#Motor City 5 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamonest · 10 months ago

Text

Beleaguer

"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc

WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy

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‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’

You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.

You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.

You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.

“Oh my God.”

You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.

Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.

The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.

And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.

It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.

Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.

You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.

You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.

Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.

You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.

This was a way out. A miracle.

In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.

You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.

Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.

You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.

And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.

And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.

You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.

Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.

…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.

You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.

And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.

You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.

You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.

You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.

You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.

It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.

Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.

Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.

"Mm?"

You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."

You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"

"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.

"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.

"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.

"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."

Oh yes, you will.

Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.

Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.

There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.

There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.

The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.

You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.

Come on, get thirsty, drink it...

Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.

Come on, come on!

You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.

So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.

It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"

He was silent for a moment.

"...Nothing."

Ok. Good save.

You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.

You were fine for now— what is he doing.

You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.

Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other. He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.

Oh.

His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"

Oh no.

"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."

You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.

"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.

He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.

"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"

"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."

"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.

But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.

You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.

That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.

But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.

The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.

You had not been an exception.

Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.

You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.

There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.

Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.

You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.

Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.

The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?

You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.

"You should finish it."

Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.

"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.

"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."

You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.

Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.

“Unless there's something wrong with it.”

Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."

His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."

The last two words came out firm. A command.

"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.

You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.

"...I'm sorry."

He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.

"Where is it?"

You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"

"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.

You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.

For a moment, you were silent.

"Tell me."

You tensed up, biting your lip.

You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.

At your hesitation, he said your name.

It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.

He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”

"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.

Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.

Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.

You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.

You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.

“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.

You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.

“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”

Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.

But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.

You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.

“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.

Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.

“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”

You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”

“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.

“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”

The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.

Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.

That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.

“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”

The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”

“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”

His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don't get an attitude with me.”

Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.

A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.

“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”

You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.

"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”

You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.

“Come here.”

A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.

You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.

Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”

You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.

It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.

For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.

"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.

You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.

The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.

Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.

And a moment was all you got.

You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.

“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”

“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.

The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.

You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.

You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.

Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.

You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.

“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”

You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.

You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”

“But I—”

You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.

“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”

Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.

“—if you could just—”

Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.

“—give it up—”

And yet another.

“—and learn to behave.”

Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.

“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”

But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.

“It’s supposed to.”

The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”

“You said that last time.”

Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.

“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”

The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.

“—on being stubborn.”

The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.

It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.

"I'm sorry!"

You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.

The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.

Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.

There was only a heavy sigh.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”

There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.

Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.

And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.

Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.

“Y-yes sir…”

Finally, the grip on your wrists released.

“Good.”

You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.

There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.

“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”

Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.

Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.

You'd glared, snapping at him.

What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?

The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.

Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.

It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.

“…”

Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.

Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.

You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”

You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.

“Wait, wait—”

You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.

"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.

You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."

"Just relax. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t just—gh!”

His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.

"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.

Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.

You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.

Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.

“Fight me off.”

With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.

“What? I don't— what are you—”

Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.

“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”

The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.

“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”

Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.

“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”

You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.

“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”

You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.

But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.

“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”

The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.

“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.

Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.

“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”

A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.

“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”

Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.

You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.

“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”

Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.

“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”

Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.

“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”

The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.

A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.

You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.

Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.

“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”

The only reply you got was a single word.

“Good.”

You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.

You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.

The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.

You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.

And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.

Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.

You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.

“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”

You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.

Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.

“This will be good for you.”

You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”

Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”

He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.

“So, it will calm you down.”

You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.

“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”

“You're being overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”

Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.

You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.

Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”

“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.

You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.

“Don't move around so much.”

Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.

“There is no way in hell I'm—”

Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.

“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”

You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.

“…No, sir…”

He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”

You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.

His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.

He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.

“Mm, sorry.”

The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.

Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.

“Night.”

You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Goodnight…”

There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.

You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.

You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.

#bro really saw an autonomous female existing and said 'not on my watch'#genshin smut #diluc x reader #.dl

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frost-queen · 7 months ago

Text

Bodyguarded // part 5 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 Tag: @strangerthingslover69 , @ankhmutes , @yoowhatthefuck , @sseleniaa, @deansapplepie , @abbiesxox, @skulliecadaver-blog, @winterassassin1804 , @love-zami

Summary: When there is a need for supplies, a select group goes to the city. Shane and you are forced to be together. How will this play out? Will you find a way out savely out of the city with the others? [series]

Shane slammed his hand on the hood, alarming everyone they were set to ride. Rick kissed Lori goodbye and gave Carl a hug before joining Shane by the car. Glenn already stood by it, wanting to drive. Shane came standing before him with a glare. Glenn swallowed nervously getting the hint. He moved to the backseat as Shane got in the front. Rick joined Shane on the other side. Daryl was by his motorcycle with Carol. Carol was speaking to him, telling him to be careful.

He listened half, finding her motherly concern a bit overrated. You tossed an empty bag in the trunk, shutting it. You were about to get into the car when Daryl whistled loud. It made you look back at him, seeing him ask you over. Smiling, you went up to Daryl. The car door opened as Shane set one foot out, standing up. – “In the car!” – he ordered. – “She’s riding with me!” – Daryl called back.

“Y/n! the car!” – he made clear. Daryl let the engine roar of his motorcycle to overpower Shane’s overrule. You went over to Daryl anyways, grabbing his back as you swung your leg over the motorcycle. Shane puffed annoyed getting back in the car. Your hands were on Daryl as he took them, wrapping them tighter and closer to the front around him.

Daryl rode off, passing by the car. Shane easily caught up with him, riding past him. Shane then slowed a bit down so Daryl and you were still close by. Daryl wasn’t speeding much to not attract any walkers with the noise of the motor. You were leaning against his back, watching the trees pass till it would eventually make way for the highway. – “Hey Y/n.” – Daryl said catching your attention. It made you lift your head up from against his back. – “Yeah?” – you answered.

Daryl turned the steering a bit, getting closer to the woods as you were confused to what he was doing. – “How about a little detour?” – he chuckled out. – “Daryl!” – you called out slapping him against his back. Daryl steered back to the middle of the road where the car drove a few meters up front. – “Shane would go feral.” – you told him. – “I don’t care.” – Daryl answered back.

“Yeah cause having him drive after us like a maniac with Glenn and my brother in the car is so thrilling.” – you teased with a roll of your eyes. Daryl chuckled already picturing it. – “It’s not funny!” – you called out giving him another slap against his shoulder.

Wrapping your arms tighter around him, you snuggled closer against him. – “Just enjoy this.” – you mumbled out. Daryl kept tailing the car till they made it up to the highway. There they started to speed up knowing they had to have daylight at their side. If they would be stuck in the city by night, it would be hell. By the edge of the city, they parked. Not wanting to attract the walkers that roamed the city. Their city now. Fallen a few years ago.

You got off Daryl’s bike as he held you in place by taking your wrist. You turned confused at him. Daryl pulled out a gun, putting it in your hands while his gaze was on Shane up ahead with the car. – “I don’t want my girl to be unarmed.” – he told you, pushing your hand closer to your body. You turned your back to the car, putting the gun away out of eye’s way.

Daryl knew Shane would never let you have a gun. It was even a surprise that were allowed on this run for supplies. You leaned down resting your arm over his shoulder. – “I always have you to save my ass.” – you told him smirking. Daryl inhaled deep bringing his hand on your back down to your bottom. – “A fine one too.” – he answered making you snort.

Daryl and you kissed quick before he got off his motorcycle. You went over to Glenn, taking an empty bag from as well. Glenn stepped away when he saw Rick approach you. – “Nervous brother?” – you asked when he slid his arm over your shoulder. – “Only for you.” – he responded. – “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with walkers more than you.” – you laughed out patting him against his cheek.

Rick chuckled giving you a little shove. – “Hey you’re the newbie here.” – you teased giving him a bump with your hip. Shane came walking around you and Rick having a little comment to say. – “Try not to scream at a walker Y/n.” – he said making you smile sarcastically back at him. You left Rick’s side going after Shane wanting to reply to that. – “Try keeping him alive now.” – you commented hinting your brother.

Shane’s eyes widened briefly but before he could reply, you had joined the others. – “Here you go.” – Glenn said offering you a machete. You accepted it, looking over at Daryl. You didn’t think you would be given a weapon. You then looked over to Shane, wanting to see what he would do about it. He didn’t comment on it, so you got to keep the machete.

Glenn took the lead as he knew some good routes to a nearby store. Daryl and you walked at the back, keeping a good eye on your behinds. The streets were silent. Papers and trash scattered around. Some moving with the wind. Glenn stopped at the front of an alleyway that led up to the main road. Shane and Rick right behind him. Daryl turned his back at you, holding his crossbow up to the other end of the alley in case one would dare to sneak up.

Glenn overlooked the main road, seeing some walkers stand mindlessly still. Some wandering a bit at the slowest pace. Almost unactive from not having eaten so long. – “And?” – Shane asked keeping his voice low. – “It’s a risk.” – he answered seeing a walker sniff the air, making him pull back into he alleyway. – “The stores are up ahead across this street. I don’t think we can make it across unnoticed.” – Glenn spoke lowly looking at Rick and you.

“What if we distract them with noise?” – you suggested making everyone look at you. – “This way we’ll clear the road for you all to cross.” – you finished. – “And who are you suggesting to sacrifice themselves?” – Shane asked with crossed arms.

“It’s not a sacrifice if you do it right.” – you replied with a glare. Shane puffed loud. He then pushed Glenn forwards amidst you all. – “He’ll go.” – he put up. Glenn stared angry at him. – “No, Glenn is the fastest runner, besides he knows the place.” – you countered, backing Glenn up. – “I’ll do it.” – you proposed. – “Y/n no!” – Rick let out, shaking his head. – “It’s not up for discussion.” – you told your brother. Daryl joined having been on guard the entire time. – “I’m coming too.” – he said.

Shane shook his head, pinching his nose bridge. – “We need focus, not more distractions.” – Shane let out. Daryl came up to Shane. – “You got a problem?” – he asked. Shane puffed up his chest to appear larger. – “Enough!” – you shout-whispered coming in between them. Now was not the time and place to argue and fight.

“I don’t care who comes with me, but if we stay here any longer there will be an army of walkers feasting on our flesh!” – you said frustrated. Shane grabbed you by the elbow, pulling you away. Apparently he was coming with you. Daryl wanted to go after you but Rick held him back. – “We have to be ready when they clear the road.” – Rick told him.

You pushed Shane’s hand off you. The two of you rounded the back of some abandoned houses. Shane knocked some wooden planks off that boarded up the broken windows. – “After you.” – he said gloating. It made you roll your eyes. You gave him a little shove out of the way so that you could crawl through the window. Shane got in after you. With his gun up, he sneaked through the dark room to scout for any walkers.

You heard some faint groaning sounds walking up to it. Amidst the rubble was a walker. Stuck underneath parts of the ceiling that had crumbled down. The walker started to groan louder, reaching out to you to grab. You stood in front of it, shoving your machete down in it’s head. Giving it a twist so it surely was dead. Shane found one as well stuck as he knelt down, taking out his knife.

He stabbed it in the head. Blood spattering up. Shane wiped his knife clean on the walker’s dress. Shane and you rejoined in the middle of the room. – “All clear.” – he said making you nod. The two of you started to search for something to cause noise. – “What do you see in him anyways?” – Shane asked from across the room, going through some stuff.

“You mean what don’t I see in you?” – you responded back. Shane’s eyes widened brief, stopping his search, caught off guard. You came over to him. – “That’s what you want right? For many years now.” – you added finding something useful in a dusted box. An football horn, you so hoped still worked, but didn’t want to test out now. You showed Shane the horn as he came over to you.

Grabbing you tight by your arms. The way he stared at you, made you feel uneasy. His hard stare with that struggle deep inside of him. For a moment you thought he was going to kiss you forcefully. Having wanted nothing more. Ever since you were teens perhaps. The making fun of you, the teasing, always coming around.

It was clear now that he liked you but never dared to show it openly because of your brother. Now that he was older, his methods might have become more violent. Cursing at you and threating you bad just because he knew he never had a chance with you.

“What are you going to do.” – you dared him feeling him squeeze your arms tighter. – “Why can’t you just…” – Shane began nearing with his face. It made you gulp, thinking he might actually kiss you now. He kept coming closer with his face as it made you turn your head away. Shane’s forehead came in contact with your side as he shut his eyes hard. Then he tore himself away, taking the horn from you.

Letting out a loud breath, your heart was pounding. This could’ve taken a different direction. You followed Shane back out of the broken window. Jogging after him, you went further down the street to head into one of the next alleyways. Shane looked around and spotted a few cars parked in the middle of the road. He ran over to it, you right behind him.

Shane got up on the car, standing on the roof. He pressed on the horn as it let out a loud sound. Shit you thought, opening the car door and trying to see if the car worked. The walkers were alarmed. Groaning and calling it out as they collectively all turned towards the sounds. Shane horned again and long to lure them over. You kept turning the key, trying to start the car.

Looking briefly through the window, you saw the others carefully look before running across. This car was no use as you got out and went over to another car. Shane horned again, firing at some walkers that were coming near. Anxiously you were trying to start the next car. It was great that all the walkers were coming your way, but you still needed to escape. This car wasn’t working as well as you got back out and checked the hood. The engine stolen.

“Shane!” – you called out. Shane turned his head to you. – “None of them start!” – you yelled at him. Shane aimed his gun your way as you thought for a moment he was going to shoot you. His gun fired making you jump out of your skin. Then you heard a body drop to the ground. Looking over your shoulder you saw a walker down.

Gasping loud, you saw more walkers come from alleyways or hit their heads against glass to get to the noise. With no other way out, you climbed on the roof of the car with Shane. Taking out the gun Daryl had given you. You noticed Shane taking a moment to stare with wide eyes at it. – “Shut up.” – you said not wanting to hear complaints.

Some walkers were below at the car, swaying their arms around to grab for your feet. You started shooting at them. Each hit right through their skull. Shane blew the horn again luring more walkers to you. A walker threw himself on the hood, snapping his mouth around. Shane moved his arm over your shoulder, shooting at him. You shot a few by the trunk as their dark blood splashed the car. The space on the roof was just manageable for two if you didn’t move too much. You gulped feeling a hand grab at your ankle.

You felt yourself slip back off the roof. Before you could fall down reacted Shane. He had taken a hold of your wrist, holding you in place as your back dangled over the walkers. He pulled at your wrist, pulling up against his chest. With an arm around you, he continued to shoot around. Your heart was pounding still trying to recover from your almost fall.

The walkers were snapping their jaws at you and swaying their arms around. Gurgling loud with their calls. You so hoped they raided the place quick. Not sure how much longer you could hold them off. You fired at them one by one. They dropped down like flies but kept coming closer in tenfold. Shane stepped on a walker’s fingers as they reached the roof.

“Give me that horn.” – you told Shane. He gave it to you as you took a hairband from your wrist. You pressed the horn in, wrapping the hairband around it so it kept blowing. You were about to throw it away yourself, but offered it to Shane instead, knowing he might throw further than you. Shane accepted the blowing horn from you, throwing it further down the street. Some walkers were drawn to it that hadn’t smelled your flesh yet.

The others staid around the car, snapping beastly at the two of you. Shane and you fired at the remaining one’s. You furrowed your brows seeing a walker slide down the car side with an arrow in his head. Looking up, you saw Daryl, Glenn and your brother up ahead. They had come back from their raid. Rick was shooting as well, clearing a way for the two of you.

Walkers dropped down lifeless with each hit. Shane jumped off the roof first. You jumped after him, falling through your knees. Shane jerked you up by your arm. He then started running with you. The two of you met up with the others as Shane let go of you. You ran straight in Daryl’s arms, hugging him tight. Daryl exhaled relieved, hugging you back.

“Let’s go.” – Glenn called out knowing more would come soon. The five of you started to run back towards the alleyway. You were hallway through when a few walkers appeared on the other end. It made Glenn stop, you bumping against his back. – “Go back.” – he called out as you already turned around. Shane took about a few steps before he stopped. From the other side walkers now as well. They were closing in, having cut off your escape routes. – “Up!” – Rick called out seeing a ladder hanging a few feet above the ground.

Rick grabbed you, picking you up for you to reach the ladder. You grabbed it, pulling yourself up by your hands before your feet could touch the first step. After you, Rick helped Glenn up. Daryl didn’t need any help as he jumped grabbing the first step with his hands. Rick and Shane joined last climbing up to the roof. Up, you helped Glenn from the ladder.

Daryl, Rick and Shane joining moments later. Glenn looked down the alleyway, seeing the walkers cramped up together, arms up trying to grab for you all out of reach. – “How are we going to get to the car now?” – Glenn panicked with his hands in his hair. Rick stood by the edge, overlooking the town from above.

You looked around the rooftop trying to look for a way out. Daryl joined your side, pulling you closer to him for a moment. Over his shoulder, he glanced at Shane close to Rick. Wondering what had occurred when he wasn’t near. You checked your gun, seeing how many bullets you had left. It wasn’t enough, perhaps to kill a few walkers. Rick whistled loud to round you up. – “We either wait for it to calm down or we take a risk.” – Rick suggested.

“If we wait they’ll just keep roaming below mindlessly cause nothing attracts them anymore.” – Glenn answered. – “Glenn’s got a point.” – Daryl spoke in agreement. The five of you set out to look around the roof top for anything useful. You neared the side of the roof towards the back, feeling that the foundation beneath your feet didn’t feel stable.

Rick was nearing as you stopped him. – “Stop!” – you called out, standing completely still. Rick stopped confused, setting his foot back. – “It’s unstable.” – you explained standing in the middle of it. This part of the roof probably rotten from damp and rain. It wasn’t sturdy cement. The others neared as well, standing by Rick.

You tried to set a foot down back towards them, but felt the foundation crack underneath you. – “Careful.” – Glenn called out. Perhaps if you ran, you could outrun it crumbling away. Eyes locked on Daryl, he knew what you were going to do. He nodded holding his hands out to catch you if he needed too.

You started running towards him, feeling the foundation crack underneath you. The foundation sunk below you, making you leap for Daryl. Daryl sucked in a breath holding his arms further up to you. Your hand touched his hand, swiping down it as he couldn’t catch you in time.

The foundation gave way beneath you, getting sucked into the building. – “Noooo!” – Daryl called out as you screamed loud, disappearing into the gaping black hole. Swallowed by the gaping gap left by the rotten foundation. Your back hit the ground, leaving you in complete darkness.

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

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boxofbonesfic · 8 months ago

Text

Title: Return to Sender [5 of 7]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dark! Andy Barber x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he's going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Smut, MORE TAGS TO BE ADDED

A/N: 👀 is… is anyone still there? i promised i’d update this this weekend, and i delivered. an hour before midnight, but i delivered. 😅 i know it’s been a while for this fic, but it hasn’t been forgotten about. i really hope you all enjoy this latest installment, and please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think! as always, comments are great, reblogs are golden. thank you for reading, and mind the warnings. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Where am I?

You stare blearily at the distant ceiling, dull and rusting metal beams criss-crossing over exposed brick. You reach out for Dove, and when your fingers meet empty air, your throat tightens as you remember.

Pronge walking away with your baby, and Ari—

You sit up, your fingers knotted in the thin blanket. The repurposed garage office is still and silent, the springs creaking quietly underneath you. The air smells like old motor oil, singed rubber and citrus-scented antiseptic, and it burns your nostrils. You’re almost afraid to shatter the fragile silence with the sound of your movement, but it can’t be helped as you shove your feet back into your sneakers. The office is long abandoned, the desks all pushed up against the sides of the room to make space for the bed.

The hallway is slightly better, boxes of papers and car parts lining both sides, lit by old yellow florescent bulbs that give off less light than they should. There’s a dusty, unlit neon sign that reads Gary’s Auto-body, leaning against the wall. Down the hall, you can see that the light is on in the garage proper, this one bright and brilliant white. You squint as you pass through the doorway, spots dancing in front of your eyes as they slowly adjust to the light.

In its previous life, this place had been a car mechanic’s garage, but now it serves as something like a speak-easy operating room. The car lifts have been mostly dismantled, and sitting on the concrete in the rusted outline of where they used to be are two operating tables. Ari is on one of them, speaking quietly to the man winding a length of beige bandaging around his right shoulder.

Zemo. Ari called him Zemo.

“Mouse, you’re up.” You cover your mouth with both hands to stop the surprised squeak from reaching him. Guiltily, you peer around the door frame, waiting for a reprimand that doesn’t come. The “doctor” regards you with cold, calculating eyes.

“So this is the young woman Mr. Barber is tearing the city apart to find,” he says. “How nice to finally meet you.” Andy’s name sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you clutch yourself. Zemo’s welcome feels less like kindness and more like tolerance. It makes you wonder how long you’ll be staying here.

“You know Andy?” You ask, careful to keep your face as neutral as you can manage.

Zemo scowls. “Well enough to know we do not get along.” He shakes his head, before regarding you with a cold smile. “Your husband has just as many enemies as he does friends.” Beside him, Ari sits up on the table with a pained grunt, swinging his legs over the side.

“We can trust him, Mouse.” Ari offers you a watery smile. Nervously, you step closer, skirting around the now defunct counter as you attempt to give Zemo as wide a berth as you can manage. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, cleaning his tools with a cloth before dropping them with a loud, metallic pap into the metal tray next to the table.

“Are you okay?” You ask him in a quiet voice as you approach, fingers dancing nervously around the gauze. You shake your head, closing your eyes as you blow out an exasperated breath. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but—” Ari places a warm hand over your own, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“Lucky for you Pronge is a terrible shot.” Zemo quips. “He missed bone.”

“See?” Ari says, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “I’m just fine.”

“You’re not fine. You have a six millimeter hole in you.”

“Semantics.”

“Keep activity to a minimum. I shouldn’t have to tell you this,” Zemo replies dryly. “And keep it clean, I’m not going to do it for you. This isn’t a hospital.” You watch him pack up his tools, ferrying them over to the deep sink on the other side of the room. Ari slides off of the table with a grunt, and you watch him press his lips together as he stands upright, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ari mutters, cutting his eyes at Zemo over his shoulder. “Six millimeters.” The doctor tosses him a worn looking cloth sling. Ari tries to fit it over his shoulder, and you rush to help him. “Thanks, Mouse.” Your cheeks warm with an uncomfortable heat. “I could have done it myself.”

“This is all my fault,” you mumble angrily, shaking your head. “I have to do something.” You step back from him, tucking your chin. He rests a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder.

“No it’s not.”

“If I—If I hadn’t—” Guilt is an achingly heavy cowl about your sagging shoulders.

“Mouse, what good is this going to do you?” The gentleness in his touch makes you flinch.

“As much as I am enjoying this conversation,” Zemo clears his throat. “I have my own wife and son to be getting back to.” You watch as he places his cleaned tools back into his bag. “Do remember what I said about your… hole.” He gestures to Ari’s injured arm with a grimace. “I’m rather keen on not amputating.”

“You and me both.” Ari says. The two of you watch as he makes his way over to the front of the shop, pulling the metal garage door up enough to slip underneath it. “What time tomorrow?”

“Noon.”

The garage door slams down hard onto the concrete, and then there is silence. You stand there awkwardly, twisting your t-shirt in your restless hands. They’re so used to holding the baby, without her sure weight in them they feel… useless.

You feel useless. Adrift.

And it isn’t just Dove—it’s everything. Despite what Ari says, you know this is your fault. He’d never have been hurt if you hadn’t been so fucking helpless. And it’s your own fault, you’d let your guard down, let Andy back inside, let him make a home inside your head, and it was your fault.

“What are you thinkin’ there, Mouse?” Ari’s voice interrupts the self-depreciating internal monologue running rampant in your head. “I hope it’s about getting some sleep, you need it.” Again, his earnestness puts you on edge. You don’t know what to do with it—it feels alien to you now, almost like you’d prefer Andy’s smug cruelty—at least then you know what to expect.

You don’t want to admit that you’re blaming yourself, thinking about all the ways you could have prevented this exact course of events just by being better.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m exhausted.” If anything, you’re too awake, recalling last night’s events with perfect clarity. You can’t even look at Ari as the two of you silently make your way back to the repurposed offices, shuffling along beside him as your insides squirm. You feel too much to go to sleep, so many warring desires it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out.

You suppose that’s one thing you sort of miss about Andy—you didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel. He did it all for you. You arrive back at your “room”, fidgeting nervously before you cross the threshold. You don’t think you can sleep in here now, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Now that the terror has been waylaid by your other earthly concerns.

Ari notes your hesitation.

“I can stay with you util you fall asleep, if you don’t think you can.”��

You duck your head, shaking it emphatically. “I should be looking after you,” you reply, shooting him a look over your shoulder. “You should, um, rest.” Ari looks around, raising an eyebrow. Oh. There’s only one other bed—and it’s current occupant is currently snoring so loud you can hear it in here.

“You sleep here, and I’ll—” You look around. “I’ll sleep in one of the rolly-chairs or something.” He laughs softly at your sudden determination.

“You know I’m not letting you sleep on chairs, Mouse.” Ari rests a hand on your shoulder. “You take the bed.”

“You got shot, Ari!” You hiss. “I-I-I can’t—”

He holds up his hands placatingly, like he can see you working yourself up. Hell, he probably can.

“Okay.” He threads the fingers of his good hand through his blond hair. “I’ll sleep on one side, you on the other. Fair?”

“Y-yes. Fair.” Your words shock the both of you, and you feel your face heat as he regards you with a look of pleasant surprise before you look down at your feet.

“You don’t have to agree if you aren’t comfortable, Mouse. You know that. I wouldn’t—”

“I know.” You grip your own forearms tightly as you speak, like you’re afraid saying the words out loud will make them untrue—like speaking the name of your demon will bring him down upon you. “You’re not Andy.”

Ari takes the left side of the bed, and the springs creak under his weight. You crawl in beside him, holding yourself as stiff as you possibly can to avoid even brushing him by accident. The truth is, you are scared—but not of Ari.

And that frightens you, too.

He’s a man, a stranger, wearing a face too similar to the one you’re running from. Now, though, when you’re brave enough to peek at him, you see Ari—not Andy. And the longer you’re here, the clearer you see him.

You lie there in the dark, your arms held painfully stiff over your chest as you search the dark with wide, glassy eyes. The ceiling is far enough above you that your brain begins to construct patterns and shapes on it’s popcorn-textured surface. Grinning faces, tall, shadowy figures—

“Mouse, are you sleeping?”

You hesitate. “…No.”

“Go to sleep.” You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, blinking back hot tears.

“It’s… It’s hard without Dove.” It’s so silent without the baby, the darkness uncomfortably quiet without the sound of her sleepy burble. She’s probably awake right now, wailing for you. You press the heels of your palms against your eyes like you’re trying to hold the tears in.

“I know.” The mattress creaks, and you feel Ari’s weight shift. The weight of your loss settles in on you, then, the crushing vacuum of your daughter’s absence sucking the air out of your lungs as you gasp for it. You can’t keep quiet anymore, your hiccoughing breaths rising in pitch until you’re sobbing, hot tears streaming down your cheeks to soak your hair and the thin pillow beneath.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ari’s touch is hesitant. He lets his fingers linger on your shoulders before he hugs you, like he’s waiting for you to rebuke him. You don’t. Instead, you curl into his chest, your wails muffled by his body as you tangle your fingers in his over-shirt. You cry so hard it hurts, your throat raw and aching.

Ari’s hands don’t stray. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t murmur false platitudes or make promises he knows he won’t be able to keep. He just…holds you, his breath steady and heartbeat slow and even under your ear.

And then, finally, you fall asleep.

—

In the light of day, Irene looks terrible. Her left eye is swollen black and purple, a patchwork of burst blood-vessels and yellow bruises spread out over cheek. The other side of her face is not much better, the other eye open but blood red, and her nose swollen. It’s obvious she took a beating, a bad one. Still, she seems to be in higher spirits than last night as she shovels the last of her cereal into her mouth. You’re doing the same thing, hungrily crunching down the contents of your own bowl.

“We need to talk about next steps.” Irene draws the back of her hand across her mouth, her one good eye focused on you. “We need to move.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Dove.”

“That isn’t an option anymore.”

You clench your hands into fists on the table. “I’m. Not. Leaving.”

“We will figure out a way to get her back, but right now? You cannot go back to Boston, he is never going to let you go, do you understand that?” It’s like you’re speaking two different languages, talking around one another in dizzying circles. You shove yourself away from the foldout table, knocking over your plastic chair.

“I’m not fucking leaving without my daughter!” You haven’t felt like this in months, and something about it feels freeing as the hot rage pools in your chest. No, it isn’t that you haven’t felt it, you haven’t let yourself feel it. Anger was hopeless with Andy, firm and stone faced in the hurricane of your rage until you exhausted yourself, your freedom, your life still frustratingly far out of your reach.

You storm away from the table, kicking aside one of Zemo’s silver trays, and his tools skitter across the concrete. Behind you is the sound of Ari’s voice.

“I’ll talk to her.”

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you need to be away from them. Alone. The bathroom is on the far side of the garage bay, and you slam the door behind you, your chest heaving. You can’t leave without Dove, you won’t.

You won’t abandon her.

You grip the porcelain edges of the sink hard as you blink back fresh tears. You turn on the water with a fierce jerk of the knob, and begin to rinse last night’s tears from your face. This is the cleanest room in the building, fresh towels stacked on on the shelves, and medical supplies arranged neatly in the glass cases across from the standing shower.

It’s probably the only room Zemo actually uses.

As you’re drying your face, a knock sounds at the door, and you glare at it as you huff.

“What?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?” You chew your lip.

“Fine.”

You unlatch the lock, and fold your arms across your chest as it opens. Ari peers around the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You repeat, and he chuckles, stepping fully inside as the door swings shut behind him. “I’m not leaving without Dove.” You say it firmly, watching his shoulders sag with his deep sigh. “It’s not happening.”

“Mouse. Look at me.” Reluctantly, you drag your gaze from the air over his shoulder. “Your husband—”

“We’re not married.” You spit, and Ari rolls his eyes at the technicality.

“He’s dangerous, Mouse. You know that.” Ari places gentle hands on your shoulders. “You know that as soon as you step foot back in that house that he will never, ever let you go again.” Your stomach twists at his words.

“I can get out again.”

“Will you want to?” His bluntness feels like a slap across the face, and though Ari hadn’t struck you—would never—your cheeks smart anyway. You know what he’s implying—Andy scrambled your head all up inside, and half the time now you don’t know up from fucking down.

But it still hurts to know he knows. Knows how changed you are, even though he never got to see the before, just the after.

“Fuck you!” You snarl. “I am not leaving her! And if you won’t help me get her back, then I’ll—I’ll go back my fucking self!” For the first time since you’d met him, Ari actually looks angry at this, his eyes darkening beneath his furrowed brows. “If you don’t care about her—”

“I let Leah go back.” It takes you a moment to realize who he’s talking about, what he means. “I let Leah go back, and then I had to bury them both.” Ari’s hand is a pale, trembling fist on the bathroom sink. His next words are hoarse. “I didn’t know they made coffins so small.”

“Ari…”

“I care about Dove.” The words are heavy, and you hate that you know he means them. “We are going to get her back.” His eyes are shiny, but he doesn’t cry. “I fucking swear we will get her back, but you are not going to do that. Okay? You’re not.”

“You promise?” Your mouth trembles.

“I promise.” Ari wraps his pinky around yours, holding your entwined fingers up at eye level. “And you aren’t going back.”

“I-I won’t.”

“Promise.” His dark eyes burn so fiercely you want to look away. “Promise.” He repeats it firmly.

“I promise.”

And then he’s kissing you, cupping your chin with his good hand as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your heart pounds in your ears as you go stiff in his arms. Ari breaks away, releasing you with a soft curse.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Mouse, I—I didn’t mean to do that, I just—” For once, he’s flustered, his cheeks ruddy beneath the shadow of his beard. Ari cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

The moment hangs between you in the air, held like a breath.

Your body stays tensed, like you’re ready to fight, or run, like it remembers Andy’s strict instructions. Except… Andy isn’t here to deliver them himself.

“It’s…” You don’t know what to say, hell, you don’t even know what you’re feeling. Everything is all mixed up, the emotions all biting the tails of the ones they’re chasing—you’re terrified, you’re exhilarated, you’re nauseous and scared and happy and—

“I’ll go. I should go.” Ari mutters the words more to himself than to you. You’re moving before you really mean to, leaning up on the tips of your toes to press a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I—I don’t want you to go.” With a sigh, Ari melts against you, resting his forehead against yours. You know you have done this before—many times, even just with Andy—but somehow there is a marked uncertainty as you lift your own hand to Ari’s face, stroking your thumb along his stubbled jawline. He hums, turning his face into your palm, and you feel the press of his lips.

Ari wraps his good arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the meat of your hip through your pajama pants. His right arm flexes, his fist clenching and unclenches in the sling like he wants to move it, but he knows better. Instead, he buries his nose in your hair, the tips of his fingers creeping up beneath your t-shirt to stroke at your belly. You tense at his touch and then relax again, shivering.

“You tell me to go, I go.” Ari repeats softly, nosing down the side of your jaw. “I won’t be angry.” You look for the pool of cold dread that usually sits in your belly whenever Andy touches you, the reluctant fear that you stamp down to please him but find it entirely absent.

“You don’t have to make me happy, you don’t have to do what I want because I want it.” You have to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around Ari’s broad shoulders. There is undeniable excitement uncurling in your belly, warmth skipping under your skin at his touch. You want Ari to touch you.

“What if… it would make me happy?”

Ari huffs out a breathy laugh, his lips curving against your own. “That’s all I seem to want to do.” He takes your mouth again with a fervor that leaves you pleasantly breathless. Ari tangles his fingers in the curls at the nape of your neck, holding you still. His teeth tug at the weight of your lower lip and you gasp, opening for him. Ari tastes faintly of cinnamon sugar and something distinctly him that makes you shiver.

“Been wanting to do that for a goddamn week.” He sighs the words against your mouth. He smooths his hand down the back of your neck, tracing a gentle finger along the length of your spine. You don’t know you’re holding your breath until you release is as his palm skirts over the curve of your ass. He chuckles. “Is this okay?”

“Y-yes.” Ari palms your ass in response and you gasp, tangling your fingers in his over-shirt. It feels strange to be asked what you want, to even consider your own feelings as worth listening to. Andy tells you what to want, what to think, how to feel—Ari simply…allows you to be. Just as you are.

“I wanna touch you, Mouse,” he breathes. The admission sends a sharp bolt of electricity straight down your spine. “Can I?” You can’t avoid his eyes anymore, reluctantly meeting his gaze with your own. The words stick in your throat.

“You have to tell me, Mouse.” He strokes your trembling chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not him.”Andy always played at giving you choice, but you know Ari isn’t. That if you tell him to, he’ll walk away, and he won’t punish you for it.

You close your eyes hard, pressing the lids shut till they hurt. You don’t want to think about Andy right now, don’t want to think about Dove without you—you just want this. It feels like you have to reach down your own throat to find it, pulling your own voice up and out through your mouth with force.

“Please?”

Ari groans, plunging his hand into your loose sleep-pants to wrap around your thighs. He’s strong enough to lift you one-armed as you adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist as a reflex and he hums approvingly, his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips.

The hard planes of his body press against yours, and your face heats as you think of the new weight that has settled around your hips and belly, but Ari does not seem to notice its presence, his fingers skimming appreciatively along your skin. You can feel the bulge of his cock pressing against your core, and the breathy, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat at the feel of it prompts a chuckle.

Ari grips your hip hard as he takes a few long strides backwards until you feel cool tile beneath your back. He holds you there, pinned comfortably between his body and the wall as he grinds into you. He ruts against you with a groan. The thin, stretchy fabric between you offers little protection, considering, you can practically feel him throbbing through his zipper.

“See, Mouse?” He says lowly. “All for you.” Ari releases you, and your feet have barely touched down on the tile before he’s pulling at the hem of your t-shirt.

“Let’s take this off.” You nod, tugging it up over your head breathlessly, unaware of where it lands after Ari tugs it from your fingers. He drops to his knees, hooking a finger under the elastic band holding up your pajamas. You tense, remembering the last person who had been between your legs, but Ari grounds you, his lips brushing over the curve of your hip.

“Don’t.” His mouth moves softly against your skin. “Stay here. With me, right now. Don’t go anywhere else.” Ari peels the layers of clothing back from your skin, his hands roaming hungrily over each newly revealed inch. You step out of them and then quickly scoot off your socks. Ari looks up at you from between your thighs, making hard, heavy eye contact as he places a hand beneath your knee.

“Can I do this for you, Sweetheart? Can I make you feel good?” God, you want to let him. Everything’s out of you control—Andy, Dove, your whole life, but this? This is yours. This, you get to choose.

“Yes.” Even the act of consent feels unfamiliar. “I—I want to.” You don’t know how to describe the way you see the relief leave his body, his broad shoulders relaxing as he widens your stance, pushing your thighs apart till he can kneel between them properly. He squeezes the back of your thigh reassuringly before slowly lifting it to rest on his good shoulder. Ari holds your gaze as he leans forward to place a kiss on the chubby curve of your vulva through your cotton panties.

His mouth is warm and soft—reverent as he mouths at your swelling lips through the fabric. Ari strokes your hip as he catches the fabric with his teeth, before pulling it aside to marvel at your bare pussy. You want to look away but you don’t, your mouth dropping open as he delivers a sloppy kiss against your slick folds.

“O-oh,” the sound falls from your lips unbidden, and you feel his mouth curve against you. He pauses briefly to shrug out of his flannel, and dimly you are aware of the sound of his zipper before he’s back, his face thrust hard into the soaking place between your thighs. You mumble his name.

“Ari, Ari, Ari—”

He rolls the pearl of your clit against the roof of his mouth, circling your entrance with one finger. You press your head back against the tile, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. You do not remember threading your fingers through his hair, but as you tighten them, tugging, he moans, throaty and low. When you chance a look down, Ari is staring at you with lidded eyes. He flicks your clit sharply with the tip of his tongue, humming appreciatively as you jackknife.

“Go ahead and cum, Mouse,” he murmurs the words against your slick, twitching skin. “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know you need it.” One hand remains buried in Ari’s hair, tugging on it helplessly as the other scrabbles for purchase against the tile, looking for something—anything—to hold onto. You push against the hot water knob, and the pipes rattle as water rockets through them. You are tangentially aware of the spray of warm water from the shower head—but only barely. You whine helplessly, hips rolling against Ari’s face as you cum.

He presses the tip of his finger into your cunt, groaning at the feel of you, wet and swollen and sucking at him. He gently lowers your leg, and your trembling knees nearly buckle. You watch as Ari wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly as he stares at the sticky, messy spot at the apex of your thighs. It’s thick, veiny like his forearms. He sweeps his thumb across the tip, spreading the dewy drop of precum gathered there.

Ari stands, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. From inside, he produces a wrinkled—but sealed—condom. He tears into the packet with his teeth before discarding it. He fumbles with one hand, nearly dropping it, but you help, gingerly pulling the condom from his fingers. Ari stands stock still as you roll it slowly down to the base before he grasps your chin, his mouth crashing against yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

This time when he lifts you, he uses the wall to leverage your weight, sinking you down slow as you lock your ankles behind his waist. Ari’s head lolls, his lips parting in a silent “o” as he draws his hips back, and then fully sheathes himself inside. The air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, needy whine.

“F-full.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until Ari hums in agreement.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Mouse?” He breathes. “Shit, you’re squeezing me so nice,” he breathes, drawing back until your cunt is sicking at the tip of him before driving all the way back inside. You manage a nod, your hips rolling greedily into his.

“I-I—fuck—again—” The words don’t want to leave your tongue in any sort of sensible manner, but Ari understands them, grinning hungrily as he picks up the pace. He skims your clit with his thumb, and you can feel the sparks skittering up your spine and you gasp as he does it again and again—

“Come on, Sweetheart, you’ve got one more in there for me, don’t you?” He mutters, angling his hips up into yours as you writhe against him. “Wanna feel it on my cock—mmm, fuck—” You do, leaning forward to bury your face against his chest as you wail, your cunt clamping down around him like a fist. Ari curls his massive body over yours as he empties into you, his hips pressing softly against yours. He holds you there, his cock jerking and throbbing inside of you as he mumbles soft ‘mm’’s and ‘yeah, fuck yeah’’s into your hair until he’s done.

You stay like that, your body buzzing as the warm water streaming down over you. Eventually, when you can no longer feel the hammer of his heart against your cheek, he pulls out, and you press your lips together in embarrassed amusement at the crinkle of latex. He knots it off before tossing it into the trash bin. Your cheeks burn as Ari cleans between your legs, cupping your swollen cunt with an appreciative hum. He slides his fingers through the folds of your sticky sex, and your breath hitches.

“I’m just cleaning you up, Mouse, I promise.” He’s true to his word, there’s hungry, lustful intensity in his touches, only care. You str heady yourself against his shoulder, and your heart drops at the sight of his bandages. The center is tinged with a pink circle, and as you stare at it, it darkens a little.

“You’re bleeding.” Ari looks down at his shoulder and grimaces.

“Occupational hazard, Mouse. I’ll be fine.” He attempts to reassure you with a smile, but it doesn’t completely do away with the cold feeling in your belly.

“We’re going to need to change these, at least,” you say, fingering the edge of his wet bandage. “I think Zemo will be mad if we don’t.”

“He’s always mad.” Ari replies, and you laugh. “But yes. We’ll change them”

It somehow feels more intimate to stand there in the shower with Ari, slowly washing off the events of the last day and a half. He shampoos your hair, rubbing it in gently at the roots with the tips of his fingers. When you’re finally done, he helps you towel off, before producing a generic grey sweatshirt and pants from one of the cupboards after a bit of rummaging.

When the two of you return to the garage, dewy cheeked and differently clothed, Irene snorts.

“Had a good time, did you?”

—

Dove won’t stop crying.

Andy isn’t a bad father, he knows he’s not, but for some reason, he can’t get her calmed down. Her little fists are clenched tight, beating the air above her head with a frustration Andy as her father, cannot seem to quell. He bounces his daughter tiredly as he paces around the nursery, mumbling soothing baby speak as he rubs circles on her back.

She’s been wailing practically nonstop since Pronge had delivered her, his expression grim as he’d handed her over.

I couldn’t get your wife.

Andy had wanted to rage, then, and he almost had, itching to slam the whiskey glass in his hand into Robert’s face for the trouble—but Dove’s fussing had provided a sufficient reminder that it might not be appropriate to do so. She cries herself to sleep, hiccoughing in his arms until her breathing evens. Andy carefully lays her down in the crib, stroking his hand over the curve of her cheek. He closes the door to the nursery, and to his disgust, Robert Pronge stands in the hallway, the decanter of whiskey from his office held in his hand. He takes a swig from it.

“Who else was with her?”

Pronge grimaces. “Irene. And her new assistant. Fucker’s as big as a goddamn house. Name’s Ari Levinson, he owns some shithole bar.” Andy’s eyes narrow.

“Get out.” He shoulders past the killer in his hallway, not bothering to take back the bottle.

“And do what, exactly?” He sneers.

“Finish your goddamn job, and find my wife.” Andy waits to hear the sound of the front door before returning to his office. He’d had you—and you’d slipped right through his fingers again. You wouldn’t want to be apart from Dove, at least, that much he could be sure of. You’re a good mother, regardless of the doubts he knows he’ll have to plant in your beautiful head to get you to stay.

Ari Levinson.

The name is unfamiliar, and a search through both Massachusetts and New York state databases return no results. He does, however, get pings on basic search engines.

Ari Levinson. Dishonorable discharge, tried for murder, dismissed as self defense.

Now that is interesting.

It’s after midnight when he finally decides to turn in for the night, and as he closes his office door, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He reaches for it, frowning at the unfamiliar number—but then his eyes widen at the caller I.D.

Albany.

“Hello?” At first, there’s only grainy silence on the other end, until finally, you speak.

“I’m ready to talk, Andy.”

He smiles. “Oh, Honey. I knew you would be.”

to be continued…

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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 7 months ago

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1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

1969 was, effectively, the final year for the Shelby Mustang. By now assembly had shifted in Michigan from California where it was contracted out to A.O. Smith Corporation. Smith, an established Motor City contractor, had brought a level of serious manufacturing skill, supplier management, procedure and standards never seen at Shelby’s facility where LAX met the vibrant (and sometimes extreme) subculture of Venice, California.

Now largely designed and specified by Ford staffers, the 1969 Shelby Mustang was drastically different visually from the standard Mustangs, with a completely different nose and grille, a wide rectangular opening with blacked out grille flanked by 7” headlights and with Shelby’s characteristic driving lights now smaller rectangular pieces below the attractive, but largely ineffective, bumper. The special Shelby hood had five ducts, three NACA-style surface ducts replaced the complicated but entertaining shaker hoods of years gone by to supply cold air directly to the engine air intake and two extractors at the back of the hood relieving underhood pressure and exhausting heated air in front of the windshield.

A surface duct behind the headlights and a scoop behind the door and in front of the rear wheel arch that was ducted to the rear brakes continued the performance theme. The rear panel was completely different from the Mustang, housing a set of 1965 Thunderbird sequential taillights with the rear license plate placed between them and including a small ducktail spoiler. The area under the bumper where standard Mustangs carried their license plate contained two rectangular outlets for the Shelby’s dual exhaust system. Standard wheels were unique 5-spoke Mag Stars with alloy centers and chrome steel rims.

Under the hood lay the 428 Cobra Jet which had powered the ’68 Shelby GT500KR. Both Ford and Shelby recognized the superiority of the high performance CJ and made it the standard engine for 1969’s Shelby Mustangs.

At the end of the 1969 model year 789 Shelby Mustangs were in-process at A.O. Smith. They were visually updated with black hood stripes and a chin spoiler and given new VINs. Otherwise the 1970s were exactly the same as the ‘69s making these two years essentially identical examples of the end of the Shelby Mustang series which had begun only a scant six years before.

Avidly sought by collectors and obsessively documented by the Shelby American Automobile Club, most Shelby Mustangs are well known and have well known histories. Occasionally, however, a example appears which has been out of sight for years. Even more rarely it turns out to have been little used and continuously maintained by a thoughtful and caring single owner for nearly forty years.

The Black Jade 1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Sportsroof fastback offered here is one of those rare and highly desirable cars. It was delivered new to Ford’s dealer in Yokohama, Japan, Marubeni Motors K.K., and was sold thereafter to its first, and only, owner in Japan. It has been repainted in the original color once but is otherwise completely original, as delivered and has only 84,941km on its metric-calibrated export speedometer (52,779 miles.) Its sympathetic maintenance and care shows throughout in its clean, straight, rust-free condition.

Power of course comes from the 428 cubic inch Cobra Jet Ram Air V-8 engine which Ford and Shelby conservatively rated at 335 horsepower at 5,200rpm and a gut-wrenching 440 lb-ft torque at 3,400rpm. It puts the power through Ford’s highly regarded C-6 automatic transmission and Traction-Lok differential with high speed 3.00:1 gearing that takes full advantage of the CJ engine’s torque. In addition to the highly desirable drivetrain specification it is loaded with options including the Visibility Group, Goodyear white letter tires, Sport Deck folding rear seat, power front disc brakes, power steering, tilt steering column, Selectaire air conditioning, AM/8-track stereo radio, tinted glass, deluxe belts, tachometer and trip odometer.

It is finished in one of the Shelby Mustang’s most attractive colors, Black Jade. The interior and high back buckets seats are upholstered in black Clarion Knit/Corinthian vinyl that complements with Black Jade exterior.

It returned to the U.S. in 2006 but has never been titled by its current owner so it remains a one-owner car. Its absolutely clear history, one-owner provenance, highly original condition with known mileage and extensive options list are attributes shared by few Shelby Mustangs of this age. This is a rare opportunity for an astute collector to acquire a particularly significant, unmolested Shelby Mustang from the last, and most highly developed, series.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

Powered by a 428ci V8 engine mated to a C6 automatic transmission, this beauty includes the original #Shelby owner card, a copy of the Shelby work order and Window Sticker.

1969 Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback

#Shelby Mustang GT500 Fastback #Shelby Mustang GT500 #Shelby Mustang #Mustang #Shelby #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #ford

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Usually held in the two weeks after the Olympic Games in the same host city, the Paralympics showcase the best athletes with physical disabilities from around the world competing for their home countries. (The Paralympics are not to be confused with the Special Olympics, which feature athletes with intellectual disabilities.) This year, the Summer Paralympics will take place from August 28 to September 8 in Paris, France.

Quick history lesson: The origins of the Paralympics began shortly after World War II, during the 1948 London Olympics, where 16 wheelchair-using veterans participated. The first official Paralympic Games took place in Rome in 1960 and featured 400 athletes from 23 countries. Since then, the Games have taken place every four years and now feature 4,400 athletes in 22 sports (the Olympics have 32), with 549 gold medals up for grabs.

There are athletes competing from 177 countries (this year’s Olympics had athletes from 184 countries), including 10 countries that have never been represented in the Paralympic Games before, along with representation from the Neutral and Refugee teams. In case you missed it, at the last Paralympics in Tokyo, China earned the most medals, with Great Britain behind it and the US in third.

Since the 1988 Summer Games and the 1992 Winter Games, the Olympic and Paralympic Games have been held in the same cities and venues. Although Paralympians still strive for equal treatment as Olympic athletes without disabilities, there is a large gap in funding between the Olympics and Paralympics.

Where to Watch

This year’s Games will make history as the first Paralympic Games to offer live coverage of every one of the 22 sports played. Like the Olympics, every event at the Paralympics will be available to stream on Peacock if you’re in the US.

If you prefer going old school and watching on basic cable, a select number of events will be airing on the NBC channels NBC, CNBC, and USA Network, along with E!, Golf Channel, and Telemundo, which offers coverage in Spanish. In an effort to make the Games more accessible, closed captioning will be available for every Paralympic event (regardless of the platform). You can also watch highlights and athlete interviews on Paralympic.org.

In the UK, Channel 4 has more than 1,300 hours of live coverage scheduled. Folks can also watch through their streaming service or Channel 4 Sport’s YouTube channel, which will show the entirety of the Games for the first time. BBC, BBC Radio 5 Live, and the BBC Sport website will also air highlights and select coverage. The Paralympics website also has a complete list of where to watch by country.

Opening Ceremony

The Opening Ceremony will begin August 28 at 8 pm Paris time, 7 pm BST, 2 pm EDT, and 11 am PDT. Similar to the Olympics opening ceremony, the Paralympics opening ceremony will be held outside of a stadium at one of the major squares in Paris, Place de la Concorde, and the iconic avenue Champs-Élysées will be transformed into the opening ceremony stage.

The competition starts the following day, on August 29, at 11 am EDT (8 am PDT). Like with the Paris Olympics, the start times will be similarly early and continue throughout the day. The specific timing of some of the events might change, so check the schedule of events on the Olympics' Paralympics schedule webpage.

Blind Football (Soccer)

Blind football is an adaptation of football (or soccer, if you’re American) for athletes with vision impairment played with an audible ball. This men’s competition starts early on September 1 and continues on September 2, 3 and 5, with the gold medal match on Saturday, September 7.

Boccia

Boccia is one of only two sports with no Olympic equivalent. It was originally created for athletes in wheelchairs who have impaired motor function or coordination. To win, each team must get the most balls closest to the white ball called the jack, with athletes allowed to make modifications according to their needs. Men’s and women’s individual games start August 29 and go through September 1, with the gold medal individual matches on September 1 and 2. Mixed pairs and teams start September 3, with gold mixed pairs and teams matches on September 5.

Goalball

The other sport of the Paralympic Games without an Olympic equivalent, goalball is a team sport for the visually impaired and blind, in which players wear special black eye-covering-type glasses so they fully can’t see and are thus more equitable (and honestly, look cool as hell). If there’s anything that the Olympic Games have taught us, it’s that the people go crazy for some out-of-the-norm eyewear. The audience needs to stay as quiet as possible because the ball has bells inside. Thus, the athletes have to rely solely on sound, while they use their whole body to try to block the ball from making it inside the goal. (Lets see Neymar try to do that.) Men’s and women’s games start August 29 with the gold medal games for both on September 5.

Para Archery

The first game played at the early iteration of the Paralympics in 1948, para archery now has men and women’s individual and mixed teams, with wheelchair or standing, and with recurve and compound bows used. Men’s and women’s individual events begin August 29 and continue through September 5, with gold medal matches in individual, teams and with different bows across multiple days.

Para Athletics

One of the most beloved sports in the Paralympics is para athletics, which has been a popular fixture in the games since the inaugural Rome Games in 1960. Today, it spans a wide range of track, jumping, and throwing events, as well as marathons. Because of the wide range of men’s and women’s events, competition begins on August 30 and happens daily with gold medal matches until the Games end on September 8. Check the full para athletics schedule for more specific events’ times.

Para Badminton

Para badminton debuted at Tokyo 2020, although it has been hugely popular for decades. Like badminton, players compete as singles and pairs, as well as standing and in wheelchairs. Group play begins on August 29, with men’s, women’s, and mixed doubles beginning August 31. Gold medal matches take place September 1 and 2.

Para Canoe

The Paralympic Canoe competition features two types of boats: the kayak and va’a (traditionally used in Oceania for travel between islands). Para canoes are basically the same as those used in the Olympic Games, but just have a wider bottom for greater stability. The races begin September 6 with gold medal games on September 7 and 8.

Para Road Cycling

Throughout the years, like many other events, Paralympic cycling has grown to adapt to many disabilities, and uses standard bicycles, handcycles, tricycles, and tandems. In road cycling, there are road races, time trials, and relay events. Both the men and women’s individual and relay events and gold medal races take place daily September 4 through 7.

Para Track Cycling

Para  track cycling is similar to road cycling but takes place on a velodrome track (as the name suggests). Competition is divided into time trials, individual, and tandem or team sprints, using standard bicycles and tandems (all of which can be adapted for the specific athlete). The various track cycling events and gold medal races take place simultaneously August 29 to September 1.

Para Equestrian

Unlike the three equestrian events at the Olympic Games, the Paralympic equestrian program only includes the dressage competition. Para dressage essentially focuses on how well the rider and horse gel, with riders judged on their riding and performance with the horse. All the events are individual mixed, and each competition has gold medal rounds, taking place August 3, 4, 6 and 7.

Para Judo

Para judo is one of two martial arts competitions at the Games. The Paralympics judo follows the same rules as its Olympic equivalent, except it’s practiced exclusively by athletes with vision impairments—and is way more badass, in my humble opinion. (I think I’m allowed to make that assertion since I’m also disabled, don’t come for me.) With the athletes unable to see their opponent, they must use their sense of touch and careful listening—including slight differences in breathing and movement—to sense what their rival may do next. Men’s and women’s matches take place September 5, 6, and 7 and have gold medal matches at the end of each day.

Para Powerlifting

Para powerlifting is a men’s and women’s bench press competition that tests upper body strength where the athletes compete in different weight categories. All of the events are individual and there are gold medal rounds for each competition (which varies by gender and weight class) taking place September 4 to 8.

Para Rowing

A relatively new sport, rowing debuted at the Paralympic Games in 2008. Now, there are five rowing events, including three mixed events. Para rowing rules are nearly identical to those at the Olympics and rowers are eligible for different events according to their gender and impairment categories. The races begin across all categories on August 30, continue to August 31, with final gold medal rounds on September 1.

Para Swimming

Para swimming has remained one of the most enduring sports in the Paralympics since its debut at the Rome Games in 1960. Its popularity is due in part because athletes with all kinds of physical and mental disabilities can participate and doesn’t require any specific equipment. (Prosthetics aren’t allowed either.) Featuring different swims at different distances, athletes compete in breaststroke, backstroke, butterfly, freestyle, and medley. As one of the most popular sports, there are men’s, women’s, and mixed events virtually nonstop with gold medal races near the end of every day, August 29 until September 7.

Para Table Tennis

One of the OG Paralympian games, table tennis actually has a longer history in the Paralympic Games than its Olympic counterpart. When it began, it was only open to wheelchair users, although today athletes are placed into 11 different classes based on their physical and intellectual impairments. Men’s and women’s doubles, singles and mixed games take place August 29 to September 7, with gold medal games every day except September 2.

Para Taekwondo

Para taekwondo is a new competition that made its Paralympic debut at the Tokyo Games. Focused on athletes with upper limb impairments, they are split into two sports classes and divided into weight categories. Men and women compete August 29 to 31, with gold medal matches at the end of each day.

Para Triathlon

A relatively new sport introduced at the 2016 Rio Games, the para triathlon is held over the “sprint” distance, which is half the Olympic distance for individual competitions, where athletes swim 750 meters, cycle 20 kilometers, and run 5 kilometers. The competition is divided by men’s and women’s, with medals being awarded for each race September 1 and 2.

Shooting Para Sport

Shooters compete in rifle and pistol events from distances of 10-meter, 25-meter, and 50-meter in men’s, women’s, and mixed fields. Depending on needs, athletes compete in a kneeling position, prone, or standing (or in a wheelchair or shooting seat). The games take place August 30 to September 5, with medals awarded each day.

Sitting Volleyball

Sitting volleyball is pretty much the exact same as the volleyball we know and love, except as the name suggests, is a sitting variation of the sport. It’s played by two teams of six players who move around the court using the power of their arms, along with a lowered net that’s 3 feet high. The games start on August 29 and continue until the men’s gold medal game on September 6 and the women’s on September 7.

Wheelchair Basketball

Originally used for rehabilitation and exercise for World War II veterans—wheelchair basketball is quintessential Paralympics. Now, it’s one of the most popular and beloved sports for wheelchair users around the world. Games start August 29 and go until the men’s gold medal match September 7, with the women’s September 8.

Wheelchair Fencing

What’s more badass than fencing? Wheelchair fencing. In this sport that requires discipline (and ability to not flinch when a sword is coming at you), athletes compete in a special wheelchair frame designed for the sport which is fastened to the floor—meaning the fencers cannot move and are always close to their opponent. Just like the Olympic equivalent, wheelchair fencing consists of three disciplines: foil, épée, and saber. The men’s and women’s matches take place September 3 to 7, with gold medal rounds at the end of every day.

Wheelchair Rugby

Wheelchair rugby is a four-person team sport played in specially designed wheelchairs. It combines elements of rugby, basketball, and handball, with players using a round ball. Because it’s such an aggressive sport, it’s often referred to as “murderball.” Need I say more? You’re gonna wanna watch this one. Mixed games start August 29, with the gold medal games September 2.

Wheelchair Tennis

Wheelchair tennis pretty much follows the same rules of able-bodied tennis, except here the ball can bounce twice before the player hits it back. Athletes are divided into open and quad classes, along with men’s, women’s, singles, and doubles. Games start August 30, with gold medal matches September 4 to 7.

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shelbgrey · 10 months ago

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So, I was wondering if it would be cool to request a Ray Stantz fic with either prompt 0.7 or 2.1?

Something strange(Ray Stantz)

Paring: Ray Stantz x Spangler!Reader

Summary: during a ghost bust ray gets possessed. This has never happened to any of them before and his girlfriend of just a few months may have to admit something she hasn't yet.

Prompt: 2.1) “i love you in every universe”

MasterList

It was late in the afternoon, Ray was working on the Ecto-1, music blasting. Between the booming sounds of the Beatles and the clinking of tools he didn't hear y/n sliding down the fire pole.

“Ray..” she said a little loud so Ray could hear her.

He didn't hear her and continued to tinker under the hood of the car.

“Raymond!” she shouted louder.

This time he heard the sudden noise startled him, making him smack his head on the inside of the hood when he heard a noise. “shi- HMmmm that hurt!” he mumbled, pulling away from the car.

She covered her mouth, trying not to sinker. “Sorry Honey, I didn't mean to scare you” she said, rubbing my boyfriend's head gently.

“Ah don’t sweat it Doll, and ya didn’t scare me too bad.” Ray pecked her on the cheek then turned back to the car, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and got behind the wheel. He turned the key, the car engine skipped and made sickly noises. “Dammit not again.” Ray sighed and got out of the car before slamming the door shut.

Y/n cringed at the sound Ecto-1 made. “So it's probably a bad time to say we just got a call to bust a class-5 ghost…”

Ray paused, throwing his head back in frustration. “Oh you’re kidding!”

“yeah… Peter wanted me to tell you and see how the car was doing”

Ray rubbed his forehead, frustrated. “Okay, don’t worry about the car… where was the sighting?”

“Just outside of the city... But if the car isn't working…”

“It’s alright babes, I'll get this old rust bucket runnin in 5! Just let me tinker with this a bit..” Ray took various pieces out, placing them on the hood, then he noticed a loose wire and chuckled. He quickly put the hood back on and the car roared to life, seemingly out of nowhere. “Damn I’m good.”

She smiled “okay, I'll tell the boys the car is runnin’”

“Good.. Hey do me a favor?” Ray Said, making y/n stop in her tracks, she climbed back down the steps and faced Ray. “What's up?”

“Kiss me.” he requested, giving his girlfriend his usual adorable smile.

Y/n laughed and playfully shook her head. “You're covered in motor oil” she playfully backed up and put her hands up in defense.

“So what? A few drops of motor oil has never killed anybody… And you've been covered head to toe in slime before” His voice was playful as he started walking towards her. She giggled and continued to back up away from him.

“Come on Honey” He followed her till he had her trapped between the wall of the garage and his body, “what ya gonna do now?” he smirked, placing his palms flat on the wall on either side of her, caging her in. He had her right where he wanted her.

She playfully rolled her eyes and leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them closer together, kissing her much more passionately.

The kiss didn't go very far because Peter slid down the fire poll that led to the garage In his Ghostbusters uniform. “Hey, less kissin' more bustin', that class five isn't gonna trap itself” Peter said to the both of them as Egon and Winston slid down the poll in their Ghostbuster uniforms as well.

“Damn Peter, you gotta have the worst timing ever” His voice was still lighthearted as he pulled away from y/n, a grin still on his face.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes and left his arms to get her Ghostbusters uniform and proton pack, as she was getting her gear Peter spoke. “ya know the rules Bug, class-5 ghost... You stay home” Peter told her.

Y/n rolled her eyes at Peter. Peter and the boys were way over protective of her since she was the only girl on the team that actually busted ghosts.

Peter and the boys would always call her Bug. Mostly because she was the total opposite of her older brother Egon. As Peter would put it, y/n was always ‘buzzing’ around so the name kinda stuck.

“That's a stupid rule, I can take care of myself and a class-5 if I can take care of you boys” She said pointing at all four of the Ghostbusters. “... Hell, the four of you would starve to death in your dirty laundry if I wasn't around”

Ray laughed at this. “You know I think she might have a point” Ray had finished putting on his gear, and he and the team were preparing to leave, he walked over to y/n and gave her a quick kiss. “Just promise not to do anything dangerous, ok?”

“I promise…”

Ray smiled, nodding in appreciation. “That’s my girl.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and began walking towards the Ecto-1, he climbed in, taking off down the road.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

The team stopped outside of a run down house, “Now, this is a class 5, so watch yourselves.” Egon said in a serious tone as the rest of the guys made their way out the car. “Alright, Everybody keep your game faces on.” Ray added.

“We should split up... And keep your walkie-talkies on” Peter told us all.

Y/n and the guys all nodded in agreement, Ray and Winston went left towards one end of the house, while Egon and Peter went right towards the other. They could all hear Egon speaking into his radio “You guys hear me?”

“I can hear ya Egon” y/n told her older brother as she walked down the dim hallway. “Do you guys see anything?” y/n asked the four boys through the walkie-talkie.

Y/n could hear Ray through the walkie talkie yelling

“Oh yeah! I got a big bastard in front of me!” Ray said he was walking out of the room, suddenly a dark poltergeist tackled him. He fell to the ground and was grabbed by a dark, hissing ghost. Ray screamed into the walkie talkie* “Help me god dammit! It’s got me!”

“Ray!” y/n's heart pounded when she heard him struggling through the walkie-talkie, she ran down a few hallways till she found him on the floor struggling with the ghost. Before she could reach him the ghost turned into a puff of black smoke that surrounded him, then within a blink of an eye, Ray was panting and the ghost was gone. Ray looked down, darkness surrounding his eyes, he wasn't his normal self anymore. “Ray…” she said softly, touching his cheek.

“y/n don't touch him!” Egon shouted, running up to him. He pushed y/n back, not realizing the force he used. Y/n tumbled to the ground as Egon scanned Ray's body with his EMF reader, it screamed and blinked with ghost activity.

Ray continued to struggle, he was breathing very heavily and his eyes were dark and cloudy. The ghost had a tight grip around him, Egon aimed his phaser gun but hesitated to fire. “This thing is attached to Ray, move y/n! I don’t want to hit you by accident!”

She pushed the proton gun away so it wasn't pointing at Ray. “Ray's possessed! If you shoot him it could seriously harm him!” y/n said to Egon.

“And if I don’t shoot it’ll kill him!” Egon yelled back angrily. “I know he’s possessed! But the only way to free him is to destroy the ghost using the proton gun!”

“Are you willing to risk Ray's life!” y/n shouted back at Egon. Ray's eyes were dark and he just looked at us menacingly as the ghost took over his body.

Egon was getting frustrated, but he wouldn’t give in. “Look I know this is bad, but that thing is just using his body as a vessel. If we kill it, Ray will come back to his senses!” Egon said sternly while aiming the gun at Ray.

Before y/n could fire back at her older brother, Peter and Winston ran towards them in a panic. “What happened?” Winston asked.

Peter went to touch Ray but saw his eyes were black and immediately jerked back. “okay... This is bad” *

Peter said.

“We know!” Egon said angrily. “This thing won’t let go of him!”

Ray was struggling against the grip the ghost had on him, he couldn’t move or speak, all he could do was stare at them with those dark eyes.

“This has never happened before, what do we do?” Winston asked.

“He's too dangerous to touch,” Peter added.

Egon sighed, he knew he had to do something before the ghost took total control. “You guys, move back! I’m gonna shoot it, if Ray gets caught in the crossfire it’s the only way”

“Hold it!” Peter shouted.

“What?!” Egon shouted. “It’s the only way, I’m not gonna let this damn thing control him! We have to take the risk!”

“I'll be right back and don't go anywhere and don't do anything!” Peter said and ran out to Ecto-1.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Egon yelled at Peter as he ran out to the car. “I’m not waiting!”

The ghost continued to hold Ray in its evil grasp, Egon aimed his gun. Peter came back, he snapped some black gloves on and started to duck tape Ray's hands together as Ray struggled in Peter's grasp.

Ray struggled and fought against him, trying to get free, but with his hands tied he couldn’t do much. Egon hesitated.

““This thing is really making this harder than it has to, should I take the shot? Peter? Or do you have an idea!?”

Peter huffed and wrapped tape around Ray's middle, securing his arms to his side. “we're gonna take him back to headquarters and you're gonna check him out in the Lab” Peter told Egon.

Ray probably would have ran off had he wasn't tied up, but he had no choice other than to let this happen. Egon looked annoyed, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go down. He sighed. “Fine.. I guess that’s the best course of action now.”

“Good, Winston help me carry Ray to the car” Peter told Winston then turned to y/n. “Bug, you're driving... I'm not risking you sitting in the back and getting hurt” Peter told her.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, Janine we need this!” Peter called out and took her office chair. Before she could protest or ask what was going on, Peter had already wheeled the chair to Ecto-1. Janine's curiosity got the best of her and she followed Peter, her eyes widened when she watched Winston and Peter move a struggling Ray into her office chair.

The three men grunted and fought, Winston held Ray down and Peter quietly secured Ray to the chair with more duct tape.

Egon and Peter pushed Ray into the lab and started reading the ghost activity. Ray grunted and tried to break free from the duct tape.

“Ray…don't make me use this” Peter pointed the proton gun at Ray and spoke to him like he was a child.

“Will you guys stop with the guns already?” Y/n snapped and pushed the gun down.

“G-guys…. Y/n?..h-elp m-me” Ray grunted for the first time. Y/n's heart shattered and she ran to his aid just out of instinct. Egon tried to stop her but she broke free from his grasp.

“Ray? Honey, look at me” She said holding his face in her hands, she didn't see his brownish-green eyes when she stared into his eyes. They weren't his eyes and she wasn't gonna stop till she saw his normal goofy gaze.

“Ray… You gotta fight this” I said sternly, he fought in my hold but I wasn't gonna let him go. “I know you're in there”

“y/n… Honey, help me” Ray then screamed like he was in pain while he fought off the ghost’s deathly hold.

“Ray? I love you! Do you hear me!” she cried, just wanting him back. It would also be smart to note that's the first time she ever told him she loved him, even though they had been best friends since college they just only started dating.

“I love you in every universe”

Smoke then started to surround both Ray and y/n. The ghost started to pull away from Ray's body. Egon and Peter scrambled around from the back of the lab and quickly got a trap and the proton gun.

One last scream ripped from Ray's mouth and ghost cannonball out of Ray. The ghost screamed and hollered as it flew around the lab.

“I got it!” Peter shouted and pointed his proton gun at the ghost, he trapped it with no trouble then quickly kicked it away from Ray and y/n. I bounced off this wall and landed in a dusty corner.

“What happened?” Ray panted, he looked around confused. His brows knitted together when he saw he was covered in duct tape. “why am I covered in tape?”

Y/n immediately wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “it doesn't matter… your back, that's what matters”

She kissed both of his cheeks then his forehead. “I love you”

“I love you too” Ray mumbled and nuzzled his face into her neck. He kissed her cheek then looked at his friends.

“could ya untape me now?” the boys quickly nodded and set him free, relieved they have their fun loving friend back.

#Ray stantz #Ray stantz x reader #Ray stantz imagines #dan akroyd #Ghostbusters x reader #Ghostbusters imagines #Ghostbusters #80s #who you gonna call #Egon spengler x reader

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pxnsneverland · 5 months ago

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Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 11)

(gif source: austinbutlerslovers)

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 3404

warnings/notes:

Chapter 11: A Game of Trust

Just as the comforting silence wrapped around them like a warm blanket, a sudden, sharp knock at the front door shattered the fleeting tranquility. Austin's body went rigid, his instincts immediately springing into high alert, every muscle tensing like a coiled spring. Bonnie sensed the shift in his demeanor, her eyes wide and shimmering with a blend of fear and understanding. "It's probably Bear," she whispered soothingly, attempting to calm him, though her voice wavered with an undercurrent of uncertainty that betrayed her own apprehensions.

Austin's tense nod was a warning, his finger pressed to his lips in a hush gesture as he briskly stepped out of the steamy shower and quickly enveloped himself in a plush towel. His movements were precise and measured, designed to make as little noise as possible as he crept towards the door with the stealth of a specter. Bonnie, trembling like taut violin strings, trailed behind him, hastily wrapping herself in a fluffy bathrobe in an attempt to conceal her nakedness and nerves.

Pressing his eye against the peephole, Austin's tense body visibly relaxed as he caught sight of Robert "Bear" Johnson standing on the other side. With a deep breath, he opened the door just enough for Bear to pass through. The large man entered with heavy footsteps, his usually jovial face now set in an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“Thanks for coming.” Austin said, his voice still carrying traces of the shower's steam. The tension hadn't quite left his shoulders, evident in the taught line of his posture as he led Bear into the living room. The scent of rain mingled with the lingering aroma of motor oil from Bear's leather jacket, a familiar comfort in the otherwise charged atmosphere.

Bear glanced around, his eyes finally settling on Bonnie. Surprise flickered across his features, replaced quickly by a respectful nod. "Bonnie," he greeted, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. Bonnie offered a tight-lipped smile in return, clutching her bathrobe closer around her.

Bear's eyes softened as he took a step toward her, his massive form dwarfed the small living space, making him seem like a gentle giant caught in a too-small cage. "It's good to see you again," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity and a hint of sadness for the time lost between them.

Bonnie moved forward, her initial hesitation dissolving under his warm gaze. "I've missed you, Bear," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the tension that bubbled beneath the surface of her reunion with the pack, there was an undeniable relief in seeing a familiar and comforting face from her past.

“Bonnie triggered her wolf side a few days ago,” Austin started to explain, “She called me to help her.”

Bear nodded knowingly. Austin would have never passed up Bonnie if she needed him. It had been that way since they were kids. “Did Victor find out?” It only made sense. Victor was missing and Austin had called Bear to his house. He must know something.

“He did. But he found out by walking in on Bonnie mid transformation. And…he got too close.”

Bear glanced at Bonnie who refused to look him in the eye. Sweet Bonnie, this must be killing her. Austin walked over to Bonnie placing a hand on her upper arm. She covered her hand with his finding a solid ground in his touch. Bear found himself intrigued by their reaction to each other. “She’s…your mate?”

Bear’s question hung heavy in the air, his deep-set eyes judging none but probing all the same. His tone was soft but laden with implications that could change everything in their tightly-knit pack.

Austin met Bear’s gaze squarely, a silent acknowledgment passing between them before he finally nodded. “She is,” he confirmed with a gravity that matched the importance of this revelation. The weight of his admission seemed to settle on his shoulders like a mantle.

Bonnie's heart hammered in her chest. The word 'mate' resonated with a primal instinct she had long tried to bury. Her eyes lifted to meet Austin's, finding there an intensity that both scared and comforted her. It was as if acknowledging their bond openly had solidified something sacred between them, something unspoken but deeply felt.

Bear exhaled slowly, the sigh containing remnants of wariness and concern, but also acceptance. "Alright." His simple affirmation carried a promise of support that was characteristic of the man; always loyal, always protecting his pack, even when new truths came to light. "What do we do about Jerry?" He shifted slightly, bringing up the one person who could potentially unravel everything they held dear.

Austin's face hardened at the mention of Jerry "The Butcher" Thompson. “Jerry doesn’t know, and we need to keep it that way for now,” Austin replied, his voice low and serious. "He’s getting dangerous, Bear, more suspicious by the day. He’s probably the one that sent Victor after me.”

Bear nodded slowly, the furrow in his brow deepening as he processed the implications. "Victor's always been a loose cannon, but Jerry... he's another level," Bear murmured, his tone grave. The room seemed to tighten around them, the tension palpable.

"We've got to be careful," Austin continued, his eyes darkening with determination. "Bonnie's safety is my priority. We can't let Jerry or anyone else from the gang find out about her being my mate — not until we figure out our next move."

Bonnie squeezed Austin's hand, seeking reassurance. Despite the danger looming over them, his presence provided a tangible sense of security. It was a bittersweet reminder of why she had initially fled from this world; the violence was pervasive, but so too was the profound bond shared among members of the pack.

Bear's voice brought her back from her thoughts. "What about relocating Bonnie? At least till things cool down with Jerry." His suggestion was practical, yet Bonnie could hear the reluctance in his tone. Separation was never ideal for mates, especially newly acknowledged ones.

Austin shook his head, his grip tightening around Bonnie's hand. "No, we stay together," he asserted firmly. "Running isn't going to solve anything. We face this head-on, as a pack."

His resolve was palpable, mirroring the intensity Bonnie felt every time their gazes locked. Her fears, while far from vanquished, were tempered by the strength she drew from Austin’s unwavering presence.

Bear nodded solemnly, understanding the risks involved yet respecting the bond and decision unfolding before him. "All right," he agreed, his voice carrying a protective gruffness. "We make a plan, then. We stay tight, watch each others' backs."

The room was thick with strategies unspoken as each of them retreated back into their thoughts, considering their next moves in this precarious chess game. Austin's mind whirred with tactical possibilities – ways to fortify their defenses, ensure Bonnie’s safety, and manage the growing mistrust within their pack.

Bonnie ventured a step closer to Austin, her expression softening as she reached up to touch his cheek lightly. It was a small gesture but laden with meaning; a thank you for his protection, an acknowledgment of his sacrifice, a silent promise of support. He turned his face to press a kiss into her palm, his eyes closing for just a moment longer than necessary — reinforcing the sanctity of their bond.

Austin finally turned back to Bear. “We keep our meetings discreet. Eyes and ears are everywhere.”

Bear nodded. “And I’ll handle the patrols, make sure we’re not being followed or watched too closely.” His gaze shifted to Bonnie again with a protective sternness that belied his earlier gentleness. “You keep close to Austin at all times.”

Bonnie swallowed hard, her voice a whisper of steel and silk intertwined. "I can fight if I need to.”

Austin's expression softened slightly at Bonnie's declaration, pride flickering in his eyes. "I know you can," he acknowledged quietly, yet there was a firmness in his tone that suggested he would do everything within his power to ensure it never came to that. "But let's hope it doesn't get to that point."

Bear nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking briefly to the door as if expecting trouble to walk through at any moment. "We're stronger together," he murmured, a mantra that had held their pack together through countless challenges.

The air seemed to thrum with the weight of their resolve, a silent pulse that wove through the room, binding them more tightly than any spoken vow. Bonnie felt a surge of fortitude, borrowing from the collective strength of Austin and Bear. Her past fears—ghosts that haunted her since fleeing the violent world she was born into—began to dim under the luminous force of their unity.

As dusk approached, the thickening shadows seemed to echo the growing tension within the walls of their hideout. The evening brought a cool breeze that carried whispers of impending conflict, rustling through the leaves outside like cautious footsteps. Inside, Austin stood by the window, his silhouette framed against the waning light, watching for any signs of intrusion into their sanctuary.

Bonnie joined him, her presence a quiet comfort as she stood silently beside him. He glanced at her, a storm of emotions momentarily clouding his usual steely demeanor. "We'll get through this," he murmured, more to affirm his own conviction than to reassure her. Bonnie nodded, her hand finding his. Their fingers intertwined, a tangible symbol of their interdependence.

In that shared silence, something unspoken passed between them—a deeper acknowledgment of their reliance on each other not just for survival but for the essence of life itself. Bonnie's heart swelled with an emotion so potent it nearly overwhelmed her senses; not just love, but a fierce comradeship forged in the fire of shared tribulations.

Later that night as they prepared for rest in the safety of their secured room, Austin lay awake, his mind a whirlwind of strategies and scenarios. Beside him, Bonnie slept fitfully, her brow occasionally creasing in the dim moonlight that slipped through the blinds. He watched over her, protective and pensive, knowing that the challenges they faced were bigger than either of them but also knowing they were stronger together.

Outside, the sound of a motorcycle engine cut sharply through the night, its roar slicing through the stillness like a warning signal. Austin's body tensed, and he was instantly alert, his senses sharpening as he listened intently. The engine noise faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Getting up quietly to not disturb Bonnie, Austin moved to the window and peered through the narrow slit between the curtains. His eyes scanned the dark streets, searching for any sign of movement or threat. The quiet was unsettling — too much silence had a way of foreshadowing trouble in his experience.

He knew that Jerry's growing suspicions and aggression could lead to an imminent confrontation, and he needed to be ready. Austin's thoughts drifted to Bear's loyalty and the measures they would need to implement to safeguard their pack. Trust was their greatest defense, yet it was also their most vulnerable target.

Lost in the reflective tides of his thoughts, Austin couldn’t help but drift into the memories of a gentler time—a time when the world seemed vast and filled with mysteries yet to be uncovered. He remembered the first day he met Bonnie; it was during one of those golden summers that stretched endlessly, full of promise and warmth.

They were just kids, wild with the energy of youth and unmarred by the harsh realities that would later color their lives. Austin had been exploring the woods behind his house—an area all the local children were warned to avoid because of old, frightening tales of creatures lurking in the depths. But Austin, always more curious than cautious, had ventured deep into the thicket.

That day, the sun was high and filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow upon the forest floor. The air was alive with the sounds of nature—the calls of distant birds, the rustling of small animals scurrying about, and the whispering leaves that seemed to tell stories of ancient times.

As he pushed forward, drawn by the lure of discovering secret places, he stumbled upon a clearing. And there she was—Bonnie, with her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders like a chestnut waterfall, her delicate hands intently working on a small floral wreath. She looked up at him with those expressive eyes; large, bright, brimming with a kind soul's quiet strength. At that moment, Austin felt something stir within him—something deep and compelling. He knew she was a member of the pack, a daughter to one of the more feared members, but he had never really looked at her until then.

Her presence in that sunlit clearing was like a beacon, drawing him nearer despite the rumored warnings and the boundaries set by their elders. He approached slowly, his movements cautious, not wanting to startle her or disrupt the serene moment. Bonnie didn’t flinch or run; instead, she smiled, a simple curve of her lips that felt as warm as the sunlight pooling around them.

“It’s dangerous to be here alone,” Austin found himself saying, his voice low and somewhat entranced by the girl before him.

“I know,” Bonnie replied softly, her eyes never leaving his. “But the flowers are so pretty here.”

That encounter marked the beginning of countless secret meetings in that hidden glade. Over time, as they grew from children into young adults, those meetings deepened their bond, weaving their fates together with every shared secret and whispered dream. They learned each other's fears and hopes, understanding the dual nature of their lives intertwined with both ordinary and supernatural threads.

Back in their current refuge, Austin shook off the nostalgia with a heavy sigh and returned his focus to the present dangers. The night was too quiet, and his instincts screamed that it was the calm before a storm. His thoughts turned back to Jerry, whose suspicion could be their undoing. Trust within the gang was essential, but Austin knew all too well that fear could turn even a loyal man into a threat.

He glanced over at Bonnie sleeping peacefully for now and felt a renewed sense of purpose. Protecting her was more than duty; it was a deep-seated need stemming from those long-ago days of innocence and discovery in the forest. He understood that their past, intertwined as it was with both love and darkness, forged a bond that was unique and unbreakable.

With a final look at Bonnie, Austin slipped out of the room quietly, making his way to where Bear had fallen asleep on the cough. The gentle giant was awake, as Austin had expected, sitting with a concerned look on his face.

“We need to talk,” Austin whispered as he entered. Bear nodded, pushing aside the maps and strategies spread across his table.

“It’s about Jerry, isn’t it?” Bear's voice was low but filled with an unwavering strength.

“Yes,” Austin admitted, his gaze hardening. “His distrust is growing. He’s going to challenge the hierarchy soon. I can feel it. And I already know there are some people in the pack willing to back him. He’ll fight me for the position of alpha.”

Bear rubbed his chin, the scruff of his shaved beard making a rasping sound in the quiet room. "We need to be careful how we handle this. If Jerry senses weakness, he'll pounce without hesitation."

Bear leaned back, his large frame making the chair creak under him. "What's your plan?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Austin's.

“We prepare.” Austin knew a fight was inevitable. Even if Jerry couldn’t prove anything, suspicion was enough. And when Victor didn’t come back, it would just add fuel to the fire. “Find out who would be willing to fight for me if it came down to it. Keep it under the table. We don’t need anyone going to Jerry saying you’re asking around.”

Bear nodded slowly. "I’ll talk to the others. But what about Bonnie? If Jerry decides to strike..."

Bear's voice trailed off, the weight of the unspoken consequences hanging heavy between them. Austin felt a knot tighten in his chest at the thought. Protecting Bonnie wasn't just about shielding her from physical harm; it was also about preserving the peace and innocence that still lived within her, despite the chaos that surrounded them.

"We keep Bonnie out of this," Austin said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "No matter what happens, she stays protected. That’s non-negotiable." He paused, his mind racing through various scenarios. Bear nodded in agreement. Austin rubbed his temples. "And Bear, this stays between us.”

"I understand," Bear replied solemnly. Bear's loyalty was unwavering, and Austin trusted him implicitly. Yet as he left Bear's presence, the weight of leadership pressed down upon him.

Navigating the treacherous paths of loyalty and leadership had never felt more burdensome. Austin knew that with each step he took, the risks grew, not just for him, but for everyone he cared about. He walked to the porch, each footstep echoing against the bare walls, a stark reminder of the solitude his position often entailed.

Outside, the moon was full, casting a silver glow over the landscape, transforming the forest into a spectral realm. It was on nights like this that Austin felt the pull of his dual nature most acutely—the wild, untamed instinct clashing with his human desires and duties. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and a faint hint of danger. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted—a lonely sentinel in the night.

Suddenly, his acute hearing picked up the sound of footsteps approaching stealthily from behind. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Austin silently shifted his stance, preparing for confrontation. His senses were heightened, every nerve in his body taut as the quiet steps grew closer. As the figure drew nearer, Austin spoke without facing them. “I can hear you.”

The footsteps halted abruptly. There was a tense silence, broken only by the whispering wind rustling through the trees. After a moment that stretched too long into the night, the sound of running and feet hitting falling leaves came through the brush.

Austin reacted instinctively, his body coiling with the readiness of a predator. He turned sharply and caught a fleeting glimpse of a shadow darting through the underbrush. The moonlight flickered off what could only be a leather jacket – a member of their own gang, perhaps, sent to spy by Jerry. His heart pounded not just from the adrenaline but also from the sting of betrayal.

He set off in pursuit, his feet barely touching the soft earth as he moved with a speed that was supernatural. Branches snapped beneath his weight and leaves hissed under his swift passage. Despite his quickness, the figure ahead seemed to dissolve into the darkness, knowing just how to maneuver through the forest’s dense thicket.

Austin knew this part of the woods well; he had played here as a child and later used it as a retreat when the burdens of leadership grew too heavy. But tonight, it felt foreign, as if every shadow harbored an enemy. Up ahead, he spotted the faint outline of someone clambering over a fallen log and disappearing into a thick copse of trees.

Pushing himself harder, Austin reached the copse in seconds but found it eerily quiet. He scanned the darkness, nostrils flaring as he sought out any scent that might give away the intruder’s position. There was nothing but the earthy aroma of damp foliage and pine – and something faintly metallic, like blood.

"Show yourself!" Austin commanded into the silence, his voice carrying through the trees. The forest remained stubbornly silent, mocking him with its peaceful rustle of leaves in the gentle night breeze.

The echo of footsteps had faded into oblivion, leaving Austin enveloped in a thick silence. He strained his senses but could no longer catch the elusive scent of whatever he had been pursuing. The air was heavy with the earthy aroma of damp leaves and pine needles, masking any trace of his quarry. All that remained were the distinct paw prints embedded in the soft soil—clearly those of a wolf. His heart pounded as realization struck; his secret, long guarded and closely held, had just been laid bare to the world.

Stay tuned for part 12!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @droopycoquette @buckysteveloki-me

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acti-veg · 4 months ago

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One of America’s earliest and most powerful monopolies, Standard Oil, dominated 90 percent of oil production in the United States in the early twentieth century. Standard Oil’s founder, John D. Rockefeller, utilized secret pacts to gain preferential shipping rates on American railroads, and bought up smaller companies at rock-bottom prices once they had been ruined by the uneven treatment.

Standard Oil gained enough momentum to acquire fifty-three refineries, keeping the most efficient and closing down the rest. “Thanks to its new economies of scale,” explained Money and Power author Howard Means, “Standard Oil could cut the cost of refining oil by two-thirds, from 1.5 cents a gallon to .5 cents a gallon,” further fueling its soaring market share.

Standard Oil would soon team up with General Motors and Firestone Tires to literally derail public transit systems in the United States. In the 1920s, electric trolleys were common in cities across the country, and only one in ten people owned cars. GM received funding from Standard Oil and others to buy National City Lines, a bus company, which —with this funding— came to control bus systems in forty-five cities.

These busses were meant to eliminate the need for trolley tracks that had been embedded in the roads. Alfred Sloan, GM's president at the time, said, "we've got 90 percent of the market out there that we can turn into automobile users. If we can eliminate the rail alternatives, we will create a new market for our cars.” Once the national bus companies replaced rail, they would let the business run itself into the ground, and make way for individual cars.

-Hadas Thier, A People’s Guide to Capitalism

#capitalism #public transport #walkable cities #monopolies #quotes #excerpts

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 4 months ago

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THE MC5 MAKE PREPARATIONS FOR THEIR FIRST PERFORMANCES OVERSEAS.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on front page coverage of American rock and roll band, the MOTOR CITY FIVE, from the "International Times," a.k.a., "it" issue #82. 3-16 (today is July 16) July 1970.

"After lengthy negotiations, Phun City organisers have arranged for the legendary U.S. revolutionary band, MC5, to make their first-ever European appearance. Negotiations are also in progress to finalise the first UK appearance of the entire GRATEFUL DEAD package show..."

-- "INTERNATIONAL TIMES," c. July 1970

Sources: http://denimdisco.blogspot.com/2022/05/the-rock-n-roll-revival-part-two.html & X.

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duchessonfire · 3 months ago

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Cegan Fic: All That's Left After the End of the World

Rating: E

Ship: Carl Grimes/Negan Smith

Tags/Warnings: Dead City AU, Prostitute Carl, Outlaw Negan, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Assault and Torture

Chapters: 1/5

Summary:

After Judith and Rick died during the fall of the prison, Carl has been separated from the original group for 15 years. Now a prostitute at the Easy Stay Motor Inn in Virginia, he believes he has finally found a life that suits him. That is until a strange man and a child walk in one day. Takes place in the Dead City-era but can be read without having seen the spin-off.

For the @ceganbingo square: "Free Space" which is "Scars" for this chapter

#ceganbingo #cegan #twd negan #negan smith #carl grimes #carl x negan #negan x carl #cegan fic #cegan fanfic #twd dead city #twd #twd fic #duchess writes

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rrcraft-and-lore · 7 months ago

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Monkey Man and why I loved the heck out of it

At it's core, it's a Bollywood flick presented to the West with familiar nods to previous action films - I definitely picked up hints of Tony Jaa's influence on Asian action flicks throughout.

It's heavily focused on police corruption, something commented a lot about in India, and here, more importantly, Indian films. Just like America has its love affair with mobster flicks, Bollywood has a long history featuring films that showcase police corruption, sometimes tied into political extremism, fanatical or greedy religious leaders, and Monkey Man comments on all this as well and pays nods to that commonality. We've got televangelists and religious leaders in the states funnelling money, preaching prosperity gospel, and using it to influence politics and fund lavish lifestyles here.

Monkey Man shows this happening in India, and is filled with Indian culture and symbolism through out. The focus on Hanuman, the god and one worshiped by the strong, chaste, wrestlers, champions, and fighters. It's a common thing to have a household deity if you will. Some families might choose to focus worship on Ganesh, others Hanuman, some might do Mata Rani or Lakshmi. Here, it's the divine Vanara (monkey people race) - one of the Chiranjivi - immortals/forever-lived.

Hanuman. Themes of rebirth, common in South Asian history and mythology are present from Kid being a ringer, beat up fighter getting whooped for money to being reborn and facing his trauma through a ritual/meditate process that I don't want to get too much into to not spoil the movie. Post that, he begins his own self alchemy to really become the true Monkey Man. Nods to Ramayama, and an unapologetically Indian story featuring dialogues throughout in Hindi - don't worry, there are subtitles.

And of course a love for action flicks before it, all the way back to Bruce Lee. A beautiful use tbh of an autorickshaw (and you might know them as tuk-tuks in Thailand) which are popular in India with an added kick...I swear, that thing had to be modified with a hayabusa motor. Which is an actual thing people do - modding those dinky rickshaws with motorcycle engines, and considering they weigh nothing at all, they can REALLY FLY once you do that.

Monkey Man brings to the big screen other elements of India people might not know about, such as the gender non conforming and trans community that has a long history in India, presenting them as action stars as they go up against a system of corrupt elites oppressing part of the city, marginalized communities, and minority voices as depicted in the film. I'm not sure if people are going to get all of that without having the context, but I love that it does it without holding anyone's hands.

It's a fun action flick to see in the age of superhero films, and I say that as an obvious superhero/sff nerd. Also loved that Dev included a little bit about Hanuman's own story in the film, and the loss of his powers - almost mirrored by Kid's own loss of self/skills, strength until he confronts his trauma and is reborn, and in fact, remade (not necessarily the same). Also, the use of music was brilliant, including one scene with a tabla (the paired hand drums of south asia) - and Indian music is central to Indian stories.

This is a culture with evidence going back to the Paleolithic with cave murals showing art of Indian dance nearly 30,000 years ago. Yeah, that far back. As well as Mesolithic period art depicting musical instruments such as gongs, lyres, and more.

Indian music is some of the earliest we can find that has high developed beat and rhythm structures such as 5, 7, 9 and now the extremely common and known 4/4 and 3/4 - which so much of Western music is built upon. The foundations and experimentation of/in Jazz. John Coltrane and John Cage were heavily inspired by Indian music and incorporated a lot from it into their works. And Monkey Man blends Eastern and Western music through the narrative as comfortably as it does an Indian story in a very familiar Western accessible structure.

Dev did a wonderful job. And thanks to Jordan Peele for bringing it to screens.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 9 months ago

Text

Shadows Entwined: part 11

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 / Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

A/N: I bet ya all have been waiting for what is about to happen, but it is still not over yeeeeeet💙😉

Warnings: Fighting, breaking of bones, if you have seen the movie you know what happens, just with a little extra.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

Baxter Stockman connected the last few wires, plucking the machine together, the Cloud Seeder making noises as it started to warm up. The scientist turned fly mutant then turned towards the people below him inside of Ace Chemicals’ main building, his arms up in the air as he gave the speech he had been preparing for several weeks now.

“Gentleman!”, he started. “Ninjas all around… murders… I’m pleased to announce that the venom slash ooze hybrid is complete. The Cloud Seeder is ready to launch”.

Shredder turned towards Ra’s al Ghul with his always angry eyes, narrowed in almost spite for the Demon’s Head.

“Then it is done, Ra’s”, Shredder said, his voice muffled by the metal mask that covered his mouth, his distaste for the leader of the League of Assassins thick as he spoke, bubbling over into pure hatred and anger. “The Foot has completed its obligations to you. I will expect no more delays in giving me the Lazarus Pit!”

Ra’s sighed, annoyed with Shredder’s continued demands of the pit, just like he had done at Arkham the other night as they sought out Joker. It was already becoming an old story. Ra’s suddenly understood very well why Kraang wasn’t there to help Shredder out with their plans. Maybe that was why Shredder came to Ra’s in the first place. Or maybe it was his age. Ra’s could really feel the 650 something age difference between the two.

“Over eager as always”, Ra’s sighed, side eyeing the ninja and the blades on his gloves. He then turned his attention back towards Baxter Stockman, giving him a firm command to “activate the machine”, making the fly turn towards him. “It’s time for the city to reward to its primal nature and destroy itself”.

Shredder knew very well what that meant. No Lazarus Pit before Ra’s knew the machine was working.

“Do as the man says”, Shredder growled at Stockman.

“Yes sir!”, Stockman said, turning back towards the Cloud Seeder with a small laugh. Though the fly had several times wondered about his status as a hostage, he could not deny the excitement of trying out his machine. It was fine being a hostage, as long as he got to try out his newest creation. His small wings carried him to the machine, turning it on with a small beep, lights and screens turning on with small sounds as the Cloud Seeder gained life.

“Ah”, Ra’s sighed in delight, watching as the machine woke up from its slumber. “And now nothing can stand in my way”.

But like so many villains often did, Ra’s spoke too soon, the Foot Ninjas and assassins turning to the wall in confusion, at the sound of rapidly approaching motors.

With no hesitation, Leo broke through the wall with the Turtle Van, sending bricks flying everywhere. You, still on the back of Raph’s motorcycle, came flying through the window alongside Batgirl, sending glass shards across the room. The Batmobile broke through the window just above the door, shatting the group of Foot Ninjas that stood in its way. Emerging from your vehicles, you and your Bat family stood alongside the turtles, staring down the big crowd of villains.

“So much for your distraction”, Shredder said to Ra’s, knowing very well that he was beginning to push his buttons.

Donnie’s eyes quickly scanned the machine in front of them, no confusion about what it was that he was looking at.

“That’s it”, he said, referring to the Cloud Seeder. “We have to shut it off before it launches”.

“You’re too late, detective!”, Ra’s called out, smirking at Batman as Foot ninjas and assassins gathered around him. “Gotham will fall and be born anew”.

“We don’t have much time”, Batman said, his eyes never leaving Ra’s. “Let’s take him down”. And as if that had been a call for war, all of you jumped into action, fighting and making your way through ninjas and assassins. Leo swung his katana at whatever enemy came close, followed by Robin that jumped and kicked them so hard that they fell to the ground without a sound. Mikey’s nunchucks sounded loudly whenever they came into contact with his opponents faces, just as loudly as the sound of Batman’s knuckles against jaws. Donnie’s bo staff knocked people out, while Raph jumped an unsuspecting assassin, at the same time as Batgirl’s motorcycle roared as her front wheel connected with a Foot ninja’s face. You too fought the best you could, using everything your father had ever taught you. But you did find yourself unprepared at moments, ducking quickly before a blade was able to grace your skin.

Shredder and Ra’s watched calmly as you all fought. Evenever one of their men fell, several more came to take their place, keeping you all busy. Almost too busy. You had a hard time keeping up. Whenever you dodged one punch, you were soon met by another, keeping you turning, running, jumping and ducking, almost out of breath. You stumbled, the blade of an assassin making its way towards you, and for a moment you thought that it was it. This would be the moment you would die. But before the blade could touch the surface of your skin, another sharp shinny one came into view, deflecting it, followed by a flash of green and blue, a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking your way for a moment, making sure you were okay. Leo.

It was not hard for Leo to emobile the assassin, with Donnie coming to his aid, helping his older brother clear the way, before both of them brought out their grappling hooks. In a swift move, Leo brought his arm around you, pressing you to his side, before letting the grappling hook pull you both to his desired destination. The scaffolding, high above ground, not far from where Shredder and Ra’s were standing. Leo dropped you off behind him, making sure you were covered by his shell, before Donnie came to his side, followed by Batman that took a spot between them, all three staring down the two villains.

“Shut off the Cloud Seeder”, your father commanded the two turtles, almost not acknowledging you behind Leo. But he knew you were there. You knew your father too well. There was no way he hadn’t seen Leo bring you with him. “Shredder is mine”.

“I think you forgot how our last encounter played out”, Shredder said, reminding you of what your father had told you. The things that had happened inside of Wayne Enterprise, while you had stayed outside, watching the turtles and Penguin go at it on another roof. But there was no time for you to tell your father. You wanted him to be careful, and not let Shredder come too close again. But before you could even utter a word, he and Shredder were off, fighting on the scaffolding.

Before you could even fully register your father’s absence in the chaos, Leo turned towards you, his pretty eyes catching yours.

“You wait here, (Y/N)”, he said in a demand, before he and Donnie were off, using their grappling hooks to get past Shredder and Batman, landing not far from the Cloud Seeder. And Ra’s al Ghul.

“Typical”, the Demon’s Head spoke. “Batman sends children to do his work for him. Perhaps another must die to teach him the folly of his ways”. Ra’s pulled off his cape, letting it fall to the ground. Leo and Donnie exchanged glances, before Ra’s came at them with a sudden move, causing both of them to jump back. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

On the ground the others continued their fight against the men of Shredder and Ra’s al Ghul, with Robin having turned his attention towards Baxter Stockman, only for Stockman to throw up before Robin even got to him.

You jumped from side to side, unsure what to do. You couldn’t just stay back here and do nothing. There was no way. Especially not with all the narrow misses Ra’s pulled on Leo and Donnie. And it was with the sudden push of Leo, that sent him colliding with the scaffolding that brought you into action, using your grappling hook the same way he and his brother had.

You landed next to Donnie watching Ra’s with narrow eyes, ignoring Donnie’s confused look.

“But you have no weapons”, Donnie said, throwing a quick worried look over his shoulder at Leo who still wasn’t up from the ground.

“Don’t worry about it”, you said, knocking your wrists together, hearing the echo of the metal inside of them.

“It’s almost a pity”, you heard Ra’s snicker as he swung his blade one more time, making you and Donnie jump back. “So many children that must die today”.

You were ready to jump back in, but before you had the chance, Donnie did, still angry from what Ra’s had done to Leo. But Donnie was met with a kick to his plastron, making him fall to his knees for a moment. Ra’s swung his blade at him, but Donnie managed to catch with his bo staff, the point of Ra’s sword poking through the middle of wood. In the short moment Donnie stared at it, still in shock from what had happened, Ra’s grabbed his forearm and threw it over the railing, before bringing his foot down upon it with full force. Donnie yelled out in pain as his bone broke, falling onto his broken arm, between the pieces of his broken staff.

Ra’s looked at his work with a small smile, before pushing Donnie off the scaffolding with his foot, sending the mutant plumaging towards the earth below.

“Donnie!”, Leo called out, making you aware that Leo now sat up. But in the short time you looked away, Ra’s had turned his attention towards you, making you take a few steps back, terror clear in your eyes. “No!”Leo called out again, flashbacks from Arkham Asylum flooding his mind. His brothers laying dead on the floor of the boiler room, and the fear in your eyes.

Ra’s swung his sword at you, and you shield yourself with your gloves, the metal inside of them making the sharp edge bounce off. Ra’s roared in annoyance, before kicking you with his foot, making you fall to the ground. The vision of you on the ground, crying out in fear was very clear in Leo’s head. He could not let it happen.

With a battle roar Leo rose from the ground and jumped at Ra’s. Ra’s turned at the last moment, their blades clashing together.

“Get away from her”, Leo growled as the sky light broke above you, the Cloud Seeder launching with Donnie hanging off of it with his good arm, while Mikey frantically tried to turn it off.

Ra’s laughed when he caught on to what was happening. Young love was never hard to spot. He had seen it from the moment Leo safed you on the floor below and brought you with him, and when you selflessly jumped into action, with nothing but your metal gloves to protect you.

“Then be her hero and make me”, Ra’s laughed pushing Leo off, before swinging his sword at you once more. You ducked and rolled out of the way from two more blows, before Leo was on him once again.

“I have to admit”, Ra’s said through the clashes of blades, clearly very amused. “This is very interesting. A turtle and a human. How did you expect that to work?” Leo did not answer however, but swung at him once more. “You think I’m trying to make a fool of you? Well, I’m not. You seem like a smart child, and therefore you may know how impossible it sounds. But the Cloud Seeder could be your key to be together. It could turn her into anything. A bat, a wolf. Maybe even a turtle”. But Leo did not listen. He knew what Ra’s was trying to do. Make him unsure. Make him question. Make him hesitate. But Leo did none of those things, especially not with you, your family and his brothers’ lives on the line. He felt anger, the same kind of anger he had felt in Arkham, and it was controlling him.

Ra’s, seemingly too caught up in his own perceived brilliance, did not notice you launch at him, kicking at one of his feet, making him stumble. Leo, still blinded by anger, jumped at him once more, but Ra’s caught him in the last moment, before throwing him off the scaffolding and down towards the floor below. You called out for Leo as he landed on the ground with all the wind blown out of him, dropping one of his katanas on the way down. Ra’s turned his attention towards you, smiling menacingly as gave you a hard kick to your side, causing you to roll up on the ground, whimpering at the pain. He then grabbed a hold of the railing, ready to jump over, sending you one last evil smile.

“Time to get rid of that turtle lover of yours”, he said, before acceding to the floor, where Leo was slowly getting up, resting his weight of the katana he still had in hand, watching as Ra’s landed on his other one. The memories from Arkham still flooded Leo’s head. His brothers, you, all of it. But then he remembered your father’s words.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers, and it won’t save (Y/N). You have to focus”.

Taking in a deep breath, Leo got off the ground as Ra’s came closer, his blade still proudly in his hand. On the scaffolding above, Leo could hear you whimper and see your eyes as you watched them below you. Leo calmed his breath, watching as Ra’s got closer, grabbing firmly around the katana in his hand.

Whatever Ra’s had expected, it wasn’t the sudden newfound speed that Leo came in with, clashing his katana with his sword in several swift moves. Ra’s was taken aback, taking several steps back with each blow, but then struggling to do so when Leo stepped on his foot. You watched in awe as Leo managed to swing Ra’s sword out of his hand, sending it flying up into the air, before it landed into the floor several meters away. But Ra’s wasn’t done, continuing to fight without a weapon, kicking and punching at a dodging Leo.

Leo then jumped, swinging his katana down upon Ra’s. But to your surprise, Ra’s caught Leo’s blade between his hands before breaking it in half. Leo stumbled in shock, before Ra’s sucker punched him in the face, sending him flying backwards, the sight making your insides hurt more than they already did.

Ra’s went to get his sword, before pointing it at Leo, who was still struggling on the ground, all while you watched in fear.

“How?”, Leo asked, still not fully having processed what just had happened. Ra’s chuckled.

“Foolish child”, he chuckled. “I’m hundreds of years old, and have trained with the greatest teachers in history. How could you possibly-”.

Ra’s was suddenly cut off as Leo’s foot kicked up between his legs, hitting him where the sun was not supposed to shine, and definitely no foot either. Ra’s fell to his knees, cupping his manhood while Leo got up with a backflip.

“Oh yeah?”, Leo asked, finding the scene before him very amusing. “Well, I’m 19, and I learned this from a rat”. Leo did a series of small punches and pokes to Ra’s upper body, before the leader of the League of Assassins fell unconscious to the ground, dust flying up around him.

“Leo!”, you called out from above, crawling towards the edge of the scaffolding. “Catch me!” And without question Leo did so, holding arms open for you, catching you as you fell down from above making sure not to touch you where Ra’s had kicked you.

Both you and Leo wanted to ask each other if you were okay, but neither of you did so. You could not help yourselves. As relief rushed over you both, there was nothing that stopped your lips from crashing together in a passionate kiss. For a moment the two of you forgot where you were or what was happening, letting nothing but the feeling of each other's lips play out in your mind. Finally, after so many hours of wondering, Leo was finally able to feel them against his. Soft and warm. It was only his first kiss and his was already feeling himself becoming addicted. He already dreaded the moment he would have to let go of them again.

Leo leaned his head further to the right, deepening the kiss, until both of you had to pull away for air, staring into each other’s eyes, fighting the smiles that was playing at the corners of your lips, and the urges to go for another kiss. Leo’s lips felt cold now, and there was nothing he would rather do, than warm them up with yours one more time. But now was not the time. As much as he wished it was, he could not stand around and continue to kiss you, even if it was very tempting.

“Come on”, Leo said, forcing himself to let you go in order to take your hand, pulling you with him towards the stairs. “Let’s help your father”.

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