#that was my first time ever attempting to draw latex. i did NOT do a good job but what matters is i tried

[electricpurrs]

It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

a little homage to fursuiter Bob Hill performing as his character Hilda the Bambioid in the first ever furry convention, ConFurence Zero, in 1989 (video linked above)

[palaceofpassion]

Dom Weiss!

So Weiss is totally a bottom, but have her being a dom for once!

Weiss could only smile as she looked down upon her victim, a strapping young lad bound to the floor below her.  He was clad in nothing but a black leather collar and tight… oh so tight latex speedo that… well it accentuated his figure quite well.  Their arms and legs spread wide, a golden ball gag forced into their mouth to prevent them from… screaming.  It had taken a lot to get here, but here she was.  “You’ve been a very bad boy… you know that don’t you?”  

The only response she received was a gurgle of gagged muffles and restrained attempts of fleeing.  Oh how much joy this brought her!  For once SHE was in control, no longer at the beck and call of her… friends.  She finally held power over someone else, power that she RIGHTFULLY deserved.  So, she was going to make the absolute best of it, make use of the time she had.  

She’d prepared long and hard for this, had gone out of her way to find the best clothes, had even… shamefully put her name out there in order to get these… custom designed.  

She had to admit she quite liked leather, the dark material accentuated her slim pale form quite well if she had the say so.  The harness and garter belts had been the hardest to come by since she was… petite.  That was the word she’d use, and the only word anyone else would if they knew what was good for them.  

Well she digressed, she was getting quite off topic.  Turning her attention back to the boy… no the man below her she couldn’t help but flash her pearly whites.  “Aren’t I fabulous in this?  Gorgeous even, you should feel proud of yourself that… that a lowly peasant such as yourself would be allowed to gaze upon my visage… truly you are blessed.”  

When there was no response she simply gazed down at the tall… muscular… figure below her.  Gnashing her teeth her grip grew tight around the riding crop in hand.  With a loud smack, one that proved to be more sound than impact, she forced the boy’s attention to herself.  “I said, aren’t you the lucky one?  You understand your position do you not… peasant?”  

“Uhhuuuh.”  Was the muffled response she received.  Her icey blue gaze fell upon him.

“I don’t think you do…”  Stepping forward onto the platform that the young man found himself bound.  She placed her glossy black heels upon his stomach.  “Must I discipline you?  Do you truly not understand how… fortunate you are to be in this situation.”  

Once more she received no response, instead she noticed the… mongrel… staring at her long thin pale legs.  “You do not!”  Applying force upon his stomach she dug the pointed end of the heel down.  She smiled as she watched him squirm beneath her heel, yes this was where he belonged where EVERYONE belonged!  Placing her hand below her chin she couldn’t help but have herself a gleeful laugh, “O~hohoho!”  She was in true control, and there was nothing he nor anybody could do about it.

When he didn’t respond again she applied more pressure, as he squirmed below her like the worm he was, she couldn’t help but shudder.  Excitement building inside of her core as she really let the dominance of the situation sink in.  She could do anything to him, anything she wanted… so why shouldn’t she?  She was about to step off of him when her eyes fell upon his nether regions.  “I see at least one part of you was paying attention…”  With a quick smack she slapped the tip of her crop against his bulging manhood.  As he flinched under the slam she could only bite her lip in an attempt to control her own excitement.  Removing her foot from the man below her she stepped around, coming between his legs.

“This… disgusting thing…”  With another loud slap she gave it another good smack, the bulge twitched beneath his minimalist clothing, if one could even call it clothing.  Once more she gave it another smack causing him to twitch, “This is the only worth you have~  The only thing that gives me a reason to keep you.”  With a flick of her fingers the thin material came undone, revealing to her his throbbing shaft.  

“It’s disgusting… unsightly… yet it gives you worth… if I could find a better one I’d have no need for you.”  She heard a sound coming from his gagged mouth but she could neither make it out nor care.  She was in charge, her pet had no say in the matter.  

“Though… I suppose you could do your best and properly give the service that I require.”  Licking her lips she moved closer, pulling down on a zipper located in her own lower region she revealed her glistening slit already moist in anticipation.  With practiced patience she slipped her hand into her braided hair and with a single tug she pulled upon a silver ribbon.  One that would have otherwise gone unnoticed had she not pulled it from her own icey silvery hair.  

“I’m going to enjoy myself, so try not to ruin my fun… would you?”  She waited for no response as she began to tie the ribbon around the base of his thick heavy rod.  Tying a perfect little bow she made sure to give it a tug making sure that he wouldn't be able to cum unless she gave him the say so.

With her machinations finished she moved upwards, finally getting to the meat of the night.  Pressing her already slick slit against his throbbing manhood she let herself go.  In one fell plunge she took his mighty manmeat all the way down to the base.  Closing her eyes she allowed herself a moment as her body shivered in ecstasy.  “Ahn!  Tru...truly!  The only good thing about you is this… this monster of a cock!”  She could feel her toes curl in her dark black stockings as she took the moment to catch her breath.  

“Move.”  When he didn’t she simply stared at him, if he was going to be difficult… well she had a plan for that.  Leaning forward she pressed her nails across his broad chest.  “I said move…”  Once more he didn’t comply, “I see… you are such a disgusting masochistic pig.”  With what started as a gentle streak, she moved her fingers down his chest.  With every centimeter she began to apply more and more force till she could see his flesh grow red as her well manicured nails dug into his flesh.  

She stopped just before the point of drawing blood, “Now move!”  And this time he did, his hips bucked against their restraints as she felt her body pop into the air.  His mighty thrust nearly took the air out of her lungs as it had taken her by surprise.  “GOOD GOOD!”  Heat consumed her core as he continued to buck widely, using his uselessly stupid strength to bounce her up and down his shaft with out the need of his hands.  

She couldn’t help but close her eyes and wrap her nails around his thighs as he continued to slam himself in and out of her.  “MMMN!”  He hit her every which way, his mighty cock slammed into her walls, pressing against her womb over and over as he continued to batter into her small form.  He was so much bigger than her, her small figure shouldn’t have been able to contain such a… such a massive thing!  

But practice after practice had gotten her to this point, and she wasn’t going to let down.  Forgetting herself for a moment she couldn't help but rock her hips back and forth.  His cock wiggled and bounced inside of her, slamming into her walls and pressing against her depths in no way any other cock could.  “SCHOO GOOD!”  Loud moans escaped her lips as he continued his advantage, but she wouldn’t let him have it for long!  

Burying her nails into his legs she made sure to find herself stable.  “FASTER!  FASTER YOU FILTHY PIG!”  His hips bucked harder, the tip of his massive rod slamming into her womb nearly forcing it wide open.  “NNNGH!  IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!  MY FATHER WAS RIGHT YOU’RE USELESS!”  Faster and harder, over and over he slammed into her, she heard the restraints on the ground break as he continued to struggle to remove himself.  “PATHETIC!  I BET MARROW WOULD BE BETTER!”  That had nearly done it, he’d slammed into her so hard that she’d nearly bounced right off his dick.  

The thrust had been hard enough to send her over the edge, her climax hitting harder than ever before.  She felt her pussy spasm as her juices flowed between their bodies.  “Good good!”  She could barely speak but she needed to keep this up.  She could feel him twitching inside of her, begging for release, “You deserve a reward~”  Slipping her fingers around the ribbon beneath her she pulled it apart. 

Her womb was flooded with his thick hot seed, her toes curled as the sensation of being filled overtook everything else.  Finally he’d stopped bucking his own strength exhausted from his wild attempts.  “Good… good…”  

Once the post orgasm clarity hit, she felt her face burn hot.  “Oh!  Oh!  No no!”  Quickly she bent over, reaching for the gag on the boy's mouth then removing his restraints.  “Jaune!  I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Hah… hah… ha…”  The boy's breathing was ragged, obviously exhausted from the wild night.  “Not physically…”  She grew nervous at the pause, “You didn’t mean any of that did you?”  

She in fact had not!  This had been their first attempt at BDSM, at the behest of Blake, who’d lent her a book.  “No!  No no!  I love you my knight!  I promise you none of that was real.  I just… uhm.”  She could practically feel the crimson on her face, “Got really into it.”  

“Ah… okay…”  Instinctually she pressed her lips across her one and only knight.  

“I promise.  I love you and only you, and Marrow would definitely not be better.”  

“Okay cool.”  

“So… did you have fun.”

He paused, “Yeah… yeah I did.”  

“Can… can we do this another time?”  

“Yeah… yeah I’d be fine with that.  Just Weiss?”

“Yes my Knight?”  She felt herself being pulled towards him and then flipped on her back.

“You’ve been a naughty bandit… and as a Knight… well I have to make sure that you’ve been properly disciplined.”  She gulped at the predatory glance he passed her way.

“... please.”  Tonight was going to be a long one.

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Ties That Bind Us - Part 8

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail?  Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old.  The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do.  But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests.  I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2438

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, all the angst

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE  PART SIX   PART SEVEN

I hesitated to open my eyes, for fear that I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream. My lips felt warm and pleasantly swollen as I reached my hand up slowly to touch them, keeping my eyes shut.  I took a deep breath and lifted my eyelids, coming eye to eye with Dean as he lay next to me staring.  

Sheepishly, I smiled and released a small chuckle with my fingertips still glazing over my bottom lip.  “Well,” I said meekly.  “Not a dream.”  His eyebrows were still knitted together as if he was unsure as to what my reaction would be.  But the corner of his mouth twitched upward as the hint of a smirk began to spread.  

“Kinda was for me,” he said through an exhale of breath as he ran the back of his fingers along my cheek.  I leaned into his touch, relishing in the delightful feel of his skin on mine.  

“How long,” I asked him.  

“How long what?  How long have I wanted to do that?”  He paused, leaving the silence pregnant with anticipation.  He let out a quick breath, looking to the ceiling as he thought. “Six years ago, St. Patrick’s Day. I told you to kiss me cause I’m Irish. You called me an idiot and threw a pillow at my face.” I laughed at his response. “Been hooked ever since.”  

I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as they blushed and a coy smile wound itself across my face.  

“Or did you mean how long have I known you wanted me to? Cause that’s a very different answer.”  

I ducked my head down, attempting to hide from his view, and buried my nose into the crook of his neck.  “I mean, I’d be happy to answer that one for you, too, sweetheart but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”  His words dripped with sarcasm as he pursed his lips and left a trail of kisses from the crown of my head and down the side of my face, slowly pulling my head back up to face him.  

“See, when things weren’t looking all that great for you?  I wasn’t doing so well.  I wasn’t the pillar of strength you’re used to on the day to day.”  His face returned to seriousness now, and my eyes fixated on him.  “I kind of fell apart.  No, that’s not true.  I completely fell apart.  A world without you in it?  That’s not a world I want to be in.”  

I felt tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them at bay.  

“So, my baby brother, he decides he needs to cheer me up.  See, he yanks me up to my feet, slams me up against a wall and tells me to stop being a selfish prick.  Tells me I can help you by just keeping it together, by staying with you.”  Dean’s hand lifted as he pushed my hair gently behind my ear.  “Now I’m lost at this point.  He’s talking crazy and all I want to do is hide from the world.  But the big oaf that Sam is, he wouldn’t allow that.”  He leaned in towards me again, pressing a short, chaste kiss to my lips before tucking his chin over the crown of my head.  

“Instead, he looks me in the eye, tells me I’m a moron, and lets me go.  But not before just blurting out ‘She loves you, you jackass,’ and proceeding to lecture me about how dumb I am.”  The smile on his face is beyond genuine and my entire body feels as though it’s turned to gelatin.  “That true,” he asks me, his eyes back on mine.  The confident smirk on his face is betrayed only by the pleading desperation in his green orbs that are so focused on mine that I dare not even blink.  

Slowly, I nod my head, feeling that same blush rise in my cheeks again.  “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking as I did so.  

“Thank god,” he breathed out as his lips once again plastered themselves against mine, knocking the air out of me as he slowly wound his arm around my waist.  He leaned into me, rolling me over onto my back as he rested his body on top of mine, his hips jutting against my own.  I could feel his calloused hands wandering; one tangled in my hair as his fingers deftly caressed my ear lobe as his other held our bodies closer together.  

I had wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him with desperation.  Dean pushed against me harder as I felt his excitement growing against my groin.  I broke our lips apart, breathing deeply as I lifted my hand to the back of his head, entwining my fingers in his hair.  He began grinding his hips against me; an act I longed for but subsequently found intolerable.  Shocks of pain tore through my abdomen in waves and I cried out, gasping for air as I ground my teeth together.  

“Fuck,” I grimaced, wincing.  Dean instantly backed away, holding himself almost as if he were doing a pushup.  

“What’s wrong?”  His panicked voice rang out as his eyes examined me.  

I removed one hand from his firm waist and grabbed for my side, desperate to alleviate some of the pain.  

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking down towards my waist.  It seemed instantaneous that I sprang off the bed and frantically searched for the remote control with the nurse call button.  A few seconds passed and the pain had ebbed.  

“Dean, I’m fine, really.”  My attempt to settle him did nothing as I spoke to his back.  He was running towards the doorway now, yelling for help.  

I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was surely overreacting.  Pulling my hand away, I glanced down and took in the sight of dark red blood pooling slowly on the sheet beneath me.  “Well, crap.”  

Dean walked back into the room, a female nurse clad in dark purple scrubs in tow.  He raised his hand and pointed towards my wound, and she immediately got to work.  My gown was quickly pushed to the side as she took a look at the damage that had been done.  

“You’ve popped a staple out.  Haven’t seen that too often!”  Her voice was cheery and calming as she smiled sweetly at me.  

“I’ll get the doctor and we’ll get you patched up again in no time.  Good as new, huh?  How are you feeling in the meantime?  What’s your pain level?”  

“I’m good,” I answered simply.  

“Are you sure, darlin’?  You look a little flushed.”  Her eyes were intent now, taking in every physical cue that she could.  

“That, uh,” Dean began with that devilish half smile of his. “That could be my fault.”  He held up a finger as if claiming victory.  I rolled my eyes in response and watched as the nurse did the same.  

She turned her head to face him and took up the absolutely accurate stance of an angry mother about to berate their petulant child.  “You do know that she’s recently had invasive surgery, yes?”  

I watched as Dean shrank under the nurse’s stare.  He nodded solemnly.  

“And that a team of highly trained surgeons spent several hours fixing her up and putting her back together again with slim odds that she’d even wake up, let alone thrive and begin healing?”  Her question was obviously rhetorical.  Dean held eye contact with her and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”  He’d never sounded so young and childlike.  

“So maybe, just maybe, we can pause on the hanky panky funny stuff until after she’s discharged, yeah?”  

I stifled my laughter as Dean nodded again, and the nurse exited the room, patting his shoulder as she walked by; the smile on her face betrayed the entertainment she had felt at Dean’s expense.  

Dean skulked back towards me, lowering himself into the chair beside my bed.  The laughter that I had been withholding came pouring out of me, eliciting more pain as I again held my side.  

“Geez, Y/N, you’re going to open yourself up more.”  Dean placed his hands on my arms, attempting to hold me still.  

“Yeah, well. You started it.”

His eyes went wide with incredulity.  “How do you figure?”  

“You were the one who opened up first!”  My cheesy joke landed flat.  

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning backwards in his chair as he sighed dramatically.  “Good to see you didn’t lose your awful sense of humor.”  

I smiled at him exaggeratedly.  “I’m delightful.”  

He smiled at me again, reaching over and raking his fingertips down my cheek. “Yeah,” he paused. “You are.”  

The doctors had swooped into the room, getting me all stitched back together in a blur of lights, antiseptic, and latex gloves.  The same nurse had accompanied them, insisting on administering more morphine when she did so.  

They moved me into a wheelchair as they waited for my bedsheets to be taken out and laundered.  I was struggling to keep my head up as I leaned my temple against my palm, fighting to hold my eyelids open.  I could feel Dean’s warm hand drawing comforting circles on my back, but my head was swimming.  His soothing voice rang out every few minutes, letting me know that it was okay if I wanted to fall asleep.  Encouraged even. But stubbornly, I refused, shaking my head and insisting on waiting until Sam came back.

It wasn’t too long until Sam peaked his head into my room; his long hair unkept and falling in his face.  

“Hey, Tarzan,” I mumbled, giggling at my own joke.  Both the boys stared at me quizzically as my eyes closed and I leaned further over onto the side, my chuckles growing quieter.  

“Tarzan? I thought it was Thor.”  Sam’s voice drifted in as if he were speaking through static.  

“She’s out of her mind on morphine, Sammy.  Don’t worry.”  I could hear the jest in Dean’s voice as he spoke from just behind me.  

There was a small hint of commotion as an orderly came in with a rolling tray full of food for me.  With my eyes still closed, I took a deep breath, attempting to smell my meal.  But my sense of smell reacted negatively as I breathed in the scent of hard-boiled eggs, squash and fish.  

“Gross,” I protested, grabbing at the wheels of the wheelchair I sat in and attempting to push myself away.  

“No. Don’t want that,” I murmured as I shook my head.  There was a strong hand grasping my shoulders as someone gently whispered in my ear to relax.  “Mom made me lasagna,” I groaned, as large tears overwhelmed my lids and began cascading down my cheeks.  

I felt warm fingers press against my cheeks as Dean’s familiar voice repeated my name softly.  

“Hey, Y/N.  Can you open your eyes for me?”  

I stubbornly shook my head, opting for the darkness my closed eyelids afforded me.  I could feel panic rising in my chest, and my breaths began coming in stuttered waves.  Sam’s voice was screaming into the hallway, demanding a nurse or any sort of help.  But my head was swimming.  I could still smell the garlic and tomatoes as the cheese bubbled on the top of my favorite dish.  I could hear my mother’s voice as she spoke with me. My father’s warm, teddy-bear embrace still ghosted over my arms.  But all I could see was black.  I longed for the comfort their memories had afforded me.  

“Daddy,” I mumbled out as I felt the familiar push of medication run up my arm as forced, restless sleep overtook me.  

I woke hours later.  Days possibly.  The sky outside my window was still dark and the light in the room too dim.  Running my dry hands down my face, I pulled myself slowly to sit up in the bed.  The ache in my side not entirely unnoticed.  Every muscle in my body was sore and resisted moving.  I kicked my legs out gently over the bed, glaring at my thighs as I balanced myself on them with the palms of my hands.  

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean’s voice was stern as he spoke from the chair in the corner of the room.  I watched his arms flex as he walked towards me, squatting effortlessly in front of me as his eyes locked onto mine.  

“Back in bed.”  His words were stern, but his eyes betrayed some sadness that lingered on his face.  

“Dean?”  My voice was groggy and sounded foreign to me.  

“Y/N get your ass back in bed, now.”  He sounded almost defeated; an unfamiliar tone for him.  

I acquiesced and pulled my legs back onto the uncomfortable air mattress, keeping my eyes set on his face.  “What’s wrong,” I asked him. “You seem grumpy.”  He took his seat again in the lounge chair next to me, leaning on his knees with his elbows.

A forced, quick breath leaked through his nostrils, full of incredulity.  “Grumpy, huh?”  He paused.  “Can’t imagine why.”  His eyes fell to his hands, focusing on the thin piece of fabric that he was fiddling with.  He flicked his gaze up to me, following my gaze back down to his hands.  

“It’s part of your shirt,” he explained.  “Or, well, was.”  He paused again. “It tore off in your back there,” he gestured towards my side.  “Had to dig it out on the way here.”  

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my surprise.  “I’m sorry, Dean.”  

He pursed his eyebrows and looked up towards me slowly.  “For what?  Getting stabbed?  Not your fault.”  

I reached towards him, surprised when I watched him pull away and lean back into his seat.  “See, getting stabbed? Hurt?  Happens to all of us.  But you,” he said, holding the fabric up towards me. “You were reckless.  You ditched me and Sam and did your damnedest to be in more danger than you needed to be.”  His eyes shot up towards mine again, that same pained sadness shooting out of his eyes as he let silence stretch between us.  

“And here, in this hospital.  Some of the things you’re saying, been saying.  They’ve got me wondering.”  

I let his statement stand, wanting desperately to not discuss the topic at hand. “See, I’m wondering if there’s not something you’re hiding.  Something you didn’t or aren’t telling me. And that?  That won’t work.  That’s something else.”  He dropped his head, clenching his hand into a fist as he held onto the scrap of clothing.  “So, talk.”  

To be continued….

Part Nine

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624 @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy  @carissime72  @deans-baby-momma  @formulafun  @woodworthti666  @yetanotherreader  @crashlyrose  @hobby27  @gabby913  @jxackles  @polina-93 @supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666  @deans-baby-momma  @deanwanddamons  @tazzi-baby  @acertainhero  @lilulo-12 @slamminmine  @mimaria420

(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby @luci-in-trenchcoats @holylulusworld @cockslut-padalecki @calaofnoldor​

[hawksugarbaby]

Bakudeku- tongue tied

Lime + Tattoo/piercer Au

A/N: TO BE CLEAR. I don't ship toxic bakugo who told Deku to kill himself with baby deku who can't stand up for himself. I ship emotionally mature, developed, redeemed bakugo who is helping deku become a hero (more evidence in the manga than anime right now) with a strong independent deku who can stand on his own feet now.

It was a slower day for the parlour today than typical but this early in the year less people were interested in getting tattoos or piercings since it was cold and people would be wearing fleecy layer over layer and covering every stretch of skin on their bones to keep warm. What was the point in permanently altering a part of you if most of you was covered up?

Of course the tattoo side of the department had it harder than the piercing side as the piercers had enough options on the face and ears to keep them going. And that was where the great Katsuki Bakugo came into play. Hovering around the parlour like a moth waiting for the lights to flicker on, the annoying buzz of his angry voice that never shut up infiltrating Izuku's ears without of a choice making him unwillingly blush whenever he said anything that caught the freckled boy off guard.

The blonde barged into the shop like he owned the place and tapped his foot at the front desk ringing the bell for service continuously until someone paid attention to him. Izuku looked at his colleagues who all turned around and pretended to work, drawing scribbles on their page for new designs which looked like toddlers artwork until it was refined and then, if they felt like it, coloured.

The green haired boy stood begrudgingly from his desk and sauntered over to the front desk to greet his most common customer. "Afternoon Kacchan" he faked a smile and ran his hand through his curly emerald locks grabbing a pen from the pot, flicking the cap off so forcefully it flew across the room like a rocket for someone else to deal with. "It's evening deku" he argued and leaned his bulging arms on the counter smiling irritatingly at izuku. "Sure whatever. What are you here for" he asked, chewing the end of his pencil and glancing from the blonde's face to his muscular arms without a second thought.

Bakugo stuck his tongue out laying it flat against his chin and stared seductively into Izuku's green eyes. His face lit up red and he closed his eyes ignoring the taller man's angry flirtations. "A t-tongue piercing then?" he stuttered, turning around to face the wall and scribble on the clipboard. "Date of birth" he asked, not looking back at the angry customer being ignored by the reason he was there in the first place. "20th of april 2037" "making you 22" Izuku muttered filling in the information on the sheet. He knew Bakugo's phone number and email by heart by now, in case the courage ever took over to message him.

"Sign here" izuku said, turning and handing the clipboard to bakugo who was cracking his fingers as if it was a time killer and pointed to the line for bakugo to sign his loopy name on. For such an aggressive personality his handwriting was saccharine, it felt ungenuine watching the way his wrist flicked so smoothly with each curve connecting every consonant and vowel. "Can I get a hole in my tongue now or?" he asked placing the board on the desk and leaving the question open ended.

"Is everyone else busy!?" izuku shouted to his coworkers who all shouted yes back not wanting to deal with bakugo's attitude when he wasn't being pierced or tattoo'd by izuku. Izuku didn't have a problem around Bakugo, the problem arose when he couldn't focus on the work because his customer was seemingly attempting to seduce the poor artist. His insistence to be with Izuku was also an issue because god forbid he be with another customer when he came in, the indistinguishable groan when he was told to wait was enough to make the customers waiting to book flee the establishment.

"I guess it'll have to be me then" he sighed and walked to the back of the shop expecting bakugo to just follow behind (which he did). Izuku spun a wide leather seat towards the blonde and slapped the seat making a loud thump and he rolled his neck cracking the bones like loud enough you'd assume they broke. "Y'know for someone who's done this too me a bunch of time's i thought i'd know you better" bakugo sighed slumping into the seat while Izuku stretched a pair of latex gloves over his thick fingers, pinging the band against his wrist then pulling the other one on fiddling with the blue rubber.

Izuku his his blooming cheeks unable to tell if bakugo meant for his words to have a double meaning or if Izuku's mind was just all the way in the gutter. "What could you possibly want to know?" he grumbled looking to bakugo from his peripherals. The red eyed male fiddled with his ash blond locks of hair trying to spike them back up but they were flopping down and plastering to his forehead. Izuku's mini studio was ludicrously warm for the beginning of the year when it's supposed to still be winter, but his box felt like a trip to hawaii! "I dunno, why'd you start tattooing and piercing and shit" he asked gulping nervously at the needles laying out on the metal counter.

Izuku turned with the clamp looped on his fingers, a sure way to shut him up and scooted his own chair forward. "Tongue out" he ordered and bakugo smirked leaning forward "very demanding of y-" Izuku rolled his eyes and caught bakugo's tongue while his mouth was open talking and pulled it out by the clamp. "Eenngg! he huuh?" ("heey! The fuck?") bakugo began to gripe incoherently and izuku pressed harder making bakugo gasp and wave his hand "eh ehh ohay ohay" ("eh ehh okay okay"). He stopped attempting to talk but rested his warm hand's just above izuku's knee's making the green haired boy burn pink.

He fiddled with the needle and held his hands in front of him until they stopped shaking and held the clamp firmly grasped on bakugo's tongue "I started tattooing because my mum was struggling with money and I wanted to help her so I found an apprenticeship. Piercing just came easy after tattooing" izuku explained thinking about his mothers partially impressed, mostly shocked when izuku came home with his first tattoo. But she never stopped him if it was what he enjoyed. "Then you became obsessed with me and now I can't leave" he chuckled.

Bakugo's eye's rounded at the sound of Izuku's sweet laugh he'd never heard before. He would have smiled if he could have but there was a needle encroaching slowly. The tip of the sharp metal balanced on his tongue and izuku checked the placement again and nodded to himself "okay i'm going to count to 3 and on three take a deep breath through your nose okay" he quirked an eyebrow and the blonde nodded hesitantly.

"Okay 1... 2... 3 deep breath" he instructed and katsuki inhaled sharply as the needle went through the pink flesh a tiny dribble of blood and izuku switched in the jewellry so quick bakugo hadn't even realised the needle went through. "And you're done. You can exhale now by the way," izuku said, keeping the clamp on his tongue for longer than he needed to just for the satisfaction of silence but of course he had to take it off sooner rather than later.

"Did' ethen hur. Fuck i hath a lithp" he rolled his eye's and wiped away the drool at the corner of his mouth. "Hard to be sexy with a lisp," Izuku threw him an icy bottle of water he barely caught before the words caught up to him. "You think i'm thexy?" "not right now I don't" he laughed and sat back in the chair leaning over the back and hanging his arms over the armrest. "In about 5 minutes when your not afraid of moving your tongue, probably" he glimpsed at the blushing blonde and sighed. "Not afraid" he mumbled "then why do you have a lisp?"

Silence.

"Exactly." izuku retorted quickly and pushed bakugo into the leather seat climbing onto it himself and sitting between bakugo's thighs and grabbing his face. "I hate you you know that" the green haired male pushed bakugo's hair out of his face giving him a clear view of his sparkling red eye's and leaned into him pressing his soft lips against bakugo's rough, cracked ones. Bakugo's hand's hovered around izuku but izuku's gloved hands pushed them down so they rested on his waist gently.

He kissed back softly trying to pull izuku back so neither were in danger of falling of the chair and nothing could be heard except the heavy breathing and their hearts hammering rapidly in their ears. Izuku pulled away resting his forehead against bakugo who was intoxicated by his lips. "I really hate you" the freckled boy muttered and put his hands on bakugo's chest separating them slightly. "Can I come back for a tattoo?" bakugo mumbled not sure what to say and Izuku snorted sliding off the chair and standing up putting his blue gloves in the bin. "Just a tattoo?" he flirted and bakugo, still trying to reboot his brain just blinked and nodded dumbfoundedly.

"Sure come back for a tattoo" izuku laughed and showed him to the door trying too brush his hair down so he wouldn't draw any attention from his coworkers. Bakugo finally formed coherent thoughts and at the door leaned next to izuku's ear "you know why I really got my tongue pierced?" izuku shook his head and bakugo dug his hand into his pocket pulling out a pill sized piece of metal and held it in front of izuku's eye's. Clicking a button on his phone it started to buzz lightly and izuku shoved him out the shop. "GO. NOW. HERE'S YOUR CARE PACKAGE" he shouted shoving a small poly-bag in his hands and slamming the door shut behind him, hard enough an earthquake line ran up the glass.

His brunette coworker bounced up to him, "SOOO" her sweet voice started and izuku shoved her away jokingly. "Get away!"

[jamaisjoons]

intro: her mini #1 ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.1k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: none! just jiminie being an adorable baby

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: I wasn’t actually going to update this series until after spooky month, but then miss Sora suggested I write a lil drabble in celebration of Jimin’s birthday and I just couldn’t resist!! However,,,, this is clearly longer than a drabble and thus ITS A MINI!!! So here we are!! // dedicated to @honeymoonjin who I love with my entire heart and soul ♡

⏤ Main Series Masterlist

“Noona!” Jimin calls out. Smiling brightly, you wave at him. The six-year-old runs towards you, his little backpack bouncing in tandem with his hair.

“Jiminie! Hi Puppy! Did you have a good day at school?” you ask, crouching down to his eye level.

“I did! Where’s Daddy?” Jimin asks, curiously looking around for his father. You bite your lip, sending him a small smile.

“Daddy had to work today, so noona is here to pick you up. Where are Taehyung and Jungkook?” you ask, looking behind him for his brothers.

“It’s Wednesday! Gukkie and Hyungie have art club!” Jimin replies, smiling brightly at you.

“Oh? Joon didn’t tell me anything about that. Okay,” you reply, a slight frown marring your face.

“Noona,” Jimin suddenly whispers, his chubby little hand tugging at your jumper as he draws your attention back to him. Turning to him, you quirk your eyebrow, watching as he nervously looks around. His little feet shuffle around and you notice that he has one hand behind his back - clearly hiding something.

“Jimin? What’s wrong Puppy? What do you have?” you question, gesturing to the hand behind his back.

“Daddy’s not here? Are you sure?” Jimin asks, his voice hushed and tone almost conspiratorial. From his tone, it seems as if he’s almost hoping Namjoon isn’t around. Cocking your eyebrow, you look at him in surprise. It’s completely unlike Jimin to not want Namjoon near him - the boy was practically attached to his father.

“Daddy’s definitely not here, no. It’s just you and me today. Is everything okay?” you ask softly. Jimin bites his lip.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Daddy?” Jimin asks, his eyes widening and lip jutting out in the cutest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. You’re at a loss for words. You wish you could promise him that - but Jimin isn’t your child and if it’s something Namjoon needs to know, then you’re almost duty-bound to tell him.

“Jimin- honey, I can’t promise that. What if Daddy needs to know?” you reply. Jimin sniffles slightly and your heart breaks a little.

“Please noona!” he begs and the slight whiny tone in his voice has you caving in with a sigh.

“How about this? You tell me first and I’ll decide whether Daddy needs to know or not?” you say, attempting a compromise. Jimin’s face scrunches up adorably, his cheeks puffing up as he ponders your offer. Then, with a nod, he thrusts the hand behind him in front. Your eyes widen when you notice the plastic bag filled with water, a fat little goldfish swimming around. From the golfball like shape and its thick domed, opalescent scales, you know it to be the Pearlscale goldfish.

“Jimin?” you wearily say. As much as Namjoon loves sea creatures, you know the boys are forbidden from having pets. They’re still too young to properly take care of them and with Namjoon’s busy schedule, he just didn’t have the time to parent three kids as well as a pet. It’s also why the boys were so incredibly close to Rap Mon - he wasn’t technically their pet, he’s yours.

“Hanbinnie’s fishie is sick! I told Hanbinnie that my Noona is a sea doctor!” Jimin says, smiling proudly at you. Your heart lurches, face softening at his use of ‘my Noona’ before he continues, “So here! Make him better!” Jimin says, a wide grin on his face as he thrusts the bag into your face. Reeling back, you startle slightly before gently taking the bag out of Jimin’s hold.

Carefully, you inspect the goldfish. It doesn’t look sick you think - but then you spot it. Cotton-like white growths form along the underbelly of the goldfish, obscuring the iridescent orange scales. You frown slightly. A fungal disease? It’s not particularly contagious - however, it can lead to fatality - even in hardy creatures such as goldfish. Though, from what you know of the Pearlscale goldfish, they’re incredibly sensitive and vulnerable to changes in temperature or pH; and with the weather getting colder, it’s no wonder that the fish caught a fungal disease. It does, after all, only occur due to stress and a lowered immune system. Once done examining the fish, you let out a deep exhale.

“Puppy,” you sigh, “goldfish die sometimes. They’re not pets people keep for a long time,” you continue, trying to be as delicate as possible. The minute the words leave your lips, however, Jimin’s eyes begin tearing up, his cute little button nose turning rose as his bottom lip quivers.

“No! Noona, please! Save the fishie,” Jimin cries, little whimpers escaping his mouth. Instantly, your heart breaks and you gather the sobbing boy into your arms. Jimin clutches your shirt tightly, little fists curling into the material as his tears soak into the fabric.

“Oh honey,” you coo, gently petting his head as you try to console him. Jimin always did have the biggest heart in the world and he loves animals - you know from the way he gets excited every time Namjoon brings him over to the aquarium and he gets starry-eyed - or the way he cuddles up and strokes Rap Mon while telling your pup about his day. Indeed, Jimin has the biggest heart in the world - and apparently, just the thought of someone else’s fish, not even his own, passing away, has him crying in your embrace.

“Please noona,” Jimin sobs, little hiccups escaping him. Taking in a deep breath, you put him at arm's length. You cup his face in your hand, your thumbs brushing away his tears before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Jimin snivels under your ministration, body slightly relaxing in your hold. Then, you hand him the water-filled bag and easily pick him up into your arms.

“Alright, Puppy. Let’s see what we can do, yeah?” you finally say. Jimin’s lips curl into a large, watery smile.

“Yes! Thank you Noona!” he cries, laying his head on the crook of your neck before snuggling into you as he delicately holds the goldfish.

Face softening, you pull him tighter into you as you walk to your car. How hard could it be to treat a goldfish after all?

Sitting in your lab, you carefully move the goldfish from the bag and into an antiseptic, empty tank - of course, after making sure the tank’s conditions were suitable for it. Jimin stands close to you, hands on the table as he peers over the edge, watching you carefully. He’s barely tall enough to overlook your actions and even as he stands on his tiptoes, only the top of his head and his eyes make it over the counter ledge. Carefully, you grip onto the fish, making sure to keep your clutch gentle while also holding firmly enough so it doesn’t slip out of your grasp - not that your latex glove covered hands are helping.

Plopping it into the tank, you watch as it frantically swims around its new location. Undoubtedly, it’s stressed - not only from your handling of the creature - but also from its new environment. Hopefully, however, it acclimatises pretty quickly. You know that additional stress can lead to white spot disease - and considering the fish is already ill, you want to avoid any further strain on its immune system.

As you leave it to get acclimatised, you move along to gathering the different equipment you’d need to treat it. Jimin watches you with hawk-like eyes before he begins following you around like a lost puppy. Once you’ve gathered the correct equipment and treatments, you take a seat at your laboratory counter once again.

You begin by undoing the filter from the tank, taking out the active carbon as swiftly as you can before replacing it: after all, the fish needs clean water if you want it to recover as soon as possible. When you replace the filter once again, you feel Jimin tug at your trousers. Turning to him, you let out a little laugh as he holds onto the legs of your slacks, his little body jumping as he attempts to crawl into your lap.

Unsnapping the gloves from your hands, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your lap. Jimin grins at you before shifting into a more comfortable position. Your arms cage his body as you resume working on the fish. Jimin’s eyes follow your exact movements, watching as you reach out for a little brown glass bottle. He turns to you, his head tilting up slightly.

“What’s that noona?” Jimin asks, curiosity laced through his voice.

“Methylene Blue,” you hum back in response, not really thinking about your answer. Jimin’s features twist, his face falling.

“What’s what?” he asks. You stop, letting out a little laugh.

“Sorry honey,” you apologise. You’d completely forgotten that Jimin is simply a six-year-old and not a trained veterinarian like you are, “it’s a type of medicine. To treat your friend’s fish,” you explain. Jimin nods in response, turning back to watch you carefully unscrew the lid before he once again turns back to you.

“Can I help?” he inquires, his head tilting to the side. A smile curls on your lips before you nod at him. Jimin grins brightly in response before excitedly placing his little, chubby hands on the back of your own. His hands follow yours as you treat the tank with a few drops of the solution, watching as the colour of the water tints blue.

“Is that it?” Jimin asks, his body moving forward as he stares at the fish in interest. With a chuckle you shake your head, instead, reaching for another bottle.

“Not just yet. We need to add the freshwater aquarium salt and then let the fish do the rest. Hopefully, it will recover soon,” you reply gently. Jimin nods enthusiastically.

“Hanbinnie will be so happy! I can’t wait to give him back his fishie and tell him my noona made him better!” Jimin happily says as he kicks his legs enthusiastically. Once again, your heart swells at his use of ‘my noona’.

“Would you like to add the salt, Puppy?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you even think about them. Jimin sits up in interest, his entire body perking up as he nods frantically.

“Yes, please! Can I?” he asks, the words racing out of his mouth as he buzzes with excitement. A light laugh leaves your lips and you stroke his head before nodding. Taking the bottle in your hand, you measure out the appropriate amount into a beaker before handing him the glass jar.

“Okay, just sprinkle this over the water and then we’re done!” you reply. Jimin carefully takes the beaker into his little palms, the jar almost dwarfing his hands. Then, with the utmost look of concentration and his little tongue poking out of his plump lips, he carefully sprinkles the salt over the water.

“Like this?” he asks, nervously turning to you.

“Just like that!” you reply, arms automatically wrapping around his plump little belly. Jimin keens under your praise, smiling brightly as his eyes turn into little half-moons. When he’s done, he places it back down and leans his head into the crook of your neck, watching as you finish off by stirring the water - as gently as you can to not disturb the goldfish - so the salt mixes in.

“All done! Now, I’ll need to keep Hanbin’s fish here in the lab under observation for a couple of days. But when he’s healthy again, you can come and get him and give him back to Hanbin, is that okay?” you ask. Jimin nods eagerly.

“Yes! Thank you noona! You’re the best!” Jimin responds before twisting in your arms and hugging you tightly. Your face softens as you once again wrap your arm around him.

“Mhm. Are you ready to head home now?” you ask and Jimin nods once again before hopping off the chair and running to grab his coat. Laughingly, you follow him before helping him put on his jacket and wrap up warm. Then, you hold out your hand, letting Jimin’s mitten covered one grab it.

“Come on then. I’m sure Daddy, Taehyungie and Jungkookie are waiting for us,” you say as you lead him out of your lab. Before you do, however, he stops and looks at you with curious eyes. Turning to him, you cock an eyebrow as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Noona… do you think I could become a sea doctor?” Jimin asks. Your eyebrows shoot into your hairline at his sudden question, surprise filling you.

“Hmm. You’d have to work hard, but I don’t see why not,” you finally reply. Your words cause him to beam brightly at you, a toothy smile on his lips as his eyes squish together.

“Then I’m going to become a sea doctor! Just like you noona!” Jimin calls out cheerily. And with that, he tugs you out of your own lab.

a/n: i sincerely hoped you enjoyed this cute lil mini of jimin and yn,,, because I know I enjoyed writing it 🥺 please lemme know what you think!!! // intro her will officially return in november!!

[gaycrouton]

A Long-Standing Curiosity

This is a part of my "Countdown" Series, where I play with the "X" times Mulder and Scully "X" trope. 10-2 will be UST-y with the final one being their first time.

This one is Five times Scully was reminded of Mulder’s impressive size. NSFW

I - A Hint (S1)

Whenever Mulder dragged her over to the Gunmen's, she felt a wicked sense of dejavu from her years of being a tagalong little sister. When her parents were out and Missy was busy, Bill was saddled with the duty of watching her. He'd hang out with his friends, usually riding bikes around the neighborhood while she exerted herself trying to keep up, her equilibrium tilting back and forth from training wheel to training wheel scraping against the pavement.

She was the outsider, but she wanted to be included.

"Some spies are said to keep asps in their pockets in preparation for a quick suicide," Frohike proclaimed. For what reason, she didn't know.

"I heard that too," Langly agreed. "That when they feel they've been compromised, they just aggravate the asp into biting them and releasing their venom."

"Like the historical myth about Cleopatra," she added, wanting to contribute since she hadn't been able to chime in during the last several conversations.

The three unfamiliar men looked over at her with a quizzical look. Much like in the summer days spent with Bill's friend, she'd distanced herself more in an attempt to bridge the gap. She squirmed in her seat under their attention, but she didn't lower her eyes, meeting them each with a raised eyebrow that said "What? I'm right."

"Myth?" Mulder asked, drawing her attention to the corner of the room where he was lounging comfortably. Whereas Bill would look over his shoulder, just to make sure she was still there before taking off even faster, Mulder kept a steady gaze on her, unwilling to let her fall behind. "It's a fact she killed herself with an asp," he challenged.

The Gunmen's heads went back and forth with each volley of this proverbial match. "No, it's not. Despite the paintings of Reginald Arthur and Michel Corneille or the writing of Shakespeare making millions believe she held an asp to her breast after the death of Antony, historians have proven that it was either the stab of a sharp implement like a hairpin or a toxic ointment that caused her death."

"I'd never heard that before, that's really interesting," Byers remarked, offering her a sincere smile.

Mulder was nodding at her with what appeared to be pride as she explained this. "That does make a lot more sense than someone just having a snake in their pants at the ready," Mulder teased, turning his attention over to the more eccentric two of the trio.

"Why? You do it all the time," Frohike joked, causing Langly to cackle.

"Except he's packing a python instead of an asp," Langly added, smiling wider as Mulder grew redder.

And just like all those years ago, the group of boys defaulted to dick jokes. Except Mulder wasn't her brother, and she was a woman now. Hearing them talk so openly about a topic she'd mentally sanctioned as taboo made her eyes widen and her curiosity flare.

"How many women you bite with that thing, Mulder?" Frohike, teased.

Scully observed as Mulder's previous position of comfort became tense as his eyes flickered over to see how she was reacting to the crude locker room talk. The ease with which the comments rolled off his friends' tongues made her think that this wasn't unusual talk for them nor that it was unfounded. The only thing that seemed out of place was Mulder's embarrassment.

"Guys, come on," he chastised, glaring at them while motioning his head towards her.

Frohike looked at her and coughed away his chuckling. "Sorry, Agent Scully."

She waved her hand in front of her face in dismissal. "It doesn't bother me."

But a nagging curiosity in the back of her mind now was.

II - A Glimpse (S2)

Scully didn't even realize it until afterwards. A flash of a bulge in her memory coming unexpected like an after shock in an earthquake.

She was standing at her kitchen counter, sipping from a glass of water with a shaky hand while Mulder's weapon sat next to the sink. Her body was exhausted from the effort of removing Mulder's clothes without any help from the double-her-size man. She'd stumbled back into her bookshelf when his pants finally came free and she'd been too worried about waking him to realize what she'd just uncovered, but now that she was calming down, she could recollect it perfectly.

An elongated bulge in his briefs, resting innocently on his upper thigh.

Elongated.

She hadn't really seen anything. Not in the flesh at least.

But in the morning when she checked on him, after he'd shucked the comforter off in his sleep, she was greeted with the same visual she knew she should be politely ignoring: Mulder's impressive, albeit flaccid, penis.

She stood next to him in the silence of her bedroom and looked down at it - a one woman gallery to an amazing show. Was he a shower or a grower?

Despite the fact that question was running through her mind, many were presently answered. He was big, showing or growing be damned, and he wasn't a Jewish stereotype.

III - A Brush (S4)

"Well, you could lock the door to the office," Mulder offered, accidentally brushing against Scully's back before leaning away from her.

"Folks know I never lock the door," Sheriff Taylor responded in an uncompromising tone. Adding, "They'd start rumors," as an afterthought.

She'd been reaching for the gloves, preparing to slide them over her hands, when he shut the bathroom door. As he did this, Mulder took a few shuffling steps closer to her so he could make himself fit in the tiny room. It probably was no larger than her wingspan, but half of the area was taken by either the sink or the toilet, making it so they had no room to shuffle. She could feel his knees and chest against her, so she could tell he was trying to lean his hips back to avoid pressing against her.

However, as she snapped the latex gloves on, he tried to readjust his footing and something ended up brushing against her ass. A significant something.

Her eyes froze on the blue lip of the faux-autopsy-table lunch tray laying in front of her as her brain quickly caught up to what her body instinctively recognized. Scully turned her head, too surprised at what she was feeling to acknowledge how close his face was.

Mulder was obviously aware of what caused her look and he smoothly deadpanned, "Oh, that was my penlight," acting as if their bodies touching so intimately was just a run of the mill occurrence.

"Oh," she murmured, turning back to the tray. "I thought a longstanding curiosity had just been satisfied," she replied, with feigned despondency before intaking a breath and widening her eyes.

"What an awfully big and warm penlight you have," was the response she wished she could have said.

Mulder moaned in appreciation low next to her ear and it sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of him pressed against her on top of his warm breath tickling her ear began to feel overwhelming, so she pulled back the sheet to kill the mood instantly.

IV - A Tease (S6)

A four hour stakeout? No problem. Six? Manageable. Ten? They were going insane.

It was one thing when they were on the X-Files. A stakeout then usually didn't last too long. But now under Kersh's orders, they were stuck with grunt work that was redundant and usually fruitless.

During the first time they'd endured this, Mulder had come up with some hairbrained twist on a children's game so they could pass the time. After a few rounds, it became perfectly clear that the game was just them asking questions back and forth, and they decided to just do that unabashedly. "You're my friend, Scully. I just want to know more about you. Why hide behind a game?" he smirked, bumping her leg with his.

After he'd said it, she was reminded of a night only a couple of years ago where Eddie Van Bluhndt had given her a similar sentiment. Mulder had just gone on and on about a potential X-File for hours before that, so she had no doubts that this was her Mulder in the flesh, but that made it a little more intimidating than it was back then. She knew he'd always harbored some anger towards what had happened with Eddie, not at her but at himself, and she had an inkling that this was an attempt at him doing what she'd inadvertently demonstrated she wanted.

It was initially awkward for them both, but at the end of the day - they truly did just want to learn more about each other.

However, this was now their third stakeout and they'd exhausted awkward high school stories and menial facts about themselves. She supposed it was that, plus the hours of boredom under their belts that led him down this line of questioning.

"What's your bra size?" he asked, shifting in the driver's seat while trying to find a good position.

His last question had been "When did you get your first fish?" so the abrupt topic change made her start in her seat.

Scully turned to him, and didn't see any traces of humor on his face. It was like he'd just asked what her shoe size was. "My bra size?" she repeated.

There it was. A little smile on his lips as the sides of his eyes crinkled with mirth. He turned to her, his smile widening when he didn't see any angry indignation on her face, and he replied, "Yeah."

If he was going to blame their exhaustion for his boldness, so could she. "Guess."

Without even looking he replied, "34B."

Her mouth dropped as she turned to him. "Cheater!"

He laughed and held up his hands. "How?" he asked in shocked amusement.

"How did you know, you didn't even look?" She knew it was stupid as soon as the statement left her mouth. Him not looking now was his way of subtly telling her he'd looked enough in the past to have it committed to memory.

He lowered his head ever so slightly closer to her and murmured, "I thought that would have been improper of me." Her eyes fluttered to the stubble coming through across his jaw and she was brought back by the shrug of his shoulders. "But, if you insist," he declared dramatically before letting his gaze fall to her chest.

She elbowed him playfully and chuckled as he mockingly rubbed his arm. "Ow, ow, okay. Your turn."

Feeling emboldened by his question, she decided she wanted to satisfy a curiosity of her own once and for all. "How big are you?"

"Six foot even," he replied innocently. He knew damn well what she meant and his cocky grin told her that he just wanted to hear her say it.

"No. How big is your…" she stumbled over word choice. Cock was vulgar, dick sounded childish, penis sounded clinical - what effect did she want to go for? "...cock," she settled on defiantly. The last word was slightly softer than the rest and she felt the friction of every consonant in the back of her throat as her mouth opened around the vowel. She'd never realized how, if said right, the word was like an oral invitation for the namesake.

His nostrils flared in response to her bold choice and a devilish gleam twinkled in his eye. She knew what he was going to do as soon as the smile erupted across his face. "Guess."

She swallowed thickly and turned her attention to the streetlamps littering the street, wanting to appear as indifferent as he had. "Well, from the glimpses I've seen over the years-" she started with a lilt.

"Glimpses?" he asked in surprise.

She turned to him with a coquettish smile and explained, "Mulder, I'm your doctor, and you're reckless. I've seen it all."

It was too dark to see fully, but if she could trust her eyes, he was blushing. "What's your verdict, Doc?"

"Six inches," she stated firmly.

He nodded amusedly and she was just about ready to gloat when he murmured, "Half right."

"Half right?" she replied quizzically.

He turned to her and smoothly told her, "You're assuming I'm a shower."

Bigger than six inches.

"Okay, okay," she mused. "Five inches flaccid, seven inches erect."

"Good guess," he smirked.

"But you said-"

He shifted in his seat and her attention was inadvertently drawn to the ever present mound in his lap. "Six inches flaccid, eight and a half erect," he replied.

She sat there stunned for a moment and was flustered when he waved his hand in front of her face and sang, "Earth to Scully."

"I don't believe you," she laughed breathlessly.

"Even about this?" he chuckled.

"Mulder, the average is five inches. Anything above eight is so rare," she explained, trying not to think about what he could do to her with that thing.

"Wanna see it?" he teased, undoing his belt.

Mulder was just joking. She knew that. But her gaze fell into his lap anyway, eagerly committing the image of his fingers deftly undoing his belt to memory. She couldn't find her voice to stop him, so she just sat there watching him.

When the anticipated words of 'Mulder' or 'stop' didn't happen, his hands faltered and he paused, watching her until she met his gaze while he held part of his undone belt in both hands. His eyes were curious, but there was a tint of something else. Something she only saw when she dreamed of him. "Scully?" his voice came out as a whisper.

A loud banging sound reverberated through the empty streets as a woman started screaming at the top of her lungs. "Shit," Scully swore, hopping out of the car as she ran towards the suspect fleeing the scene.

V - A Curiosity Satisfied (S7)

After coming to Los Angeles spur of the moment, following an unseen fear monster around for the entire night, watching multiple people die, and having to deal with infuriating pests following their every move with cameras - they were exhausted.

She'd been asleep in the car the entire time it took him to drive back to their shitty motel, and when he woke her up, it was only so she could reassure him they did everything they could and all but collapse face first into her mattress. The only thing she could physically muster up the energy to do was take off her shoes and coat.

However, her sleep was interrupted by Mulder's staggered breathing from the other room, more audible to her because their adjoining rooms were still open. It was common for Mulder to have nightmares, but there had been a definite spike because of the stress from the last few weeks.

It had become a bit of an unspoken pact as of late between them that if one of them was having a nightmare, the other would just sleep next to them. It was simple and innocent, just carnal comfort of having another person near.

Scully sniffed lightly as she pulled herself off the mattress, trying to shake her exhaustion away for long enough to get to him. She grabbed the warm pillow she'd been resting on and hugged it against her chest as she shuffled across the floor to the adjoining doorway.

Along with the staggered breathing, she could hear him grunting lightly. Her eyes were barely open, but her lip tugged downward in empathy. He'd just worked so hard and he can't even find solace in his dreams.

She made it to the doorway when her eyes registered more flesh than what she'd anticipated. Blinking the sight in front of her into view, she had to bite down on her lip to suppress a gasp.

Mulder was lying on his back, his boxers shoved around his knees, and he was pumping a massive erection with a vigorous fist.

Two. Two fists.

The sight alone was like a shot of adrenaline to her system and she felt a coiling in her gut. When he wasn't fucking his hands, he was using one to rub his precum over his head while the other fondled his balls. Mulder's face was contorted in pleasure, sweaty and flush, as his hips lifted off the bed.

Her feet felt like lead on the floor and she didn't know what to do. Go to him? Run away? Watch?

Mulder's breath continued to hitch as he continued his thrusts, but he was becoming erratic and she realized she was stumbling in at the tail end of it. She wasn't sure how long she'd just been asleep for, but Mulder had worked himself into a frenzy and he wasn't going to be able to hold it in for much longer.

She knew she should leave, but she didn't want to. She wanted to see Mulder in his most primal form. His eyes opened for a moment and she felt excitement run though her body like a shiver. Not fear. Not worry. She was excited at the idea of him knowing she was watching him.

But when his eyes opened, it was just to rip off the shirt he's been wearing and throw it to the floor, rolling over to grab a box of kleenex and setting it next to him on the bed before continuing.

His eyes fluttered shut as he resumed his frantic pace, his arms working so hard she could see the muscles in his biceps flexing. He looked so long and lean like this, wearing nothing but tangled boxers and arousal.

Mulder's mouth dropped open and she knew he was coming undone. His back arched off the bed as he ground himself into his hands, spurting thick lines of come all over his abdomen. Her groin felt heavy and swollen from her own arousal and the sight made her want to go over to him and beg him to finish her off. She was hugging the pillow she'd brought so tightly to her chest that she could feel her own heartbeat through it.

Mulder's breathing slowly started to return to normal as he grabbed some tissues and started cleaning himself up. It took a few wipes, but once he was done, he lifted his hips and gently eased his boxers over his hips.

Not wanting to be caught, as quietly as she could, she tiptoed back into her room and into her own bed. Now it was her turn for her breathing to turn erratic. Scully could hear Mulder's sheets shifting around, presumably from him trying to get comfortable.

Deciding that it was unlikely he'd get up and mimic what she just did, she let her hand slide down her abdomen and under the elastic of her underwear as she thought about the best eight and a half inches she'd ever seen.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Other finished “Countdown” parts

10 times Mulder and Scully were as intimate as a couple

6 times Mulder saw Scully in her underwear

4 times they got a little too close

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.3

a/n: I just saw a post with Overhaul without his jacket... BRUH. the infinite possibilities of--- yeah I’ll save that for the next parts XD enjoy the 3rd part :)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, cursing(?), subtle flirting

Links: part 1, part 2, part 4

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased​ @infinite-universe-love​

“Okay.” Tsukauchi said as he took the seat across from you. His outstretched hand returning the envelope he had cross-checked. “There really will be a gala at the said area at the said date.”

“Who are the possible plus ones I can bring?” You asked. Your eyes glued to your desktop. As of the moment, you were digging up some articles about one of the minor cases you were working on. Of course, you could skim through articles and talk to your workmate. It was as easy as breathing by now.

“There’s only 3 possible candidates.” He began to enumerate. “Me. Shinezu. Namase.”

“Shinezu?” You stopped reading and stared at him. “You’re kidding me right?”

“Perhaps~” He joked. “I mean it would be nice to bring him along and expose him to the outside world. The kid needs a social life. All locked up in his office. Only going out when absolutely necessary. The exposure would do him good.”

Your focus glided to Shinezu’s office. It wasn’t for you to judge but it was clear as day he was happy as a loner and would dread any sort of unwanted communication. The fact that he was even part of this small select group of people was a miracle itself. Though, you had to admire his intellect. Nothing went past him.

“I was actually planning on taking the man himself.” You broke the news. Somehow that sentence caused your heart to pick up its speed by a little. The sound of Tsukauchi’s chair rolling towards you caused a bit of discomfort. “Think about it. He has more ties than I will ever have and his quirk would surely intimidate the boss. It’s a gamble on my part as to how he would carry himself but he’s level-headed. So far.”

“You sure about that?” His voice was much nearer now.

“Nope.” There was no use in lying to this person. “I’m just pulling threads here. But, his title might draw me closer to the main goal here. Besides, I’d like to see him without that horrendous jacket.”

“You’re not being affected by his charm now, are you?” Tsukauchi pried as he slowly went back to his work space. “We all know just how manipulative he can get.”

Gathering a few folders and envelopes, you placed them onto your bag. Fixing your hair, you stood up and went towards his area. Leaning onto the partition, you fixed the strap of your bag and crossed your arms.

“I don’t like being interrogated, Nao.” You said. “But if it gives peace to your running mind, here is my answer. I’m being as cautious as I can be. There’s nothing more to it.”

You waited for a response but by the looks of it he was either using his quirk on you or he was satisfied with your answer. The latter, hopefully. Excusing yourself, you exited the precinct and looked for the nearest coffee shop. If there was one thing the office needed, it was better coffee.

Your nearest bet was a 5 minute walk from where you stood. Looking at your watch, you had a couple of minutes to spare before interviewing a few civilians. Beginning your short walk, your mind drifted back to the plus one. Tsukauchi didn’t give you the go signal for it. Was this now all on you or would you have to consult him one more time?

Your hand was now fiddling with your phone in your pocket. Trying to single out the possibilities were rather tricky. The neon sign for the shop was now above you. You had been so lost in thought that you failed to realize you had arrived at your destination. Leaning on the door, you dragged yourself in and waited in line.

With the events going on, this called for a sweet drink. Something with chocolate in it. A sugar rush was something you needed.

You were currently the 3rd person in line. Pulling your phone out, you checked for any notifications. There was one. Clicking it open, it stated that the meeting you scheduled to have for next week had been pushed to today. Picturing your schedule, you had some free time later in the afternoon. Nodding, you sent out a reply and moved a step forward.

The day had just begun and things were starting to become busy. Thank gods the coffee shop smelled amazing. The exposed beans generously spread out its aroma around the cafe. Soft jazz music played in the background, enough to blend in with the buzzing chit chats of customers. A hint of mayoram and geranium gifted your sense of smell.

‘Wait..’ Your eyes began to scan the area. There was only one person whose wallet could afford such a scent.

“For an officer,” Overhaul said from behind you. “You’re quite slow.”

Pivoting, you were face to face with him. A new and very identical jacket replacing the old one. However, there was something off about his look today. His golden orbs simply stared back at you. Taking in your puzzled features. Then it hit you. A gasp escaped your mouth.

“Did the bird fly away or is this a new look?” He was without the bird beak. Instead, a simple black mask covered the lower half of his face. What was he hiding underneath that mask? Did he have a scar on his lip? A burn? If his eyes were breathtaking, what could possibly even out such a marvel? Subtly, you shook your head. What in the world were you thinking?

“I choose whether or not to wear the mask.” He replied. His latex wrapped hands motioning you to move forward. “This is one of the cleanest cafes that live up to my standards. It may not look like it but the smell of coffee beans are rather attractive.”

“It’s been a while, (Y/N)!” The employee greeted you. She giggled at how she broke your train of thought. It was something she barely got to see after all. “Will you have the usual?”

“Uh, N-no. For today, I’d like a choco chip supreme with less ice.” Your cheeks began to burn up as you had stuttered. Reaching for your wallet, you felt a foot gently kicking you. Looking up at the source, you stepped aside and waited for his move.

“2 Americano’s.” Overhaul ordered. In the corner of his eyes, he saw how your cheeks were beginning to turn a faint shade of red. As expected, this was interesting for him. “I’ll pay for her order as well.”

“You don’t have to.” You put up your palms and were only met with silence as he handed the payment.

“Put it under her name.” He instructed the employee to which she agreed. When both of you were given the line to wait for your orders, Overhaul signed for you to follow him to a vacant table near the window. Pulling the seat, he waited for you to sit down. To which you did.

“What do you want, Overhaul?”

“Can I not spend time with the person I’m assisting?” His hands remained on his lap. Sure, the table was clean but he wasn’t taking chances. Glancing at the window, his stare glued to the black car parked across the street. He could imagine Chrono inside slowly losing his patience. “I merely wanted an update for your plus one.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Bring the first person that pops in your mind.” He tilted his head once more. “Isn’t that how you people think?”

“So you’re not a person?”

“I’m clean compared to you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a clean person.” You pouted and pointed your index at him. The way his eyes widened with fear at the possible contamination was rather amusing. “You just wouldn’t know because you're afraid of dust. I bet your immune system is low.”

“Hmph. On the contrary, my health is pristine and well taken care of. I simply choose not to touch filthy people like you. I do make exceptions every now and then.”

“They must be blessed.” You rolled your eyes and the sound of your name broke through the jazz and chatter. “Well, make yourself useful and get our orders.”

“Of course.”

That had to make you wonder. He did not flinch, show any signs of annoyance, or even scoff at your command. Instead, Overhaul silently lifted his chair and made his way towards the counter. Seeing him bow as he received the beverages was weird. For someone who murders people, he sure is polite when it comes to mannerisms. Perhaps, those traits of his were already present. Even before becoming a villain.

When he sat back down, he took a tissue and wrapped it around your cold drink. Placing it in front of you along with the straw.

“Be my plus one.” You blurted out. Your view focused on him.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood up and lowered his head. “I shall pick you up at 6. Is that fine?”

“Yeah.”

“If nothing else, I shall leave you be. Chronostasis must be fuming by now.” Before turning to leave, he had the audacity to add. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Following his body, you stared as he crossed the street and entered the same car he had been eyeing at.

Inside the car. Overhaul closed his eyes and listened to the small complaints his companion had. The visit to the shop was never intended but when he saw your figure walking down the street and entering the quaint shop, the decision to stop the car only caused Chrono to wonder.

Handing him the bird mask, he watched as his boss wore the contraption.

“Send the RSVP later.” He instructed. His voice muffled once again. “Use the alias we usually hand out for events like this. And call in the tailor. I’ll be needing a new suit.”

“That woman has taken your interests.” He commented.

“No.”

“Then why bother following her?”

“I did not follow her, Kurono.” He corrected his assistant. “It was merely chance running into her at this time of day. Besides, it’s amusing how she does not seem to hold such fear when I am around.”

Curling the sleeves of his jacket, he observed his skin. Not a sign of breakouts. In his subtle attempts to place himself close to you, he had come to the conclusion that you were relatively pure. Save for your quirk of course.

Speaking of quirk, there were still no updates regarding that information. Imagining the sum of money the Abegawa Tenchu Kai had to pay to keep that hidden was something he had to praise. The same could be said for his real name. Did you even know what his name was? Or were you left with redacted articles regarding that?

Closing his eyes once more, his thoughts went to the headquarters where his experiments were now running a bit late. Still, a few minutes delay was something he could live by.

Meanwhile, you were now preparing what explanation to give Tsukauchi. You had already given him a reasonable explanation as to why you would want to go with Overhaul. It also wouldn’t be the first time you would inform him of such unconventional choices you made. Ruffling your hair, you clicked your tongue and took a deep sip. “Uhm, (Y/N)?”

From the window, your view shifted to the employee. In her hand was a tray with a blueberry cheesecake. A shy smile resting on her feminine features. Scratching her nape, she let out an awkward giggle.

“The man told me to give you this after he left.” She said as she placed the dessert on the shiny brown surface.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You stared at the cheesecake and immediately took your phone. Looking for the unknown number, you were only hoping that this was his personal number and not one that would alert the whole Shie Hassaikai. Sending the message with a rapidly beating heart, you cursed yourself for feeling this way.

To calm you down, you scrolled a little further and finally dialed your partner.

“Nao. I’m taking Bird boy with me.”

A long sigh was heard on the other side of the call. If you could bet money, you were sure he was massaging the bridge of his nose and leaning onto his chair.

“As much as I do not trust him, that would have to be the best decision for now,”

That went… smoother than you had initially thought.

“What’d you just gather?” Curiosity lacing your voice.

“A lot of big names are invited but we noticed that a handful of them are villains. Notably Akuji, Nokusu, and if our records are right, Tamisura.”

“Shit.”

----

are yall enjoying the story so far? :’) comment or message me if you want to be a part of Overhaul’s waiting list or any questions about the story :)

[badacts]

Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Jason Dick and Ja

this is pretty ridiculous, but so are dick and jason, so

also the premise of this is admittedly a little grim, but also it’s the two-dudes-and-a-baby trope ft. dick grayson: no idea about babies

Shooter versus pre-Christmas shoppers in an East Side mall. Civilian only, no masks. It’s a bloodbath, and Dick’s only here in time for the cleanup.

“O,” he says on the way down to ground level, “Send whoever’s free and whatever supplies they’ve got. I’m going to start triaging.”

The part of being a bat that goes without saying is that they’re also, when required, first responders. It’s not the first time he’s ever worked alongside GCPD during a mass casualty, and it won’t be the last.

It’s also the part of the job that gets the closest to turning his stomach. The screaming and the crying and the systematic first identifications of who needs help and who they’re too late for - it’s awful.

He gets to work anyway. 

The paramedics from the first ambulance on the scene take charge, arranging the transport of the worst-off victims and coordinating the further arrivals. Dick does as he’s ordered and works on stabilising some of the seriously wounded, working to keep them from going critical. He goes through his supply of wound dressings quick, nodding his thanks when an EMT shoves another pile onto him on her way past.

He’s not the only mask out: it’s a busy night in Gotham, but he catches sight of Batgirl across the roiling crowd as well as the shadow of Cass’s silhouette against the rolling blue-red-blue lights. The flash of a more vivid red in the corner of his eye makes him think, Red Robin, but it’s not the right colour, and definitely not the right shape for Tim. Jason, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up over his forearms and wearing latex gloves, is putting a pressure bandage on a teenager’s upper arm.

“Hi, Nightwing,” an unfamiliar voice says in a familiar I’m-here-to-take-over tone. “Hi ma’am. You’re up for a ride in the next taxi.”

His patient is most of the way unconscious, but she blinks at this in vague acknowledgment. She’s avoided a bullet, but broken her leg badly enough in the crush of the fleeing crowd to show bone. 

“There’s the leg, and I suspect some kind of crush injury to the abdomen,” Dick supplies, moving to make room for the stretcher. “I think she got trampled. Not very responsive either.”

“Any drugs on board?” The EMT asks, hands moving deftly.

“I don’t carry any.” And if he did, he would have used it all up about five victims ago.

“That explains a lot about you,” the EMT says. "We’ve got another two buses here to take the last of the seriously injured over to General, and backup from the GCPD. If you want to move onto patching the walking wounded, go ahead. Anyone who’s good with some disinfectant and a bandaid can head over to talk with the cops.”

Dick nods and gives the woman a last squeeze to her forearm before he clears out of the way. The walking wounded are congregated on the other side of the street, but he doesn’t go in that direction - his priority is still helping, but it’s amazing how even injured people get curious when faced by a Gotham vigilante in the flesh. That’s really not the way he wants to have his identity outed.

Instead, he heads over to Jason’s side where he’s handing off his own patient for transport, their thigh strapped tight with pressure dressings. Jason, standing and snapping his gloves off, says, “Old man.”

“Hood,” Dick says, but he’s thinking Little Wing because he always is when it’s the two of them. They’re drawing looks now even in the dim streetlights - probably Jason, all six-two of him topped with that stupid shiny helmet. “You sticking around?”

“If I -” Jason says, and then breaks off. At the same time as Jason’s head tilts, Dick hears it: a quiet crying, just barely audible in the din.

Dick’s ears are good, but Jason has to have the advantage of auditory enhancement in his hood because he zones in on the noise like a hunting dog. “I think that’s-”

There’s an alley with an access door at the end of it illuminated with a shitty fluorescent branching off the street. It’s otherwise dark as any other Gotham alley, crowded with dumpsters. It takes Dick a moment to pick the odd thing out - a crumpled figure hidden amidst the trash cans.

He makes it to their side first, finding a glaze-eyed young woman clasping something to her chest. The cognitive dissonance of her silence and the now-louder crying catches him out, but Jason catches on quick.

“-a baby,” he finishes, taking a knee on the woman’s other side. He moves as though to slip the bundle from her arms, but her arms tighten even as she hisses in reaction.

“It’s okay,” Dick says to her, “We’re here to help you both. What’s your name?”

She seems to come around a little, eyes flicking between the two of them. She stays quiet for a long moment, and then rasps, “Uh, Mira. You’re Nightwing.”

“Hi, Mira,” Dick says. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, uh, my shoulder,” she says, and then her eyelids flutter like she’s about to pass out. Dick takes her pulse from her throat and finds it comfortingly strong.

“And your baby?” Dick asks. The bundle certainly sounds lively enough at this distance, but that doesn’t mean they’re not hurt.

“She’s okay,” Mira says, like she’s reassuring herself. “She’s okay. Can you?” 

Which is how Dick finds himself accepting an armful of bawling baby from a wincing, bleeding woman in an alley. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

Meanwhile, Jason focusses on peeling Mira’s jacket away to reveal a nasty gunshot to the shoulder, high enough that it’s probably mostly missed her right lung but low enough to avoid rebounding off her scapula and bouncing around in her chest cavity. Non-vital, but bleeding badly. 

Mira watches Jason take out a patch dressing and seal it over the wound. She puffs, “I thought…you were…a bad guy.”

“I’m flexible,” Jason replies distractedly, taking out a roll of gauze and wrapping it tight around the shoulder for good measure. “You’re lucky. Little surgery, little hospital stay, you’ll be right as rain.”

That’s no guarantee - she could have more serious injuries than it seems, could get a secondary infection, could drop dead of a thousand different complications or unfair turns of fate in the next hour. However, Dick knows Jason isn’t the type to lie to anyone for comfort. If he’s saying it, he believes it.

Mira’s eyes bulge. “I can’t go…to hospital!”

“Sugar, the one benefit of living in Gotham is the rich folks like to pay hospital bills to assuage their guilt or whatever. Take advantage of that,” Jason advises, and then says to Dick, “Move.”

Dick steps to the side automatically, still holding his squealing burden. “What?”

“No, move. Babies like to move.”

“Oh.” Stiff-armed and feeling like the clumsiest man on earth, Dick sort of…sways. “Like this?”

“Oh my days, Nightwing,” Jason says, in the precise tone he’d usually say ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Dick’. Apparently, he doesn’t deem that language appropriate for the baby. Or maybe Mira.

“I can’t,” Mira interrupts, “I can’t go. They - They’ll take her.”

Jason stiffens a touch in his crouch. Dick says, “Who?”

“The cops,” Mira gasps. “The - CPS. They’ll take her. I won’t get her back.” Her teeth are chattering - shock. 

“You got hurt,” Dick says, attempting a bounce on his toes. He feels a bit like he’s holding a small angry tiger. “This is Gotham. That happens.”

“No, you,” she says, and then closes her eyes and shakes.

Jason reaches across her body and takes her arm. For a moment Dick is dumbstruck, thinking he’s about to watch his little brother comfort someone who isn’t under the age of 15 or his family, but Jason is just turning her arm over to the light. The crook of her elbow is scarred up with pink-white marks.

Mira opens her eyes and stares up at Jason. For a long moment they’re caught in a tableau, her dead-eyed and patient, him silent and judgmental as an old saint.

Voice low, Jason asks, “You using?”

She shakes her head slowly, not breaking her gaze. “Not - not since before her.”

Dick says, more to Jason than her, “That won’t matter. At worst, the baby will spend a few days in respite-”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, and then says to Mira, “If you don’t go to hospital, you’re going to lose her anyway. Except it’ll be because you’re dead.”

“You think I…don’t know that?” she hisses back. “I don’t got family. Her dad’s a deadbeat. It’s just me and her.” The phrase I can’t lose her hovers, unspoken but clear as day in the set of her jaw.

Jason stands. Dick isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for Jay to walk to him and lift the baby out of his arms. He holds her the other way around from Dick, head to his shoulder and legs towards his belt, hand cupped careful over the back of her skull. He looks not only more capable than Dick with her, but more capable than anyone Dick knows.

“You got kids?” Mira rasps at him.

Jason laughs. “Christ no.” In his arms, the baby is quieting down, snuffling instead of screaming. She’s a red-faced scrap of humanity, no more than a few months old as far as Dick can tell. Sweet, in any other circumstance.

“Are you nursing or bottle-feeding?” Jason asks without looking up from her.

Dick makes a noise like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped. Thankfully neither of the others seem to notice. Mira says, “Bottle. I don’t - I don’t got the meat on my bones to feed her, I reckon.”

“I’ll do you a deal, then,” Jason says, and he reaches to the back of his neck and flicks the release on his helmet. It hisses slightly as he pops it off, leaving the domino on but exposing the clean human lines of his face. The move turns him from one of Crime Alley’s most fearsome denizens into a young man with truly terrible helmet hair. “You go to the hospital and let them fix you up. I’ve got a friend who fosters who’ll look after her until you get out, no questions asked.”

Mira stares at him for a long moment, and then carefully - and inadvisably - levers herself off of the asphalt to her feet. Then she says, “You do it.”

Jason’s face creases. “What? No. Definitely not.”

“You’re good with her,” Mira says. 

“I ain’t a babysitter.” It’s only partly belied by the ease with which he’s handling the baby.

“I don’t know your friend. I know you.”

“No.” Red Hood is Gotham’s third most stubborn person, behind their younger brothers. That’s infused in the single syllable. 

Mira sways, swallows. “Please.”

Jason looks at her for a long moment. Dick can’t really make out his expression under the domino, but doesn’t need to in order to know that it’s Jay’s particular brand of piercing consideration. Dick used to think he’d learned it from Bruce, but now that they’re both older he’s inclined to think it predates the Bat.

Then Jason sighs, and very obviously rolls his eyes. “Jesus, fine. On your freakin’ head be it, though.”

Mira’s eyes close as she lets out a relieved sigh. The swaying is more obvious now. Dick wraps an arm around her waist the split-second before her knees give out, swinging her up into his arms.

“I should give you my number,” Mira says into Dick’s collarbone. 

“You think I can’t find you?” Jason replies, disparaging. “I’m the Red Hood.”

“Let’s get her a ride out of here,” Dick suggests, before it can devolve further. Mira’s outlook is getting bleaker by the minute - they don’t really have time for her to change her mind now, and he knows if she does Jason will happily continue talking in circles until she makes a decision. 

The scene in the street is much the same, even though it feels like they’ve been in the alley for a thousand years. Dick takes her to one of the ambulances parked up on the corner, sending people scattering out of his way. 

“Her name’s Rachel,” Mira says faintly. “You’ll help him, right?”

“Sure,” Dick replies, and then to the waiting EMT as he deposits Mira straight onto her gurney, “Got another one for you. Gunshot to the shoulder.”

“Got it,” comes the brisk reply. Dick hovers for a second when he should be getting out of here, caught in the grip of uncertainty.

The subject of that uncertainty is currently being zipped into the front of Jason’s body armour. “Good thing she’s so little. Toddler would be a tight fit.” 

“Yeah, it’s great,” Dick mutters, noting the careful arm Jason curls around his chest to keep her steady. He’s got his helmet back on, at least. “Go.”

“Going,” Jason says, and melts away into the crowd like a guy his size definitely should not be able to do.

“Did he have a baby?” The EMT asks tentatively.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dick replies.

*

Dick catches up with Jason a couple of rooflines over. He’s not exactly moving as fast as he usually does. “Where’s your helmet?”

“Stashed it,” Jason replies easily. “It’s like a target. That isn’t the look I’m going for right now.”

Huh. Dick says, “Let’s take her to GCPD.”

Jason looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “What?”

“Social workers? People who know about babies? This ringing any bells?”

“Dick, I just promised not to do that.”

Dick sputters. “I didn’t think you were serious!”

“As death,” Jason replies, and smirks when Dick frowns at him. “Besides, didn’t you used to be a cop? They didn’t teach you anything about little kids?”

“Cops don’t arrest babies.” He can sense Jason’s judgment. “I only dealt with the ones old enough to talk.”

“Right,” Jason snickers, as though Dick’s somehow the weird one here. “C’mon. I’ve got somewhere.”

“I’m not coming with you.” Dick has better things to do. Also, he doesn’t want to. Jason might make him hold the baby again.

“You promised to help.”

“I didn’t pinky swear,” Dick grumbles, but he follows along anyway. After a couple of minutes of quiet he adds, “The care workers - they’re good people.”

“Lots of ‘em, sure,” Jason agrees. “I’d still have slept on cardboard in a back alley ten times over if it meant keeping myself out of the system, though.”

Dick doesn’t have much to say to that. His unfortunate childhood aside, he had his parents, and then he had Bruce, and then he was a legal adult. He never faced the threat of state care, or homelessness.

They touch down on the fire escape of an apartment building that Dick recognises but hasn’t been into. Jason one-handedly disarms what looks like a taser trap and then lets them in through the window, folding himself gingerly to get inside without squashing his cargo.

She lets out a little cry as Jason sheds his jacket and takes her out, little fists bunched and pulled tight to her chest. Jason says, “She’s cold. Grab the blanket off my bed.”

“Do you speak baby?” Dick asks, perturbed by the thought. 

Jason dumps off his domino, probably to give Dick the full force of his eyeroll. “Blanket, big bird.”

The blanket in question is a pretty quilt in shades of indigo, splayed across the unmade bed. Dick picks it up and brings it back out to the lounge, offering it to Jason.

“Good,” Jason says, wrapping her in it. “Sit down.”

“Huh?” Dick asks, though he does it anyway. The next thing he knows, the bundled grizzling baby is in his lap. “No!”

“Yes,” Jason growls, like he’ll pin Dick to the couch if necessary. “I need to make her some food. You just sit there and hold her up until I’m done.”

“Can’t she just lie on the couch?” Dick asks. She’s even smaller pillowed on his thighs, not much longer than a foot by the looks. 

“No.” Jason’s already in the kitchen, his voice half lost over clattering.

“Fine,” Dick says, more to the baby - Rachel - than to Jason. “Do you really keep baby food around?”

“Just formula and bottles,” Jason replies. “And some diapers.”

“Just in case you find a lost baby?”

“No. Because sometimes people need that shit, and they’re more likely to take it from the back of my pantry than if I offer to buy it for them.” More rustling. “Also, my neighbour’s a single mom. Sometimes I watch her kids.”

“Who’s your friend? The one who fosters?”

“Mind your own business, Grayson. I’ve just got to sterilise this bottle.”

Dick has a sudden mental image of Jason firing up an autoclave in the kitchen. He looks down at Rachel, who’s looking back at him. She has her fingers in her mouth. “How long do you think Mira will be in hospital?” 

“A few days, at least.”

“You’re going to look after this kid for days?”

Jason laughs. “Jesus, Dick, it’s not like it’s hard. She’s little. All they do is eat and sleep and make dirty diapers at this age.“

Now Dick’s imagining Red Hood patrolling with Rachel in one of those baby backpacks. Maybe one made of kevlar, though. “What about work?”

“A few days off never killed anyone,” Jason replies. “I’ll catch up on my shows.”

“His shows,” Dick mutters to Rachel. “Hey, you can’t eat yourself. Stop that.” He gently pulls her fingers away from her mouth, wincing a little at the slimy texture. Rachel, unperturbed, tries to put Dick’s finger in her mouth instead. Her eyes are huge and very blue, her hair fair and tufty where the blanket has ruffled it up.

“Here,” Jason says, waving a bottle in front of Dick’s nose. “She might want it warm, but try this first.”

“Oh, I can’t-” Dick manages to get out before Jason literally pushes the bottle into his baby-drool hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“She does, though,” Jason points out. “Relax, Dickie. Here.”

He twists Dick’s arm until the bottle is inverted and in the range of Rachel’s mouth. Dick notices that her concentration has shifted onto the bottle, her little mouth open like a baby bird. “Keep it tilted up so she doesn’t suck in too much air.”

She latches on and sucks. Dick, surprised, says, “Holy shit, look at that.”

Jason chuckles. “You got it. Now just let her do the work.”

Dick watches her guzzle the bottle. “She’s kinda cute. You know, when she’s not screaming.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re now enjoying one of the two tolerable parts of a baby at this age - eating and sleeping. The only times when they’re not crying.”

“You can’t find it that intolerable.” After all, no one’s making Jason babysit enough that he’s clearly more than just competent. 

“I got depths,” Jason replies with a shrug, as though Dick didn’t realise that. “Bottle up, pal. Seriously, you haven’t heard screaming until your neighbour wakes you up at 3AM to take a turn with a colicky baby.”

“Remind me to never, ever have kids,” Dick mutters. In his lap, Rachel has already almost drained the bottle. She’s slowed right down, her eyes nearly rolling in her head as she struggles to keep them open. “I think she’s tired.”

“Good. Now, put her up on your shoulder and rub her back a little.”

“Really?” Dick asks, awkwardly maneuvering her up his chest. She stretches a little when he makes circles on her teeny back. “Wait, isn’t this the part when babies-”

Rachel hiccups a little, and Dick feels a trace of wetness along the seam of his uniform around his neck. He sighs.

“Well,” Jason says, biting back a laugh. “Here, let me.” He lifts her away, easy as pie. “I’ll deal with the diaper situation. You get a clean shirt.”

“You’re too kind,” Dick says, and actually means it, “But you should know that I’m going to get you for that later.”

[arazialotis]

Tortured Souls

“I lost count of how many souls.” He said with tears in his eyes. “The things I did to them…”

Word Count: Around 2500

Summary: Years after Dean escaped Hell, the past comes back to haunt him.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and torture 

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Beta’d and influenced by the beautiful mind of @misguidedconqueress​

----

“I lost count of how many souls.” He said with tears in his eyes. “The things I did to them…”

*** 5 Years Later ***

Sam and Dean had finished a run-of-the-mill hunt. As they ate at an unremarkable bar with mediocre food and lukewarm beer, they sat in silence. They had nothing noteworthy to say and having known each other for so long, any small talk at this point was redundant. The waves of gray skies rolled into dark clouds. Thunder rattled the wooden floors. 

Sam cleared his throat and nodded his head in the direction behind Dean. A woman had been intently staring at them for the past 15 minutes or so. Dean took the cue. After finishing a bite and wiping his mouth, he made his way up to the bar for more drinks. While waiting for the beers to be served, he casually let his eyes roam the area where she was sitting.

She was the only thing unordinary in this dull place. Her lips were painted the color of mulled wine and a long gold chain plunged below her deep neckline. The few drops of rain caught in her hair made the false appearance of a glimmering halo. But it was her eyes that haunted Dean the most. The same look he saw every time he glanced in the mirror. Something deeper swimming behind flesh. 

She never broke eye contact with him. If the warning tugging at him was familiarity, he couldn’t place it. Almost as if nature magnetically repelled him, he headed back to his table instead of making a pass at her. He handed Sam his drink and shrugged his shoulders. 

By the time they had satisfied themselves, the storm was winding down; the rolls of thunder already faded out. Dean fished out a few twenties and laid them on the table before taking a final scan of the room. The girl was nowhere in sight. With nothing else on the agenda, it was time to move on. 

Dean met Sam in the car. He started her up, but before pulling out onto the open road. He scanned the channels filled with static until something caught his mood. Dean didn’t know if they were headed home or to another case, so he simply started driving down the main road until Sam would undoubtedly come in hot with an opinion. The wipers streaked across the windshield, making a noise comparable to nails on a chalkboard. It was time for new ones. 

Sam was browsing the web on his phone but was distracted when Dean nudged him to look towards his right. The girl from the bar was stranded on the shoulder of the road, helplessly looking into the hood of a smoking car. Sam sighed his discontent but Dean ignored it, pulling over to offer their assistance. 

The car door on Dean’s side creaked open and then slammed shut. His words were muffled from the inside of the car as Sam patiently loaded his gun, keeping an eye on his brother. He went to join them. As his door clicked shut, a surreal force threw him against the hood of the car. His head collided against metal. His hand grabbed the side of the door, but his weight dragged him down. Something sharp and warm grew at the top of his scalp. While he fought to keep his eyes open, the light began to dim before he dipped into unconsciousness. 

Dean was quick to the draw, you his target. But before he could shout demands or orders, his gun flew from his hand and his feet were swept out from under him. The breath left his lungs. Immediately, you were there, pinning him as a lioness would her prey. 

As Dean struggled you purred. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember your first?” Your eyes flashed a thick, inky black. Dean’s brow furrowed. “I’m here to repay the favor.” Your eyes cleared, and seeing them up close the truth was unavoidable. 

***

Hell. The place that was indescribable. To call it grimy, muggy, dark, or grim was useless. Any adjective was futile. Any hope was futile. But that was where Dean had once found himself. For thirty years. Tortured, impaled, left to a bloody heaping mess of nothing. And he resisted any escape from the pain. Until now. 

In his cell resembling a coal mine, too dark to see the blood and rot on the floor. His arms were stretched so far apart it felt like one more twist of the metal rack would rip his body in two. His chest heaved, hearing wails from nearby cells. Any clink, clang, or shuffle outside his cell caused his heart to race, tears to form in his eyes, and beads of blood-filled sweat to trickle out of his shirtless back. 

The door creaked open and in walked the man he knew so well. Although he was no man. He was the monster of monsters. Alastair. 

“Well, well, well Dean.” Alastair mocked as he snapped on latex gloves. “Looks like we’ve got quite the agenda for you today.”

Dean’s lip trembled. 

“Shall we being with the molars or the plantar tendon?” He asked. “I always love giving choices.” He gleamed. 

A single tear slid down Dean’s cheek as he uttered the next words. “I’ll do it.” He shook. 

Alastair dropped a shiny metallic device, attempting to not look surprised. 

“Whatever you want.” Dean continued. “Please.”

Alastair chuckled. “My, isn’t this a happy day. A student becomes a teacher.”

Dean hung his head low. 

“I should warn you though, once you get off the rack, there is no getting back on. Or should I say, you’ll never choose to do so.”  

Dean felt the chains lax. 

Alastair’s finger tapped on his chin. “Now who should I pair you with…” He paused to think. “It’s not like we’re short on new arrivals. But I find for beginners, compatibility is important.” 

With the chains no longer holding his weight, Dean fell to the floor. 

“Rest for now Dean,” Alastair instructed. “I’ll be back soon with your first assignment.” 

Dean curled up into a ball, his knees to his chest. He shook. For once not from fear or pain. But relief. For a few precious moments of peace. But as Alastair promised, it did not last for long. 

By the time he had returned, Dean had pulled his way up from the floor and onto a stone bench carved out from the matching dark wall. He had been allowed to wash, to have fresh clothes. He sat with his elbows to his knees, his hands folded in between. He couldn’t think. He had to turn it off. For what he was about to do… His hands went to his head, pulling at his hair to escape the thought. 

Keys clanked at Dean’s cell. His heart raced, and sweat began to pour as if it was all a joke. But Alastair entered, smiling as a proud father would. Two men with a bull ring where eyes should be entered with a starved little thing in between. She was blindfolded and dressed in little else but a sack. She dragged her feet in protest. She must be new, Dean thought, to still have some fight left in her. The men threw her to the ground where she scrambled into a corner and started to shiver. 

“Tie her up Dean,” Alastair instructed. 

Bile rose up in Dean’s throat. He saw himself walking over but his body refused to budge. 

“Oh, and Dean?” Alastair commented. “If I sense any hesitation or pity, I’ll ensure to walk you through the procedure step by step.” He paused. “With twice the force.” 

Dean had no choice. He told himself he was doing this girl a favor. If Alastair had his way with her, it’d be much worse. He closed his eyes, turning it off once more. He walked over to the corner and grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the rack, drowning out your pleas for help. One by one, he secured each limb into the chain bearings before straightening up. He curled his fist. 

Alastair spoke up, relaxed against the wall, watching what was to become his protégé.  “I want you to see her eyes.” 

Dean gulped but did not disobey. He reached the top of the blindfold and pulled down to gaze upon the most beautiful and innocent eyes he had ever seen. Still filled with life. Sparkling like a pool of fresh-water drowning out the fire around him. And for a moment Dean had forgotten he was in hell. 

“Please.” You begged. “There’s been a mistake. I don’t belong here. Help me.” 

Dean closed his eyes and pinched his lips. Alastair’s patience was wavering and almost intervened until he noticed Dean’s fist tighten. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered so lowly you could barely read the words from his lips. Dean met your eyes again and loud enough for Alastair to hear, he resentfully grunted. “That’s what we all say.” Before striking a devastating blow to your ribs. 

***

Months, years had passed. There was no way to tell. And the man you had known as Dean had grown harder, crueler, and more heartless. With each visit, the black void in his eyes grew. In the beginning, pain had been fast and swift. Resetting each day. But recently he favored the pain to be longer, more drawn out. He’d infect wounds, the intensity growing each passing day. Or the times he pretended to let you escape. You finally stopped trying after the seventh attempt. But by far the worst was when he got sick of your screams and let the starved rats finish the job. You hated the rats.

Holding onto whatever humanity you had left in you was just as painful. Your memory faltered. What you once remembered was almost all but lost. You mumbled to yourself while he was away or if you were permitted to rest, what you could see in your mind.

He came in with a single razor blade one session, interrupting your babbling. You quickly shut your mouth as he grabbed your chin, eyeing you with disgust. 

“You know I hate it when your hair gets too long.” He spat at you before forcing your head down. 

Your eyes teared as strings of hair landed by your bare feet. Each stroke was finished with the slice of the razor until blood began to cover the pieces of fallen hair. His hand left your body, and you heard the clink of the razor being set down.

You thought he had left, that was your mistake. You continued your pattern. Your mother’s name, your father’s name, your brother’s. 

A fist came harshly against your jaw. You hung low from the blow, only being supported by the chains. You spit out a tooth and let the blood drain down your chin. He grabbed your entire face in the palm of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes. Out of all your time in hell, you’d never seen such fire. 

“Who told you to say that!?” He demanded. 

Your brows furrowed, confused by what could he have meant. His patience was thin. He grabbed hold of your ear, forcing your head to follow. If he had the strength, he might as well rip it off with his bare hands. “Are you hard of hearing me, bitch? Answer me!” He let go. 

“Nobody!” You screamed back. 

He wasn’t satisfied. “Where the fuck did you get those names?” 

You began to cry, fearing how he might use them against you. It was the only thing you had left. Another blow came to your cheek. You caved too easily but it was only a matter of time. Time that he had endless amounts of.

Your lips trembled as you spoke their names. “My mother… Mary. My father… John.” You wailed. “And my little brother Sam.” You choked. He was speechless. “Do you have family Dean? Do you remember your family? My Sammy. My little Sam. When I last saw him, I tried to cut his hair… he always wore it too long… Just like you think of me.” 

He shook his head. “Liar!” 

“I swear! What else do I have to lose?” You pitifully reasoned. 

He went to the wall of tools. “You have no idea…” He muttered, picking up a golden fish hook and securing black wire to the loop at the end. 

"Dean please!" You pleaded. "I see it in your eyes, you're not one of them yet. You have to fight back! What would you tell your family if they saw you now? Who was your family Dean? Remember!" 

His jaw was strained, clenching his teeth so hard you could almost hear them crack. He refused to answer you. He grabbed your bottom lip, pulling it outward and it became apparent what he was about to do. 

You pulled against your restraints. "Dean. Please. No. I'm sorry! Please! I won’t speak again." 

"This'll teach you about lies." He muttered piercing your bottom lip, numb to your cries, and pulled the string through, repeating the stitching fashion. 

***Present day***

You had waited so long for your revenge. Put up with more than he could begin to imagine. Climbing the ranks. Clawing your way out. And finally, his throat was in your hands. 

“Sam.” He gasped, calling for his brother, unbeknownst to you. 

“How dare you say that name to me!” You spat as if he was trying to find your humanity that had long since burned away. 

“Y/N.” He said, clawing at your grip. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“I didn’t deserve this!” You shrieked back. Your free hand went to the sky, nails sharpened like razor claws ready to attack. 

“None of us did.” He whispered. 

You shook your head, faltering. He looked nothing now like the monster you had known.

Cold metal slapped down hard against your wrist. You twisted to meet your attacker. 

“Sam, no!” Dean yelled. 

He stopped with the angel blade, raised ready to strike. Sam looked to Dean in confusion. Dean scrambled up from underneath you. Sam instead pinned you against the car. You attempted to disapparate but were stuck inside the flesh. You tried, again and again with no use, screaming in frustration. Sam locked your other hand in place and from the corner of your eye, you saw Dean appearing with a black bag. 

You squirmed underneath Sam’s frame but whatever magic they had used on you rendered you completely powerless. 

Your world went black as fabric covered your eyes, but Dean’s voice rang in your ears. “I’m so sorry, I truly am.” 

You’d not go so easily, but without your abilities, they overpowered you. You wrestled as both men grabbed you and placed you in the truck of the car. It smelled of black licorice and gunpowder. As if your world hadn’t been dark enough, the closing of the trunk threw you into total blackness. You screamed and twisted, kicking at the hood of the trunk. You could barely hear the creaks of the doors or the roar of the engine over your own howls. 

Inside the cabin, Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then back to the trunk as the wails of profanity failed to cease. 

“You bring earplugs?” Dean joshed at Sam, hoping to avoid any further interrogation. 

“Mind filling me in?” Sam pressed. 

Dean started down the open road, his destination now clearly laid before him. The bunker. He bit the side of his cheek before answering. “Call it... repenting of past sins.” 

----

Tags:

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[kissestothesky]

Elevator (PART 2)

This is my first time writing fanfiction ('cause writing on Wattpad at twelve years old doesn't count, right?) so take it easy on me, pls. Also, wanted to point out that English is not my first language, you are most likely going to find thousen grammar errors here, I apologize.

Pairing: Namjoon (RM) x OC

Summary: Namjoon meets Nabi for the first time.

Word Count:   2025

Warnings: Smut, fingering, masturbation, vaginal sex, protected sex, explicit content, public sex, bathroom sex.

Elsie and Nabi left the building a little later than usual. They managed to dodge Jack and made their way to the small Korean restaurant a couple of blocks away. 

"Unni" Nabi called the girl who was heading to the kitchen when both friends entered the restaurant.

"Ah, YA! Don't come at me with unnie now.” Choo-Hee said approaching them. "Where have you been these days?"

"I've been working hard" She replied trying to impersonate an old man.

"You better, young lady" The waitress teased in the same way, whipping her gently with a rag. "I didn't raise you to wander"

"I hate when you speak Korean, it makes me feel left out," Elsie complained.

"Well then, learn," Choo-Hee scolded. "So many k-dramas should be good for something. Anyway, two bottles of soju, right?"

The two nodded and went to sit at the table Choo-Hee indicated. When the young woman returned to the table, two bottles in hand, the tinkling of the doorbells made the three of them turn their heads. 

A large group of people entered the restaurant, all of them Asian. Nabi could feel Elsie's hand gripping her wrist tightly before the blonde girl bit back a cry of emotion. She pulled her hand away, freeing herself from the grip, as her eyes ran from face to face. She had never seen so many Koreans together in her hometown and less in the neighborhood where Choo-hee's family restaurant was located.

“BTS” Elsie muttered.

“What?”

Her eyes met the elevator guy. A strange sensation ran through Nabi's body, RM made her nervous, probably because of the scene she had caused earlier that day, but again she wasn’t someone bashful, still, she felt that way.

"It is destiny, definitely!" Elsie said in a gasp. "I couldn't meet them earlier" she explained to Choo-hee, who looked ready to start jumping at the sight of so many customers. "I was so disappointed! But now ... look at them! Should I go and get an autograph or a photo or ...?”

"DON’T!" Nabi said too loudly. "I mean ... let them be, okay? They probably just want to dine in peace, Elsie."

Choo-hee had run towards the group, not hearing a single word from Elsie, drawing the attention of all those people. Nabi sighed in relief, they probably wouldn't recognize her even if they saw her, she thought, but there was no need to risk it and make a fool of herself.

"Hi!" She suddenly heard.

She could see Elsie turn red, before turning and meeting one of the guys. J-Hope. Nabi had smiled when he had introduced himself on the show saying "I'm your hope, you're my hope, I'm J-HOPE!" With his broken English, that and his constant smile had made her find him someone really nice and friendly, despite not having really talked to him. 

“Annyeonghaseyo” she replied, bowing.

"What a surprise," said J-Hope, with Jimin behind him. "Thank you very much for being a translator before, RapMon is very grateful, he is the one who translates what we are asked in interviews, usually".

"Yes" Jimin continued. "We couldn't thank you before. Your translations were almost instantaneous."

"Well ... thanks" Nabi replied, somewhat overwhelmed.

No guest had ever thanked her for her work and in fact, that they did took some weight off her shoulders.

“You haven't eaten anything yet, have you?" Jimin asked. "Would you like to join us?"

At the same time, J-Hope tried to ask Elsie "You ... uh, eat, eat with us?"

“Ah, n…”

“YES!”

An awkward silence and a couple of looks later Nabi nodded, with a forced smile "Sure".

Both boys nodded and led the way to the large table that Choo-hee was preparing. She tugged on Elsie's arm, bringing their sides together.

"What is wrong with you?" She whispered, not knowing which of those people could really understand her in English. "The one with brown hair has seen me before" Elsie gave her a confused look, not understanding. Of course, he had seen her. "In the elevator. I changed my shirt in the elevator, he basically saw me half-naked" Nabi explained. "It's awkward now."

"You guys remember Nabi, right? The translator," J-Hope said before Elsie could answer.

"Yeah, we've asked her and her friend to join us," Jimin continued, turning to Elsie. "Name? Your name?

"Elsie"

All the boys greet them in the American style, giving them a little hug, and some of the staff also approached, even though most of them stuck to the general greeting. Elsie quickly started a conversation with Jin, who tried to understand everything she was saying and answer in the best way possible.

“Where did you learn Korean?" J-Hope asked, sitting across from her. "You speak it very well, normally it is obvious when a foreigner speaks it, but I would never have said that you were if I hadn’t seen you"

“Ah well ... my grandmother is Korean, I spent a lot of time with her when I was younger”

The conversation led them to talk about Korea, how much they missed it, and the food, their families… The atmosphere was calm, everyone was talking and eating cheerfully, but Nabi couldn't quite relax. She and Namjoon had ended up sitting next to each other, despite her attempts to get as far away as possible. And during dinner, they had started some kind of foreplay touching leg to leg, hand to hand, with deliberate yet casual moves.

Nabi ended up excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She could feel the wetness in her lower body sticking to her panties giving her an awkward feeling that she wanted to clean up before anyone knew it. 

The restroom was small and the only one in the restaurant, so she was not surprised when someone knocked on the door.

"One moment," she said loudly enough for the person outside to hear her.

It was unusual for her to be so turned on for so little as she was a teenager. They had only touched their hands under the table, come on! Nabi thought looking at herself in the mirror. She fixed her long dark hair before opening the door.

On the other side, Namjoon was leaning against the wall and stood up straight when he saw her. The two stood still, looking at the other. Nabi could see the young man's eyes run across her face, through her round dark eyes,  to her upturned nose and her full lips. She found herself doing the same thing as she stepped back, inviting him to enter the small space. He closed the door behind him and locked it. She felt like her body understood, before her brain, what was happening and what was going to happen. They brought their lips together in a passionate and needy kiss. Namjoon pinned her to the wall, feeling her breasts pressing against his chest. The girl's arms wrapped around his neck stroking his hair and back. He could feel her taut nipples through her clothes rubbing against his body. His hands caressed her back as he inhaled her essence and felt her body against it. He could not help but observe that her body fit perfectly against his. He was already erect and she could feel his cock straining against his pants on her belly. The thought that he had a hard-on because of her made her lust for him grow more. He kissed her lower lip, his hands by her waist. "Mmmmmh" Nabi moaned approvingly. 

She sucked his tongue, moaning some more. His hands were caressing her harder and had moved down to her beautiful ass. His hands grabbed her soft voluptuous ass cheeks and squeezed gently. Namjoon picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed his erection against her crotch, one, two, three times as if he was fucking her. Despite the fabric of their jeans, they both felt the pleasure of friction. Nabi threw her head back, giving him a chance to attack her neck. He let go of her and turned her around and made her face the mirror on the wall. He stood behind her and kissed her neck again, his hard cock poking her soft ass like the barrel of a gun. He knew they did not have much time on their hands, lest someone came into the restroom. He unbuttoned some of the buttons on her shirt, exposing her dark bra, under Nabi's watchful eye. Her hands ran up his thighs to his ass like she was hugging him, as his hands covered her breasts.

"You want it?" Namjoon asked, finding her eyes in the mirror still with his lips pressed to her neck.

Nabi nodded slightly, lost in the feel of his lips. That was enough. Sill from behind, he unzipped her jeans and lowered them along with her underwear. Namjoon put two of his fingers inside her mouth. Sucking them Nabi pulled her ass back, ready for him to insert them into her wet pussy. He penetrated her with his fingers, stretching her walls, preparing her, at a maddening rhythm. Nabi grabbed onto the counter of the sink to stay upright. It wasn't long before her walls began to contract against Namjoon's fingers. With a quick movement, he pulled away, took out his wallet and put a condom on the counter. Nabi watched as he pulled his erect cock out of his shorts and covered it with the latex. His fingers found her clit before his other hand guide his erection toward her entrance. 

“Ah” she moaned.

"No, baby," Namjoon said, lifting her up to meet her back with his torso. "They’ll hear us" 

He continued to pound into her, stroking her clit gently, as she kissed his neck and lips. Her walls clench again milking him, driving him crazy. His seed spilled in the condom moments after Nabi let go, having an orgasm that shook her entire body.

Neither of them moved, holding each other, enjoying the pleasure that was fading.

Nabi entered the kitchen through the back door. Cho-hee looked at her before leaving but didn't say anything, she was the only person in the kitchen, apart from the girl who did the dishes, but it didn't matter too much because she had the headphones on and didn't pay any attention to her. She leaned against the door and smiled. Namjoon had helped her clean up and they had had a little conversation. She had the need to tell him what had happened wasn't something she would usually do.  She was not easy, she had only slept with two boys before and they had both been her partners. He reassured her, it was not something he normally did either, although Nabi doubted it since he carried a condom in his wallet. She waited five minutes before going out and sitting in her seat.

Some of the boys, sitting nearby, looked at her. Nabi knew they knew, even when they had separated and gone to the table at different times it was obvious. She felt shy, apparently, all the embarrassment she had never felt before had decided to appear that day. She kept her attention on her plate, acting as normal as she could, for the rest of dinner.

When everyone was ready to leave, Nabi approached Elsie. She didn't speak a word of Korean, but she had managed to have a conversation with Jin and a girl from the staff.

"Elsie, let's go"

"Yes, wait," she replied, turning to ask Jin for a photo.

Nabi walked to the bar, where Cho-hee was keeping the money in the register. Namjoon approached when he saw her alone. Before, he hadn’t had time to ask for her phone number and wanted to do it before leaving, but Cho-hee was ahead of him.

"Bibi, can you go throw out the trash? The other girl is still with the dishes and I have to do this" She said. "Grandma is long gone and I need a ride home too"

"Sure"

When she returned everyone was saying goodbye and Elsie ran to the bathroom.

"Your little bitch" Cho-hee said jokingly. "Explain everything to me"

[thecartoonuniverse]

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Review

So I am uploading the script for the review here for everyone to see simply because I don't think I can get a video for this out before the show comes out. I spent all weekend at a convention and this is a huge script so I just haven't had the time/energy to make a full video. That being said, enjoy the review!

In 1982, audiences everywhere were introduced to the awe inspiring world of Thra in the Jim Henson film: The Dark Crystal. It was a beautiful tale of an alien world that begged for more development! Plans for a sequel were made, but ultimately it never got around to happening in movie form.

Now, after 37 long years, The Dark Crystal is finally returning in the form of a new series, albeit as a prequel called The Dark Crystal: Age of resistance, which is arriving on Netflix on August 30th.

I might say this a lot in this review, but I cannot believe that this show exists. I couldn’t even believe the original film existed when I first saw it. The Beauty of this world is really hard to summarize… so I won’t. You’re going to get the full story (and you’re gonna like it).

Imagine, if you will, 17-year-old me watching TV one day to see a show called Jim Henson’s creature shop challenge. Every week contestants had to face a different challenge where they made puppets based off of the given theme. The episode I happened to watch tasked the participants with making a skeksis. Of course I was like, what the heck is a skeksis? So, I googled it (not sponsored) and what I found blew. My. Mind.

The Skeksis were one of just many many many many many… many insane creatures that exist in the film ‘The Dark Crystal’. The film itself was an eerily dark children’s tale following two human-like creatures known as ‘Gelflings’ as they travel the lands of Thra with the hope of healing their world. From there I quickly invested in the expanded lore: books, comics, and pretty much anything else I could find.

The stories were amazing, but nothing ever came quite close to the beauty that the movies captured. You see, this stunning alien planet was brought to us using nothing but puppetry. From the smallest little buggy boy, to the tallest long-legged-larry, everything that dazzled our senses was done using ground breaking puppetry from the Master himself: Jim Henson.

While I enjoyed the outside material, comics and prose never quite captured the marvel of advanced puppetry. When the new show was announced, I was a bit worried. Practical effects have been replaced by Digital ones in almost every corner of the industry, and it seemed certain that a return to the screen would mean embracing 3D animation.

But then they showed us the trailer… (show flash of the amazing action in the trailer).

And I was stunned.

Everything looked so amazing. The Action was insane, the cinematography was beautiful, and the puppetry… oh my god they did the whole thing with puppets! I couldn’t wait to see it.

Literally. I couldn’t wait. But thankfully I was sent all the episodes before they aired and now, I get to tell you guys what to expect and why you should watch. Because trust me, for the sake of all things beautiful and good in this world, you need to watch this.

There is so much I want to say, but this WILL be a spoiler free review!

Now there is much more to the story of the Dark Crystal than just two little elves saving the world! The story at its core are about the Urskeks, a group of higher dimensional beings sent to thra through the power of the dark crystal. When trying to return home, the Urskeks accidentally divide themselves in half, with each one becoming two new creatures, the Skeksis, and the Mystics. The skeksis are essentially pure evil and want to live forever. They increase their lifespan by draining the Crystal of its power and then using it to drain the life essence of other creatures. When a prophecy foretells of their downfall at the hand of gelflings, they set out to annihilate the entire species, but miss two infant gelflings who manage to find safety. These two gelflings, Jen and Kira, grow up, discover one another, and heal the crystal, which allows for the skeksis and mytics to merge into their true forms once again, and bring peace to thra.

That was basically the Spark Notes version of the Dark Crystal, but Gizmodo has an article that does a good job of summarizing the rest of the lore… though you can also just watch the movie!

Now if you are wondering what happens next then this show… ISNT going to be helpful. Instead, the age of resistance is a ‘prequel’ which flashes back to the time when the Skeksis could no longer rely on the crystal alone for life energy, and turn to sucking the life out of other creatures instead. This prompts the gelflings to fight back against the skeksis, forming, as the title suggest, the resistance!

The choice to make to make this a prequel series is something I was always ecstatic about. Unlike with any sequels, a prequel would allow us to get a view into what Gelfling were actually like as a species, and let me tell you the show does not disappoint on this front.

As we learn, 7 different clans existed, each with their own customs and unique physical appearance. In particular, the Vapra, Stonewood, and Grottan clans are featured the most in the series, although we do meet members from the other clans as well.

our three main characters each hail from one of these clans. Brea is a Vapran princess, Rian is a Stonewood guard to the skeksis, and Deet is the most adorable Grottan to ever exist.

I learned about all the clans in the recent Dark Crystal novels, but it was still amazing to see what they officially looked like.

And as for the main characters themselves, they are all pretty great.

It is pretty clear that Rian is supposed to be our Jen stand-in, but his personality is very distinct, so I do not have a huge problem with this.

On the other hand we have Brea, who does have a resemblance to Kira but only because they likely hail from the same clan. Otherwise Brea is very studious and loves reading and drawing.

That brings me to the odd one out, Deet. She has never been on the surface of Thra before, meaning that her positive and cheerful way of thinking will be tested when she faces the challenges set before her.

However, there is one other character that has a huge role in the series that I have yet to mention. That is of course Aughra, who is more or less the personification of Thra. That being said, she is basically an old grumpy woman. Personally, I was not a huge fan of her in the original movie. She seemed very unhelpful and too cryptic in her responses. Yet, she is definitely a more proactive character in the series, and I actually really grew to like her. As a being born from the ground of Thra, she of course does not want to see the world become corrupted, so her actions in this season make sense.

But those are just the humanoid characters, which are really not what I’m here for.

Where the real excitement begins is looking at all the Skeksis. Look at them! They’re hideous! Just as they’re meant to be. And unlike in the movie they are younger and not quite on the edge of death. It’s just really nice to see the Emperor ruling the Skeksis as he was meant to. Chamerlain is up to no good as usual, and the rest of the skeksis are pretty terrible as well. I just need to take a moment to appreciate SkekMal. He is the only one who is not already decrepit, and he makes use of all four of his arms to hunt gelflings. He’s terrifying, but terrifyingly beautiful (don’t judge me).

Their counterparts the urRu don’t play the biggest part this time around, which is hard for me to forgive since they were my favorite creatures from the movie. But they have purposely hidden themselves from the outside world so their lack of presence makes sense.

And the rest of the animals in Thra are adorable. Llike with the original film, there are plenty of moments that will have you pausing your screen to get a better look at the amazing creatures inhabiting this world.

It really is indicative of the most important thing of all: The puppetry

For the most part, it is extremely well done. The Skeksis in particular have the best range of emotions, despite having just eyes and a beak to work with, and the other animals are really neat to look at, as I said.

I wish I could say the same for the gelfling, but the puppets are not quite there yet. In particular, their mouths just can’t provide the range of motion that human mouths can. This is due to their faces being made of latex, so their movement is limited. The eyes however are perfect.

That brings me to something many of you may be wondering about. Yes, CGI is used, and you can for the most part tell when it is because any of those elements move better than the rest of the world around them. For example, often the skeksis’s tongues were animated, and it is clear that some creatures are computer generated in their entirety. I mean I do understand, since making things fly or move in very precise ways is difficult with puppetry. Overall the show is beautiful and the CG is not that big of a deal.

Now that we got that out of the way, let’s talk about the story. While it was never like the reason to watch the Dark Crystal, the prequel really dives deep into the lore and expands on it. However, it also attempts to re-explain everything that was previously learned, meaning that there are occasionally long sequences of just explaining things. I enjoyed them, but this may not be the case for everyone.

With that there is also a boat load of characters. For more dedicated fans they may see a lot of familiar faces from the novels that have been releasing for the past few years. However I did feel like the introduction of some of these characters, such as Naia and Kylan, was rushed and kind of went unexplained as to how they got to meeting up with the main characters unless you have read the books. Not that they have the biggest roles in the show, I just feel like for more casual fans them being in the story will feel pointless.

But that being said, holy crap this show is dark. Ha ha, dark crystal, yeah of course it’s dark. But I mean this show is gruesome. Yes, the movie was pretty dark, but imagine that but brought to a whole new level. Both kids and adults alike are sure to get nightmares after this.

However, as someone who loves anything animated and hopes for more story-based shows, Age of Resistance is everything I could’ve hoped for and more. It doesn’t really pander to old fans in the way that some series revivals do. Some people may be mad at any small change, but I for one welcome them as they allow the new series to become something much greater than the movie could ever be.

And looking at the marketing for the show, it seems like both Netflix and the Jim Henson company want this to be a huge success. I’m talking funko pops, action figures, an extensive social media campaign, tie in books, a video game, a panel at the biggest stage at SDCC plus a whole booth, and even a comic which is a prequel to this prequel series.

And I don’t blame them. It took YEARS to get this made. There are so many different puppets that had to be made, I cannot believe this was actually pulled off. I’m talking dozens of gelflings, almost every skeksis, mystics, podling, other creatures, plus the environments had to be made by hand and be unique to each location.

Even if you aren’t a big fan of the story, I urge you to watch this show for the visuals alone. Trust me, it is worth it.

I also want to quickly mention, for the ten people that actually watch this that have gone head first into anything to do with the Dark Crystal, that I don’t really know if the books fit in perfectly with the series. This timeline released by Gizmodo does not include the novels at all despite what I heard about them being canon. Plus, from what I saw, unless I am totally wrong, certain things are retconned. This was kind of disappointing since I have been loving the novels, but it would definitely be hard to make everything work out since the main characters from the books are more like side characters in the series.

But still seriously read the books they’re amazing.

So that is pretty much what I thought about Age of Resistance without spoiling too much. I love this show a ton, so I hope everyone that watches this review gives it a chance, and then tells all their friends about it as well.

In an article, the creators said they have two more seasons planned, so we need to make sure they happen! I don’t want this to be another instance of a great show on Netflix being cancelled because not enough people watched it.

Do it for the puppets.

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Hi ^_^ Can I request a female s/o that's not a virgin but it's her first time having sex with Law? Thank you!! ♡♡♡

Hi! This got kinda intense haha so I hope this is kinda what you were looking for. It wasn’t specified but I figured I’d do an actual scenario for this instead of the headcanon format as I thought it fit better, but it got kinda long. I enjoyed writing it though! I hope you enjoy reading it :)

Disclaimer btw: This is only my second time writing an actual NSFW scene, so if anything seems awkward that’s why. If you have any advice or constructive criticism for the future I’m very open to it!

It was late at night, long after most of the crew had gone to sleep, and like always Law sat at his desk poring over documents, searching for a link, a hint, anything as to Doflamingo’s schemes. What was different about tonight, however, was the woman sharing his company. She sat on his desk, absentmindedly playing with the hand he wasn’t using, softly tracing the ink printed on his tan arms. The action sent waves of comfort through him, and something else as well. He tried to ignore it; they’d never engaged in anything more serious than kissing. He wanted her, of course he did, but he wanted her to make the first move. Until then, he could wait, and it was that ideal that kept him focused on his task.

Deep down he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Are you ever going to come to bed?” She asked, not looking at him but running her finger over the letters on his knuckles. Law gave a small sigh, ignoring the warmth in his gut at the action.

“As soon as I’m finished here, somebody keeps distracting me,” he teased, smirking as she kissed his knuckles.

“Distracted, hm?” She teased back, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I wonder who could be causing that.” His reply died on his lips as her own wrapped around his finger, drawing it completely into her mouth. His expression remained neutral, but his skin was on fire as she let the digit free with a soft pop! and a smirk that sent his insides ablaze.

He couldn’t remember standing up, the next thing he knew his mouth was on hers, hands on her back as he pressed her against his desk. Her own hand wound up to his hair, knocking his hat onto the floor, the other hand bracing herself against the wood beneath her, before giving up to settle against his waist. Law’s hand snaked its way up, grabbing a small fistful of her hair, and he gave it a good tug as he kissed his way down her jaw, to her neck, her collarbone, and back up again to her lips.

They paused for only a moment when his hands came to rest at the bottom of her shirt, his eyes searching hers in a silent question as they panted for breath. Her answer was a quick nod of the head, and in one fluid motion her shirt was on the floor, his mouth back to her neck, moving down to capture more of the exposed skin. As he worked the clasp on her bra, she let her hands work his sweatshirt up, exposing his abs and eventually his tattoos. He let her pull the shirt over his head as he dropped her bra on the floor, then rested one hand on her hip while the other cupped her breast, thumbing the sensitive skin there while his mouth found her other nipple. He nipped and sucked and pinched, spurred on by her breathy moans, and when he drew the pert bud between his teeth, her sharp gasp brought out his own deep groan. His hands moved to her jeans, fiddling with the fasteners for only a moment before sliding them and her underwear down her legs.

As her hands moved to the top of his own jeans, he stopped, grabbing her by the wrists to pin them at her sides. “Don’t move,” he ground out, kissing his way down her stomach as he held her there, smirking as she struggled against his hold. He settled himself between her thighs, kissing down her left leg, then her right, ignoring the small whine coming from the woman in front of him. “Hm, want something?” He teased, kissing at her knee.

“You’re an ass,” she gasped out, though she was smiling at him as he looked up at her face.

“That’s not very nice, Name-ya,” he kissed her hip, trailing to her lower stomach as she continued to writhe under him.

“You don’t like me cause I’m nice,” she bit back, ignoring his chuckle as he continued kissing her everywhere but where she wanted him to the most. “Stop teasing me, Law.” He let out another small groan at the use of his name.

“Ask me nicely, Name,” His lips ghosted over her, drawing another whine from her.

“Please,” she drew out, brows scrunched in distress. “Pretty please?”

Law thought about dragging it out more, but he’d waited so long to taste her. He wrapped an arm around her leg, positioning his thumb over her core, and licked her clit in one slow motion, drawing a loud gasp from her. He quickly dove back in, tongue darting in and out and all around, moaning as her free hand came to rest in his dark locks, keeping him in place. He looked up at her as he continued working her over, and from the angle she was sitting on the desk he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly with every gasp and moan, her bottom lip between her teeth as she attempted to stifle some of the sound. Thumb still on her clit, he removed his other hand from her wrist to insert one finger, then two, relishing in how wet he was making her. It didn’t take long for her to come the first time, and he was unrelenting all the way into her second time as well, which followed soon after. Her hands moved from his hair, pushing him away slightly as she got off the desk and knelt in front of him, working away at his jeans.

He thought about pushing her back to the desk, not particularly fond of relinquishing control, but any protests he might have had fled as she freed him from his boxers. He had just enough time to fish a condom out of his desk drawer before she took his cock into her mouth, causing him to pause as she first sucked just the tip, then agonizingly slowly she took the rest that she could handle, almost managing to get the whole thing in her mouth. His breath came out in pants, and he braced himself against the chair still at his side as she worked him over, tongue expertly swirling over his most sensitive spots. He was quickly reaching his peak, though, and he pulled her off him by the hair before she could finish him off. She sent a mischievous smile up at him, clearly knowing what was going on, and she pulled the condom from his hand. She ripped it open, expertly sliding the latex along his length, and he let out a low groan as he pulled her up by her shoulders.

“Turn around,” he growled out, guiding her into a position where she was bent over his desk. He positioned himself behind her, hands on her ass as he slowly slid inside her. He waited a moment before moving again, letting her adjust to his size while he gripped her hips, fingers once again resting against her sensitive clit. Every time he thrust into her, his fingers would rub against her, eliciting loud cries from the overstimulation. He leaned over her back as he neared climax, his goatee tickling her shoulders as she came a third time, and he followed shortly after, pumping until he was spent.

Law rested his forehead against her shoulder blade for a moment as he caught his breath, then began to clean himself up. He glanced at her as she sat back against his desk, amused by the dazed smile on her face, but so entranced with the affection in her eyes that he stopped what he’d been doing to give her a searing, but gentle, kiss. She let out a content sigh, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Now will you come to bed?” She asked sweetly. All he could do was laugh.

[demytasse]

[Shinra & Shizuo] Inebriated Idiocy

     The situation required contemplation of certain moral ramifications, as brief as that consideration might last.

On one hand, alcohol was said to be the window to someone’s truest thoughts; bring about their most genuine feelings and unconscious desires. On the other hand, Shinra was an intellectual that keenly understood the human psyche; he knew better than to believe societal nonsense. In actuality, alcohol only lowered someone’s inhibitions enough to vocalise thoughts exactly as they formed; this included, but wasn’t exclusive to situational opinions, primal reactions to anything remotely sexual, and sober observations that hadn’t been sussed out.

So honestly, Shizuo letting himself into Shinra’s apartment with an odd request might have coincidentally been his own influence, the other day asking for blood and marrow samples in jest, yet again. Which the tease seemed to continue its bumble ‘round his friend’s absent mind.

    Not having much going on up there must explain why it’s still relevant.

His drunken stupour was no different than a conclusion from a simple dream; what was sorted alongside other curious tidbits gained while conscious, and that scientific proposal hadn’t been determined trash or data just yet, despite it being the same ol’ same old.

That being said…

    “What other opportunity would I have short of drugging him myself?” Shinra hummed; gathered vials and tools, bounced through his preparation. “Morally speaking it checks out if I didn’t administer the drug. After all, he came to me pre-doped! Haha." 

He glanced over at Shizuo who somehow managed a cool guy pose upon the examination table, simultaneously a blathering mess — slurring incomprehensible words and half-baked thoughts. All to which seemed on par with what Shinra normally mocked, so it assured that no bad karma, nor bad blood would arise.

    ”…it was the least I could do,“ Shizuo concluded what had been internal dialogue.

    Shinra focused on his assembly, "hmm~? I didn’t catch what you did." 

    "Drink.”

    “Then that wasn’t the least you could do, right? That would’ve been not drinking, since doing nothing is the less than something active.”

    Shizuo looked annoyed. “Meant I didn’t drink randomly, asshole. I did it ‘cause…” he spaced, pinched his nose. “…ugh, there’s a reason. Just…whatever.”

    “That’s fine, Shizuo. Your oldest friend doesn’t need an excuse for your impromptu visit. Especially since you’re granting me the honour of—”

    “Tom!” A heavy hand slammed on the table.

Shinra jumped — juggled a device, caught it by the tubular tail before it hit the floor.

    “E-ehh?” his pulse refused to steady.

    “Tom’s birthday. We went for drinks. 'Parently Vorona’s a heavyweight.”

    Shinra laughed, kind of embarrassed for his friend. “I don’t think that’s actually the term you’re going for…" 

    "She cheated.”

    “How so?”

    “She’s Russian.”

    “You’re honestly the type to play into stereotypes, Shizuo?”

    He groaned, “she shoved vodka on me. 'Don’t handle it well.”

    Of course, it’s some oddball connection, nothing offensive.

    “And she knew that?”

    “No.”

    “So it was more that you couldn’t handle the defeat!”

    The drunk grunted. “Ya wanna die?”

    Shinra waved in mercy, “no no! Let’s just move on!!”

     Though the more Shizuo spouted trash fragments, the more difficult it was for Shinra to sway his conscience that this was alright, as maybe the blood alcohol level was higher than he’d anticipated.

Every step of drawing blood was a joke to Shizuo. He laughed while his sleeve was rolled up, mocked the concentration Shinra wore while he struggled to stick the needle in; knocked the doctor’s glasses askew like a young brat that thought himself a slapstick comedian. 

    Unamused, Shinra adjusted his frames with a latex-free wrist. “Please stop.” 

    “I kinda felt bad. Told ‘im thirty was just a number,” he disrupted the blood-pull with a messy gesture.

    “Shizuo, why are you so animated?!”

    “He said he was twenty-seven! Whoops.” 

    “Yeah, you’re an idiot, we get it,” Shinra paused between a third attempt.     “Probably, haha.”

It was then that he noticed how flush his patient was; how boyish his crinkled features were, and how Shizuo’s jovial nature was too foreign to be anything but drunkenness. Blurredly he watched the other above half-mast lenses, but a thought with prescription clarity hit him in result of the study — the vision of a perturbed Celty demanding that her held out PDA be read.

    //It’s taking advantage of Shizuo!//     //!!! N-n-not in that way, p-pervert!//

It wasn’t actually Celty’s textual wisdom, but his own beratement spoken through her beautiful voice, that of course he’d long ago created for her in place of having none to speak with. It was a flurried dissuasion he wouldn’t follow without her image affixed, whether in physical or mental form.

Thus Shinra was defeated by his own imagination. 

    “Come on,” he sighed, “I’ll set you up on the couch for the night." 

    “Oh…uh, sure.”

Shizuo stumbled off the table and stabilised when a hand supported his back to send him along the path to the living room. As Shinra motioned his follow, he spotted a rolled bandage that he’d previously readied. 

His decade awaited experiment may have been a bust, but he had an idea that might give him a chuckle the next morning.

—

    The recovering drunk studied a cross at the crook of his elbow. It screamed at his memory bank in vibrant fuchsia; with consternation Shizuo recognised the bandage as he recalled swaths of highschool peers wore them after donating blood; an annual fashion accessory that Shizuo never got to sport — only ever able to bling the trash cans with broken needles.

That indicated only one thing in the present: he’d been pin-pricked by an advantageous prick, and he was hardly impressed with how Shinra tagged him without any recollection.

    "Oh! You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be,” the devil spoke at the doorway, audaciously donned his goofy grin, with a coffee mug in hand.

    “Shinra…” he growled, “wanna explain this?”

    “I’m curious to hear what you think it means! I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re either right or wrong.”

The silence grew stronger, Shizuo’s annoyance grew palpable, and for a split moment Shinra mused over the spontaneous prank.

    Perhaps I got tipsy off the atmosphere last night and made my own drunken regret…

Which he externalised as a solo ‘eep!’, a wild scramble upon slippery slipper footing; an aerial trail of coffee in his wake. 

To the carpet’s relief, the liquid was suspended mere inches above it, encapsulated in shadow. With luck, Celty formed it within a second’s notice as she was hastily passed by two scuttling idiots.

    “I’m innocent! Innocent, I swear!”

    “Like hell ya are!”

Celty puffed out air too exhausted for the early hours. 

    At least it’s spilt coffee and not blood spill.

—

    It took a few laps around the apartment for the duo to wind up on opposite couches in a truce. Celty, their moderator, sat close at Shinra’s side to prevent a young death.

    “You see, Shizuo, as you claimed you were in full control of your faculties, so I kindly decided to fulfill your request.” Shinra rubbed at a wallop injury at his crown. “which seemed a fair assumption since you weren’t acting any less intelligible than usual." 

He was forced to squint while Celty futzed with the bent plastic and metal of his glasses. 

    “Lucky you, I’m perceptive enough to notice little details which proved that you were, in fact, inebriated. I stopped before I collected any samples.”

Whether or not Shizuo’s grunt was an invitation for the rest of the schpeel, or if it was an indignant ‘fuck off’ made no difference.     “Feel free to leave a tip for my better judgement. I know it’s not customary for doctor visits, but I’m never too humble to decline monetary praise.”

A shadow placed glasses back on his nose, but he immediately let them slip back down when a glare across the table was in clear view. The hangover effect must of have worked mental lapses between Shizuo’s comprehension of insults, thus he remained in a slump with exhausted shadows below his cold eyes.

    "Yanno, that better be the treatment you give Celty, or so help me…”

    “A-ah, she can’t get inebriated in the first place, or drink for that matter—”

    “So you’d take advantage of her if she could??”

    “No, no! Never! If anything I want her to reveal her own desires to have me sweep her into fits of romance…” he darted his eyes from Shizuo’s disgust.

    ”…buuut I better let that topic be laid to rest.“

—

    "Honestly…I almost wish he’d just done it.”

    //Really?//

    Shizuo nodded in between takes of smoke, “maybe it’s about time I figure out what makes me…me. You know, so I can control myself better…or something.”

    //That’s a noble thing to do, Shizuo…//

He shook his head, wasted half of his cigarette when he extinguished it on the deck railing before he brushed ash into his hand.

    //Maybe do it when you’re sober, though. That way you can feel good about the decision to better yourself and not have it be a drunken decision you accept.//

    “You know,” he smiled, “I like that.”

It wasn’t odd that he agreed with Celty, it was that he wanted his abnormality to be experimented on by his dysfunctional friend; that he was finally ready to face the facts and learn how to work with his condition. Despite that realisation, it was best to ask Shinra with sobriety.

    “Might make him pony up the cash for my blood, though. It’s a hot commodity, right?”

Celty chuckled with a bob of her shoulders.

—

    “And that’s why I always trust my doctor’s instincts over Shizuo. In this case, causality didn’t result in my casualty and I can rest in peace standing six-feet above ground and not under it! Hmm…I should pay respects at the nearest shrine for good measure.

    “At anyrate, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to showcase Celty’s handiwork of my repaired glasses, a token of her dedication and love for all to appreciate! Even if they’re imperfect, they’re perfect to me. So let’s think of this as a public service announcement, kids: don’t drink and make hasty decisions!”

—

AN: Shinra breaking the fourth wall is one of my favourite things; it’s delightful. (O´▽`o)~♡

Based on one of the headcanons I wrote for Shizuo in a character meme, except it’s a little goofier than when I wrote the HC. Probably because I made it primarily from Shinra’s perspective. \(=~=)/ Thank you, @monopsys for the inspiration to actually write this!

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Inktober Day 18: Bottle

Masterlist

Inktober 2018 Masterlist

Steve Rogers x Plus!Size Reader NEPHILIUM

Warnings: +18 ONLY! ATTEMPTED SUICIDE WARNING! FLUFF! CUDDLY Steve!

A/N: Here you all some cuddly Steve!

Words: +1,700

Tugging at the bandages that covered stitched & still oozing gashes. The self-inflicted kind after the recent battle with the demons in her head didn’t end so well. HA! Demons! One way to put it, having discovered a blade that could actually harm her, break unbreakable skin, all creatures had a weapon that could defeat them, though she was supposedly indestructible like the god who sat laughing at the movie that the team enjoyed. Leaning against the bar & watching everyone dozing or drunk on the couches, all for Steve who had excused himself for whatever reason.

Steve found her, blade dug into shredded forearms, determined to do it right, she couldn’t take the screaming any more, the centuries of hate, loathing, watching ones die left & right because she was too late. The soldier rushing to her side to take bleeding arms into his hands to do what he could to stop it, yelling at her, asking why, why didn’t she come to talk to him? He was gentle, always had been when it came to her, even during missions. When they first met Y/N, the Nephilim, coming to the team offering help after the snap, those she had sworn to protect turning to dust.

Tugging at them once more, it hurt when the gauze would grad at a stitch. Fresh blood seeping through as she tugged to hard to free the stitch, letting out a hiss as she accidentally hurt herself this time, cursing under her breath at why she did she think this was a good idea. The sadness in Steve’ eyes haunted her since she tried to end it less than 24 hours ago. Looking down to the bright crimson that fowled the crisp white bandage Steve himself insisted on wrapping around stitched forearms.

The captain so easy, starting at her elbows, trying to keep them loose, watching him closely, all out of tears & finally looking into troubled blue eyes when he finished. The blonde sure to secure the gauze with a wrap around calloused palm to keep from taping to flesh to make it raw. Watching him close as he tugged the latex gloves free to reach up & wipe the one tear away that had slipped by her. Y/N had been unable to pull away & settled to lean into his palm. Listening to his gentle insisting that she stay in his room & she nodded silently.

Running her nail down the label of the bottle she held, some sort of energy drink the others insisted she drink to help get her energy back. Cocking her head at the sound the rip made, nail sharpening as she willed it to, careful not to puncture the plastic bottle & delicately peeling the label off. Leaning harder on the counter, saving the label for when she went to the store, this one not tasting like ass, kale something.

Pulling it loose gently to sit the bottle down & lay it flat on the counter to smooth over it, concentrating on keeping the wrinkles out. The only thing drawing her away was when a full bottle of a different type of drink, this one pomegranate juice. It was something that only one in the compound realized she loved & made sure that the bottom shelf stayed stocked with. Cocking her head to the side to look at Steve who leaned on the counter with her, pulling the bottle back to open it then scooting it back, so she could reach it.

“Thank you,” Y/N spoke quietly, standing strait to lean on the bar with thick hip, taking the juice in one hand while Steve took the bandage spotted with blood, gently looking it over to realize what had happened & letting her have it back.

“No big deal,” he smiled, letting her take a drink.

Steve looking to the counter to realize she saved the label, memorizing what it was so he could  have the refrigerator stocked, adding it to the list of drinks she liked. His gaze falling back to her, hand reaching out to caress over a once pale cheek that thankfully was regaining color quickly.

“You look tired doll, why don’t you go rest,” he reassured her, stepping closer when she leaned into his touch, sitting the drink down & stepping flush to him.

Y/N’ electric blue eyes opening to look into baby blues that sparkled with the unearthly light that radiated from hers. Searching his face over for why he cared for her, knowing that she could easily pull it from his mind if she wanted to know bad enough, but she didn’t want to hurt him, not after what all he done for her.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she admitted, it was obvious what she meant, but curious as to if Steve would bite.

“Then let’s go,” he smiled, not hesitating to take large frame into his arms, one arm looped around her back the other under her knees, bandaged arms going to his neck gingerly.

“Finally,” came the quiet exasperated voice of Natasha who smirked at the two & went back to the movie, obvious she had been hiding in the kitchen watching.

“It's not polite to spy on teammates,” Steve spoke after the blonde headed woman, Y/N relaxing into him to lay her head on his shoulder.

“It's not spying Rogers, go take your girl to bed & let her rest,” Natasha deadpanned, vaulting over the back of the couch to land on Sam’ lap, causing the entire team but the two in the kitchen begin to yell & holler at one another.

Steve turned with Y/N in his arms, taking his time to his room though he was in a hurry to get to lay down with her like he had been wanting to do the moment he met her. Y/N’ ample curves all he ever wanted. Though he wasn’t going to rush this, he would settle for holding her to his chest as she slept, toeing the door open & kicking it shut.

Finally making it to the bed to lay her down, shocked as gazed hands cupped his face to pull him with her, pressing moist lips to his in a heated kiss. Y/N scooting back on the mattress, pulling him with her, to straddle her legs, falling back into the ruffled covers he hadn’t bothered to make since Y/N was last there. Strong arms anchoring on either side as he bowed over her, sure to keep his bulk off of her but deepening the kiss when she allowed eager tongue a taste. The soldier moaning at the taste & gasping for breath as she let go.

“What was that,” he panted, knowing good & damn well what it was.

“You know damn well,” she smirked, lips tickling his & breaths fanning over each other’s as they panted for breath.

“I have wanted that since I watched you training in those tight ass pants,” he admitted, hand moving to cup her cheek, Y/N moving so that he was between thick thighs.

“Like the ones I have on,” she smirked up at him, baby blues traveling down thick frame to look down at the tight leggings she wore & back to her.

“Exactly,” he spoke.

Strong arm wrapping under thick torso as he fell to his side dragging her with him to tangle there legs together, wrapping her in a tight embrace & relishing in the feel of her laying tired head onto muscular shoulder. Bandaged arms moving so they were comfortable, one nested between them the other around toned torso.

“When you're feeling better, we will continue,” his breath fanned over her messy hair, a kiss gently planted into it.

“Thank you, for not letting me….,” Y/N began, moving to look up into his eyes.

“I… no one… you didn’t deserve… your welcome Y/N. talk to me, to someone, just never again,” he explained, stumbling on his words, swallowing the lump in his throat to force out what he really wanted to say.

“I love you Y/N. It broke my heart, it shattered me that you didn’t come to me for help, or any of us. I promise, I will take care of you, I want you to stay with me, ok? I need to make sure that you are ok, that you are… that… that your mine, Y/N. I love you, I do, so stay,” he spoke out with passion, a tear escaping, the woman in his arms reaching up to catch them, unable to prevent her own & leaning into his hand as he pushed them away.

“Ill stay Steve, if you end up being the only reason, I will stay, I promise, no matter what, till the end of days, promise, so long as you hold me tight,” she lamented, tears falling to the sheets, but pushing quivering lips to his own.

“Thank god,” he breathed across her lips, wrapping his arms around her tight & holding her close.

It was evident he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon, hand soothing along her spine & Y/N not sure if she ever wanted him to. Snuggling deeper into his chest gingerly wrapping bandaged arms around him, Steve shifting to allow her comfort. Kissing his shoulder, unwilling to move while his lips began to pepper kisses over her own shoulder, filling the strap of the cami slip from the smooth flesh so he could finish before laying a hot cheek to it.

“Don’t let go Y/N,” he spoke into her ear, kissing it once more.

“I want, don’t let go of me,” she spoke, voice cracking as she kissed his shoulder.

“I want doll, don’t you worry,” he admitted, pulling tighter as her breath hitched, Y/N burying her face into the crook of his neck.

“Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he reassured, filing her relax into him at his promise, her breath calming, heart slowing, mind drifting to a calm place for once.

If you want to be tagged or not let me know!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings

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[askullinajar]

Fifty Shades Ghostlier

The sequel to Fifty Shades of Ectoplasm that literally no one asked for!

Yet again, the people of discord are all heathens and bad influences, namely @ironsilversaltandtea and @skull-in-a-jar this time.

Warning: Any accuracies, historically, scientifically, or to canon, are completely accidental. This is pure crack. No actual hanky-panky - as I am but a totally innocent asexual - but a whole lot of inappropriate jokes. You have been warned.

Fic info: Post teg. Rating: Mature, clearly. Pairings: Implied locklyle. Word count: 2284

Summary: Contrary to what canon might suggest, the main trio of Lockwood & Co are all teenagers and, like many teenagers, they can sometimes be rather immature. Especially when given a pack of condoms.

Fifty Shades Ghostlier

On that midsummer evening, Lockwood & Co sat in the cool kitchen of 35 Portland Row. Holly bustled around making homemade lemonade, while Lockwood, George and I sat around the table, acting, for once, like normal teenagers as we were currently in a competition over who could doodle the most phallic images on the thinking cloth. I was winning, though I was helped by my talent at drawing as well as the skull’s ghost at my shoulder making increasingly obscene suggestions.

Holly set a jug of lemonade on the table and looked over Lockwood’s shoulder at one especially graphic doodle featuring Rupert Graves and his rapier.

“Honestly! I’m going to have to wash this again now,” she scolded, her eyes sweeping the cloth and her lip curling. She frowned at the image I was drawing of Marissa and Ezekiel, as per Skully’s suggestion. “I did always wonder how she managed to conceive. I mean, there was no man ever mentioned, right?”

“Exactly!” said Skully, though she couldn’t hear him.

“Do ghosts have sperm?” George wondered allowed as I poured myself a glass of lemonade.

“What do you think ectoplasm is?” said Skully, right when I’d taken a sip. I started choking.

“Lucy?” said Lockwood, concerned, standing from his seat to round the table and pat me on the back as I continued spluttering. “What did he say?”

“Ectoplasm-” I continued choking. “-ghost-” More coughing. “-jizz,” I finished as Lockwood gave me one last hard pat on the back.

George snorted. “Wait… so the Red Room?”

I went back to choking.

“Didn’t those monks get executed for doing ‘unholy things’?” Lockwood asked, snickering.

George nodded. “I’m calling it now: Monk orgies.”

“Good thing you didn’t take a blacklight in there,” said Skully.

“You are all disgusting,” said Holly, though I could see she was trying hard not to laugh.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. I stood to go and answer, wiping my watering eyes as I went.

“Hey, Quill,” I said, upon seeing the man in question at the door.

“Listen,” he said, looking rather sheepish, “I need a favour.”

“What?” Holly asked, coming into the hall with George and Lockwood following behind. Quill didn’t seem pleased at us all being there.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me,” he said.

“Oh, Quill,” said George. “I can’t promise anything.”

Quill glared at him but sighed. “Look, I’m going away for the weekend with Kat and Bobby. Catching up and stuff. And, uhh…” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Look, I forgot I had these on me, and it’ll take too long to go home and drop them off, but I don’t want Bobby to find them… he’s so small and innocent…”

“Get to the point, Quill,” said Lockwood.

Quill shot him a glare, then he huffed and pulled something out of his pocket; a little box by the looks of it. He practically thrust it into my hands and then turned to leave. “Just hold on to them for me, okay. I’ll be back for them in a few days.” And with that, he practically jogged away and down the street.

I stared after him, then looked down at the box in my hands.

Fittes Condoms: For the Perfect Fitte!

Side effects may include: nausea, vomiting, unplanned ghost pregnancy, and death.

Warning: May contain ghost nuts.

Beneath the title, a picture of Penelope Fittes smiled up at us.

“I didn’t know they made condoms,” said Lockwood, matter-of-factly.

“Oh dear,” said Holly. “Do you thing Quill read the small print?”

George removed his glasses to wipe on his shirt. “Well, now we know what Marissa used with Ezekiel.”

I whacked him with the condom box.

Later that night, once Holly had gone home to spend time with her totally platonic roommate, I stood in the kitchen fixing myself a cup of tea, because even in the midst of a heatwave, it’s never a bad time for a cuppa.

“You know,” said Skully, who was hovering nearby, “you should pinch a few.”

“What?”

“Condoms,” he clarified. “Ya know, just in case you and Locky get all heated like you did last night. You’re not exactly quiet, you know. Good thing George is a deep sleeper…”

I flushed scarlet and lobbed a used teabag at him, but it just passed straight through and hit the wall with a wet slap.

“What?” said Skully. “I just want you to be safe, if all…”

I went back to stirring my tea, trying my best to ignore him, though I almost shattered the cup clanking the spoon harshly against the sides to try and drown him out.

“You’re lucky,” he continued. “We didn’t have them in my day. Teenage pregnancies abound. Though, most people died at twenty so that was probably a good thing… But, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And I hear you can get them ri-”

“Fine!” I interrupted. “You like them so much? Here.” I stormed over to the table where the box sat and ripped it open, tearing right through Penelope’s face and scattering little foil squares everywhere.

“Oi, what are you doing?” he said, as I opened a condom and grabbed the skull.

I ignored him, though he started up a gale and smashed my mug of tea. It didn’t really phase me; I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. So, with difficulty, as the condom seemed to be coated in lube, I tugged it over his stupid, mouldy skull.

“How’d you like that!” I said, dangling it in front of me, triumphant.

No reply.

“Skully?” I said, looking around, but his ghost was gone. I peered at the condom curiously and noticed the ectoplasm swirling within. “GEORGE!”

After a minute, George shuffled into the kitchen, toothbrush still stuffed in his mouth and froth spilling out. He grunted in what might have been a ‘what?’ and I shoved the slimy, skull-filled condom into his hand.

“Happy experimenting,” I told him.

“So, as it turns out, lubricant is far more effective on ghosts than iron or silver,” George informed Flo as he and I sat with her on a wall by the river eating sweets. I’d only joined because George owed me a bag of bonbons after he’d scoffed mine the other day while my back was turned. “In fact, lubricated condoms make very effective containers for Sources.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Flo, through a mouthful of liquorice. “Used ‘em to hold Sources for years.”

“What?” I said, almost swallowing a bonbon whole. “So you just carry around stuff in condoms all the time?”

Flo cackled. “Yeah. Really freaks out the relic-men.”

“We ought to experiment on more things like this,” said George, thoughtfully. “You know, there’s actually a high salt concentration in sem-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I told him.

“I dunno about that stuff,” said Flo, “but I did find something in the mud the other day.”

She went about digging through her sack before pulling out a strange chunk of iron. I stared at it, puzzled for a moment, before realising what shape it was.

“Is that an iron dildo?” said George, bursting into laughter.

“A proper old-timey one,” said Flo. “Reckon this made some Victorian lady - or man - very happy.”

George took it from her.

“George!” I cried. “You can’t just touch it with your bare hands!”

“Why not?” said George. “The river’s probably washed away anything too bad.”

“Still,” I said, disgusted. “You don’t know where that’s been.”

“Or who it’s been in,” Flo added.

“Please stop.”

“Well, this should do nicely for my experiments, in any case,” said George. “We should try using this stuff in the field. Any clients with Type 1s?”

“I think there might be,” I said.

And that was how Lockwood, George and I ended up in a clients house, facing off against a weak Type 1, with a circle of lube in place of an iron chain, condoms rolled onto our rapiers, and a bucket of saltwater to fill condoms with to lob at the ghost.

“You were right George, this is actually quite effective,” said Lockwood, prodding the ghost with his condom-tipped rapier as I squirted bottles of lube at it.

George knelt by the bucket, dunking a condom in to fill it up, but when he pulled it out again, water began spurting out.

“Huh,” I said. “Looks like they’re more effective on ghosts than they are as actual condoms.”

“We’re probably doing Quill a favour by wasting them all,�� Lockwood agreed.

George attempted to throw the filled-condom at the ghost anyway, but it sloshed harmlessly in a puddle on the floor.

“So much for that idea,” said George. “Plan B.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I said as he attempted to tug a condom over his head.

“Hey, if you can get a skull in one, it can fit over my head,” said George.

Lockwood, who seemed to be having the time of his life, helped George tug the thing on, and, I had to agree, he did look hilarious with his face all smushed up inside the latex.

We stood back and let the researcher charge head-first at the ghost.

He made it about two steps before slipping on the circle of lube. As he fell, he grabbed my arm and tugged me down too, and I, in turn, grabbed Lockwood’s tie and dragged him with us. We landed with a thud, and skidded across the hardwood floor that had been drenched thoroughly in saltwater and lube, which, unsurprisingly, is a pretty good lubricant. We shrieked as we slid at breakneck speeds directly towards the ghost, until, at the last minute, I managed to tug the iron dildo from George’s coat pocket it and lob it at the ghost’s face.

We skidded right through the spot the ghost had just been, all the way to the other side of the room, and slammed into the wall before falling back in a tangled heap of slick bodies.

“Okay,” said Lockwood, “no more experimenting on cases. Anyone see where it went?”

“There!” I said, pointing at a floorboard that seemed slightly raised above the others. I shuffled, or more like slid, over to it and fumbled with it to pull it open. The ghost had reformed in the centre of the room now, and maybe it was the fact that we were all thoroughly drenched in ghost-repelling lube, but it didn’t come anywhere near us as I plucked the Source - an old ring - out from under the floorboards and handed it to George, who tucked it into an unused condom. The ghost vanished instantly.

“We should always use these things to contain Sources!” Lockwood said, cheerily. “They work so well!”

“I think I’ll stick to the regular stuff,” I said.

We got home a little past midnight, where Holly was waiting for us. She inhaled deeply as we entered, soaked head to toe in lube, her lips pursed as Skully cackled loudly behind her.

“I see you kids had fun!”

I ignored him and headed upstairs to take a much-needed shower.

The next morning, I came downstairs to the sound of Holly arguing loudly on the phone down in the basement.

“What’s happening?” I asked Lockwood as he poured us both some orange juice and put some crumpets in the toaster.

“I don’t think we’re getting paid,” he replied. “It seems our client wasn’t too happy about coming home to find lube and broken condoms all over his bedroom.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said, sipping my orange juice.

Holly entered the kitchen, trying her best to retain her ladylike etiquette, though her face was flushed and her hair wild.

“I told you that was a bad idea!”

Lockwood shrugged. “We’ve got cases coming out of our ear nowadays. What’s one Type 1?”

“Unless he goes to the press about it!”

“Ah,” said Lockwood, “didn’t think of that.” Then he perked up. “We’ll go to the press first! ‘Condoms: Effective protection against more than just STDs!’ What do you think?”

Holly rubbed her temples like she was getting a migraine.

There was a knock on the door, and I heard George bustling through the hallway to answer it, but I stood to see who it was anyway.

“Have a nice weekend away, Quill?” George asked, jovially as Quill stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yes, yes,” he said, impatiently. “Now, come on. I’m going to need the box back.”

“Ah,” said Lockwood, “about that…”

Quill narrowed his eyes at him.

“We took the liberty of testing them,” said George. “They weren’t very effective. Kind of leaked.”

“Christ,” said Quill, eyes widening. “What did you do?”

“Calm down, we just filled them with saltwater,” I told him. “...And stuffed Sources in them… and rolled them onto our rapiers… and stuffed George’s head in one...”

“And we blew the last few up like balloons and chucked them around last night,” Lockwood added.

Quill pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose I should have expected the worst, leaving them with teenagers…”

“Better buy another brand next time you want to see your lady friend,” said Lockwood, grinning at him.

Quill turned a brilliant red. “There’s no… lady.”

“Ooh, a gentleman?” Holly gushed. “What’s he like?”

I put on my best innocent face. “Is he good in bed?”

“That’s it,” said Quill, turning around. “I’m done. Goodbye.”

“No, come back!” Lockwood called after him.

“Tell us about the guy you needed a twelve pack of condoms for!” George yelled, loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear as Quill all but sprinted away from us.

No matter. We’d see him again, soon enough. And then the merciless teasing would really begin.

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Surreptitious (pt. 7)

Fortunately, the inn we found had rooms available. Mitsuhide procured one for you to do your quick procedure and was off to fetch water to boil after dropping you off in the room. Before leaving, you had him give you your black bag that had been packed with one of your suture kits and first aid supplies. This was not going to be fun. First order of business was to get out of this outfit,  clumsily you changed into a sleeping robe and hiked it up to your waist, so there was easy access to your knee. Fortunately, the blood had clotted so cleaning everything off your leg and around the laceration would be much more comfortable than initially assumed. Using a handful of alcohol prep-pads, you scrubbed the blood from your leg and foot, and gingerly around the wound. As you finished, a quiet knock could be heard at the door, and you turned to see Mitsuhide sliding the door open with a pale of boiled water. He paused and made a face quickly motioning to open one of the windows at the back of the room.

Cleaning your hands off in the boiled water, you put on clean gloves, and opened a package of sterile gauze pads and pulled out three to soak them in alcohol. Once they were thoroughly soaked, you started cleaning the open wound on your knee, wincing a little at the pain and tingling it was causing. Looking over at Mitsuhide who was openly staring, you smiled as best you could to give him a little reassurance, though he didn’t return the smile, just nodded. Turning back to your work, you opened up your suture kit and grabbed the Lidocaine and opened it. Drawing it up into a syringe provided to you in the pack, you administered roughly 5 cc’s to try to numb the area before you sewed it back up. Tears stinging your eyes at the burning sensation, you were trying to laugh off only to have a breathy whimper escape. That seemed to catch his attention though, as he was almost on top of you, showing apparent confusion and concern. Maybe talking him through what you were doing would help you concentrate on something other than how much it hurt and ease his mind a little.

…

All of her movements up until this point had been perfectly methodical. From the moment I set her down in the room, she began unpacking that odd black bag of hers and was doling out instructions for me to get water and make sure it was adequately boiling. Upon returning with the water, I noticed an abrasive smell in the room, not quite like anything I had ever encountered before. Several bloody square cloths littered the floor around her injured leg, and I wondered if that is where the smell was coming from. After I set down the bucket, I made my way to the window to try to get the smell out. As I sat down a reasonable distance away to observe, she had already cleaned her hands in the pale of fresh water and had opened several packages. It wasn’t until I saw her make a motion to stick herself that I grew confused and a bit concerned with what I was not only watching, but letting the princess do. Maybe I should have called Ieyasu.

My thoughts were broken by her sharp inhale followed quickly by tears welling in the corners of her eyes. We made eye contact and before she finished her poor attempt to cover her pain with a laugh I had moved closer unconsciously.

“It’s called Lidocaine, it’s a numbing medication that blocks the nerve signals in the area. This way I can sew my leg back up without any pain. It’ll feel better in a minute, once it’s kicked in, I just really hate the burning sensation it causes when you inject it.”

With a weak smile she continued, voice still quivering.

“I’ve got to wait for it to kick in; otherwise it would be totally pointless to have injected. It’s pretty standard medical procedure from the future….guess I’ll get everything else ready.”

She then began opening all of the other packages littered around her, explaining everything about the devices inside as they were opened. When she finished, she took her gloved hand and poked at her knee, looking pleased she opened the bottle of what she called betadine and poured a generous amount into the container holding the gauze. Taking the now soaked gauze out she cleaned the area around the still open wound, following with several cloths she had called drapes, to cover any skin that wasn’t immediately next to the cut. She grabbed the needle and threaded the thickest string I had seen through it and turned to me.

“…I’m going to start sewing my leg up, feel free to watch. I won’t be offended if you turn around or look away…just don’t pass out.” winking she took a deep breath and began.

…

Gods I hope he doesn’t pass out. I know he’s a warlord who’s seen his fair share of awful, but I’ve seen seasoned residents pass out when they look at a new procedure for the first time. My mom definitely passed out the first time she saw me get stitches….he’s already kind of pale and he’s been showing obvious concern, this is not off to a good start. Deep breath you got this…

Inner monologue aside, you were pretty numb, so it didn’t take too long to stitch your knee back up. You were tying off the last thread when it occurred to you Mitsuhide hadn’t made a sound in a while. At least there wasn’t a thud, that means he at least hasn’t gone down yet. Giving him a quick glance out of the corner of your eye, you saw a very serious, pale Mitsuhide…and I mean pale, like you know he had fair skin, to begin with, but now he was just downright green…you needed to get his attention since he was apparently starting to space out.

“Mitsuhide” He snapped to attention to meet your gaze, “I think we need some fresh air…can you open up some more windows.”

Hoping that by asking him to do something for you, he wouldn’t notice you had caught on to his general nausea. As the last window opened a cool breeze blew through the room ever so gently. He sat by the now open windows taking deep breaths; Waiting until you saw some of his color return to before cleaning yourself off, using the rest of the alcohol pads you brought with you to remove the betadine. You waited for it to dry before applying bacitracin, a fresh bandage, and completing your look with a wrap around your knee to hold pressure.

You stood on your good leg and hobbled over to your backpack, leg still a little numb, to grab your canteen and an 800 mg dose of Ibuprofen for the road. Finishing the medicine you started back toward the mess of absorbent pads and dirtied medical equipment only to feel a warm, soft grip on your wrist. You swiveled as best you could to turn his direction when you did you met the softest gaze you had seen from him to date. You could feel the light blush dusting your cheeks as he offered his hand.

“Princess, let me help.”

…

I had openly scoffed at her warning for me not to pass out, but I found I was now trying to hide my growing unease at watching her, quite literally sew herself up, by staring at the adjacent wall. With a serious yet pleading tone, I was roused from my thoughts by her calling my name, I was beginning to enjoy the way it sounded coming off her tongue, she proceeded to ask for the rest of the windows to be opened. Slightly unsteady as I got to my feet; I finally made it to the last window and opened it. Feeling the breeze on my face, I felt some of my senses returning. Realizing that the princess was either getting too good at reading me or I was becoming comfortable enough to let my emotions show I sat down trying to gain composure as I waited for her to finish.

Moments later I saw her stand and for lack of a better term, hop, to the black bag in the center of the room. She took out a metal container and a smaller white one that seemed to hold medicine. Quickly swallowing the pills, she smiled in my direction. Realizing that she intended to hop around the room I stood, making a motion to stop her.

The gloves felt weird on my hand, she said they were made of a material chemically similar to latex, whatever that was, which is why it didn’t feel like fabric. I started helping her crumple the small squares and paper on the floor to put them in a bag she had called plastic. I passed the used needle to her as I watcher in casual horror and amazement as she lit the needle on fire with her “portable lighter” it quickly burst into a bright blue flame that disappeared in seconds. She explained the needle was now clean, thanks to the alcohol and the flame and she would be able to use it in her sewing kit back at the castle. As we finished cleaning the room a much too loud Masamune blew through the door and made straight for the princess.

…

You had all of three seconds to cover yourself with the light sleeping robe before Masamune strode through the door. Finding you immediately he walked up and began a visual inspection of your condition. You giggled at the slight twirl he made you do before questioning if you had anything that was bothering you, aside from the knee you had just treated. After taking stock of how you physically felt Mitsuhide cleared his throat behind you and suggested heading toward camp otherwise we would be stuck here for the evening in enemy territory. Not really feeling up for any more fights you shoo-ed the boys out of the room to try to change, only to realize, you had stripped yourself of the kimono you were wearing earlier back at the daimyo’s residence…now what were you going to wear back to camp?

...

If looks could kill, Masamune may be dead ten times over. I knew he only meant to check the princess’s well being but the amount of affection he showed her, was far greater than I deemed appropriate. He had already headed in the direction of the main camp while I waited for her when I heard the door softly slide open and her head sheepishly peek out the crack.

It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for in town, the clothier had been just across the street from the inn we were holed up at. Purchasing a bright blue kimono with a simple lavender obi adorned with a soft petal design. I returned to the room to proudly present my purchase to the princess. Turning a satisfying shade of red all the way to her ears she looked up at me from her spot on the floor.

“Um…..Could I get your assistance….ya know…changing? I’m having a hard time balancing and tying the obi is nearly impossible.”

Bowing the best she could on one foot, I smiled and placed my hand on her head running my fingers through her hair. As each strand fell through my soft grip, I hummed in acceptance completely satisfied with the chance to assist her in some way that didn’t have to do with arming the woman or sharing information for a mission.