on his face too. well, doesnt It fucking like you or whatever? you seem to be its favorite after all, so i dont think it would really let you just sleep on the side of the road. alex sneers, clearly unamused, and keeps eating through a bag of pretzels. of course i have a place to stay, he snaps, and then doesnt elaborate. they sit in silence with that for a little while, tim more uncomfortably than alex. then he stands up and looks for his clothes and says hes gonna go to the ice machine. when he comes back, maybe he had also bought a few more snacks from the vending machine in the lobby. and maybe its a little gentle when he situates a makeshift icepack under alex's head. they dont do any of this after care shit usually, but tim wonders if maybe. well. maybe if theyre gonna keep doing this, then perhaps they should.