#he is such a whump magnet

[eirenical]

Cheng Yi's character has just had emergency surgery/been hospitalized for like the third or fourth time in this drama AND he's coughed up blood AND this is the second time he's been IMPALED.

...IN A MODERN DRAMA. And there are still like ten episodes to go.

That's impressive, even for Cheng Yi. 😂

[alicepao13]

Joe Donovan whump when

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Chapter 2

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[whumblr]

Hey!!! I know I just sent an ask the other day but I didn't what to forget to ask this

Can I have a drabble where jay has a panic attack because he hears some sort of sound that zayne makes (example the click of zayne's knife).

love your writing so much!!

Have a wonderful day and get good sleep❤️

Fidgety

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

Jay didn’t mind afternoon team meetings as much, really. It was a bit of a break in the day for him, half an hour to shut his mind off, sit back, and just listen. Maybe pipe up every now and then, or zone out and mull over the words for his upcoming articles, but mainly, just, listen.

Today however, he was distracted. Or rather, kept getting distracted.

Unfortunately, Peter had a habit of clicking his pen when he was paying attention. He had one of those blue pens with a button on the side that clicked the plunger back. And he was very much paying attention now.

Normally, it wouldn’t really bother Jay and he could shut it out. But, well, first, his nerves were shot, and very close in second, the click sounded like that of Zayne’s knife. A little shk with every click and he could practically see the blade flick out in his mind’s eye. He managed to reduce his flinches with every click, blinked his eyes, twitched his fingers, skipped a heartbeat, but on the inside, everything went haywire.

He forced himself to take deep breaths, keep in control, to stop the hyperventilation from kicking in. Forced himself to focus on who was speaking, on the actual words spoken – that didn’t mean they actually hit the mark; he listened intently but the panic rising scattered the words from their sentences like leaves in the wind.

Calm down. He was safe. He was here in the office. He was—

Shk

He was down on the floor, face pressed against the wood, a heavy weight on the small of his back pinning him down.

Shk

Something cold tickled over his back. Something sharp. Pressure slowly increased and the cold tipped into his skin, breaking it, a wet hot sensation bubbling up, fighting against the cold intruding as if trying to expel it. Then it repeated itself. And again. Hot lines carved into his skin with a cold instrument, by a cold tormentor. The weight draped over his shoulders. A chuckle in his ear. The call of his name, an added fake compliment how he was doing so well—

“Jay.” Dennis’ sharp voice broke through his haze and shocked him back into the meeting room. “Could you write the suggestions down for me?”

Dennis, leading the meeting, stood in front of the whiteboard and held out one of the markers. He had a concerned look in his eyes and beckoned him over.

Jay pulled himself from his own swamp of anxiety and gratefully stood. “Yeah. Sure.” He accepted the marker and Dennis held it a split second longer than necessary. His focus was still on his discussion with Terry, but his eyes briefly snapped to Jay searching his for some form of assurance before he let go and stepped forward, resuming his talk.

Jay fully turned towards the board to hide his face. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, let out a long exhale, and uncapped the marker, facing the group again.

Shk

Something pressed against his stomach, something cold, sharp. A sharp gasp and he made a tiny jump backwards. But he quickly calmed down again when he realised it was only the magnetic tray for the eraser stuck to the whiteboard.

As one of the other team members was speaking, Dennis slowly walked over to Peter, tapped on the table to get his attention and gestured his fingers down. Peter got the message and put his pen away. A little something about Dennis Jay greatly admired. He himself would never do that, scared of being accused of making a fuss about nothing, inviting confrontation. But Dennis not only did it, he did it without even saying a word, without making the other feel bad.

And best of all: he did it for Jay.

-

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@withdrawingramen @lolrpop @nugget4427 @light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober Day 3

wrongfully arrested | "I warned you" / Favorite Scent

They didn't know how they'd gotten here.

It had all been a mistake. Just someone in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Was this an error, somehow? Had they slipped through the cracks of some system, or was this a possible case of mistaken identity?

Right now, it didn't matter. No one was coming to save them. They couldn't call for help, because their phone had been kicked across the floor by their captor.

"Yuu," that very captor grumbled.

What was his intention? To rip them to shreds, devour them whole? To hold them hostage, and random them off? Yuu didn't have anything valuable, any it's not like they were worth much.

"Yuu," that rich voice rumbled again.

They didn't even know if the best move was to fight back, or let their captor have their way with them. Which move would give them the best chance at-

"Yuu."

They jumped a bit in the arms of their kidnapper.

"What?" they bit back.

"What are you thinking about?" he grumbled, straight into their neck. Malleus's breath tickled the hair on their neck.

"Oh, I was just monologing to myself," said Yuu.

Ok, maybe they did have some clue of how they'd ended up here.

Not very many, though. All they'd gotten a few days ago, aside from stood up, was a cryptic text message telling them he wasn't showing up to their usual walk tonight, and not to come by.

Yuu hadn't taken that lying down, and had insisted on having some sort of face-to-face conversation, which had caused them to head to Diasomnia.

They'd believed him to be running from their budding connection, and that had made Yuu awfully upset.

Yuu had already freaked out about it on their own, with their friends. Malleus wasn't allowed to freak out now.

Speaking of their friends, their phone rang, and Malleus gave off an unhappy groan.

"Let me grab my phone. No one ever calls me unless they're dying, or they think I'm dying."

"I warned you," he mumbled, yanking them back quite harshly.

He did. He said not to come by.

Apparently, he'd been hit with some sort of magnetism spell, and needed constant touch. He, and the rest of Diasomnia, knew he'd want Yuu first, so he'd told them not to swing by so as to not create any trouble while the spell worked its way out of his body.

When his dormmates wouldn't let Yuu see him, or even let them wait in the common area, Yuu... may have taken it more than a little personally.

Maybe they'd stomped away, and walked the perimeter of the dorm with Goodram, one of the few beastmen in Diasomnia, heckling them as they tried to look for the third year floor and then for Malleus's window.

It was almost surprising to see how much Diasomina had rallied around their dorm leader, but it also warmed Yuu's heart. They knew Malleus had expressed a lot of insecurity at his role, feeling a distance between him and his perceived subordinates, but at least Yuu knew they were for sure loyal.

Anyways, after calling for Malleus a few times, he'd ended up poking his head out of his window, and Yuu had gotten a glimpse at him. The next moment, they'd been in his room, snuggled up with him in bed, and then Malleus had explained the whole potion thing.

"C'mon," whined Yuu. "The sooner I answer, the sooner it goes quiet. Just let me let them know I live."

Malleus groaned, but summoned the phone in his hands and practically threw it into Yuu's hands. They picked up.

"Hello?" they said.

"Yuu! Are you ok? What's wrong?" It was Ace's panicked voice.

"Oh, I'm all good now! Thanks for checking in," they quickly replied.

"Yuu." They thought that tone was trouble. "You said you were arrested."

"Well," they said, "I was being detained."

"Ugh. Whatever. Call me back later."

"Bye," they said, "and I really am glad you called."

Ace didn't say anything before the phone clicked, but Yuu could basically hear his sideways smile.

"Mmmmm," said Malleus. "Finally. You know, your intoxicating scent drives me to madness."

"Yeah," said Yuu, as Malleus started nuzzling at him. "I can tell."

[rel124c41]

NOW PLAYING ‘I CAN’T STOP THE LONELINESS’ BY NIGHT TEMPO. jade leech

Good old Jaido is being ironic, acting happy on the worst day of his life. Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics?

tags: unrequited love, angst and tragedy, hurt no comfort, complicated relationship, regrets & sorrows, friendships, bro doomed by the narrative, happy birthday to me fuckers

word count: 2,087

The first dance goes to Floyd, his brother.

This is only natural because, of course, the bride dances with the groom on their wedding day.

At his seat at the family table, Jade rolls a glass of celebratory champagne in his gloved hand. Freshly poured, it still bubbles with some last desperation. Champagne is a sipping wine but – carbonation burns the bridge of his nose with white pain as he gulps it down. Each organ in Jade stirs like kicked sediment, bubbling over. 

Floyd’s side of the table is weighed down by their father, mother, himself, and grandmother; yours is weighed down by Grim, who is trying to steal extra food off his father’s plate. The reservation hall is drowned in people though, all coming together to support your unity. 

The only one who fails to uphold this support wholeheartedly is one-drink-down-ten-more-to-go Jade Leech, the pillar of brotherhood crumbled and eroded. 

It is my own fault. Jade thinks as his mother pours him another drink. All my fault.

You and Floyd dance to ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’. Sung by Frankie Valli, each lyric and note match up with each other perfectly. There is no juxtaposition between melody and meaning. With you cradled in his arms, Floyd looks down, softly mouthing each word to you. By doing so, he expresses that each word is genuine, engraved in his soul. 

To Floyd, he truly cannot take his eyes off of you, magnetized in. When there is a break in lyrics, he steals June coded kisses – warm like the beginning of summer. You two nuzzle cheek to cheek, amorous. 

As expected, Floyd cannot stay slow-dancing for longer than a minute. Melody starts to change. From sweet, it goes to this jumping excitement as the baritone horn and baritone saxophone intensify. You two start to pull away, independent in your motions. 

Besides the tight hold both your right hands have … refusing to let go … tying the knot.

The music goes: can’t take my eyes off of you, bum bum, whump whump, bam-d bam-d, bum bum, whump whump. You shimmy your shoulders back and forth, a smile eclipsing your face. Floyd throws you a wink, hips swaying side to side. Despite the ridiculousness … no, because of your joint ridiculousness, it amplifies that sentiment of nuptial bliss: you two were destined and designed for each other.  

Moved by music, you even hop in platform heels. Then, blindsided and unexpecting Jade watches, as the beat reaches its peak. You two shout, both of you jumping, but making certain your eyes connect when you shout the lyrics: “I love you, baby!!” The crowd goes wild with cheers, clapping along to the music. 

And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby to warm a lonely night! You and Floyd throw away coordination lessons as the song continues, already the perfect dance partner for each other. 

This entire wedding feels like one big, ironic joke being played on him. 

Jade looks up from his happy, bubbling champagne when Floyd dips you so low that your spine is parallel and supine to the ground, floating only four inches or so. Both of you laugh louder than the music and cheers. A polite smile is still glued to Jade’s face. 

He says words that only the watery ear of his champagne hears, “I should have never introduced them.” Unsaid because he is swallowing his alcohol-scented sorrow: It is all my fault.

The second dance goes to their father.

You seem to remember those coordinated dance lessons afterall. Especially graceful in his father’s imposing arms. Though, you keep your stance far away from his father’s shoes. Trembling at the mere notion of just touching the side of one. Burnished elkan leather that probably costs equivalent to your engagement ring. 

Your engagement ring – ah, what a cursed, loathed object it is in Jade's world. 

He was there when Floyd bought the ring. Do you know this? Jade thinks you probably do not. The proposal spot was all Floyd’s plan while the engagement ring was Jade’s. 

“Get her this one.” Jade had pointed towards an engagement ring with a criss-crossing design on the band and a diamond the size of a dime. “Diamonds are known for their durability.”

Diamonds would be able to sustain through a wild lifetime with Floyd. 

Washing dishes and spreading cream cheese on bagels in the blissful morning light, typing on computers and holding a phone up to your ear to talk in the middle of noon, brushing teeth and reaching under the sheets to stroke teasingly at his navel, moving further down and down, in the blanket of night light. Living a domestic life until you were dissolved into seafoam. All the remains of your love. A single diamond ring on a skeleton finger. Resilient.

Even though one should be the main player in their own life, it seems Jade is destined and designed for the background. 

When Floyd told Jade where he would propose, it kicked his ribs and stomach harder than any alcohol could. ‘I’m already down, why push me further’ is what Jade’s half-a-second wrinkling expression spoke. With the news broken, Jade smiled with hidden rage, “I’m sure she will love that.”

The place Floyd proposed? It was the place Jade introduced you to his twin. 

Isn’t it ironic? Jade knew you first but he will never know you the best. You will reveal your pink love and black secrets to Floyd yet never Jade. Jade: your first friend in Twisted Wonderland, now your brother-in-law. 

The third dance goes to their mother.

You are truly more beautiful than any diamond. You are something that gleams brighter than all the jewelry on the ocean floor or in sunken shipwrecks. When Jade and Floyd were little, they used to steal stuff from each other all the time. Noses would be broken because hey, that shell you found is prettier than mine! It only makes sense that they would find themselves attracted once again to the same, shining allurement. 

They learned to share as all children do. They broke off pieces of a sturgeon’s scales together and shared that. The diamond that is you though? Jade means a lot to you, he knows it; he knows it does not go beyond friendship. 

When you are dancing with his mother, you shine. Laughter pianos out of your mouth in a genuinely happy melody. Unlike him, you do not have to force this mirth. Acrylic nails grab your wrist and twirl you so fast you could puke. Giggles are a kinder substitute. Despite your early anxiety, all is alright now. 

Jade reflects upon that. The only moment you were frowning at that wedding.

He was speaking to Trey Clover when you appeared out of nowhere, platforms clicking. The visage of you stole his breath away; then, you stole him away from his conversation with Clover, apologizing. Jade let himself be dragged by your firm hand. As the tendrils of your hair and wedding veil bounced with your pace, Jade watched the dorsal side of his diamond gleam and raced down to a secluded hallway. 

You turn on Jade, blindly bright. Sevens, you look gorgeous. Even with that frown on your face – how can he help, he wants to soothe it away immediately – you are a sight he will never tire off. 

“Am I doing the right thing?”

For a second, Jade’s world stops. 

He thinks for a second, perhaps he could be the main character. For second, the diamond on your ring finger is not so loathsome to him. Instead of it representing infinity, it turns finite. It is a piece of jewelry you can take off. It takes only a second before you speak again:

“I mean, Floyd has been so great through all this. Super understanding, super wonderful. I mean he’s put up with all my little whims. And he was so excited about seeing the dress! I mean, the tradition of not seeing the bride before the ceremony is boring and super outdated –”

Ah, he is back in the secondary character position. You were only talking about the tradition you brought over from your world. It had a little bit of your culture that you wanted to keep with you – not seeing Floyd until you walked down the aisle. 

Jade is incredibly stupid to think you were talking about the wedding. You do not seem the type to call off a wedding. He smiles and asks, “That eager?”

“Well, I,” you fluster and look away. ‘No. I’m not, but it was the only thing Floyd and I really fought on. I’m starting to realize that it is a bit silly.”

“Keeping tradition is often how we show love for the generations before us.”

You weigh Jade’s words carefully on the scale of your consciousness. He wonders if he spoke his heart if you would take that into consideration or ignore it. After a pregnant silence, you say, “But I don’t really have a family history anymore.”

Jade blinks, surprised, as you continue, “Today, Floyd is going to become my family. Or, well, I’m going to become part of his. I have nothing of myself to offer in terms of tradition anymore.”

“You will just choose to assimilate to the circumstances?”

“Wouldn’t anyone do so for love?”

Those words fall like an anvil on Jade’s heart. “Yes. I fear they might.”

“Fear is such a drastic word!”

Jade laughs as you say, “Ah but I suppose it is true. I’m actually terrified right now.” Your hands fall down to play with the hem of your gown. You run your thumb over the outfit you will only wear once. Such a monumental, life-changing piece of fabric. 

The diamond catches a flicker of light, reflective. Jade asks, “Are you having regrets?” He waits with bated breath. 

“About Floyd? No. Never.” Your expression only solidifies the truth of your words. 

“Then my advice?” You look on with eager eyes. Jade smiles through the pain. “I say you should keep with the tradition. Weddings are a merge of the very notion. When you become a Leech, you still have your identity to care for.” That is not the real reason though. Because, this. This Jade gets to steal: the first sight of you in your wedding dress.

“Thanks, Jade. You’re the best friend – the best brother that a bride could ask for.”

Hand over his heart, concealing everything, “It is my pleasure.”

The final and fourth dance goes to Jade.

Carried by a crowd that rushes, you two dance a mad dance, hands welded together. In your gown, you move like Jade imagines all those sneaky princesses that defied and tricked the Seven must have – well, six princesses. Like an oscillating dream, you lean back, arms out. Laughing, you swing right back into Jade, chest to chest and arms out to the side instead.

When your hearts connect in the dance, Jade thinks he could be foolish enough to steal a kiss. Just one to be a solution to all his troublesome pining. A shade of Venus pink, shining and alluring him into a dumb mistake. 

I had you first but I will not have you last. Or in any ways that matter to your heart. 

The song that plays is a melody that demands dancing. It is a force that moves your hips to sway side to side. Puppets you jump around, platforms banging along with the lyrics. And what tragic lyrics they are. The smile on your face would make him think he was listening to a love song. 

Fluent in quite a few languages, Jade knows better. Though, Jade is unsure why the song is structured like this. Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics? It is such a cruel juxtaposition. Jade smiles when you twirl yourself so your dorsal side lies against his front, snug in his arms as he dances with you. Those Venus-hued lips pull up in a diamond grin.

Why would an artist create happy music to pair it with such sad lyrics? There is only one answer. Irony. 

Jade laughs and helps you back to your feet when your platforms catch on the bottom of your wedding gown. You thank him so genuinely. Jade never wants this particular melody to end.

Then, it does.

“Can I steal my Shrimpy back,” Floyd jokes, when the song ends. You happily launch yourself into his arms, ready to dance until your feet are sore. Stolen successfully. 

[thegreatdandilion]

When Shen Yi is a natural trouble magnet - Chapter 1/3 (Whump fic)

Mr. Fang, the eccentric biotech expert, was very peculiar. His wiry frame and unsettlingly intense gaze made Du Cheng’s instincts prickle with unease. Standing beside him, Shen Yi appeared unbothered, his usual calm demeanor in place since he had known him before.

“Captain Du,” Mr. Fang said, his voice smooth but laced with an unsettling calmness. “It’s such a waste, really, to see someone of Shen Yi’s immense talent stuck in the police force. His artistry and instincts are unparalleled.”

Du Cheng’s jaw tightened. He shot a glance at Shen Yi, who sent him a small smile indicating he denied Mr. Fang.

“Shen Yi’s where he needs to be,” Du Cheng replied curtly, his tone a deliberate warning.

“Is he?” Mr. Fang countered, tilting his head. “It’s fascinating to think of all the other ways his gifts could be applied. You must agree, Captain.”

“What Shen Yi chooses to do with his skills is none of your business,” Du Cheng snapped, his suspicion deepening.

Shen Yi chuckled softly, his voice a soothing counterpoint to the tension. “Don’t take it to heart, Du Cheng. Mr. Fang is just… passionate about his opinions.”

“Passionate my ass,” Du Cheng muttered under his breath. "Let's go."

As they turned to leave, Mr. Fang’s voice stopped Shen Yi, laying a hand lightly on Shen Yi’s arm.

Du Cheng walked a few feet ahead before realizing Shen Yi wasn’t beside him. He turned, catching sight of Mr. Fang leaning in to whisper something to Shen Yi. The expression on Shen Yi’s face remained impassive, but the faint nod he gave in response sent a shiver down Du Cheng’s spine.

“Let’s go,” Shen Yi said as he rejoined Du Cheng, his voice steady, almost disarming.

Du Cheng didn’t reply, his eyes lingering on the closed expression Shen Yi wore. Something about Mr. Fang’s cryptic behavior clung to his thoughts like smoke.

Hours later, the case was still consuming them. The police meeting room was heavy with concentration as the team pored over the evidence. The air smelled of coffee and tension. Shen Yi sat at the table, sketching absentmindedly while Du Cheng and the others analyzed the latest findings.

“We’ve got a new tip,” one officer said, placing a voice recording device in the center of the table. “Anonymous.”

Du Cheng nodded. “Play it.”

The room fell silent as the recording crackled to life. A distorted voice spoke: “The Ciao family. The husband killed the wife. The evidence is...” The voice paused, then added chillingly, “Shen Yi…” followed by three words in an unfamiliar language.

The moment the voice said his name and the words, Shen Yi froze. The pen slipped from his fingers, rolling across the table. His breathing hitched, shallow and rapid.

“Shen Yi?” Du Cheng’s sharp tone cut through the room, but Shen Yi didn’t respond.

Without warning, Shen Yi snatched that pen from the table and drove it right into his forearm. The sound of flesh yielding to metal was sickening, and blood welled up instantly.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Du Cheng shouted, lunging toward him.

Shen Yi’s expression was eerily blank, his movements robotic. He raised the pen again, poised to strike, but Du Cheng caught his wrist mid-air.

“Stop!” Du Cheng barked, his grip ironclad. “Shen Yi, Stop! Snap out of it!”

Shen Yi struggled weakly, his body trembling. A low, guttural whimper escaped his lips as though he were fighting some unseen force.

“He’s in my control,” the voice on the recording declared, its distorted tone sending chills through everyone in the room. Du Cheng realized that they never stopped the audio that was playing. Another strange 3 words followed through the audio ending it, and Shen Yi abruptly stilled, his body going limp.

Du Cheng eased him to the floor, his own hands shaking as he pressed his palm against Shen Yi’s bleeding arm. “Damn it, Shen Yi.”

Shen Yi blinked a few times, clouded with confusion. “Du Cheng?” His voice was weak, almost childlike. “What is going on?”

“You tell me,” Du Cheng growled, his anger barely masking his fear. “You just stabbed yourself like a lunatic, that’s what happened. You don't remember?”

Shen Yi’s gaze fell to his bloodied arm, his face paling. “I… I don’t remember anything,” he whispered. Pain etched itself across his features as the adrenaline faded and reality sank in. He slowly cradled his arm mumbling a small, “Ah...hurts…”

“Good. Maybe it’ll stop you from doing....” Du Cheng stopped midway in snapping at him. His voice softened when he saw the genuine distress in Shen Yi’s eyes. “Look, just sit still. We’ll get this cleaned up.” “Call He Rong” He commanded.

To be continued...

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Sampling #5

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face. 

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering. 

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently. 

It sent a shiver down his spine. 

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners. 

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him. 

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile. 

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness. 

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion. 

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.” 

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair. 

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.  

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?” 

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told. 

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable. 

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t. 

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?” 

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.” 

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them. 

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him. 

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.” 

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt. 

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.” 

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line. 

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.” 

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.” 

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words. 

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.” 

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.” 

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily. 

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly. 

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.” 

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again. 

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.” 

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer. 

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.” 

His demands were ignored. 

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble. 

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.” 

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do. 

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound. 

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him. 

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy. 

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table. 

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.” 

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.” 

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell. 

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.” 

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”  

Silvan only smiled warmly. 

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.” 

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?” 

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.” 

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?” 

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked. 

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.” 

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily. 

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.” 

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door. 

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

[hils79]

Hils Watches The Spirealm - Ep 4

Aww, look. He solved the game with empathy and kindness. He's a good boy.

Wibbly wobbly timey wimey. And, you know, if I thought their relationship was fast burn before it's even faster now. Found himself a boyfriend and got engaged in 15 minutes. Good for him!

I mean multiple people told him this would happen so I don't know why he's surprised. Excellent whump potential though.

Everyone: don't play the cursed game Ling Jiushi: I'm gonna play the cursed game

Dude. How many times do people have to tell you that this game can kill you?

Is it even a modern cdrama without a bit of anti-America propaganda thrown in

Oh FFS I only just learned his name and now I have to learn his new name 😂

Ruan Lanzhu and Shen Wei can bond over semi-creepily watching the boy they like sleeping

Oh is it time to meet the team? Are they going to become a family?

Of course she is

Oh. Hello.

Oh, I'm sure they'll be attached to him by the end

OMG there's twins! Is one of them evil?

I'm assuming this is some sort of pun or reference that I don't understand

Oh, excellent. More wound tending.

He literally looks one second away from grabbing him and kissing. Again, this is only episode 4/38

I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you to join his team for your skills as a gamer

Ooh is that the kaleidoscope of death?

He's like 'literally everyone told you that if you die in the game you die in real life'. I am surprised it took so long though. I kind of assumed that if you died in the game you'd just die in real life immediately but it's been a least a couple of days since they solved the game.

Ooh are they going to get trapped in an elevator together?

*sighs in DMBJ* It's always magnets

[helloliriels]

WAIT UNTIL DARK by helloliriels

Dr. John Watson returns from an overnight trip with something in his luggage he is not aware he is carrying, and immediately heads to work; While Sherlock Holmes, his recently blinded and petulant flatmate is stuck at 221B, itching for a case ... and may have just literally stumbled into one ... !

Drug smuggling; Murderous criminals; whump; hurt/comfort; and a dash of angst; not bored now, are you?

Lockout Films on AO3 | sherlocked crossovers

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @gregorovitchworld @john-smiths-jawline @safedistancefrombeingsmart @sabsi221b @whatnext2020 @iamjustreading @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @7-percent @arwamachine @discordantwords @calaisreno @kettykika78 @khorazir @chriscalledmesweetie @4thelneyj0nes @impalaparkedat221b @sarahthecoat @purplevatican @hasenkind687 @iwlyanmw @ohnoesnotagain @dragonnan @janetm74 @sgam76 @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain @geekinator @raina-at @demonicangeling @belles-magnetic-violin @mr-nauseam @kittenmadnessandtea @peanitbear @kabubsmagga @meetinginsamarra @missdeliadili @maiaemerald @solarmama @sakshisahu @ninasnakie @bluebellofbakerstreet @loki-lock @thetimemoves

Was gonna rename it 'Perfect Dark' or 'Games In The Dark' but undecided. So I left it. Consider my job here done.

[zarvasace]

Part 22: Better to be Awake

(standalone chapter!) 3,960 words for the longest chapter so far, Warriors-centric, 5/5 whump intensity. Dead dove on this one guys, warnings in the beginning notes and a vague summary at the end just in case. :) lots of comfort at the end of the story too though!!

Waking up somewhere that isn't his bed is never comfortable. The confusion puts Warriors on high alert, all of his senses revving up into overdrive as he drags his mind from the magnetic abyss of unconsciousness. It's always better to be awake. 

[yellowocaballero]

hi!! loved New Wave & its Jason addition, was wondering if you have any Opinions about the weird characterization of Jason in the comics/fandom?

Oh Jesus. You are talking to a certified fanon Batfam hater jkaljdsfkljsdf. In some senses, yes I do.

I see more 'good or at least interesting' depictions of Jason than I do pretty much any other Batfam character. A lot of the best Batfam fic has an extremely strong Jason POV. From a group dynamics perspective, having a Jason is important. Jason is important: his death irrevocably altered Batman as a series, marked a serious turning point in kid sidekicks and comics as a whole, and created a few pretty good storylines.

It's hard to say 'what's the real Jason characterization', because he constantly cross-contaminates himself. Jason's character is little more than the lens through which he's viewed, and what comes afterwards. Pre-Crisis Jason is indistinguishable from Dick. Post-Crisis Jason isn't that different either, until they decided to kill him, at which point they very quickly gave him all of his character traits we know him for today. Retrospectives on Jason for twenty years were of both this pre-post-humorous angry/impulsive version and The Dead Kid nostalgia, and now they're colored by his Red Hood anger and 'glory days' nostalgia. And then we've had the Batfam-ization of Batman comics and none of that matters anyway, because they're blorbos now.

@lazuliquetzal has remarked several times that the real problem with Red Hood is that you can use him for drama, like, once or twice - that he's a very good foil character for one or two very specific storylines. I agree. I think further usage of the RH as a villain should be separated from the Batfam, since you can't reconcile his pro-killing stance with the Batfam non-killing stance. Give him a different story if you want, but I think it's hard to slot the actual Red Hood character back into the Batfam. Not even sure that you should.

I think the main thing for me is that I don't understand why the 'good end' is always 'Bring Jason Home!' - why reconciliation is mandatory, why what we want is him moving back into the manor and having family dinners. Why. He's 19. Let him live by himself in his shitty apartment and smoke weed and shittalk his dad. He's an adult, he doesn't have to talk to any of you if he doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. There is more than one way for a family to function, and it doesn't have to look like family dinners.

Regarding fic: obviously the softening and defanging is boring. There's an entire genre of stories where 'Jason hates Tim until he actuall meets him, at which point he's blasted by Tim's #woobie and starts taking care of him", but in the '10s the biggest conflict with Jason is that he irrationally hates a fourteen year old who did nothing wrong completely to the point where he keeps on trying to kill him. For a decade he was just melodramatic yelling. I think people are more interested in writing cute dynamics than they are characters, and Jason is forced into the sympathetic family dynamic as a result. Comics now do this too, because, fandomization,

Young Jason stories are also entirely whump, which is obviously boring. I've mentioned this before, but a big part of my thoughts behind the NW!Jason fic are just that there are a lot of 'Jason comes to the manor' fics, and in very little of them do Jason and Bruce actually like each other. It's pure whump and family bonding over any actual interest in the characters. Thing about whump is just - put in literally any character there, it doesn't matter. Pick anyone. Who cares.

This is all ignoring the number one biggest thing for me, which is: the fandom is obsessed with Jason, and I am sick of Jason, it is all Jason. Even Tim is worse off in comparison, because he gets moe blob'd so Jason can take care of him. Go write the women. Seriously. Jason's a whump magnet and it's exhausting, go write Cass Cain having a character arc.

TL;DR: Batfam fanfic only cares about cute brotherly fluff and whump and it is so fucking bad, man.

[medusapelagia]

A Magnet For Trouble - Masterpost

Written for @billybigbang2024 Artist: @akichania Beta reader: @ghostdeb

[Link to the fic AO3], [Link to the art]

Being a policeman isn’t easy, but some days are extremely harsh. After a bad shift, Jason Carver finds himself wandering in a night club, trying to forget about his problems, and there he meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen.  Billy Hargrove is a tattoo artist, proud of his queerness, and even if he finds the young policeman attractive, he’s not going to fall for a closeted guy, but there’s nothing wrong with having some fun under the sheets. The important thing is to keep sex and love separated. Everything changes when an armed man tries to rob Billy’s tattoo shop, Jason gets hurt and the line between sex and love becomes blurred.

Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Jason Carver, implied Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham Rating:  Explicit Warnings:  Graphic Depictions of Violence Additional Tags:  Alternative Universe - no upside down, Modern Setting, Angst with Happy Ending, reference to domestic violence, Tattoo Artist Billy Hargrove, Policeman Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunnigham and Jason Carver are cousins, Attempted Armed Robbery, Blood and Injuries, Whump, Injuries Recovery, Smut,  Falling in love, from friends with benefit to lovers, Tattoos, Max’s father is Italian because I say so Length: 27k

Aki's art: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 4, Ch 5

[write-kin]

Barb and Bayonet

notes: thank you to @cyberwhumper for lending me your guys!! :D i hope i did them justice. sunshine and dog now take up a significant portion of my brain.

naming this was the hardest part. i did write this over several days and i don't have the energy to fix the tense switching so let's pretend it's a clever way to show sunshine's issues with time. also this is LONG wow im sorry

CWs: dehumanization, lab/medical whump, loosely referenced past noncon, violence (non-graphically described, but to the point of disembowelment), mentions of unwanted body modification, drugging (tranquilizer)

--

“Did you hear one of the big suits in Engineering got fired?”

“No shit. What for?”

“Apparently he was dating- no, married to? No, dating the boss’ daughter. The big boss. Eponymous Mr. De Conti himself.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Anyways, apparently they got into a nasty fight, and she pulled a couple of strings and got him dumped out on his ass.”

“Jeez.”

The crate that held the Sunshine Project was on wheels, smooth rolling occasionally interrupted by a bump in the otherwise cleanly-paved asphalt or a rock. When that happened, it curled up a little more, groaning in discomfort from the nausea it had been left in. 

“He was a kid, too. Like, not even thirty. You know the reason that he got that high up was because he was dating her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah! High school sweethearts, my ass. I mean, if I studied for twenty fucking years at-” 

“DeConti Technologies.” 

The movement stopped, and Sunshine took the opportunity to readjust itself. From the thin slats in the crate, it could see some sort of door.

The light hurt its eyes. Looking up had been a bad idea.

There’s some shuffling, and a beep. The second man speaks first, this time.

A few more beeps, and then they’re moving again. 

Sunshine isn’t privy to much info surrounding them. They mostly learn things from chatty handlers. 

All they know this time is that they’re not the only person- project- being transferred. Something about attempted infiltration from a rival.

The crate gets pulled along a far smoother floor this time, sometimes more footsteps joining them. Sometimes it’s just the two sets that Sunshine is used to. After a bit, there’s a harsh turn, and then another stop. Sunshine vaguely recognizes the hum of LED lighting. Flinches away from the slats. There’s a click in the lock of the crate, and the door slowly opens.

Dully, Sunshine curses at the fact that someone decided to put it through a chemical flush immediately before transfer. And then, judging from everything around them, they were going to be trying some new infusions immediately after. They don’t feel great. 

“You sure about leaving Sunshine with this one? I mean, it’s being moved because- well, I mean, I heard from a friend it mauled its last cellmate.”

“Ooh.”

“Had to take the poor thing to emergency surgery.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t worry, gentlemen.”

A third voice interrupts them, self-assured and confident. Sunshine doesn’t see their face as it’s ushered out of the crate, the less talkative worker making a face at the pile of sick in the corner. It’s pulled up to its feet, the larger and chattier one throwing its arm over his shoulder as he walks it to a familiar set of machinery. Set down with a friendly clap on its shoulder as it adjusts to the new setting. Tries to get its head to stop spinning.

“We’ve sedated it after that incident. Besides, we’d owe you a lot of money if your bioengineering work was ruined. I assure you, every precaution has been taken to assure its safety.” 

The ports are well-designed. A little magnetic pulse, and they open up. The cables that are inserted into them are thick, bendable plastic. Most of the chemicals inside them have been dyed with food colouring, to distinguish them from one another. Nontoxic. Not enough to change the composition that’s going inside of their body. 

They’re allowed the dignity of keeping its hospital gown mostly on. Tied around the waist, front down so the ports on its shoulders, arms, and chest are plugged in.

When it’s all hooked up, with the chemicals- they never tell it what- slowly seeping into it, Sunshine lays down on its side. 

The worst is the one on its tailbone. The base of the spine is an integral place for these infusions. At least, that’s what it’s been assured. But it always hurts, and it always feels uncomfortable.

At least it’s past the phase where they duct-taped its hands together to stop it trying to remove the cable. 

The big worker gives it one last sympathetic look, before the whole group and the crate leave. 

It could have sworn they were talking about it having a cellmate. But it didn’t see anyone. Just it, the wires, the door, and the cold floor. 

Until the door opened again. 

The noise was loud. Metal on tile, and the scraping of metal on metal. 

Sunshine lifted its head again, dizzy. 

There was another scientist- a different logo on their coat- watching as eight unfamiliar other workers tried to drag in… something.

It looked kind of like a person. Sort of. Sunshine blinked, squinting a little.

The thing was huge, easily almost twice Sunshine’s height. Long, metal limbs, black hair, metal panelings replacing most skin. They’d be scared, if it didn’t look exhausted, if it wasn’t being held up as it blearily made its way into the room. The thing almost fell over onto its side several times, nearly crushing the men under it. Its ears were down, pinned to the sides of its head in seeming exhaustion.

Eventually, it was dragged into the other corner of the room. It didn’t move. 

The men left, and the scientist behind them, turning sharply on their heel. 

Sunshine stared at the other thing. It almost forgot to blink. 

It was huge. That went through their mind again. The way its back hunched and its limbs twitched as it… slept? Felt unnatural. Like it wasn’t used to being like this. 

They decided they would join it in resting. Closed their eyes, and let the rhythm of the infusion’s drip lull them to sleep.

The thing sniffed them, inspected the infusion ports, ears up and forwards. Looked like whatever they’d sedated it with had worn off. 

Sunshine woke up to a cold nose on its shoulder. Warm metal pawing at its side.

Instinctively, one of its hands went up to protect the ports. Last time one had been dislodged, well… Sunshine’s face and left shoulder showed how bad of an idea that was. 

Sunshine flinched away, slowly sitting up. They remembered what the bigger worker had said- mauled its last cellmate. 

It was sitting close to them, hunched over. Looking more like an animal than a person. 

The black metal on its chin led into two metallic fangs, pointing up. 

It surprised Sunshine when the thing spoke. Enough that they flinched away from it at the sudden noise. 

But the voice was softer than they’d anticipated. Not gentle on the ears, but not painful. 

“... like me.” 

“Who are you?”

Sunshine couldn’t respond. Their voice wouldn’t obey them even if they wanted to speak. Instead, they stayed still as the thing inspected them. 

Sunshine isn’t sure what it means by that. 

Or what it intends when it starts nudging them back towards the wall, making them flinch again and make a quiet noise of pain when it bumps the tailbone cable into the wall.

The rest of the infusion isn’t pleasant. It never is, really. 

That stops it, though. Something flashes in its eyes. It tilts its head, and then gently pushes Sunshine down with a hand. Paw?

They’re too horizontal to care. Instead, they stare up as it lays down beside him, body large enough to curl around Sunshine easily. 

That’s the cycle, though. Unpleasant infusion, unpleasant observation, unpleasant flush, unpleasant waiting period. 

Without thinking, Sunshine reaches a hand up. Runs a hand over the soft fur on one of the thing’s ears, causing it to twitch. 

Although, unexpectedly, the thing makes the whole ordeal almost… pleasant. When Sunshine has to adjust, trying to run from the pain of having something foreign injected into their body, it curls in closer. When they relax, and their breathing evens out, its mechanical tail taps the floor.

Like it’s wagging. Like a dog. 

It’s surprisingly pleasant. And the thing doesn’t seem to mind. 

When Sunshine goes up for another pet, it even pushes its head up to encourage the movement. They can’t move their arm too far, or risk disrupting the cable work, so it’s a nice compromise. 

Eventually, it adjusts, putting a massive metal arm over their side. It feels like it’s crushing them, but the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant. And Sunshine’s hand can move comfortably over its head, at least until the movement slows and stops. 

It was reassuring. 

Vaguely, in the hazes where they woke up to readjust, Sunshine realized that because of their cellmate’s sheer size, they were hidden entirely from view. Sure, there were cameras, but not in the infusion bay. And they couldn’t be seen from the door. 

When Sunshine woke up properly again, their friend was still dead asleep, but had been  moved off of them. Someone was holding their head up as the cables were being removed from the ports, which were then closed up with the ‘clicker thingy’. 

Then, Sunshine was laid back down, and the workers scurried out.

None of them said ‘Hello’, so none of them were the nice, chatty one. That was sad. Sunshine liked that one. 

It circled around behind them, and then that paw was over their tailbone, pushing them across the floor a little in an attempt to inspect the port. 

When their cellmate woke up, it pushed itself onto all fours, and yawned. Big, metal fangs glinting in the light as it stretched. It looked back over at Sunshine, and tilted its head. Looked… concerned?

They weren’t great at telling emotions anymore. 

They managed to turn around, making eye contact with their cellmate.

It spoke again. Quiet, gentle. Concerned. 

“Where did it go?”

Sunshine tilted their head. Pointed up at the infusion bay they’d just slept in. If you squinted, you could see the ends of the cables in their bays. 

It made its way back over, pushing up onto its hind legs to inspect the bays, terrifyingly tall even when it wasn’t at its full height. Tried to tug the biggest one, the one connecting to the tailbone port, down. Like this, it looked closer to natural on two legs.  

It looked back down at Sunshine. Tugged at the cable. 

Sunshine shook their head. They couldn’t speak, but… trying to communicate wasn’t too hard. Shaking and nodding one’s head and pointing went a long way. 

That seemed to make sense to it. The thing went back down, and looked at Sunshine with an expression bordering on pity. 

Sunshine pushed themself back up onto their feet, being barely the same height as their cellmate, who was on all fours. 

It went back to the corner it had originally been left in, and Sunshine followed. 

When they sat down by it, it curled its tail around them. 

It took a little bit for Sunshine to look at the tail. It was a beautiful, terrible, mechanical thing. Smooth and nice. 

When their cellmate didn’t react badly, they ran their hands over it, looking at the work. It looked almost familiar, but they couldn’t place from where. 

“Miss yours?” 

That startled them. Sunshine looked over, and saw that their cellmate had curled around them more, head looming over their shoulder. 

They weren’t sure what to say. What their cellmate thought. So they just nodded, and it looked sad again. The tail thumped slightly, before settling down, letting Sunshine inspect it. 

Eventually, one of the handlers came in. They looked, frankly, terrified, and seeing Sunshine there didn’t seem to help. Sunshine wasn’t sure what was happening, or why their cellmate seemed agitated. 

Well, at least not until the strange gun the handler held was pressed to its neck, and with a ka-chunk noise, it went limp. 

The handler left. Sunshine sat there, not sure what to do. 

Eventually, they settled on sitting in front of the cellmate they had decided would be their new friend. Slowly petting its hair in the way that seemed to make it happy, and sitting still when it shook or growled in its sleep. 

It had kept them safe when they slept. They could return the favor.

A few days passed like that. Sunshine was adjusting okay to the move, and their friend had, seemingly, been slowly weaned off of the sedatives they gave it. It was nice. The two of them spent most of their time together- not that there was really much else to do. The little entertainment Sunshine had in their old cell hadn’t come with them. 

They mostly entertained themselves by listening to their friend and inspecting the metal, when it was in the mood to be inspected. 

The unspoken arrangement was that they kept each other safe. Sunshine gave their friend most of their food, and their friend growled at anyone who came in, except for the infusion team. Then, while it didn’t speak to them, it paid close attention to them when they were being hooked up.

When one slept and the other didn’t, the other would stay up and keep them safe. From what, Sunshine wasn’t sure. But it was good. It made them feel better to be able to help their friend, in the way it seemed to be protecting them. 

Their friend spoke in small, broken sentences. A voice that sounded like it would be nice laughing, or talking too loud. Maybe they could get it to that point someday.

Sunshine, for their part, didn’t speak. Well, not much. Most of the caretakers back at the old lab had heard less than ten words from them in the entire stay, and they couldn’t make themselves talk if they wanted to. Not that they wanted to. 

Sunshine wasn’t great at telling time. They couldn’t tell when it was night and when it was day, and so they slept when they were tired and stayed awake when they weren’t. The infusions and flushes probably didn’t help, with the level of brain fog they caused him. 

But they definitely knew that something was wrong when they woke up, unplugged, and alone. 

Their friend was at the other end of the room, growling. If it had fur, it would be raised. Its ears were pinned back, and it was staring at Sunshine. 

They stood up, walking over to it. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest decision, but they were worried. 

“... not him.”

What? Sunshine was confused, and their friend didn’t look much better. Its hair was messed up, pupils blown out, eyes darting around but always coming back to Sunshine. 

Sunshine had heard murmurs from the people who came to check in on them, who sometimes dragged their friend out and back in again. Read the warnings on its metal, when the letters didn’t make their head swim. Those caution warnings, which they had taken as a sign of safety, because this was their friend, were now advising them to stay away from the thing slowly stalking towards them. 

That didn’t seem to help, though. It snarled, and the metal fangs they’d inspected and that had brushed against them when it checked in were, all of a sudden, what they were meant to be.

Terrifying. 

Sunshine looked at its face again. The way it was stalking towards him. They were terrible at expressions, and most faces ended up a smudge in their mind. But they were fairly confident in their guess that under the anger in its face, it looked a little afraid. 

Afraid of them?

“Stop.” 

They were half its height. It could pick them up easily. They had come to depend on it for safety. Why did it seem afraid of them?

Sunshine didn’t have the voice to ask. They just walked forwards, reaching a shaking hand out to try and run it through their friend’s hair. That always calmed it down. 

Sunshine pulled their hand back. Okay. No touch. That was okay. 

“Not…. leave. Go. Stop lying to me.”

Sunshine can’t exactly protest that they haven’t said anything, so there’s no chance they could have lied. Instead, they slowly back away. The words are confusing, but it doesn’t seem to understand anything it’s saying either. 

“Where is he?”

Sunshine keeps backing away. 

“... not him. Wrong.”

It sounded like it was talking to itself, but the words were spoken to Sunshine. 

Before they could figure out how to ask what it was talking about, it was on top of them. Moving far faster than something that big really should, paw- hand?- on their chest, pinning them down.

The claws were sharp. They dug past the cloth, making painful red lines in their chest. 

“Get away.”

They can’t. They’re pinned down. It’s breathing heavily over them, panting like it’s terrified.

“Get away.”

Sunshine tries to push themselves away, but that just makes it worse. The other paw is over their head, and then there’s a lot of pain, and a ringing noise, and a faraway yell, and then there is quite a bit of nothing. 

Its eyes shoot open further when they groan softly, and its tail curled closer to their side. 

They come to on their back, staring at the ceiling. It’s curled around them again, and there’s a pool of blood on the floor.

Theirs, probably.

“So sorry.” 

“Sorry.”

The voice is familiar. It’s their friend’s voice, calm and soft and worried. Not like the panicked voice they’d heard before.

Sunshine feels cold. That’s weird. It’s usually a manageable temperature in here. 

Their hospital gown has been draped over them, like a makeshift blanket. There’s a very large bloody patch on it, slowly spreading.

“I can help.” It pauses, looking almost like it’s about to cry. “Fix you.” 

Sunshine watches as it circles them again, and when it stands up they can see a trail of blood across the floor. Two, actually- a smaller one that looks like it came from their head.

Oh. It’s Sunshine’s blood. That makes sense. 

It settles down, between them and the door. Like normal. They move their head so they’re looking straight up again. 

“I’ll make it okay.” A little pause. A noise. “Don’t go. Can’t  lose…” 

“Didn’t know. Confused. I’m so sorry.”

Sunshine keeps staring at the ceiling. 

It makes a noise that sounds almost frustrated. 

They stay there like that for a little while. Sunshine isn’t sure how long. Their friend mumbles names sometimes. Or words. Or apologies. 

Eventually, there’s a noise. The sound of a door opening. Footsteps, and a lot of them. 

“Get away from the project.” 

Sunshine’s friend snarls again. Not directed at them, so it’s not scary. Its tail lashes, and it rises up again. Twice Sunshine’s size. Bigger than anyone else in this room. 

Their friend growls, turning over and slowly standing up.

Sunshine turns their head to the side, seeing the legs of what look like handlers. A couple different uniforms.

When their friend stalks forwards, and they get a clearer look at some of the people, there are gasps. A “Christ.” A “Not another one.” And an “Are we sure it’s alive?” met with an “It moved, look, it’s breathing.” 

They feel safe. If anyone is going to protect them, their friend will. 

Watching it advance, Sunshine feels safe until there’s a soft yip from his friend, almost a whimper, and it falls to the floor in a giant heap. 

One of the people in the group, a member of the few in lab coats, walks up to it and kneels down to fiddle with something. 

Some of the workers run over to Sunshine, one kneeling down over them, gingerly pulling down the makeshift blanket when another worker gives them the go-ahead. 

A huge gash, in the center of their chest, and they’re losing a lot of blood from it. So deep that their intestines were visible. 

That’s not good. The sounds of horror they hear only confirms it. 

They were also covered in scratches, bruises, claw marks, and even a couple of bites. 

Out of the corner of their eye, there’s movement. It’s up again, moving, and scared. The scientist waves it over to the corner, where it makes itself look as large as possible. 

The scientist, for their part, comes to join the workers standing around them. Inspects Sunshine with a detached stare and a soft smile. They look comforting, almost pretty. That could be the blood loss, though. They have dark hair in a… ponytail? Maybe? Sunshine isn’t sure. The fluorescent lights reflect nicely off of the pearls on their glasses chains, though.

This should probably hurt. They can see their own guts. They should be screaming or something. But Sunshine feels calm. The handler kneeling over them- saying words, calling them ‘Sunny’, and they recognize the voice as the talkative one- seems incredibly concerned by that. He is, however, shut up when the one next to the scientist speaks. 

“Dog broke another one, Mal.” 

This worker doesn’t seem to be much more than mildly displeased with the whole situation. Sunshine manages to move its head to look at the thing cowering in the corner.

Is that ‘Dog’? 

That seems like a fairly plain name for something like that. Sunshine thinks, vaguely, while watching its insides be put back in, that it would name Dog something cooler. Like “Deathinator” or “Murderpaws”. 

That was the last coherent thought they had for a while. Sunshine went limp in the arms of whoever had picked him up, head lolling to the side. His vision went crossed, but he thought he could make out Dog cowering in the corner. The scientist with the long hair and the glasses chain- Mal?- was saying something to it. 

After that, it was a blur. Lots of lights. Something injected in their arm. And then another injection in their neck. 

Noises that sounded like voices. Being carried on a stretcher. At least, it felt like one. Sunshine was very horizontal. 

They faded in and out of consciousness. Most times, they woke up somewhere else. One time it was on a table, surrounded by people in surgical masks. One time, in what looked like an infusion chamber. 

Eventually, though, they started waking up in the same place. A room. It looked like the hospital rooms they’d seen on TV, with green walls and a window. There’s a makeshift infusion bay above them, which isn’t putting in any of the coloured chemicals they were used to.

The talkative worker was there sometimes. They didn’t understand any of his words. But he chatted to them. 

They aren’t sure when it is that the words started being words again.

“... I tried to tell them not to transfer you back there, you know. Big animal and all. Christ. You should have seen what he did to you. We didn’t think you were going to make it.”

They’re hooked up for a flush, this time. Make them sick, get everything out of their body. It’s not pleasant. 

“Anyways, there should be more cameras in there. I know you don’t talk, but, uh… if you ever decide to, it’d be handy. You can yell at one of the cameras if that thing mauls you again.” 

They can’t ‘decide to’. Not that they have the voice to say that. Still, Sunshine nods. That gets a smile from the worker.

Sunshine spends most of the walk back to the room not walking. They’re covered in bandages, with a large dressing around their midsection that they’ve been informed will need to be changed every two days. 

“Glad to hear it. Well. You know.” He slaps his knees, standing up and groaning slightly.

“You ready? Big day today. Still wish they’d have put you somewhere else, or sent that thing back to his original lab. But I’m no big shot, so they don’t listen to me.”

Their old hospital gown was destroyed, so someone had dressed them in a tee shirt with a logo they couldn’t currently read, pajama pants without strings, and fuzzy socks that made walking on the smooth floors difficult. Mostly, they were dragged by a few workers. 

When the door opens, Dog growls. It’s got something on it, this time, around its upper arm. Sunshine’s vision is too blurry to really tell what. 

The growling stops, however, when it sees Sunshine. Then, it’s quiet. Eerily still. The workers set them down leaning on the wall by the infusion port, and leave as quickly as they can. 

Dog comes up to them. Looks them over, eyes wide. 

Sunshine can’t deny that they’re a little afraid. But more than that, there’s instead relief. Seeing the only friend they had. Dog not being put down or taken away. A return to what Sunshine had come to consider normal.

When they’re sure that nobody but the two of them is in the room, it feels like the block in Sunshine’s throat fades away. 

They manage an exhausted smile up at Dog. 

Dog’s ears are still pinned back, and it- he, Sunshine thinks, remembering what the talkative worker said-  looks nervous. Scared. An ear flicks, and Sunshine reaches out again. Slowly gives him a pet. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

Their voice is dry. Small. Tired. Cracking slightly, from disuse. 

“... nap.” The voice comes again, and Sunshine smiles. 

Then, they’re horizontal again. The flushes aren’t pleasant, especially not ones after emergency surgery, so Sunshine isn’t sure if Dog pushed them over or if they fell.

Either way, there’s a familiar warmth surrounding them, hiding them from view by pushing into the wall. 

“Yeah, okay. Let’s take a nap.” 

[thlayli-ra]

That list of whump prompts you’re using for the ficlet requests is so long and varied, I love it. I have so many evil thoughts swimming around in my head but the first thing that floated to the top for me was gunshot, beacause woah, that could be so interesting.

Then I tried to come up with a pairing and I immediately went to Dick Rick and Jon Moxley, HWA days you know, because god knows what they were getting up to in their spare time living together. I don’t have a preference for who is getting shot but I would prefer if it wasn’t shown or implied that they died. On all other fronts, go nuts. Do what you feel.

Good luck with the tricks and treats!!

I was SO excited to do this prompt!!! So thank you so much for sending it my way Tagz - hope you enjoy it!

(Note - I couldn't call him Dick Rick with a straight face so he's referred to as Shaun in the ficlet 😂)

Trick - 'Gunshot'

Characters - Shaun Ricker/Dick Rick, Jon Moxley

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Gunshot wound, threat of violence, internalised homophobia

The hour was late but the night still young. Shaun had a pleasant buzz going and a smug grin on his face. The pretty little thing at the bar he'd been working his charm on was giving him goo-goo eyes back, and who could blame her? Nobody could resist his boyish smile, his smooth-as-silk talk or, above all, the impressive pair of guns he had practically bursting out of his short shirt sleeves. So what, if he'd added a tiny sliver of baby oil to give him some extra shine? In these dingy nightclubs, he needed a little something to help his... personality shine through. In a literal sense.

'So,' the young lady tilted her head cutely to the side, sliding a finger down one of those very bulging biceps, 'you know, my place isn't far from here. You wanna come back, have a drink?' She leaned in close, may as well has sidled right into his lap. 'Get to know each other better?'

'Well, that sounds real nice, sweetheart,' Shaun placed his hand around her waist, coaxing her in, 'but I gotta warn ya. You're playing with fire but if you don't mind singeing those pretty, little fingers of yours then-'

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

'Oh, sorry about that,' Shaun picked his phone off the bar and cancelled the call from Moxley. Shoved it quickly into his back pocket. 'Now where were we?'

'You were about to give me an answer,' she fluttered her eyelashes cutely.

'Thaaat's right, I was,' Shaun grinned. 'How's this for an answer?' His large hand cupped the back of her head and tempted her towards him, their lips meeting in the middle. Soon, she was groaning against his tongue and he quirked his brows. He knew it, she knew it, everybody knew it. He was irresistible, like he had some kind of animal magnetism, some kind of... undeniable-

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Go away, Moxley!

He let it ring out. Turned his full attention back onto the cutie linking her slender fingers in his thick ones and guiding them to her upper thigh so he could-

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Goddamit, Moxley!!!

The pretty thing pulled back abruptly. 'Uh Shane?' she said with a cocked brow. Took him a beat to realise she meant him.

'Yeah, Jess?'

'It's Carly, actually. And you're buzzing.'

Yeah, yeah, don't I know it! 'I'll be right back,' he said with an apologetic grimace. 'Don't you dare go anywhere, alright toots?'

'I'll be waiting,' she replied breathily, stroking her hand down her stunning cleavage, making Shaun groan with want as he forced himself to walk away and call his irksome room mate. Jon Moxley answered within the first ring.

'Shaun...?'

'You'd better have a damn good excuse for cock-blocking me, man,' Shaun grumbled down the phone. He was answered by a pain-filled grunt. Shaun's brow furrowed. 'Hey, you alright? What's the matter?'

'I need you to come find me.'

He glanced around the club, trying to find his fellow wrestler. The pair of them had arrived together but now there was no sign of him. 'The hell are you?'

'Outside. Alley behind the hrrk club.'

'Right, hold on, hold on. I'm comin'.'

The pretty thing at the bar was immediately forgotten about as Shaun headed down the stairs, out the front doors, past the security guards, and the line waiting to get in, and the littering of patrons who'd had far too much and were now sprawled across the sidewalk - one nearly spewed on his shoes - and around the side of the building.

The narrow gap between the two buildings was dark and eerie. 'Mox?' Shaun called out timidly into the gloom. 'Mox? You there?' Nothing. So he made his way further in, ears pricked for any clues as to his roommate's whereabouts. 'Mox?'

'Over here.'

It came from around the corner. Picking up the pace, the wrestler followed the husky voice and eventually found the subject of his search. 'Holy shit,' he cursed, running towards his roommate who was sprawled against the far wall, panting and covered in bruises. 'The hell happened to you?'

'Ok, don't freak out on me here,' Moxley warned, 'but I've kinda, sorta... been shot.'

'Wait, WHAT?'

'I said not to freak out!'

'Where?' Shaun began to search over Moxley's limp body. 'Who the hell did this to-?' It didn't take him long to find it. One slight pull on his friend's jacket lapel and he found the gruesome trail of blood staining his white undershirt from his neck all the way down to his waist.

'Oh, shit...'

The creep had approached Moxley in the men's room. First red flag was that, despite there being plenty of free urinals, he chose the one directly beside him. The second was that he addressed him mid-flow.

'Hey.' The actual fuck? 'So that guy you came in with, you two buddies or something?'

Mox grunted a reply, finding his own prick suddenly lacking inspiration, leaving him hovering there awkwardly as the guy did not take the hint and kept on speaking.

'Cause he's who I think, right? I mean... I'm right, right?'

'The hell you on about, man?' he retorted, wishing for nothing more than the guy to shut the fuck up or at least for his piss to finally come so that he could get out of there.

'You know, the smug little shit? He's Dick Rick, right?' The mere mention of his roommate's ring name and Mox started to tense up, but then the guy added, 'from that porno wrestling website?'

Now he had the sandy blonde's full attention!

'Who's askin'?' he said with a snarl in his tone.

'Just a fan,' the creep replied cryptically, then leaned right into Mox's personal space and why the fuck was his prick suddenly acting like it was empty or blocked or something? 'So I am right? What's the deal then; you two fucking or what?'

'What?' He turned to face the stranger, his expression scary enough to make him back off an inch or two.

'Oh, no offence or anything, dude. I just saw you both and put two and two together.'

'I aint some queer!'

'Ok, ok, I'm sorry.' He turned back to his own stall and Mox hoped that was the end of it. Only it wasn't! 'But he is, right?'

'Far as I could see, he was flirting with some broad the whole night,' Mox bit back, failing miserably to hide the bitter edge to his words.

Oh, come on!' the creep scoffed. 'I know a 'beard' when I see one. I also know a twink when I see one! Those tiny little panties he squeezes himself into, just so he and some dude can get all hot and sweaty with one another, grabbing each other by the-'

Jesus fuck! I'll trade you my soul for just one single drop of piss right now so I can walk out that door! 'Look, man. Plenty of straight dudes do these kind of things. It's only another wrestling gig at the end of the day and it pays the bills.' Maybe, I should take him up on his offer some time seeing as I haven't got two cents to rub together.

'Yeah, yeah, man, whatever,' the guy gave himself a shake and Mox could finally see some light at the end of the tunnel. 'But you know, sometimes all these guys need is a little nudge to step out of the closet, know what I mean?'

No, now piss off! 'Sure guy, whatever you say.'

The creep finally left. The second the door swung shut and he was alone, his dick came to life. 'The hell happened to you?' he muttered down to his anatomy as it began to flow fast and hard, 'get stage fright or something? Jesus...'

But something about that guy in the men's room didn't sit well in his gut and for the rest of the evening he watched him closely. Good thing too, because the creep barely took his eyes off of Shaun the entire time, pretty much ignored the two other guys he was sitting with other than to point across at the wrestler sitting at the bar and whisper in his friend's ear. Once or twice, he even went up to the bar, practically brushed Shaun's shoulder with his own when he ordered his drink but the dark-haired man was too engrossed in his pretty lady friend to even notice and the so-called 'fan' walked away without saying a word.

Yet, the feeling of dread kept gnawing at Mox's gut and when he saw the guy whisper one last time in his friend's ear then get up to leave, he decided to follow him out, keeping a short distance behind him to not betray his intentions. Leaning against the wall outside to light a cigarette, the sandy blonde wrestler watched the creep out the corner of his eye as he walked a few paces down the street then ducked into an alley down the side of the building.

Mox narrowed his eyes, that gnawing in his gut biting in deeper. He dropped his untouched cigarette, squashed it underfoot then headed in the opposite direction, finding to his relief a similar alley down the other side of the nightclub. Carefully, he edged his way through the narrow, shadowy gap, an old familiar tightness in his lungs. The nerves of a pending fight, before the adrenaline had time to hit his system.

Peeking around the corner, he found the guy crouched in the darkest shadows, watching the door to the club like a hawk waiting for a mouse. The anger started blaring against Mox's eardrums right before he stepped out to sneak up on the creep. If he'd only waited a moment longer he would have noticed how the guy's hand was lodged deep into the lapel of his jacket...

'Is it bad?'

Shaun chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously, making Mox fear the worst. 'Take a deep breath,'he instructed.

Mox did as he was told and inhaled deeply, but it all came back straight out again though his gritted teeth when Shaun lifted his arm and tried to thread it through the sleeve of his jacket. His face twisted with agony, his lips turning the air blue until, after a lengthy struggle, his arm was finally freed from his sleeve and his roommate could properly inspect the grisly wound.

'Well?'

Shaun answered with a rush of air whistling through his lips.

'Well?'

'Just a flesh wound,' he answered, the relief shaking in his voice. 'Bullet caught you on your shoulder. Took a decent chunk out though, you'll need to go to the hospital so they can-'

'No!'

'Mox! You've just been shot in the goddamn arm!'

'No hospital. No doctors. I'm already behind on the rent, been eating boxed macaroni for weeks. I can't afford to get slapped with a huge medical bill on top of it all.'

As much as it didn't sit well with Shaun, he could understand the man's logic. He knew Mox had been relying on his paycheck from the show that night, but then the promoter had made some pathetic excuse, saying they would all get their cheques in the mail, which, all wrestlers knew, meant they wouldn't. Or, if by some miracle they did, then they'd just bounce.

'Fine,' he acquiesced. 'Then I'll take you over to Dave's - he could probably stitch you up.' Dave was a medic they knew from the circuit who lived in town. The kind of guy who never asked questions.

'Sounds good,' Moxley said and tried to get up when a firm hand on his chest pushed him back down.

'Nah-nah,' Shaun scolded, shaking his head.

'What? What's the big-' Suddenly, Moxley's snarky comment was murdered dead in his throat, his eyes nearly popping right out of their sockets at the sight of Shaun grabbing the collar of his own shirt and yanking it up over his head.

'I aint havin' you bleeding all over my car,' he explained, bunching the shirt up in his hands and pressing it down on the bloodied crevice. Mox went deathly pale, his whole body rigid as stone. All of a sudden, the pain no longer mattered. All that mattered was that his gorgeous room mate that he'd had a schoolboy crush on for several months now was virtually rubbing his Adonis-like, half-naked torso against him and he could smell the cologne Shaun was wearing, an intoxicating scent that made his eyes flutter with lust and he could feel his breath on his face and his fingers on his shoulder and, oh god, now he was looking right at him with those massive, blue eyes of his.

'So you gonna tell me how exactly you got yourself shot?' Shaun asked, raising a brow at the sandy blonde. Moxley shuffled awkwardly, lips and eyebrows twitching the way they always did when he got a little riled up.

'Got into a fight.'

'Well duh, I figured that much out. You wanna tell me why?'

More shuffling. More twitches. No, no he couldn't tell him. How could he tell him that he'd caught some pervert who'd seen his pornos waiting for him in a dark alley with a gun! The sight still haunted Mox and he couldn't stop imagining what might have happened if he hadn't listened to his gut.

And how could he explain that the thought of anybody hurting Shaun terrified him. Terrified him more than any other horror in the world possibly could and he didn't even really understand it himself because he hadn't lied in that men's room, he wasn't some queer. He wasn't! And even if he was, what did that mean? Didn't that change... everything?

Especially if the man he maybe, sorta, kinda, possibly loved wasn't some queer either? Just some straight guy taking on another wrestling gig to get another pay check?

'Guy was an asshole,' he mumbled out, eventually.

Shaun sighed with exasperation. 'You're an asshole! Now come on, take another breath.'

Getting to his feet sent a shockwave of pain down his whole body but it didn't matter, not when Shaun's arm wound tight around his waist to pull him in close to his warm, and still very much half-naked body. 'Keep applying pressure,' he instructed Mox as they began to hobble their way down the alley.

Before leaving, Mox kicked something away with his boot. A chunk of metal clanked its way into the hidden depths of the shadows. 'What was that?' Shaun asked.

'Nothing,' Mox shot back. 'Let's go.'

Least he'd taken that fucking gun off the creep, least he'd taught him a lesson he'd never forget, even after the bullet had taken a chunk out of his shoulder. Least that bastard would never even think of trying to hurt his roommate again.

For as long as he was here, by Shaun's side, he would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

[billybigbang2024]

The Billy Big Bang posting season starts on November 1st and Team #5 will be posting their collaboration through November 20th! The banner and artwork is by @akichania / Akichania and the fic is by @medusapelagia / Medusapelagia, betaed by @ghostdeb! Be careful or the little preview below might pull you in just like their collaboration will!

Fic Title: A Magnet For Trouble

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships:  Billy Hargrove/Jason Carver, implied Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Characters:   Jason Carver, Billy Hargrove, Chrissy Cunningham, Heather Holloway, Robin Buckley, Max Mayfield, Original Characters

Additional Tags:  Alternative Universe - no upside down, Modern Setting, Angst with Happy Ending, reference to domestic violence, Tattoo Artist Billy Hargrove, Policeman Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunnigham and Jason Carver are cousins, Attempted Armed Robbery, Blood and Injuries, Whump, Injuries Recovery, Smut,  Falling in love, from friends with benefit to lovers, Tattoos, Max’s father is Italian because I say so

Length: 27k

Summary:

Being a policeman isn’t easy, but some days are extremely harsh. After a bad shift, Jason Carver finds himself wandering in a night club, trying to forget about his problems, and there he meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen. 

Billy Hargrove is a tattoo artist, proud of his queerness, and even if he finds the young policeman attractive, he’s not going to fall for a closeted guy, but there’s nothing wrong with having some fun under the sheets. The important thing is to keep sex and love separated.

Everything changes when an armed man tries to rob Billy’s tattoo shop, Jason gets hurt and the line between sex and love becomes blurred.