#reaching out for the light but kept from it behind windows and metal bars

[wanderlustqueen-writes]

Merry Christmas! This is my gift to my lovely friend and secret santa @youre-ackermine. I hope you like it Val ❤️🎁

@levihanweek thanks for organizing this event!

Meet Cute (But Make It Scary)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zöe (Attack on Titan)

Ratings: SFW.

Warnings: Swearing; Well-meaning tackling (?)

Genre: Fluff

Additional tags: Attack on School Castes AU

Wordcount: 2,1k

Summary: Levi Ackerman gets locked inside the School one night, completely alone. Or so he thinks...

Once again, Levi Ackerman was the last person to leave the workplace. The new hire of Paradis High stood in the employee’s locker room as the world outside ended in deluge. The noise of heavy rain filled the empty room, and the droplets hit the egress window so fast that it was nearly impossible to discern anything through the glass.

The image of the other janitors stranded in a bar waiting for the water to stop invaded his mind. He told them it was going to rain…

Except he’d just lucked out with that prediction. The sky could have been clear and still, he would find an excuse to go home. Alone. It was just the way he was.

Levi started to zip down his janitor uniform with one hand, bringing the other one inside his locker to feel for his umbrella.

“Shit” he mumbled under his breath when he came up short. 

As if on cue, a blue light descended from the sky. The whole room was engulfed in black. 

“Shit!” Levi slammed the metal door, only to jump out a second later when the reverberating rumble of the thunder finally hit.

It was starting to feel like the setup for a bad horror movie.

Levi cursed Flagon, one of his chummier colleagues, for telling him those stories about the school.

Don’t take too long to leave after you clock out, Levi. This place is full of ghosts, especially at night. Did I ever tell you the story of the student who died in…

“Asshole” Levi mumbled.

***

The cleaning crew had used a flashlight to work on a darker section of the school’s basement the week before, and that’s what Levi was crossing the corridor to retrieve. The path wasn’t pitch black, as the emergency lighting had kicked in, but it was still far from ideal.  The lamps barely illuminated the narrow space, creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When he reached his destination, the room was so dark it didn’t matter if his eyes were open. Levi closed the door behind him with a click.

“Who is there?” a hesitant voice called from the darkness ahead of him.

Levi froze. His blood felt like liquid ice and his heart started pounding hard inside his chest in the second of silence that followed the question. His breathing picked up.

It wasn’t his imagination.

He shut his eyes hard, taking in a deep breath as quietly as he possibly could, though he was sure his heart could be heard from a mile away. Levi slowly backed up with his hands behind him, until he felt the light pressure of the wall against his fingers. His movements were silent and calculated. He slid his body to the side, always slow,  hands always lightly on the wall, until he was met with harsh resistance. He felt around the edge of the desk, lowering his digits when he found the drawer.

Levi cringed at the light noise of wood sliding against wood as he carefully pulled on the handle. From the opposite side of the table, came a choked gasp.

Fuck caution! Levi reached inside the drawer, but the only thing he felt was cold fingers wrapping around his.

“AAARGHH!!” they yelled in unison.

The hands repelled each other immediately! Levi opened the door wide and sprinted through it, stumbling on his own feet. Suddenly a dancing yellow beam revealed the corridor before him. Levi took the opportunity to run faster, no longer hindered by the low lighting.

But the ring of light kept moving forward too. In fact, it seemed to be going faster than him. And the sound of steps he thought were just from him now seemed to also belong to someone else, someone close.

“Wait!” the voice called from close behind him. He looked back for a split second. White clothes. Brown hair all over the place. Crazy wide eyes. Fuck. Levi boosted again.

“Slow down!”

“The fuck I will!”

“I swear, I won’t hurt you!”

He didn’t respond, all his energy on his feet. Running. Running. Run-

He crashed flat on the ground like a starfish, crushed by the weight of whoever tackled him. Levi struggled like a bull trying to knock over a cowboy, to no avail. The weight lifted off of him for one second, enough for Levi to turn over and face his assailant. He was met with a blinding light.

“Who are you?” the voice sounded more composed now. It was low and rich, Levi tried to free himself again. The person above him sighed.

“I’m Hange. I work here." The flashlight turned 180º. Through the yellow stains in his vision, left behind by the light, Levi got a look at the person straddling his hips. Strands of brown hair were glued to their face. Ghosts don’t sweat, right? And the white clothing he got a quick look at before was a lab coat. “I’m the chemistry teacher. And you are a janitor, I assume?”

Levi remained silent.

“I’m sorry I tackled you.” Hange began explaining “It’s just that you were running in the dark and the doors of this corridor are locked” then pointed the light at the double doors not 3 meters before him “Good thing I stopped you, or It would’ve been bye bye to this perfect face.” Hange booped his nose.

“Tch. Get off of me” he struggled under the strange teacher again.

“If you tell me your name.”

He grunted.

“Levi.” 

Hange smiled, finally de-straddling him. Levi staggered up to his feet, moving towards the corridor doors.

“It’s locked.” Hange warned. Still, he tried to push them open.

“Told you.”

Levi clicked his tongue and began walking in the other direction.

“I’ve tried that one too. We’re stuck here.”

“Huh?” He frowned.

“It happens sometimes to workaholic idiots who don’t know when to clock out,” Hange sighed.

Levi’s head was spinning. It was all too much. He stumbled back. 

“Are you okay?” Hange was up in a second, hands all over him, lifting his arms, patting his sides and his face, searching for injuries. Levi flinched when two fingers simultaneously pressed on sore spots on his cheek and forehead.

The light was on his face again.

“Oh, you hit this side pretty hard.” Hange muttered, “This one is going to leave a nasty bump.”

Levi pushed the hand that held the flashlight away but allowed the other to rest gently on his cheek. “There’s a fridge in the teacher’s lounge, we can get you some ice! Come on!”

Several seconds of silence passed, but Levi eventually sighed in defeat.

***

“Voilá” Hange opened the door in an exaggeratedly cordial movement. “Mi casa es su casa.”

“Does su casa have any food?” Levi let his body fall on the two-person loveseat that occupied one corner of the room. Hange approached him moments later, bearing gifts. 

“Iced tea and soufflé cake or ice cream?”

Levi reached for the right, grabbing the bottle with one hand and the small Tupperware and fork with the other.

“Don't these belong to someone?”

“The power is out, so it’s our moral imperative to save this food from waste!”

Levi shrugged, leaning in to take a bite out of the treat.

“I think Nanaba has some candles in here from the rising water experiment her class did last week!”

Levi took a few sips of his drink as the strange teacher jumped from cupboard to cupboard, fleshlight in hand. Soon, the room was covered in dancing shadows cast by candlelight. The heavy rain outside created a soothing symphony. Levi crossed his legs, supporting the cake on one of his thighs. Hange sat next to him, with a few ice cubes wrapped in a dishcloth.

“Is this clean?”

“Of course! Fresh out of the cupboard.”

Hange laid the improvised cold pack gently on his cheek, then on his forehead.

“You think we’ll be in trouble for staying in?” He took a sip of his drink, looking at his new acquaintance out of the corner of his eyes.

“Only if we get caught” the reply was casual “I usually hide in the teacher’s bathroom when I hear someone coming. Then I just have to wait a few minutes and make sure no one else is in the room before I  exit. The timing is tricky though, no room for errors.”

He almost choked on his iced tea.

“How many times have you done this?”

“Don’t know. Lost count.” Hange shrugged.

“Why?”

“The lab is my favorite place in the world. Well, that and this lovely room right here” Hange joked but something vulnerable lurked behind the feigned chuckle. Levi turned to face the teacher, who continued “I also don’t have much else going on in other parts of my life. This is the closest thing I had to a date in… I don’t know… a year and a half?”

Levi’s cheeks felt warm, and he was grateful for the warm tones of the lighting in the room. To his surprise, he found himself saying:

“Eight months.”

He tilted his bottle to touch Hange’s ice cream cup.

Hange laughed, sincerely this time. The sound was low, bubbly, irregular. It was the weirdest combination of strange and familiar that made something resonate deep within him.

“What a couple of losers we are.”

“Yeah,” Levi replied, still stunned by the feeling.

***

“We should try and get some sleep.” Levi proposed, as the rain died out, and Hange nodded.

Except they didn’t. For some reason, whenever one of them stopped talking, the other broke the silence. Hange talked excitedly about the experiments the class did that day. Then Levi complained about the mess of the students and how some of the staff half-assed the cleaning. Hange nearly died laughing when Levi explained he ran because he thought he was being chased by a ghost but, for some reason, he didn’t mind. He liked it. 

***

“I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.” The chemistry teacher blew the candles on the little center table before them, as the morning light entered the room, filtered by the blinds.

“I guess we won’t.”

“So, we’ll be out of here soon,” Hange commented.

“Yeah, I guess we will.” Levi turned to face his newfound friend. Now that the sun was up, he could see Hange’s features clearly. Smooth light skin. Strong, slightly convex nose. Brown chaotic hair that somehow fit the whole picture. Deep brown eyes one could get lost in and lips so full, so soft looking.

He averted his gaze when he realized he was staring, but it was too late. There was already a strange charge in the room, hovering over them. It was slightly uncomfortable but also exhilarating. The tension that precedes a leap into the unknown. Levi gulped, creating the courage to look at Hange again. Brown eyes stared right back at him. His heart picked up the pace as he moved forward. Hange moved too, tongue peeking out to moisten those lips. He could feel the heat emanating from them. Any second now.

A loud clanking outside made them jump in surprise.

“It’s the doorman!” Hange whispered. They both ran for the window. As one man unlatched the gate, another stood behind him.

“That’s Erwin, the history teacher!” Hange whispered as though they could hear them talking from that distance. “He always comes here first thing in the morning! Quick! Hide!”

They ran to the bathroom, hiding behind the partially closed door.

There was a creek. Then slow steps. Then the sound of a refrigerator door opening. Then silence.

“Is he gone?” Levi mouthed.

The chem teacher peeked through the crack and nodded negatively. Then frowned.

“What is it?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, in what can only be described as an oopsie face, Hange mouthed “I think he’s looking for his souffle cake”.

Levi caught the laughter last minute, letting out only a strangled snicker. Meanwhile, Hange was all silent open mouthed-chuckles, which intensified when Erwin rested his chin on his hand in a stoic pose while examining the empty fridge.

By the time the room was clear, they were both out of breath. Levi and Hange stepped out of the bathroom, looking each other in the eyes. The moment was gone, but there was a tinge of promise in the air. Hange spoke first.

“So, I’ll be bumping into you from now on?”

Levi shrugged. “if you’re lucky.”

Hange laughed and, once again, they ran out of words. Levi moved towards the door, but as he took a step out, he heard the teacher speak again.

“Hey, Levi!” He turned back to find Hange with the fingers of both hands crossed. “See you around!”

“See ya.” Levi stepped out this time, a smirk hiding on the corner of his lips. Maybe socializing with his coworkers wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[ender--gaming]

@cosmicskittlez I did the art from your post that I really liked but in my style.... :3 :3 :3 :3

[caramara3]

How Could You | Damian Priest

Warnings: it's just sad.

A/N: Sooo... this is actually a rework of an old Seth Rollins one-shot I had made years back, but I decided to revamp it into a Damian Priest one-shot. This has absolutely no tie-in to Just Friends whatsoever.

Word Count: 2.9k

Enjoy!

DING!

The elevator comes to a halt upon the arrival of yet another floor. A robotic, yet feminine voice comes over the loudspeaker:

“EIGHTH FLOOR.”

The metal doors slowly open to reveal a black and gray hallway with artwork of abstract watercolor paintings hanging on the walls. Standing towards the back of the car, leaning against the safety bar, you watch your best friend and maid of honor Sydney step off the elevator. Placing one hand in front of the elevator door so it wouldn’t close she scans the hallway, looking left and then to the right, all to make sure that there was no one around.

After a few minutes, she finally turned her gaze back into the elevator. A small, loving smile softly forms and she extends a hand.

“Coast is clear,” she whispers.

You nod and push off the safety bar, throwing the thick strap of your purse over your shoulder. You grab hold of your carry-on and step off the elevator.

Sydney places a hand on the swell of your back while the other pulls her suitcase. Your gaze falls to the floor as the two of you walk down the hall, focusing on the hotel’s unusual carpet pattern as she scans the placards on the wall looking for the right room. Every so often you could feel her eyes practically burning a hole through before quickly turning away to look back up at the placards. 

She was worried. She had every right to be. Since leaving the arena over an hour ago you'd barely spoken a single word. Not to her, not to Rhea, no one. You were catatonic. 

But who could blame you? After what you had just seen, anyone would react the exact same way if they were in your shoes.

As you continued down the hall, you could feel the consistent buzzing of your phone through the thin fabric of the hoodie. Slow at first, but quickly becoming more often with every unanswered second passing by.

It almost felt like with every step you took, the phone would go off.

Step.

Buzz.

Step.

Buzz.

Step, step.

Buzz, buzz.

Normally you would have answered by now. But instead, you chose to ignore whoever it was and kept going. 

You finally reached the end of the hall and stopped in front of a door marked 827. Sydney pulls out a key card from the pocket of her jeans and slides it into the automated lock. A few buzzing sounds later, a green light flashes and a loud *click* signals the door had unlocked. She turns the handle, pushes the door open, and then moves to the side to usher you into the room, following close behind.

Placing your purse on the dresser, you look around at what would be your new home for the night. For the most part, the room looked like every other hotel room you’ve stayed in while on the road. Granted, this was probably the most luxurious of most of them, but still pretty standard. 

There were two Queen beds each donning a fancy purple duvet with no less than eight of the fluffiest pillows you’d have ever seen in your life, a giant flat screen TV mounted above a black dresser, cashmere floor rugs draped across cherry hardwood floors, a cozy little reading area near the windows with a small leather loveseat, and a wet bar fully stocked with overpriced snacks and tiny bottles of alcohol. 

The one thing that did make the room stand out was the incredible view. Floor-to-ceiling window panels centered on the main wall of the room leveled with the New York skyline, showcasing a near perfect image of the city. There was even a clear view of the Empire State Building in the background, lit up in red and blue lights as night blanketed the city.

You sit on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. Looking out at the city you couldn’t help to think about how different life was a few hours ago. You were engaged to the love of your life. You were in the final countdown before the big day, less than a week. You were at your rehearsal dinner downtown surrounded by your closest friends and family, all gathered to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. 

But all of that seemed so long ago now.

How could this have happened? How could he do that to me? 

But before you could think of an answer to your question, the sound of boots clacking across the hardwood floor brought you back to reality.

“Well,” Sydney says with a satisfied sigh, “this is nice. Really nice as a matter of fact, especially with it being super last minute.”

You brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them, never once looking away from the window. “It’s fine, I guess.” 

“Fine?” she snorts, “Y/N, come on! Look at what we got. Gorgeous view, fancy sheets, free Wi-Fi, a fully stocked bar...”

You hear movement from behind and see a light flicker on through the window’s reflection. “Oh my-, Y/N you’ve gotta see this bathroom! It’s got a huge shower and…” she pauses, “Oh. My. God. The floors are heated. Y/N the floors are heated!!”

But you don’t move. You don’t spring up from the bed to revel in her excitement over heated floors or whatever other fancy details the room had to offer. Instead, you stay seated in silence, holding yourself as you gaze out into the city and its nightlife. 

You observe the streetlights perched on the sidewalk creating an ominous glow on the pavement. The mixture of city cars and yellow taxis, halted by ongoing traffic as they struggle to reach their destination on time. The small groups of tourists stopping every few minutes for selfies with various buildings in the background, including this very hotel.

All the while your mind replays the events from earlier. A single tear manages to escape as your mind begins to torture you with a play-by-play of what happened. It all still felt like a dream to me, a sick twisted nightmare that no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t wake up from. Your brain searched and scanned through every single memory collected from the last three years.

You were desperate to find any little detail you missed, something that could explain just where everything went wrong. Something that could’ve prepared you for what would eventually happen.

But you found nothing.

No hints, no little clues. 

No hidden messages or blaring warning signs.

Nothing that screamed out: “Y/N don’t be alarmed, but the night before you’re supposed to get married… you’re gonna find your fiancé with some random woman bent over a table.”

Boy that would’ve been a great fucking warning now, wouldn’t it?

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t felt the bed dip, nor did you flinch when you felt a set of arms pull you into an embrace, resting your head under Sydney’s chin. One hand settled at the swell of your back, tracing small circles with her finger, the other gently stroked your hair. Sydney had been your best friend ever since you were both in diapers, you knew just how much it pained her to see you like this; this deflated catatonic alien that had replaced her bubbly best friend. You knew she probably had a million questions for you, but rather than bombard you, she said nothing and just held you. 

Throughout your nearly three decades of friendship, there was never a time in your life where you couldn’t rely on her to be there for you wherever you needed the most. And tonight was definitely one of those moments when you needed her.

The two of you stayed in this comfortable silence for seemed like forever, just staring out into the night as she held you. 

“You feel like talking about it?” you hear her ask, her voice just above a whisper.

You say nothing.

“Ok, that’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it yet. We’ve got tomorrow to figure everything out, but tonight,” she pauses, leaping from the bed, “tonight we are getting shit faced.”

Once again you say nothing but watch as she makes her way over to the wet bar. You knew what Sydney was trying to do. First she would pump you with some top shelf liquor, order a bunch of room service, and then put on your favorite horror movies to get you in a relaxed and neutral state while she did damage control. 

Unfortunately, Freddy Krueger and tequila weren't going to fix this problem. Not this time.

“Tell you what. Why don’t I call Rhea and see where she and Bianca are with the rest of your things, and then I’ll see if I can wrangle us up some food. How does that sound?”

You think it over for a moment before nodding in agreement.

A smile forms on Sydney’s face. “Awesome. What do you feel like? We could do chinese, pizza, maybe some Thai food? I could see if room service is still available…?”

You look over at her, her hazel eyes meeting yours. “Could we do a little bit of everything?”

A small laugh escapes Sydney’s mouth. “Hell yea we can! I’ll even get some ice cream from that bodega we passed down the street. Why don’t you change out of that dress, take a nice hot shower, and I’ll start getting everything ready.”

You give her a small smile and with one final hug from her she grabs her purse and heads out, leaving you alone. You slide off the bed and walk around the large room. You stop in front of one of the many conveniently placed touch screen panels on the wall. Scanning over it, you find an app called Night and tap it. Instantly, large panels begin descending over the large window panel, slightly darkening the room and hiding the skyline away for the night.

You move about the room making your way inside the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, you shut the door and lock it. Sydney was right, this was an incredible bathroom, like something straight out of Architectural Digest. Apart from the aforementioned heated floors, there were heated marble countertops, eucalyptus scented plush Egyptian cotton towels, two complimentary plush bathrobes with matching slippers, full-sized bottles of luxury brand skincare and body products, & a huge glass walk-in steam shower with two large overhead rainfall showerheads and shower wall panels on the front and side walls.

On the outside of the shower was another touch screen panel to control the shower. You look it over for a few moments, looking over your choices before choosing the one labeled “rainfall.” The overhead showerheads come alive and water begins to rain down, quickly filling the bathroom with steam.

Moving back to the sink you look at the wide selection of skincare products laid out when you felt your phone begin its incessant vibrating once again. But rather than ignore it like before, you pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and stare at the screen.

The first thing you see is your background. It was one of your favorite pictures of the two of you together, Halloween 2022. The two of you had dressed up as Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstien. You were looking at the camera but his eyes were focused solely on you, a smile stretched across his face as he did.

You unlock your screen and view the notifications: over a dozen missed calls. Dozens of voicemails. Way too many damn unread text messages.

With a sigh, you begin scrolling through the list of missed calls, seeing one name appear more often than others.

Damian.

Damian.

Rhea.

Bianca.

Damian.

Damian.

Kayden.

Finn.

Dominik.

Damian.

Damian.

Damian.

Bianca.

Finn.

Damian.

Rhea.

Damian.

Damian.

Damian.

Damian.

The nerve he had to call you, the absolute nerve. What in the hell would make him think you wanted to hear anything that he had to say? Did he think that simple sorry was going to change everything? Or was he calling to explain that what you had seen wasn’t what you thought it was.

You toss your phone onto the counter in annoyance before walking back into the main room, not caring much where it landed. You free yourself of your hoodie, your dress, and the rest of your clothes. You grab two of the plush bath towels underneath the sink, placing one on the back of the toilet and place the other on a hook outside of the shower. You grab one of the bottles of complimentary body wash and open the shower door, the rush of steam engulfing you as you step inside.

You move to stand directly underneath the showerhead, letting the warm cascade over your body. The sound of water splashing against the tiles echoed off the walls but it wasn’t enough to drown out your own thoughts as your mind displayed every kiss, every touch, every ‘I love you’ ever said playing on an endless loop in your mind, attempting to pinpoint the moment where everything changed.

Meeting for the time wrestling on the indies. Meeting again after signing your WWE contract. The night he first asked you out, the night he first said I love you, the night you first made love. Meeting each other’s families. 

You try to shake these thoughts from your mind, but it won’t work. No matter what else you attempt to think about, no matter what other happy memories you attempt to form in your head, nothing can keep them at bay. A few stray tears push their way out but you’re quick to wipe them away.

No, you thought. You are not going to do this Y/N. This isn’t happening right now. Stop it!

You reach to grab the bottle of body wash from the shelf inside the shower...    

And that’s when you noticed it. The tan line on your finger, now completely visible on your left hand that only a few hours ago bore the beautiful oval cut diamond engagement ring. 

The ring that he claimed to have been carrying around for months, hoping to find that right moment that never seemed to come. 

Until the night of WrestleMania 37, just hours after you retained your title against Asuka and watched him compete in his first Mania alongside Bad Bunny. The two of you found yourselves back in your shared hotel room, bodies entangled with one another, holding you close against his chest when he would whisper in your ear the two words that would freeze time around you both:

Marry me.

He would reach over to the bedside table next to the bed and pull out a small black box. He would tell you just how much he loved you, how he has always loved you from the moment he met you, how he doesn't wish to spend another day on this earth without you. Then he would slip the dainty ring on your finger and ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.  

Now that finger is bare. The ring was gone, given or rather thrown back at him after what had happened.

And just like that, it all came crumbling down. That false sense of reality you created since leaving the arena had finally collided with actual reality and had smacked you dead in the face.

Damian Priest, the love of your life, the man you were set to marry tomorrow, had been cheating on you. 

And you had caught him tonight. 

Your legs carried you backward until your back hit the wall of the shower. A wave of nausea swirls all around your empty stomach and your chest tightens like someone was stomping on it repeatedly. The first sob was quiet, nothing short of a small childlike whimper as the tears fell. But more and more as reality continued to sink in, they grew louder. The tears flowed more, so much so that I couldn’t tell what were tears and what was from the shower. 

Three years of your life, all gone in a flash. Plans for the future, for children, traveling the world… all just illusions and fantasies that would never come true now.  

Your body sank to the ground and before you knew it you were curled up into a ball, sobbing into your knees as the water turned from warm to cold. 

But you didn’t care. Your head swam with half-formed regrets. Your heart felt as if your blood had turned into tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. 

There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that now engulfed you in the swirling blackness.

And it was all because of him.  

TagList:

@terrortwinunicorn @damiansgoodgirll @rootedinrevisions @thedeboniardevistation @beibigirl124 @bonni-98 @queencherryberry @queenoftheworldisdead @kalliravenne @neversatisfiedgirl @mzv11 @sassymox @blueblazezz @madhatterbri @royallyprincesslilly @southerngirl41 @abadbitchblogs @miss-kuki-nz @shamaness11 @cookiebelle @flawlessglamazon @lavitabella87 @chaneajoyyy @adriennegabriella @gold--gucciempress @msbigredmachine @fivefootxo @joy-of-life88 @joannasteez @wrestlingbabe @daniiwrites @trippinsorrows @lorena26 @babiidee28 @yana3sworld @disc0fairy @eringobragh420 @bossbitch-22 @kultklassickiller @hotmessexpressssss @writinglionqueen @retro-rezz-the-est

[daflangstlairde-art]

Turtle and the Fox

Work 4 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Work summary:

And it was embarrassing. Leo could choke down the pain, he could choke down the anger and hatred, he could turn hope into a sickly sweet thing like a mirage. But the embarrassment. It was always so strong. It was humiliating, always sharp and churning. Always made him far, far too aware. — Instead of getting evil hair and going to a spa, Leo ends up kidnapped by some weirdo. Shockingly, he has a bad time.

Content warnings for the work include: kidnapping, dehumanization, electrocution, conditioning, creepy behavior, and more. More details on ao3.

Chapter 1/11 — 4772 words

I.

Leo should've been worried as soon as he woke up.

Look. Leo’s portals? They were the coolest thing EVER, because Leo is the coolest!

...But admittedly, they were kinda sucky. He was still getting the hang of them, okay? They’d brought him to many weird places, like the top of the Eiffel Tower, or to a weird alien... dimension... planet... place. They sent his brothers to Tahiti once, it was a whole thing. Ending up in weird places was kinda becoming his thing. He's traveled half the world at this rate, no biggie, just more cool points for ol’ Leon. 

But he was getting better at it! He was adaptable, and he kept his cool pretty well... mostly. He was chill like that.

But waking up in a weird... basement jail cell??? Maybe not as immediately terrifying as the alien planet, but it definitely ranked high on the What The Fucky-Wucky list, huh? 

Leo pushed himself up, groaning, rubbing his face. And a headache, too? And nausea? Not looking too great, but it's fiiinee. 

He was calm, because he’s gotten himself into so many messes, getting out was practically his specialty at this point. His first instinct was to reach for his ōdachi. 

Things immediately went from “a little weird” to concerning as his ōdachi proved to be nowhere in sight. Actually, Leo didn't have any of his stuff in sight—not even his sash or gloves or socks. 

Um. Okay. Weird, off-putting, but hey, ‘tis the life.

He blinked, and squinted, and started trying to orient himself. Really hoping he wasn't dealing with a concussion here. 

The “bed” squeaked weird, which was explained as soon as he looked down and saw it wasn't a bed, not fully. It was just a mattress on the floor, pressed against the wall. There wasn't even a blanket, just a crumpled, pinkish-beige bed sheet and a sad looking white pillow which wasn't fluffy at all.

Leo wasn't very hopeful, but he still lifted the mattress to check if his sword just so happened to be under there.

Predictably—it wasn’t.

“Love a good disappearing act, but now is really not a good time,” he muttered quietly.

There was a ceiling light, which wasn't totally obliterating his eyes, sooo... if he had a concussion, it probably wasn't a severe one. Score. The light from the lamp was warm.

The ceiling light was in the other half of the room. Y'know, the half Leo could not reach, because it was barred by thick vertical iron bars. Like a prison cell. Yeah. He assumed this space was a basement, since there were no windows and it had a distinctly basement-y vibe. It was not claustrophobic, but it wasn't massive either. It wasn't freezing, or damp, but it wasn't very... cozy. 

Leo knocked on the wall. It wasn't bare bricks, but behind the eggshell paint he was a hundred percent sure he'd only encounter thick concrete.

The gaps between the iron bars (or... whatever metal they were made from) were too small to fit his butt through, much less his shell. 

O...kay. Very bad start. But he had this! He’d be out in five minutes tops. 

It was also super empty in here. Like, completely empty. There were all of two doors in the room. One was on his half of the basement, on the other side of the cell. Leo didn't waste a second to clamber up and—as stealthily as he could—sprint over, yanking it open. 

He almost cheered when it did, in fact, open! 

...Only to reveal a bathroom. 

A very small bathroom, with a toilet, and toilet paper, and a small bathtub. Weirdly fancy for a prison! And the type of sink that had a hose-thingy and you could unhook the faucet and make it into a shower head. And a mirror above the sink. And a bar of pastel orange soap. 

This reassured the discomfort in his gut only a little, but not a lot. Leo grimaced. 

“Aw man, my brothers are gonna kill me,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Still trying to be quiet, lest he attract unwanted attention.

Well. He was already here in the bathroom sooo... Leo walked over and turned on the faucet, got some cold water streaming (oh good, there’s water), and cupped his hands to drink. At least he didn't have to worry about dehydration if he was really stuck in here.

It soothed his dry throat. It made the headache and the nausea ease up a little. Okay, nice. Getting out will be easier if he didn't feel like throwing up. 

He splashed his face with the cold water, and oh, great, his mask was missing too. 

“Okay, wake up Leon!” he lightly slapped his cheeks, watching the water swirl down the drain. “You don't have your ōdachi, but you're a certified Mad Dog! You beat Baron Draxum and THE Shredder!” he hyped himself up. Come oonnn! He was Leonardo... uhh... Splinterson! He was a one of a kind turtle mutant ninja! How cool is that?? Clearly, chance was on his side.

Even if he was having very little leeway so far.

Ugh, it was moments like this where he really wished his dad had taught them more of the ninja arts–

–Leo jerked back as he caught his reflection upon glancing up. 

Okay... What. The Fuck. Now that deserved some bad words.

What the fuck.

He stared, disturbed. 

Slowly reached up a hand, pressing it to... the... thing on his throat. 

Was that a... a collar??? 

Not like that stupid gag gift Donnie had given him, not like that collar. Not like a dog collar, either. Or– well– a little bit like that?

It was like... like some sort of Victorian style collar. Or something. Like a fancy corset but for his throat. A thick circlet of leather, with thinner frilly decoration coming out of the top and the bottom. It was beige with white lace. It had a little metal clip at the front, very much like a dog collar. 

Okay. Okay, this situation just went from concerning to “get out of here PRONTO”. He really hoped some human with an interest in exotic pets didn't get their hands on him. 

Leo tried yanking the freaky collar off. And then he yanked harder. This yielded precisely zero results. He turned it around and tried fiddling with the latch, except it was weird, and he couldn't figure out how to get it open.

Leo had to admit. He was starting to get just a little nervous. Only a tiny bit. Because he's the Face Man, the master of keeping it cool. 

Which is why he totally didn't startle upon hearing the telltale sounds of someone approaching. 

Leo slammed the bathroom door closed and then cursed himself for it. He was supposed to be stealthy!

...Well. To be fair. It's not like he really had anywhere to go. So hiding was never going to be the winning strat.

Okay, whatever.

He pressed the side of his face to the door, to listen. Luckily, he and his brothers have always had pretty good hearing. Leo’s wasn't as good as, say, Donnie or Raph’s, but it was still good.

It sounded like the person was... walking down a set of stairs. And then a jingle of keys. The turning and click of a lock. 

The second door in the basement had been across the iron bars, inaccessible to Leo. It now sounded heavy as it opened. And then clicked closed again. And—damn—once again the sound of a key in a lock.

“You’re awake earlier than expected,” a voice spoke. They sounded... they didn't sound hostile, or creepy. Their tone didn't stand out in any way at all, actually, except maybe for a very slight fancy accent, too mild for Leo to pinpoint it. There was no lisp, no cackle, nothin’. It wasn't particularly deep or high. It sounded male, but who’s Leo to assume? But he really couldn't infer much from it.

He gave up on being a smartass for a moment, because he needed to figure out how to navigate this. Especially if it's a human. 

“Didn't even give me the time to furnish this place a bit,” they said, and was that a twinge of humor in their voice??? “But I suppose this will be a learning curve for us both,” ...okay, what is this guy talking about.

They sounded so... normal. Not at all like a creep or a jailer or a millionaire or a government agent. It was jarring. Maybe this was just... a, a misunderstanding...? Leo tried to recall what he remembered last.

It was... he and his brothers were in the Hidden City... which was still SUCH a crazy thing to think about. And so new! They were only just starting to get used to going there, every now and then. 

So they’d been exploring. They’d split up to do their own thing—he wanted to go enjoy a fancy spa place—and... uh... he couldn't because... and then...

...Yeeahh thhaaat’s about where Leo lost the thread. He must've been knocked out or something. 

Maybe he portaled here accidentally. And his sword got portal-jacked again. After... acquiring a weird collar that couldn't be removed. And losing his clothes. 

...Yikes.

Maybe he could talk this out with the stranger who was surely a reasonable person, and Leo could walk out of here and go home, and they could all laugh about it tomorrow and forget about it the day after! Yeesh. His brothers would never stop reminding him about this. Leo chuckled quietly. He'd have to bribe them or something.

“You know there isn't really anywhere for you to hide, right? Come on, come out and meet me proper,” they beckoned, not hostile.

Leo took a breath, and relaxed himself. Okay, here goes. Go and face, Face Man.

He opened the bathroom door and walked out. 

On the other side of the iron bars stood a mutant. Or– wait, maybe they were yōkai? They were... what was it called... oh, right, a fennec fox. Fitting for the animal, they weren't very tall. Leo may be just fifteen, but he was pretty sure he had two or three inches on ‘em. They had those aesthetic thin-wired round glasses and a sweater vest on. A light brown, pleasantly matched with the color of their fur. All in all, a very normal guy, just standing with his hands halfway tucked into his pant pockets. 

Except for the neutral, kinda sly looking grin that sort of reminded Leo of Big Mama, but hey, who was he to judge? Leo himself had been punched more than once for his smarmy smirk.

“Heeyyy mi amigo! Bud, pal,” Leo approached the iron bars confidently, clasping his hands together. “Real weird situation we've found ourselves in, huh?” he commented like it was about the weather. “You know how to open these things? Yeah, so, you do that, and I will just walk out, and we can both go our merry way and pretend like this never happened. Sound good?” 

The stranger chortled. Leo smiled, hopeful that the next words out of their mouth were going to be yeah, let me get right on that. 

Instead,

“That's the attitude I like to see,” they said, looking satisfied. Or maybe glad. Or... pleased. 

“Hah, yeah, I’m a real treat to have,” Leo rolled easily onwards, “Ssoooo about those bars...” 

The stranger sighed, still amused but like they were done with introductions now and could get on with the business meeting.

“You’re adorable,” they were smiling, “now heel, kappa,”

Leo blinked.

“...Heal...?” he echoed, not quite sure what the guy was asking of him. “Heal what, you got a sprained wrist or something–?” 

“Heel. H-E-E-L. You are literate, right?” the fennec fox raised his eyebrows. His eyes weren't black and shapeless like an actual fennec fox—they were a strong hazel color. Red, really. Piercing. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess? What does that have to do with anything?” Leo scratched his head. 

“I’ll be lenient with you for now, considering we're only starting,” he said calmly, still with that same grin. “But this is try number three: Heel.” 

“I... don't–” 

–The yōkai raised his hand and there was a shock–

“–understaAAA–” 

Just like that Leo’s vision whited out.

In the span of less than a second, his entire body started spasming, muscles and nerves contracting and screaming– no, he was the one that screamed, as a full body electroshock slammed into him with the force of the Turtle Tank, and it didn't stop–

Within less than a second Leo was shrieking, mind blank and unable to even comprehend the physical assault that was everywhere, and he could barely even claw at his throat with the intensity of it, because it felt like that's where the sudden agony–

How strong was this– what is happening?!

He collapsed to his knees, unable to even hear his own screaming as an unfiltered WRONG sensation burn every part of him–

He collapsed to the floor, choking and unable to breathe and unable to think–

His body spasmed and convulsed–

And just as suddenly as it began, it ended. 

Leaving him hunched over on the ground, choking on his own copper-tasting spit and gasping for breath, ragged and desperate. Shivering from head to toe, burning. Hot and cold waves, his vision swimming. It felt like pins and needles jamming into every inch of his body again and again and again; no, it felt like– like an old TV, that very specific flickery-wavering effect. Noise and static. Leo felt like he’d just been doused in boiling water for a few seconds, like, like he’d been tazed or something. Everything was vibrating and too much and hurting.

“What the fuck–” he gasped, still incomprehending of the situation. Too hot under his skin. 

“I told you to heel,” the fennec fox man said calmly, lighthearted, now standing above Leo. Because Leo had collapsed. After that– that– “Rule one—you will obey all commands, without question. Sound good?” he said all smart and cheeky.

“What the fuck,” Leo simply repeated, shaking, eyes flicking to look at the stranger. He– he was still smiling in that same way. He–

He–

...He did this, didn't he? He’d done that. On purpose. The fox guy did that on purpose. 

“You,” Leo leveled him, “are a weird little man,” he declared. 

The man tsked, and grinned. “Rule two—respect your new owner, kappa. That’s me,” he clarified, cheeky.

“You’ve got some wires cro–”  

–Leo’s breath was stolen as the fox raised his hand and another shock freaking wrecked through his body, immediately locking his muscles in tension, wrenching more screaming from his throat as it dragged out– 

He barely heard the man speak up over the burning, he barely processed–

“Apologize,” said calmly, with authority, as Leo shrieked and writhed with the voltage, how strong it was, this intensity of electricity could hospitalize a person–!

There was obstinance. There was pride. There was dignity. 

It took all those about three seconds each to buckle under the assault on his body, unceasing and painful painful painful make it stop–

“You know, I’d be very sad to kill you before I've had you for even just a day,” the fennec fox remarked, each word taking longer and longer to stick in Leo’s brain, preoccupied as it was with “PAIN PAIN PAIN HURTING DYING THIS IS AWFUL MAKE IT STOP”, but eventually, eventually–

–I don't want to die, a desperate animal instinct inside him roared. 

“STOP, STOP, MAKE IT STOP PLEASE–” Leo cried, teeth buzzing, digging his feet and digging his hands and convulsing.

“That's not what I asked for, kappa,” the fox said kindly.

When Leo swallowed obstinance and pride and dignity, it tasted like copper and electricity and it was still going it was still going–

“I’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY–” he shrieked with growing desperation because the torture wasn't stopping– 

And then it did, just like that. 

Leo was left on the basement floor, gasping static, eyesight blurry and sparking. Body trembling and occasionally spasming like there was leftover electric energy inside it. 

Everything. Hurt. Everything was sore, his nerves felt burnt out, frayed. Hands and knees and forehead rested on cold floor, feeling his heartbeat in his fingertips. Leo dreamed of submerging his entire body into burn cream, just for a small chance at soothing the scalding over all of his skin. 

It wasn’t just his throat, even though that's where it seemed the electricity came from. It was, inexplicably, everywhere. 

This was nothing like Donnie’s gag gift. That thing had been barely a buzz.

This was actual, genuine torment. 

“Good boy,” the fennec fox cooed, and if Leo wasn't lying on the floor right now, he might've thrown up at it. 

“You are seriously sick,” Leo said, hoarse, fists clenched, he couldn't stop trembling. He felt like he was physically and mentally short-circuiting. “What– this, this–” he gasped, “I don't know if it’s a shock to you, but this is against basic human rights–” 

The stranger tsked again. “You are difficult to discipline, aren't you?” he grinned, and his fangs weren't large but they were sharp all the same, “But that’s what I was hoping for, I do love a good project! Now, let's try again—this time, I want you to apologize, and repeat what rule you disobeyed, mkay?” 

“You–”

And the fennec fox yōkai raised his hand.

And Leo’s blood-curdling screams filled the small space yet again.

II.

Leo met this yōkai man barely a few minutes ago, and it was already one of the worst first impressions anyone has ever made, in his humble opinion. Abhorrent presentation.

And he was yōkai, because it was only ever yōkai that called them “kappa”, always assuming they were yōkai too. 

Anyway.

Leo got the memo quick, and bit his tongue to shut the hell up because he did not want a lobotomy via electrocution at the ripe old age of fifteen. 

His mouth tasted like blood. This was actually because he’d accidentally bitten his tongue two minutes ago, whilst, y'know, being violently electroshocked. 

It hurt.

Everything hurt. It hurt like he got a week-long non-stop beatdown. It was like a migraine, but for his entire body. It hurt worse than anything ever. 

Everything was swimming and every little movement sent a spike of pain. His muscles and nerves were exhausted, entirely burned out in a vibrating sort of way. Leo was so close to hurling. He was sucking in shallow breaths, on the floor.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” the fennec fox asked. What a condescending jerk. Leo wanted to snark back at him. Leo wanted to spit in his face. Leo wanted to kick his ass and run out of here and go home. 

Leo swallowed down all of that. Leo didn't do any of those things because Leo wanted to live.

His brothers were looking for him, zero doubt about that. And they were going to find him, they were. And– and Leo needed to be alive for that. Electrocution could get real dangerous real quick and easy.

Or he would escape before they even realized he's gone! There had to be a way to get out of here, for sure. He was going to find a way out of here.

But he needed to be alive for that.

Trembling, on the floor, Leo—for once in his life—didn’t talk back. It only took, what, three torturing electroshocks? 

“Well?” the fennec fox prompted.

Leo swallowed, and swallowed again. His throat hurt, and he wanted water.

Hhnh. With the ridiculous strength of the shocks, Leo could have a heart attack right here, right now. And he promised April to hang out! Boy was his heart pounding.

“I’m s– I’m sow–” he gagged, “I-I’m eigugh– I’m sorry,” he forced out, even if it audibly tasted gross in his mouth.

“And?”

What else was it that he wanted–? 

...Oh. Right. 

Leo ground his teeth together. He hated the way the yōkai was still standing above him. And could he just say this—it made him feel actually naked (as opposed to the regular turtle-naked) with how the fox was fully clothed. 

Whatever. Leo isn't ashamed of himself! Embrace the turtle!

He forced himself to put a hand on the floor. He forced himself to push himself up, just a little. Just so he wasn't completely laying down at the guy's feet. Eugh.

His skin all felt hot and gross on the outside. Shame made his insides match, curling like a fat maggot. 

“I... disrespected... you,” Leo made it known through his tone how displeased he was about this. “Which, for the record–”

“And?”

“And? ...And– didn't... do what... you told me,” he grumbled, scratching his head. “And may I just say, I am not–” 

“That's right, good boy,” the yōkai praised, and okay, that was creepy. High levels of creepazoid. Someone call the Creep Cops.

...Which... Leo supposed were just the regular cops.

“Well! Now that we got that out of the way,” the man clasped his hands together. “Introductions. My name is Zerda Vulpes, my friends call me Fin–” 

“Fin the Fennec Fox,” Leo chuckled. What a stupid name. “How’s your best friend Jake, Fin the Fo–” 

He yelped with the slap of another shock. He caught himself almost feeling relieved when this time it was brief, momentary, though no less painful. Just a sudden tightening of all his muscles all at once.

He slammed his fist into the ground, teeth grinding. He was starting to really hate this.

“Respect, kappa,” Fin reminded, again, not unkindly, and his whole demeanor was really giving Leo whiplash. “As I was saying. You won't be calling me that. To you, I am commander, I am master, I am sir. Understood?”

Leo glared at him. This guy was so cringe. Get on Roblox so I can bully you, loser–

Fin raised his hand and–

Y'know, Leo wanted to tough it out. He was a tough guy! Him and his brothers fought mutants weekly, just ‘cause they wanted to! Again, they’d beaten Baron Draxum and Shredder! Leo himself was the best of the best, longest Lair Games streak out of anyone!

They've always been tough. Tough shells, tough scales, tough minds. To them, street brawls were like going to a martial arts class—just an activity, a hobby, normal, casual, never considered danger even on the off chance it left them a bit bruised up. 

Leo was able to tough this out, if he really wanted to. If, for example, his brothers’ lives were on the line, he would tough it out.

But. 

Fin the Fuckface Fox raised his hand, and Leo’s stomach swooped and– “Nonono, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Leo pushed out before he could catch himself. Palms raised placatingly, trying to get the yōkai to just be reasonable, to see that there was no need for this.

Fin—because Leo was not gonna call him any of those other ones in his head—paused. “I’m sorryyyy...?” he trailed off expectantly. Like he was speaking to a dumb kid instead of Leonardo.

Leo felt... humiliated. He caught himself feeling relieved that he was alone here—that nobody would watch him... go through this.

This was surreal. This didn't happen to real people in the real world! This didn't happen to people like Leo! It was bizarre, and it was ridiculous. And Leo wanted it to be over already.

Despite his wishes, here he remained. Fin kept watching him and Leo remained trembling on the ground like a beaten dog, sore and embarrassed.

“I’m... sorry... sir,” he forced out, looking away, hiding his face with a hand, and hating it. This was embarrassing. It was embarrassing. His brothers would piss themselves laughing if they saw this. Leo could never, ever tell anyone anything about any of this. He was taking this to his grave. 

“Good turtle,” awful, awful, awful, stop calling him that. “Now. What’s your name?” 

Leo didn't want this freakazoid to know his name. He was actually gonna barf if he heard his beautiful awesome name from this guy’s mouth, so he said the first thing he could think of: “J– uh, Jimmmmmson. Jimson,” 

Fin raised his hand and fear sparked through Leo, and immediately he screamed with the shock that followed.

He slammed his fist into the ground, irritated and frustrated and wanting to just kick and yell. It felt like all his nerves were exposed, his face hot and buzzing. Was this overstimulation?

“What was that one for?!” Leo yelled, voice almost cracking. 

“Just asserting. That is no longer your name,” Fin said casually, and it was so ridiculous Leo almost laughed, because it wasn't his name in the first place. 

“Oh yeah?” he wanted to snark, oh yeah? So what is it? Franklin the Turtle? We going to match, buddy?

“And don't question me, mkay? No talking back. I won't punish you now—like I said, I’ll go easy on you in the beginning—but I will in the future,” Fin continued, and Leo seriously felt like he was in the weirdo alternate dimension. Everything about this man and this scenario was insane.

Punish. What is he, a two year old? A dog?? This man is insane.

“So, I think you'd like some context, huh?” Fin spoke like anything about this was normal. “Well. To make a long story short, when Baron Draxum went haywire, rumors spread about his project for mutant soldiers. I was lucky to be around at the time! And I’m in need of a new bodyguard and wanted a new pet, so when I saw– ah, well, you get the jist,” no no, back up saw what–? “We just need to break you in. House train you, y'know?” 

Leo stared at this man. Speaking like– like–

What in the flippity fuck has Leo been dragged into? Was the guy dropping exposition on him??? How was he perceiving this scene, because Leo was NOT seeing the same!

“So– so you–” just kidnapped me?! Leo started, and then the words choked in his throat. 

(And don't question me, mkay? No talking back.)

He didn't want to receive another shock. Everything hurt and it all felt too much. 

“R... right,” Leo just nodded lamely. 

Fin smiled. “Great. Well, welcome to your new home. I know it's looking quite drab right now, but if you're good, we'll get it decorated,” he explained. “Are you hungry?” 

Leo couldn't tell, past the nausea.

“I... No, I– I think,” Leo answered, because he just wasn't sure what else he could do. And at the fox’s look, he belatedly added “Uh, sir,” with a grimace. Eugh.

“Good. See, you're already learning so well,” the fox delighted. “Well, I’ll bring you food later, mkay? And we’ll chat more. Now, feel free to rest up a bit, this was very jarring to you, I'm sure. I really hate to run you ragged like that, but asserting strict and clear discipline from the get-go can yield very good results and fast,” 

Leo was just gaping at the man from the floor, at this point. He would call the yōkai delusional, if it wasn't an insult to people with genuine mental health struggles. This man was just... messed up.

“The faster we get you to behave, the more pleasant for both of us, right?” Fin grinned, turning to walk to the door that, presumably, led to the outside world. He pulled out a keyring with a few keys on it. Unlocked the door, and pulled it open. Leo watched the process carefully. “See you later, little kappa!” he waved to Leo, still cheery. 

The door, heavy, closed with a click. The key turned inside the lock again.

The sound of footsteps retreating upstairs.

Leo, still on the ground, slowly exhaled. With Fin finally out of the room, a bit of tension leaked away. 

Leo's body was exhausted. Everything was sore, making him hiss and puff as he pushed himself up. Barely managed to stumble to the mattress, half collapsing against the wall. He wondered if he did need to be hospitalized. Double-hospitalized maybe, with how bad he felt. His thoughts were swimming and his head hurt. Bad.

Nausea rolled through him, and Leo considered changing his trajectory towards the bathroom at the other end of his... cell. It really was a cell, jeez.

But he might have to save all the food he could. He did not trust Fin’s promise to bring him some grub. 

So Leo, shaking, in pain, and—more than anything—humiliated and baffled, just collapsed on the mattress. 

It should've been harder to fall asleep. 

[thisfanisgonesorry]

Pls.pls.pls if requests are still open and if you feel like it, I need more Norman Jayden🥲man's frustratingly underrated (like wth?)

yes yes yes!! thats what im saying!!! i love him so much why is hr such a niche fandom >:( p.s excuse this being an unfinished kinktober draft from last year yikes :sob:

tags: m!sub, smut, canon deviance. intox / drug play (tw!), car sex, creampie, use of triptocaine, i think thats it :P

🌧️—

The gravel on the road rattled under the wheels of his car as he drove down the backroads. A laser-focused glare, his hands twitching on the steering wheel as he tried to focus. A light pang of guilt, a grim frown. He pulled off to the side, hidden behind fences and facing train tracks. The slight sludging sound of the car’s wheels sinking into the mud.

The car came to a slow stop as the rain pittered on the roof, blurring the windows from prying eyes as he fiddled with the blue vial. He groaned, pulling the metal bar under his seat and pushing it all the way back, then pulling me onto his lap.

“Sorry to take you out here.” He mumbled, as his hands brushed up and down my skin. His lips glided across my collarbone with a low groan. 

“S’okay.” 

“Hotel room ain’t safe f’us..” He trailed off, mouthing softly at my shoulder and neck in an attempt to be apologetically reassuring. His mouth pulled away with a short and shaking inhale, he leaned back and fiddled with the vial.

He opened it with a pop of the lid, one finger pressed against the opposite side of his nose and he gave a sharp inhale, snorting half of the vial and leaning his head back onto the headrest with a shaky sigh. “That’s the stuff.” He mumbled before holding towards me. “You wanna hit?”

I took it from his hand and held it to my nose, inhaling the last half while tilting my head backwards, slumping down into his arms, going partially limp and letting the vile slip out of my hands and onto the floor somewhere to be incriminating evidence at a later date.

“Thank you, baby.” I crooned, leaning into him and letting my lips brush against his neck. He let out a breathy moan and nodded into it, holding me tightly against him.

“Just keep kissin’ me, gorgeous, gotta let it hit.” He rasped out gently, sinking into the seat as I took control. His hands kept running up and down my sides, and he reached down momentarily, spinning the dial for the chair to lay less upright.

He loved the weight, laying down with me on top of him and letting us sink into the chair. He was limp, slumped against the fabric of the carseat. His eyes glazed over as he tried to enjoy the feeling, what little strength he had left he used to support my body that was lazily draped over his.

It only took a few moments to settle in. I sighed, shuffling around to grind into his hips lazily, waiting for the sudden renewal to hit me like a train. His breathing was ragged as he shuffled his hips, unbuckling his belt and trying to tug them down.

“I missed you.” He breathed, tugging at our clothes with a fervour to get them off. His shirt was thrown over the back of the seat and his pants pulled to his thighs, his hands fiddled between the hem of my shirt and my waistband.

I drew my hands to pull down my shorts with a lazily hum. “Missed you.” I lifted my hips, brushing my nose against the top of his head as I kicked the fabric to the floor. “So bad.”

My position made him nuzzle his face into the curve of my chest. His body trembled as he took off my shirt, throwing it in the backseat, and his mouth exploring the expanse of my torso.

My fingers laced through his hair, with a smug grin, his lips wrapped around the nub, earning a choked moan. “Cold?” He hummed, feeling them harden under the rain-clad air. I huffed in dry amusement, reaching behind me to turn on the heat, the air blowing through the car. “Smart.” He mumbled, not disconnecting from the skin.

His fingers danced across the flesh, short groans eliciting from his throat as his mouth stayed preoccupied. He dipped down, rubbing the insides of my thighs before grazing higher, and rubbing two fingers between the folds. His thumb running circles with a hazy look of adoration.

He tilted his face upwards, taking in the look on my face as he sunk his fingers deep, lazy circles on my clit. I nodded blankly, my hands digging into his hair, tugging at the locks to hear the lewd sounds that left his mouth. Both as vocal as the day is long. 

“Please, let me fuck you.” He asked softly, his fingers pumping and curling softly, feeling the wetness drip into his palm. “Please.”

His voice was breathless and pitchy like a child about to break into tears, low whispers of pleads filling the air as his fingers curled. My mind was too far away, too distant to fully distinguish the words from the slight ringing in my ears from the perfect way he pushed into my squishy spot that was calling his name.

My nails dug into his shoulders with a vacant nod, and he nodded back slowly. “Come on, say it.” He whispered, needing that vocal permission; “Tell me you’re here, gorgeous.”

“I’m here.” I sighed at his slowed movements, my body slumping slightly and head resting forward on his shoulder. “Yes, you can—” My body tense but languid at the same time, feeling everything all at once jolt through me as my mind ran hurdles to balance it out.

“Yeah?” He breathed with a lopsided grin, taking no time to shimmy his hips into place.

His hand tightly wrapped around his cock as he rubbed the tip between the wetness. His hips bucking as he slid himself up and down. I nodded, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered whenever his needy tip brushed against the entrance.

He slid in with a breathless groan, feeling the warmth, it was almost overwhelming as the chills covered his body. “Oh, fuck.” A small sigh as his body writhed against the seat. He pushed deeper and deeper. 

I bit my lip, hovering over him until his hands gripped my waist and pulled me down into his lap. An atypical rhythmic pattern of sloppy movements, moving my hips back and forth, audible grunts drawing from his throat.

My senses slowly started to come back to me, shuffling my knees to his sides and beginning to move myself in time. His throat constricted tightly and silent pants for air were all that were audible as his lips chased mine, but never connecting.

“You feel so good, so damn good.” I praised as I moved my hips so he’d nudge where I wanted him to. “I missed this.”

He vacantly agreed, his hips rolling desperately as he watched me slowly fall and then rise on him, his head lolled to the side as his lips ghosted my skin, my cheek, my jaw, my neck. “God, please use me.” He whined, wanting more, more, more.

I shuffled my knees again to support my weight, my hands on his shoulders as I slowly dragged myself up the space of his cock, then moving down harshly. On each downstroke, the soft tip would roughly hit the spongy spot inside, a blissed out moans from both of us filled the compact space.

His body trembled, his arms loosely draped around my waist and spine, his mind reeling with the bruising pace that shook the car. “You feel so fuckin’ good.” I slurred out, head lolling to the sides like I didn’t have the strength to hold it up. “It’s been too long.”

“Yeah. Has.” He responded simply, words bouncing around his skull in an attempt to form sentences like a DVD screen saver. His back would arch, pressing into me, before he’d slump back down into his comfortably languid state.

“Help..” I whined, pulling at his hands to help me fuck myself on him, my knees buckling at the exhaustion that strung itself through my body. He picked up quickly, his hands digging into the soft skin above my hips, digging his nails in and moving me in time. His body almost perked to activity at the request to do something besides lazily dragging his lips across my skin. 

“That’s it, use me to get off, fuck.” A strangled moan dragged from his pink lips, swollen and slightly bruised from the way he tried to muffle himself and tried to press love on my skin. He was half mindless, too content to think; Why would he? His dream girl sitting on his lap, feeling higher than heaven.

The build up was overwhelming yet slow paced — an innate inability to relax enough to feel it due to the way high stakes euphoria spiked every inch of the body between my toes and my fingers.

My fingers dug into his hair and his eyes were glued on me, astonished by the view. A light golden hue in the car from the overhead light, the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, the blowing huff of the heater, and his girl perched on his lap like a prize.

“Fuck me like ‘m a toy, gorgeous.” He whined, jerking his hips to meet my thrusts, his words slurred and coming out like ‘gorjus’, “I’m close.”

His hips jerked in time with my downstrokes, and my hips rolled against his before they separated. The space between our thighs was a sticky mess, and I moaned in agreement. The train tracks rumbled in the distance as I felt elated, like I was floating on air.

My body was taut, my stomach clenched and my pussy squeezing him tightly. He let out a choked groan and I ran my fingers through his hair, cupping his face. “I’m gonna cum—” He warned.

His thighs clenched as he tried to hold it back, but he didn’t stop the tight grip on my waist, I didn’t stop the way I moved on my knees. “Me too.” I whispered. HIs head buried into my neck with a whimper, mouthing at the skin with tender kisses, something to keep his mouth busy to keep himself from the imminent.

His cock twitched as he felt the warm, wet space strangle him, he knew it was close, too close to keep fighting it back, tears pricking his eyes as he let out choked moans. “Where you want it?” He begged, barely able to get out the words.

“Anywhere.”

A sob clawed at his throat. “Please, inside— god, inside, I want it inside.” 

He felt the rhythmic pulse around him and his head threw back, thrashing against the headrest with a low groan. The train tracks vibrating, the loudness of its approach counteracting the ringing in my ears as my back arched, my rigid body pulling away from him as I dug my nails into his shoulders as grounding.

The bright light from the larger vehicle riveted into the cabin, a white glow that illuminated him, the jaw slack and knitted brows, arched upwards and creasing his forehead as he tried not to clamp his eyes shut.

“Norm—” Almost silent cries left my throat, muffled by being so close to the tracks, and as the train droned past, he forcibly pulled me into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me into his chest and burying himself into my neck.

His moans vibrated through me as his hips jerked with vigour, before pushing to the deepest point, “Oh, fuck, I’m—” With that same pitchy whine, stammering wildly, his cockhead twitching as he felt his release wash over him like cold water. 

Our bodies melted together, limp and tired, sweaty and engrossed in each others presence. Head resting on each others shoulders as the hum of the heater broke the silence between our pants for air. It was like a sudden crash, hitting all at once and now the exhaustion set it quickly.

“D’ya wanna turn on the radio?” He mumbled awkwardly with a kiss to the shoulder, shuffling his body to keep the embrace. A long silence filled as the 8-track played, the guitar instrumental playing us out as we set ourselves in the embrace, uncaring of the world outside, uncaring of being perceived, and uncaring of the bite the cold air brought.

The return of the Thin White Duke. Throwing darts in lovers’ eyes — here are we, one magical moment. Such is the stuff from where dreams are woven.

[lupin-bun]

Blood and Oil - An Art the clown x Male S/O story

CW (Story as a whole): Art is a warning in and of himself! Blood, gore, murder, torture, smut, sex (M/M), filth, weapons, stalking.

CW (This chapter): Firearms, intimidation, torture, blood, injury

Chapter 1 - An Evening's Hunt

It was supposed to be a clean kill.

Well...

Not clean. But quick.

Well...

Not quick. But the point was, Art had simply been on the prowl for a meal when he met him. A nice, quick, five to thirty minute torture, slaughter, flaying, and ripping apart of a still-warm corpse so he could get some wet brains and guts in him for the evening. Delicious!

And he had decided he’d found the perfect target when he spotted a youngish man dressed all in black, sitting by himself at a bar at around ten-thirty. The bar was small and hidden down a back alley on a starless evening, all celestial bodies hidden by a veil of cloud cover. Even they hid from Art. He’d been strolling by the window in the unnervingly carefree way he always did, when he’d momentarily turned his head to the side and spied the lone drinker.

He wore black jeans, black leather jacket, black boots. Even his flawless fin of a mohawk was ink black, save for a white chunk stretching back three inches or so at the front. His hand with painted, black nails rested, curled around a glass full of black cola on the dark wood of the bar.

Art slunk in the door and placed himself in the corner, staring holes into the back of the man’s head from where he sat.

The young man didn’t seem to notice, but the barman did.

“Hey, Soda,” He murmured, “you see the state of the guy who just walked in?”

Art’s eyes flicked to the barman’s face. The barman shifted uneasily, glancing away momentarily, before looking back again.

Art’s face stretched itself into its usual, unnaturally wide grin as he continued to stare, unblinking, in the barman’s direction. The barman visibly shuddered and he looked down, occupying himself with some form of busy work beneath the bar, out of Art’s line of sight (but, judging from the clinking sounds, he was arranging glasses).

The man called Soda turned in his seat and looked over at him too.

Art kept his grin in place, but lowered his head so he was glaring up at him from under a heavy, marble white brow.

Soda merely raised his mostly-drained glass in greeting and turned back to the bar, apparently unperturbed by the monochromatic clown that sat ten feet behind him.

Huh.

Ok. Not the reaction Art had expected (or wanted). But it was early in the game yet. He had all night to sit and sneer and grin and unnerve, whipping his prey into a frenzy of anxiety. It made the meat taste so much better!

So Art sat, grin still on his face, sitting in his corner, staring with all the focus of a sniper’s crosshair at the back of Soda’s head.

And he stayed that way for a good ten minutes, apparently being ignored by the man in black.

Eventually, Art lost patience, stood up, indignantly, picked up his trash bag, and closed the gap between himself and Soda with just a few paces. He reached the bar stool next to him, dropped the trash bag heavily on the floor with a metallic clatter, dropped himself into the stool next to him, and dropped his head into his hand, his arm propped on the bar by his elbow. He stared, blankly for the most part but with eyes wide, at the side of Soda’s head this time.

Soda turned his head casually to look at him.

Art cracked that grin again, blackened and bloodied teeth glinting in the light from the lamps that hung above the bar.

Far from being unnerved, however, Soda cracked a small smile of his own.

“Everything alright?” He asked, benignly, still smiling.

Art Shrugged his shoulders dramatically, flicking his gaze to the ceiling as if to say “Oh, you know..! Can’t complain.”

Soda chuckled.

“Don’t talk much?”

Art didn’t react to that.

“Want a drink?” Soda tried.

Still no reaction.

Soda gave a small shrug and turned back to his glass, draining it.

“Same again please, Joe,” He said to the barman, who was now crouched on the floor and throwing wary glances Art’s way.

Joe was easy prey. His heart rate was through the roof already, and adrenaline was coursing through him. Art could smell it. But he was working and wouldn’t be going anywhere for now, so perhaps Art could come back for seconds after he was done with this guy.

“...and I don’t know what this guy wants so just give him the same.” Soda concluded.

“You sure?” Joe asked, looking, uncertainly at Art.

Now Art snapped his head towards Joe, staring at him. He straightened up on his stool, made a big show of straightening his little black hat, put one hand on his hip and tapped the bar aggressively with the index finger of the other a few times, with a hard stare at Joe.

“I think that means “give me my drink.”!” Soda laughed.

Art nodded, grinning, and clapped his hands in Soda’s direction in over the top congratulations.

Soda flashed him a genuine smile. His teeth were perfectly straight and white, and his hazel eyes glittered beneath long, dark lashes. He had a pretty face. Clear skin, straight nose, peachy lips, and Art felt an overwhelming desire to destroy it completely, leaving nothing intact. To gouge out those hazel eyes. To bash in those pearly white teeth. To aggressively wreck it beyond recognition, like jumping in a perfectly settled blanket of new snow, and kicking it everywhere. That was the fun Art found in his slaughter. That same rush of ruining perfection. Like a small child kicking down a sandcastle, or pulling the petals off roses, or clapping his hands in a fresh mound of bubbles in the bath and delighting in the mess. Nice, whole things were just fun to destroy, and when you were a demon inside the body of a grown serial killer, messing up sand sculptures didn’t cut it. They had to be living, breathing, full of blood and bones and organs.

Art was pulled out of his musings with the dull thunk of a full glass being placed in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, then up at Joe. At length, that same, sinister smile spread across his face and he nodded.

Joe swallowed and nodded back, curtly, before making his escape down the bar.

Art waved goodbye, waggling his fingers patronisingly, grin still in place.

“You like trying to scare people, huh?” Soda said to him, swigging from his refilled glass. “Is that what all the…” he gestured vaguely at Art’s face, “...is all about?”

Art pointed at himself with a look of feigned offence, before shaking his head side to side, cartoonishly, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on them, head cocked and fluttering his lashes with a sweet smile.

“Pfft. Right. Yeah. Proper angel, you are!” Soda chuckled, unconvinced.

Something about this interaction was staying Art’s hand somewhat. Despite how he looked and how he’d invaded Soda’s space, Soda was far too comfortable and casual about the whole thing. He hadn’t even flinched when Art had dropped the bag on the floor with a cacophony of metallic clanking. No, something was… wrong. Off. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t scared. No. He was actively connecting and being friendly. That didn’t sit well with Art. It was alien to him. He was far too used to his appearance alone making people shifty and uncomfortable.

As it happened, Soda gave him the perfect in to test his intimidation tactics again.

He gestured with his head at the black trash bag by Art’s stool.

“So, what’s in the bag, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Art stood up quickly, holding up a finger as if to say “Oh boy! Wait until you see!” He bent and rummaged melodramatically in his bag, choosing what he thought would cause the most alarm the quickest. He settled on a hand gun. He withdrew it, and brandished it with a theatrical flourish, gleeful grin all over his face.

The few other patrons that were in the bar all gasped, horrified, and most of them immediately made a panicked dash towards the door, falling over each other on the way out. One woman sort of… sob-screamed as Art wiggled the firearm at her menacingly. He guffawed, noiselessly at the instant pandemonium he’d created in this small bar, slapping his knee with his free hand, doubled over with mirth as Joe himself made a bolt for the back door behind the bar, fishing in his pocket (no doubt searching for his phone) as he went.

Art spun on the spot, his face an insane mask of grinning malevolence, to look at where Soda…

…was still sitting.

The guy hadn’t moved! His elbow was up on the table, the glass held by the rim from his hanging fingers and he looked with gentle amusement at the clown.

Art’s grin faltered somewhat.

“Terrifying.” Soda remarked, almost sarcastically, with a small huff of amusement. He brought the glass to his lips.

Now Art was just getting annoyed. Maybe Soda thought he was joking about using this thing. Without much grace, he pointed the gun at Soda, one handed, and took a pot-shot at his glass. The glass exploded in fragments. Soda blinked as he was sprayed with a mix of glass shards, rum and coke. But the only additional movement he made was to put the tip of his index finger in his ear and twist a couple of times.

“Warn a guy, would you! That was loud.” He chastised Art, lazily.

Dumbfounded, Art could only watch as Soda stood, took a couple of notes from his jacket pocked, dropped them on the bar and turned to leave through the door the other bar-goers had rapidly evacuated through.

Unable to help himself out of sheer curiosity, and not wanting to let this challenging quarry go, Art grabbed his bag and strode from the bar in Soda’s wake.

“You owe me for that.” Soda called over his shoulder, immediately aware he was being followed. “I know I bought you a drink, but you didn’t even touch yours.”

Soda cut down a back alley.

Perfect.

Art strode up behind him and, without even giving him a chance, spun him on the spot, grabbed him by the jaw, and slammed him into the wall of the alleyway with a grinning snarl on his face.

“Oof! Wow. A bit forward. Shouldn’t we exchange numbers or something?” Soda sniggered to himself, but that was soon cut off with a small choking noise as Art tightened his fist around Soda’s throat, just beneath his jawline, and pushed his head up higher so he was on his toes, almost being hanged by Art’s iron grip. Art felt Soda’s trachea beneath the silken skin of his throat ripple as he attempted to swallow past Art’s fingers.

And yet, his pulse still hadn’t quickened any.

In fact…

Art looked down at Soda’s chest, bemused. He couldn’t detect a pulse at all, now he thought about it. And it was only now Art was so close and took in Soda’s form that he realised. There was a hole in his jacket sleeve just under his shoulder. The bullet had hit him! And still he hadn’t reacted.

What the fuck was this guy!?

Art raised his gaze back to Soda’s face. With a smug wink from the man he had pinned to the brickwork, Art’s confusion and anger boiled over. Releasing him, he bent and grabbed a filthy broken bottle from the ground, wasting no time in straightening up again and jamming the jagged toothy edge of the glass into Soda’s stomach. The glass pushed forcefully through his leather jacket with a muffled pop Soda, one again pinned to the wall, threw his head back with a hiss, eyes squeezed shut.

Not wanting to risk this being another dud, Art’s grin widened, sadistically, and his pushed in harder, twisting the bottle, no doubt ripping a circular lesion into the man’s stomach.

Still with his head back against the wall, black hair pressed against the vaguely wet bricks, Soda groaned as Art gave the broken bottle one last little shove for good measure, and stood back to admire his handiwork, and watch for Soda’s inevitable crumple to the floor.

But it didn’t come.

Soda righted his head to look at the clown, panting slightly, eyebrows knitted, eye somewhat misty, still upright but supporting himself with one hand on the wall behind him.

This had to be it. The pain and fear that Art was after.

Soda looked down at the bottle neck protruding from his front and raised his free hand. Shakily, he gripped it, pulling it out and letting it fall to the ground. He gasped, swallowing hard as he reached for his jacket zip. He pulled it down, slowly, the metal teeth sliding apart to reveal (big surprise) a black t-shirt underneath. Once done with the zip, Soda pushed his T-shirt up to inspect the damage.

Art’s gaze followed his, and landed on his exposed body.

What spewed from the gaping hole in Soda’s gut was not the deep, satisfying fountain of red that Art had been expecting. It was black and thick like tar, and crept down Soda’s body slowly in gooey lines.

Soda chuckled, and Art raised his gaze from the sticky black substance to look, instead, at his face. The bright smile and perfect straight white teeth were gone, replaced by lips as black as his own, grinning madly, with rows of sharp, yellow teeth within that were somewhat reminiscent of an angler fish. The same thick, black blood was seeping from his eyes, formerly hazel, now completely black. The corners of his mouth too.

“Nice try,” Soda laughed, voice incredibly clear, despite the mouth full of daggers, lips sliding over them, glazing them in saliva so they glistened, “I’m immortal, you idiot. Just like you.”

Just like you.

Just like you!!!

Just… like… you…

Those final three words echoed and repeated in Art’s mind, tolling like church bells. Could that really be true? Were they so much alike?

Soda was still panting, shallowly, and he quirked an eyebrow at the killer clown.

“Well?” He said, questioningly, “Are you going to finish what you started, handsome? Or are you just going to tease me all night?” He ran a hand through the sticky black mess that ran down his body, pooling slightly above his waistband, before bringing that hand to his mouth, parting those lethal teeth, and licking it from his fingers, languidly, never breaking eye contact.

Oh.

That wasn’t pain he’d felt!

...

Tags: @strangererotica

[persesphonestears]

Hello hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 tf (and a lil Ghost) x M reader, where a mission doesn't go as planned and reader gets separated from the team, the team have to leave reader behind who has already mapped out a route back to base but it could take a couple days. A couple days of little to no food or water and an open wound they told no one about so as not to be a burden but know the risk of infection is high.

Request fill! A little Ghost x Reader action

A/N: HI! Thank you so much for requesting! you genuinely have no idea what it means to me I'm actually so excited to be able to write this for you! I also literally love you now btw

So a little background for the story, Ghost and reader aren't yet in a relationship but are very clearly pining over each other(sorta), Reader has also been a part of the 141 for a good while and has a really good family dynamic with the team!! 

C/W: angst(?), gore, mentions of torture(reader), reader doubts 141, reader gets a major injuries(But its not super talked about), reader’s wounds get infected, Ghost and reader pining for each other at the end but doesn’t actually(technically) get together , also use of y/n and c/s(Call Sign), if there’s anymore lemme know

This was meant to be an easy and a ‘get in get out' mission. How did everything go to shit so quickly?

The 141 moved in to go investigate the small town. Lasswel sent in information to Price a couple days earlier saying some important intel had somehow fallen into the hands of the wrong people and they had to retrieve it. Hopefully as well in the process figure out how the intel got into their hands.

“Everyone move in go” Price was heard through their comms, Everyone starting to move in when a loud noise and force sent the group of highly trained men forwards. “WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT?!” Price yelled into his comms, everyone could hear the distress in his voice. How'd they know the 141 was going to be there.

“Bomb sir! They must know we're her-” The Scotsman was cut off by the rain of bullets that was sent out. Throughout the rain of fire more explosives went off effectively getting 4 of the SAS group to stay together while one was separated.

“Everyone here?” A gruff British accent called out into his comms, looking around throughout the bullets and dust of the battle ground. “SIR I DON'T SEE C/S ANYWHERE!” Gaz screamed out, looking around frantically. Price looked at his team, a grave look on his face as he spoke, “We have to leave. We'll get c/s back you know we don't leave each other behind but going in there right now will get all of us killed” They went off. Not before Ghost stopped giving another look around, concern evident in his eyes, as he looked around for his other teammate.

-time skip- 

<Your POV>

Everything hurts. My head was throbbing. My arms were stuck above my head, cold metal digging into my skin. Opening my eyes, unsurprisingly to see a damp, gloomy, musty and uncomfortable room. No windows, and a single light hanging from the roof and a total of four high up holes in the wall, out of reach. Even if I wasn’t tied up.

“Well we'll look who's awake” My eyes concentrate onto a silhouette outside of the metal bars in front of me. “You've been out for a long time you know, Thought your own body would kill you before we got a chance to talk.” He chuckles as he walks into my view. Walking into the cell he gets closer to my face. Looking away as to not continue looking at him. Grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “Now why don't you tell me the rest of the information I need, hm? won't you be a good boy and tell me what i need to know.”

“Go to hell, dirtbag” I scoff, shaking my head away from his grip. Sometimes I wish I kept my mouth shut. A scream ripped out of my throat. Tears building up in my eyes, the pain shooting up from my leg, the gruelling feel of the knife twisting into my flesh. 

Why haven't they come for me yet? I don't want to have to do this for god knows how long. “Common, just tell me what I want. You do that, this'll stop you know. Just work with me here.” Smirking at me, he realised I wasn't going to be giving up anything that he wanted to know.

And so he just continued. The stabbing, The burning, the Jesus, everything. The more screams that came out of my mouth instead of the information he wanted angered him more. It wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Neither would my screams. The screams that seemed to just egg him on. 

And so he continued, gladly at that. Giving me the minimal amount of water to make sure I wouldn’t pass out from dehydration. He was loving it. Coming in every minute he had the time to torture me. Mercilessly, he just won’t stop.

Surely my team, Ghost at least, Ghost has to come get me soon. It’s Ghost, he’s the best out of us. He’ll be able to find me. I know he will. He has too! I mean it’s Ghost, Ghost will save me, He’ll be worried and he’ll rescue me.

-very lil baby skip-

He hasn’t come for me. No one has. The torture has continued. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained some lovely new permanent scars. Everywhere. Being stripped down to my tank and boxers, forcing the harsh weather to have more of an effect on my body then it may have been.

I can’t do this anymore. Every plan I’ve tried so far has failed. There's been absolutely no signs or showings of the 141. They still haven’t come for me. I’m so tired. How could they do this to me? Ghost. Ghost out of all people, out of everyone he hasn’t come for me. I thought maybe he would’ve- no it doesn’t matter.

The creaking and screeching of doors opening, revealing the person I would least like to see. “How’s my little rat doing, hm? You don’t look so good, now do you?” laughing at his seemingly hilarious joke. Looking away from him, I’m not giving anything he wants. Despite losing faith in his team, he wasn’t going to ruin his reputation in the SAS.

Keeping my mouth shut, of course angers him. I think if I spoke back it would’ve angered him. So surprise surprise grabbing my chin, making me look at his grossly greasy face, the evil smirk gracing (if you could say that) his ugly mug. “You make this so fun for me, you know that?” He chuckles. For fucks sake. Here we go again.

-another time skip(sorry i'm lazy and don't want this so be too long)-

<No one's/3rd Person POV>

Without y/n’s knowledge Ghost was screaming at everyone and everything. He was so stressed. He didn’t know if you were alive, if you were okay, if you had gotten out. After getting separated from you they couldn’t find you. Of course filing you M.I.A for the time being. The reality of the situation setting on even harder for Ghost as he had to read your file, the addition of the daunting letters gracing your profile sent him into a frenzy.

He was snappy, angry, stressed, short tempered and all of the above. He couldn’t get any information on where you might be and it was absolutely driving him absolutely insane. Soap, Gaz and even Price weren't able to help him calm down. They themselves were stressed. Worried for your well being. No one had been able to get into contact with you. Even Lasswel had tried getting information on where you might be or even where the people who had taken you may have ended up.

Everyone and anyone were walking on eggshells around the stressed four men. Though no one dared to go close to Ghost, he hadn’t been sleeping, eating, or keeping himself healthy. Not only were you not there to keep him sane, you weren’t there to remind him. To bring him tea made the exact way he liked it. Not finding his favourite sweets on his desk with a sticky note teasing him about being dark and gloomy but loving bright and overly sugary sweets. He hadn’t realised how much you kept him sane. How much your being made him okay, How much you made him feel like Simon again.

It'd have to have been over a month or two. Though within that month or so here y/n stood, bloodied and bruised. Severe wounds littered his body as he limped through the bloodied halls of where he was once locked up in. Shrugging the last body of dead weight off of him, after stealing someone's clothes. Surprisingly not wanting to find out how to leave here while in his raggedy tank top and his boxers. Fiddling with the keys he found, continuing to limp throughout this god awful place.

Finally navigating his way out, seeing the sun for the first time in what truly felt months, years even. Being tortured every second of being down there, with i cleaned blades, dirty bloody kitchen tools, seemingly anything and everything unclean they could find. Effectively forcing most if not all wounds to become infected.

His body is wasting away, no food and the smallest amount of water to keep him alive. Continuing to walk or limp his way through wherever this shitty place is. Finding a car while limping to the car, finding the keys in his pants, trying them on the car, not believing his luck when it opens. 

Driving, non stop till he finally saw the bloody annoying colours of the barracks he called his home. The soldiers taking watch noticed immediately of the unidentified car coming to their quarters. The 141 run out wondering what's going on, seeing the car, they grab their guns and aim it at the car. Everyone else yelling out at the person to get out of the car. The door opens to reveal none other than their missing teammate. Ghost stood there frozen. Not only were you alive, you got out of there yourself.

Ghost running over to you after breaking out of his shock. He grabbed you and pulled you into his arms. Holding you up as you finally let tears fall, knees buckling under your weight as you held onto Ghost, your Ghost for what felt like your life depended on it. “Are you okay, Love? Holy shit I thought you were dead. We couldn’t find you, I’m so so sorry Darling’” He whispered to you as he carried you to the medic centre. The 141 following a good few feet away.

Placing you down on a bed, pulling off his mask, chuckling at the shock on your sunken eyes. Placing a kiss on your forehead he whispered sweet nothings to you as you used him as a personal heater. A know on your door pulling you away from your moment with Ghost, in walked Price, Gaz and Soap. “Glad yer’ ‘right” Soap spoke softly, giving you a fist bump, “We’re so proud of you kid.” Price’s moustache twitched upwards as he looked down at you. “Yeah like holy shit dude! You got out of there by yourself! You gotta tell us all about it!” Laughing softly at Gaz’s way of making you feel better.

Not only could they see how worn out and just purely unwell you were, they couldn’t help but feel their heart well at the smiles and chuckles you gave while speaking to them. The same goes with you. You could see all of them, the worry and relief of seeing you safe and okay being in front of them. Seeing Ghost, the most dishevelled out of the four men standing above the medical bed, was like having everything bad that had happened to you become better, knowing he did try and you did mean something to him.

After the other three left, Ghost sat, with his mask back on, as you got hooked up to fluids and held your hand while getting your wounds cleaned, and unfortunately the deep clean as most of your wounds had deep and good infections so a good and thorough clean was needed.  Once it was again just you and Ghost, his mask back off. Both men smiling softly at one another. “You're getting sleepy there darling” Ghost chuckled standing up and pulled the covers over you, again kissing your forehead.

“Ghost?” “Hm?” Ghost turning around, and chuckled at you, arms out, waiting expectantly for a hug from the big and scary stoic man. Giving in, he lent down and carefully hugged you. Leaning back up slowly you looked up at him and let out in a soft whisper “Stay with me? Please?” And without a second thought he grabbed a spare blanket and sat down next to you. “Get some sleep. You need it. And before you argue, that’s an order.” chuckling at him and cuddling up with the blanket you closed your eyes, safe, hydrated and a full stomach, but most importantly with Ghost.

A/N: I'm probably gonna make a part two if you guys want one! I really love stories like this and stuff, with like with the angst, i like pain🫶

[godlizzza]

for spider-dan au, have we heard how they got introduced originally? i'll take either their first meeting as med students or their first meeting as funnel web and scientist! or both if u feel up to it :-]

"Shitshitshit-!" Dan cursed as he sprinted through the hallway.

Sirens blared all around him, red lights flashing off the stark white walls. Behind him metal feet stamped, the sound of Hill's robots steadily gaining on him. Even with his enhanced spider speed, he knew he couldn't outrun them forever. His muscles already ached from fighting his way through one robot henchman, never mind a whole swarm of them.

Dan looked around frantically for an exit- an open door, a window he could smash, anything- but whatever button Hill had pressed to activate the alarm had also completely sealed the building shut. Steel shutters had descended over every possible exit, barring the way.

Dan was trapped.

He rounded a corner only to skid to a halt at the sight of one of Hill's robots. It had its back to him but at the sound of his feet sliding across the tiled floor, its head spun round on its neck until a pair of glowing red eyes were locked on him.

"Target located," its tinny voice droned. "Surrender. Surrender."

Even as it said this, it raised an arm that ended in a hollow barrel Dan knew spewed red-hot lasers. It pointed it right at Dan's masked face, a whining hum issuing from the glowing chamber of its arm.

Dan didn't stick around to see his face blasted to a crisp. He span around and looped back the way he'd come. Just as he was remembering he'd been fleeing from another squad of robots in that direction, a door suddenly slid open beside him. An arm thrusted out through the gap and gripped Dan's shoulder before hauling him into the newly opened room. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss and, just like that, he was out of danger.

From the robots, that was.

Dan easily wrenched his arm free and sprang back from his sudden captor (saviour?). It was only as he put space between them that he realised his spider sense hadn't flared up at the appearance of his assailant. He supposed that meant the person wasn't trying to harm him, but he also didn't know if he should ascribe an ability to deduce malice to an inexplicable alarm system inside his head.

"Don't make a sound," the person ordered sharply, and Dan looked up to meet their eyes.

He gasped at the familiar face.

"You?"

Herbert West frowned. "You know me?"

Dan did know him. They'd only been classmates in med school for a couple of years, most of which Dan had spent trying to juggle the sudden emergence of his powers with his studies, but he could never forget Herbert. His short, dark hair, his hazel eyes framed behind wiry glasses, the challenging jut of his chin. All of it had been ingrained in Dan's mind for years. They hadn't friends- it would've been a stretch to even call them acquaintances- but Dan had always admired Herbert's particular brand of droll, cutting honesty. It had kept his classes entertaining at the very least.

He'd seen him a few times at the coffee shop that neared the hospital and had thought about going up to say hi, but Herbert always looked harried and annoyed, so Dan had kept away. He'd always wondered where Herbert worked if not at the same hospital as Dan. A research lab or an observatory had been his thoughts, not Hilltop HQ.

"Um, no. Never mind," Dan replied, then quickly swept a look around the room he was stuck in with Herbert. "What is this?"

It appeared to be some kind of personal lab, fitted out with all kinds of chemistry equipment and machinery. The smell of bubbling chemicals and the acrid stench of sulfur invaded his senses. He flicked his eyes back to Herbert, who'd turned his back on Dan to fiddle with a switchboard.

"It's my lab," Herbert retorted. "So, you'd better not break anything with those sticky fingers of yours."

He reached out to pull a lever and Dan reacted on instinct, whipping his hand up and shooting a line of webbing out at Herbert. It caught him on the wrist, sticking to the sleeve of his white lab coat and staying his hand. Herbert didn't startle but he did look coolly over his shoulder at Dan.

Dan met his eyes evenly, comforted by the fact that Herbert couldn't see his face and instead had his impassive mask to contend with.

"Don't," Dan warned. "I don't want to hurt you but if you sound any alarms-"

"Oh, it's not an alarm, you idiot," Herbert hissed, tugging his arm but Dan's webbing held strong as steel. "It's your only ticket out of here with your brain still intact. Now, if you want to live to see the light of day, you'll unhand, er...un-web me and let me help you."

"Help me?" Dan echoed dubiously. "Why would you want to help me? Or did you miss the part where I blew up your boss's factory floor?"

"I didn't miss a thing. Splendid job, by the way. Hill's going to be fuming about that for quite some time." He grinned, flashing a row of gleaming white teeth. "Oh, just thinking about that stalling production line and lost revenue will have him seeing red for weeks!" He tittered a manic little laugh before the humour suddenly vanished from his face and he was glaring at Dan. "You couldn't have been a little more covert about it though? Crashing through the front door like that wasn't exactly the stealthiest of moves."

Irritation flared through Dan's temples. He didn't need criticism on his superheroing abilities from some lackey of Hill's, even if that lackey was Herbert.

"Things haven't exactly gone to plan," Dan hissed.

"Clearly," Herbert droned, and he aimed another sharp look down at the webbing clinging to his arm. "Now, are you going to release me or not?" When Dan didn't immediately reply, Herbert looked back over at him and said in a softer, more placating voice, "Come now, Funnel Web. You need to trust me. What have you got to lose?"

Everything, Dan thought, but realised that Herbert was right. His choices were putting his trust in a man he barely knew, who was working for his arch nemesis, and waiting as a sitting duck to get turned into a charcoal spider. He didn't like either option but decided to go with the one that left him with his hair intact and cut the web blinding him to Herbert.

The web line fell limply to the ground, the end of it still stuck to Herbert's sleeve. It would stay there for an hour or so until the webbing dissolved. Herbert flexed his freed hand and gave Dan a thin smile.

"Good choice," he said, then threw the lever.

An panel on the wall descended inwards and slid aside, revealing a narrow chute vanishing into the bowels of the building.

"What is that?" Dan demanded, tiptoeing closer. The chute held the same acrid stench at the rest of Herbert's lab, though stronger and more putrid.

"It's for disposing hazardous chemicals," Herbert explained. "If you climb down it, it'll lead you to the lower labs. You can find an emergency exit there."

"Oh, so you're tossing me into your mega garbage chute? Gee, thanks."

"You'll be fine. If you don't slip on a puddle of nitric acid or breath in anything noxious, but I'd garner you're made of tough stuff." He smiled another crooked, unsettling smile. "I believe in you."

"Wow, so reassuring," Dan mumbled as he climbed into the narrow opening. It was just wide enough to fit his shoulders. He watched Herbert reach for the lever once more, but before he could throw it back into place and shut Dan out of sight, he called out, "Wait. Why're you doing this? Why help me?"

Herbert didn't pause to consider, merely stared at Dan steadily as he answered. "Because I've been working here for years, trying to expose Hill for the fraud he is and nothing I've done has amounted to anything. I want to see him crushed and I've never seen anything so much as ruffle his feathers. Until you."

"So, you're using me? How sweet."

"Hush, you," Herbert commanded.

As soon as the worlds left his mouth, the surround sound speaker system blasted through the room.

"Target located in Floor C2, Eastern wing."

"Well," Dan said chipperly, sticking to the slick walls of the chute, "I think that's my cue to dip out."

"Wait," Herbert hissed. "You need to subdue me."

This had Dan freezing before he'd completely lowered himself out of sight. He gingerly lifted his head up to squint at Herbert, who was standing there, waiting expectantly.

"Um. What?" Dan said, and Herbert rolled his eyes.

"You need to make it look like you had to subdue me before managing to escape," he explained. "Now, do it quick, before they arrive."

Dan thought briefly for a moment before reaching over the lip of his escape route and shooting another spurt of webbing at Herbert. He adjusted the web shooter to let out a wider spray, spanning the width of Herbert's body. The webbing hit him, throwing him back and pinning him to the adjacent wall. Herbert let out a short grunt, his glasses slipping down his nose at the impact. Dan wanted to fix them for him, but the sound of stomping feet was growing closer by the second.

Dan raised one hand in a cheery wave and said, "Thanks, Doc. See you 'round."

Herbert just stared back at him in response, but Dan could've sworn he saw the faint ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dan threw out a line of webbing, caught hold of the lever, and tugged it down, causing the panel to slide back into place and lock him in darkness. Then he was sliding down the chute, away from the blaring sirens and the scientist he'd left glued to the wall. A swell of giddiness rose in his chest and Dan almost wanted to laugh.

He had a feeling he was right. He was going to be seeing quite a bit more of Dr. West.

[ghostlyshoes]

FFXIV WRITE - #2 Horizon

Horizon

[Iara Vanu - Vanu Vanu Machinist]

Iara Vanu was lighting. Whirlwind. The most reckless amongst their tribe. Free as a gale, torn apart from the orders of their brothers and sisters they were seeking further heights, further and further than the blissful winds of the sparse islands that they were born into. 

The airships that the new netherlings had brought. With machines of metal, the stench of burning and the rumbling of the aether. Everything about them seemed unpleasant, unpalatable to the average inhabitant. But, the great wind that Iara Vanu was this had only brought them a deadset feeling of curiosity. To them, this was chance, the winds of fate turning in their direction. 

An outcast amongst their own people, Iara Vanu, had always searched for a way to prove themselves worthy. No hurricane, born for naught but destruction, but someone capable of being a petal on the breeze, in tune with how each member of the tribe carried themselves through the skies. For once they had their purpose, their endless hunt against the tribe’s flow would be over, their ambition would cease. 

Iara Vanu watched the netherlings, day in day out, with their crates and boxes, their featherless bodies and their pointed ears. They ferried all sorts of goods between their islands and a place so far below it made even Iara Vanu dizzy, sickly. 

But they had to take their chance. If none of their people’s arts could make them belong, then they’d take a new one for themselves. There was not exactly a need to make oneself ‘stealthy’ upon the sea of clouds. Comparatively, Iara Vanu stood miles above any of these netherlings, even the ones with the knife-like ears and their rich cerulean feathers didn’t make them blend in with these whirling ‘air-ships’. Sneaking aboard wouldn’t be a good idea. There was no way they could pretend to be one of the crew members these netherlings had brought with them. The best way to reach their underground world, would be to hide within their many boxes. Stuffing themselves into the most cramped of spaces to reach yet some other, likely dirty cramped space sounded like a nightmare but was a small task for Iara Vanu who needed to find their way of being amongst the flow. 

Even within that tiny box, Iara Vanu felt the skies shift, bright green umbral winds, sunlight, the setting fiery horizon, the night’s darkness. Their breath heavy against the wood, their throat clawing at them. So long in a place with no sky.

No, it would all be worth it in the end. 

They burst out of the box. The world around them cold, starless, breezeless. Beset by dull grey stone and full of mutterings in foreign words. The falling snow falling upon their ill-equipped feathers, they snuck out. Only a taste of the violence that these netherlings lived through, no wonder they would seek other worlds. The only presence of light came from a building just ahead of them. 

Only just able to enter the door, Iara Vanu found themselves surrounded by contraptions of steam, unkind metal. Utterly alien compared to the wind magics of their tribe and the world above. Great chambers, golden windows with crossed bars, wheels turning, unusual rectangular shapes strewn across wooden tables. Iara Vanu grasped one of them upon their wing. So much complexity in such a small device, what did it do? How would it compare with the beauty of the winds? 

While the Vanu Vanu was encountering some internal storm, behind them appeared a netherling; taller than most with hair the colour of straw. 

“Excuse me, are you looking for anything?” 

-

It had been several suns before Iara Vanu returned. Instead of being nestled in a box they were given a comfortable seat in their ride back to the skies by the netherlings. 

“So the one of storms has returned, although we feared you had met your end, may you explain what kept you from our tribe for so long?” 

The corners of Iara Vanu’s beak twisted to a smile, “I’ve got a gun.”

[sanders1665]

Limbo Street

The rain never truly stopped in Limbo Street, just shifted between a drizzle and a spit. The air was damp with mildew and regret, clinging to the peeling walls of tenements that leaned drunkenly into each other. The street’s two flickering lamps, dim and jaundiced, were not beacons but watchers—silent witnesses to the shuffle of feet and the murmur of misery.

The maze of old town had led me here, farther than I intended. The narrow alleys twisted like veins, pulsating with a quiet menace, their secrets concealed in piles of rotting garbage and shadows that seemed to breathe. This was a town that dressed in perpetual autumn, its dead leaves crunching underfoot, whispering of decay. Winter was coming, but here, winter was not a season; it was a state of mind.

As I passed under the first lamp, its light revealed more than I wanted to see. A man slumped against the wall, his eyes half-closed and clouded, a needle still dangling from his vein. Across the street, a woman leaned into a car window, her voice soft but her smile brittle. She adjusted the scarf around her neck, but it didn’t quite hide the purple bloom of a bruise.

The street was alive in its own way, a grim carnival of neglected souls. A hunched figure pushed a shopping cart piled high with scraps of metal and glass, muttering words only they could understand. Nearby, two men bartered over a threadbare coat, their gestures sharp and desperate.

I turned a corner and nearly collided with a toothless gypsy sitting cross-legged on a filthy blanket. She grabbed my arm with surprising strength, her fingers claw-like. “Your future’s in the leaves,” she rasped, thrusting a chipped teacup in my face. The wet clumps inside looked more like sludge than prophecy. I shook her off, but her cackle followed me, a sound too close to weeping.

The second lamp came into view, its light revealing the aftermath of closing time. A group of men staggered out of a bar, their voices slurred and rising. One stumbled into the street, narrowly missing a speeding car that didn’t bother to brake. Another man shoved him, and then fists flew. The air was thick with curses and the sound of breaking glass. I ducked my head and kept walking.

In Limbo Street, kindness was currency you couldn’t afford to spend. A man asked for change, his voice plaintive, his eyes hollow. I hesitated, but then I saw the knife glinting under his coat and moved on.

The roofs above seemed to sag under the weight of their own sorrow, their gutters weeping black streaks onto the cracked pavement. No moonlight softened the edges here; the sky was a murky bruise, as though the town itself had been punched and left to rot.

A sudden shout made me turn, but I regretted it immediately. A woman screamed, her voice cut off sharply. A figure melted into the shadows, and no one moved to help. The cops would come eventually, but Limbo Street had its own rules.

I quickened my pace, my heart thudding louder than the distant wail of a siren. The end of the street was close, the faint glow of a brighter light just visible. I walked faster, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on my back.

Limbo Street didn’t welcome visitors, and it didn’t let them linger. I reached the edge of the maze and stepped into the light, the air suddenly thinner, cleaner. Behind me, the street seemed to sigh, its secrets safe for another night.

[a-fistful-of-birds]

Cowboy Times

Word count: 1,749

Originally written in August, 2023

The sharp crack of a whip sounded in the air, encouraging the sturdy equine to keep trudging forward. The demon-horse duo had been slowly traversing the desert for a few weeks now, moving supplies westwards in search of a job in the cattle industry. Our lovely cowboy for this story, Urogi, had no actual interest in such a job.

The rest of the Hantengu grouping had scattered across the United States, Urogi finding himself deep in Nevada territory. Demons had still yet to defeat the sun, Muzan wanted to remain in central Japan to continue his research and searching for the infamous blue spider lily. Consequently, demons filling human roles were at risk for death, though Urogi being in cattle working territory had the believable excuse of shielding himself from the sun with thick clothes and a wide-brimmed hat, his wings seemingly tucked away under those leather layers and leaving no visible trace.

While he was more than capable of moving continuously throughout the night, his horse was not. This led to many nights spent camped out under the clear Nevandian skies, Urogi checking over his plans and maps to make sure they were still heading in the right direction. Most foodstuffs packed for this trip aimed to feed the working animal, little was kept aside for Urogi in the form of “beef” jerky in an unmarked bag.

While traveling horseback was agonizingly slow for the demon at times, he learned to appreciate the starry night that was robbed from his youth in the greatly populated Japan.

The sun had set hours ago, the pair falling into a pattern of continuing a bit further into the night before setting up camp. Evening travel was easier on Urogi as he could remove the thickly damp clothing from his body under the safety of nightfall. The pair moved forward, crossing several small hills and valleys and it was over one of these hills that Urogi noticed a small structure in the distance.

‘That’s odd,’ he thought, ‘there shouldn’t be any structures this far out.’

Their destination was not scheduled to be reached for another week at best, what was another night spent in the apparently unisolated night? Urogi switched the reins to one hand and directed the horse towards the small building, no lights were on and it appeared to be completely abandoned. There was little chance anything inside would be of use to Urogi other than potential water for his horse.

As the building came into view, Urogi could make out that this had used to be an old saloon. While money and booze were no direct benefit to the demon, it could prove to be useful with coercing humans into doing what he needed if it came down to it. The duo reached the saloon and the sound of metal spurs rattled out as Urogi dismounted, landing harshly on the sandy ground.

Tying the horse’s reins to one of the posts, Urogi made his way towards the crooked doors, being careful to keep an ear out for any unlikely motion. Hearing nothing startle, Urogi entered the saloon, the doors clicking as they swung shut behind him.

The interior of the building was shrouded in dust. Moonlight seeped in through the windows, lighting up the saloon and exposing the many half filled glasses of liquor, drinking glasses, loose coins, and the mirror which hung behind the bar. The interior consisted of a long bar filled with stools, which ran alone the right of the building nearest the numerous bottles.

Urogi neared the counter, hoping to see any box or bag indicating money was still kept there. If this place was truly left untouched, then whatever had caused such abandonment would scatter humans before they could think about the business funding.

Bending down, Urogi began opening several of the cabinet drawers on the backside of the counter, finding primarily more napkins and other items meant for bussing the tables. One of the drawers had seemingly been stuck shut with a thick coat of paint, garnering his full attention. Urogi shuffled, searching through his pockets in his pants and pulled out an old lighter he picked off a fellow trail goer.

Urogi understood these lighters were where man made fire was stored, yet he had not witnessed or recognized how to release such a flame. The demon only knew he could gently melt the paint layer away if he could successfully coax out the red heat from the metal box.

Turning the item over in his hand, the spark wheel glinted in the moonlight, catching the demon’s eye.

“This some kinda on and off switch?”

He flicked the wheel and was met with a bright spark accompanied with a screeching flash of sound ringing through the demon’s delicate ears. Urogi stilled, entranced by what lay in his hand. The light delicate flame before him danced in the cool air, licking at the demon’s face and gently reflecting off the metal fuel box. Minuscule reflections of light moved around the saloon, the fire light glinting off the old mirror and drinking glasses.

Urogi could not help the small smile which adorned his face while staring into the small flame. He truly was enraptured with its beauty.

The sound of a glass shattering against the floor rang out across the saloon.

Before Urogi could fully process what had happened, his survival instincts kicked in and mixed with his sudden state of panic, led to the demon throwing the lighter a good distance away. His wings fluffing up with ease due to the lack of clothing on his upper body, lifting himself off the floor and across the counter before he had time to consider finding the source of the noise.

“Shit!”

Urogi panicked, knowing if he was caught in such a vulnerable condition, he would be reduced to murder and have to come up with an excuse for his bloody clothes once reaching the western cattle ranch he intended to work at, posing as a cattleman. He needed to get out of the saloon and fast.

The flame of the lighter went out as it smashed into the wall and fell into an old pile of dishes, startling both Urogi and whoever else had entered the saloon. Alarmed, the demon attempted to take flight and fly through the swing doors.

Jumping off the counter had caused Urogi’s back to crash into suspended drinking glasses sending shards in all directions, some slipping under Urogi’s feet, tripping the demon and sending him into a swan dive towards the cold floor.

The sudden burst of action had scared the other present living being and they charged to hide in the nearest shade, the rustling of motion alerting Urogi as he felt the other jump over him towards the front of the room.

Urogi could only see the last sliver of a shadow casted by the animal disappear around the corner.

The temporary silence interrupted by a thumping noise coming from around the same corner the shadow disappeared to.

‘Who the HELL is here and what allows them to be so fast that I can’t see them?!’ Urogi felt one upped in this situation, having hurt himself and slowing himself to be trapped with the other blocking the exit.

Urogi decided he needed to move now, spreading his wings and taking flight in the first open direction that he found.

Glasses continued to shatter and napkins, plates, utensils, as well as other items decorating the tops of the tables were sent flying as Urogi flew, desperately searching for an out while impeding the stranger’s view of his identity.

‘Is there only one exit?’ Urogi thought, ‘who builds a salon and only puts one exit?! I’m going to die here!’

What sounded like a visceral human scream sounded out from the entrance.

If a demon’s blood could run cold from fear, Urogi would have felt it now.

The sweeping of his wings kicked dust up and into his eyes, blinding the demon and sending him flying into a random direction. Urogi cleared his vision in time to see himself make contact with the wide mirror over the bar and he made his best attempt to bounce off its surface and fly backwards in the opposite direction.

Urogi sent himself backwards through one of the windows of the salon, landing with a harsh thud on the sandy earth.

Hearing the screeching sounds of whoever was inside accompanied with the sound of running sent Urogi into flight. The demon had abandoned cover and took off without his complete disguise, horse all but forgotten at the hitching post. The crisp night air whipped through his feathers as he quickly reached the highest speed he was capable of, the demon had decided right then that Nevada, no, all of North America, was not something he was suited for.

He flew as high as he could, aiming to reach Japan before dawn. His only option left being to fly west and follow the direction of the sun to avoid direct exposure.

‘I’m sorry guys,’ Urogi thought about the rest of his group, the remaining individuals which made up the Hantengu group, ‘I’m going back.’

…

What sounded like stressed laughter erupted in the form of chittering from the jackrabbit which had managed to find itself in the salon with Urogi when looking for shade.

Now safe from any wild bird men, it thumped off into the plains.

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Soldiers

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Angst. SO SAD. Character death.

A/N: Previously on awkward-author. Quotes written in bold are from series 4 of Sherlock. Episode 3, I think? This whole thing was inspired by the soldiers quote, so thanks Moffat.

“It’s just a routine mission.”

Y/N groaned as she slowly started to come around. 

“We’ll be in and out, we just need to get the intel.”

Her first thought was that Thor, for some reason, had hit her over the head with Mjölnir. 

“Buck, you and I will go inside. Y/N, think you can handle being our lookout?” Steve asked.

The second was that she was definitely not in bed or asleep on the Quinjet.

“Got it,” she nodded, a serious look on her face. “You and Bucky will go inside and get the information. I’ll sit up in a tree, making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.”

The third was that her hands were bound behind her back with a cable tie.

“I’ll be fine, Buck,” Y/N laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I promise.”

Sitting up slowly, Y/N assessed her surroundings quietly so as not to draw attention to herself. She couldn’t see much in the dark cell, but there was definitely a slumped over mass in the opposite corner of the room. 

“Stay safe, doll.”

The cold, concrete ground was unforgiving beneath her, making her limbs protest in pain as she got to her feet haphazardly. The only source of light in the cell came from a tiny window which was too high up for her to reach while she was tied up. Moonlight trickled in weakly, barely illuminating the room. Bare, concrete walls boxed her in and a single obscenely large and heavy-looking metal door kept her trapped. 

“Right back at you, Sarge.”

A lightbulb swung above her, propelled by the cool breeze blowing in through the barred window. She made quick work of removing the tie, before using her hands to feel the walls carefully, looking for a light switch as she carefully avoided the body in the corner. She didn’t know if the individual was dead or alive, but until she found out if they were dangerous it was best not to wake them. Her fingers stumbled across a bump in the otherwise smooth wall and she pressed the button hesitantly, only to relax once the light flickered on.

“Steve!” Y/N dashed over to the figure and checked his pulse. Sighing in relief as it beat steadily under her fingers, she rolled him onto his back and shook him gently. “Are you alright?”

“Y/N?” he let out a pained grunt as he pushed himself up into a sitting position as best as he could with his own tied limbs. “I’m okay,” he grimaced at his own words and turned his blue eyes to her in worry. “Are you?”

“Fine,” she repeated his words with an unconvincing nod. 

“Any clue where we might be?” Steve snapped the cable tie effortlessly and slumped against a wall before he looked around the bare cell. Somehow, with the lights on, it looked even more desolate and intimidating. 

“Not one.” She tried not to focus on the dark stains on the walls which could only come from one thing.

“Bucky?”

“Not here.”

“He’s okay. He’s a fighter.”

“I know,” she gave him a small, proud smile before slowly getting to her feet. “Now, let’s get out of here and find our man.” Steve forced out a chuckle at her words, but pulled himself to his feet nonetheless to join her.

Y/N had barely taken a step towards the door before it swung open soundlessly. Two men walked inside with large guns in their hands, spurring Steve to stand in front of her protectively. A third followed after he was given the all-clear, and although Y/N didn’t recognise him, Steve clearly did considering how much his back stiffened.

“You’re awake! I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been watching you sleep.” The man grinned at them both, his smile coming across as slightly psychotic as he gestured to a camera on the upper-hand corner of the room. “I was afraid my men had hit you a little too hard over the head, Captain. Of course, I told them to aim for your back, I wouldn’t want to ruin your charming good looks.” His eyes flickered to Y/N, her small frame half-hidden behind Steve’s large one. “And you must be Y/N, I’ve heard so much about you.” Peering around Steve’s shoulder, Y/N looked at the German man stood in front of her. His sharp facial features looked eerily familiar, but it was the red skin that covered his face which gave him away.

“Good to see you too, German Voldemort,” she gave him a fake smile and watched in amusement as his fingers twitched in barely concealed anger. 

“Schmidt,” Steve greeted the man in a clipped tone. He was obviously not pleased to see the man. “I thought you were dead.”

“I merely bided my time, Captain America.”

“How are you alive?”

“You can kill a person, but you can never kill an idea,” he smirked at Steve before turning his attention to Y/N. “So, fräulein, according to my men, you’re his boyfriend’s girlfriend,” he pointed at Steve. “Tell me, are you afraid of committing to a whole super soldier, or are you just a fan of cripples?” he asked through gritted teeth. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of her, but she simply rolled her eyes in response.

“I mean, have you seen that metal arm of his? It can definitely do things that a regular arm can’t,” Y/N shot him a smirk. “Trust me.” Steve tried to nudge her to shut up, but she simply moved her body out of the way in time and held Schmidt’s gaze. His fists were now clenched in obvious aggression, which only widened Y/N’s smug grin. 

“Bringen sie den Soldaten in,” Red Skull turned to snap at the guard by the door. They left the room for all of three seconds before returning, holding up Bucky in between them. He looked like he had been drugged. He could barely fight back as they yanked him into the room, his feet dragging across the floor in failed footsteps. Y/N ran forward as they dropped him to the ground and tapped the super soldier’s cheek anxiously. 

“Hey there, doll,” his voice was slurred as he smiled up at her lopsidedly. 

“Hey, Sarge,” she couldn’t help but return the look before she pulled him to his feet with Steve’s help. “How you doing?”

“They didn’t even ask me any questions.”

“We’re going to play a little game,” Schmidt started to circle the three of them slowly as he spoke. He held his hand out and one of the guards handed him a small gun. “The bullets in this gun are special. Upon impact, the bullet explodes, leaving whoever it hits dead within seconds. I designed it especially for you, Captain America.”

“So you’re going to shoot me?” Steve scoffed. “That’s your big plan?”

“Me? No, of course not,” he laughed. “Your best friend is going to do it.”

“Like hell,” Bucky spat. He stood a little straighter as the drugs left his system and sent a menacing glare towards the German man. “I’m not going to shoot Steve.”

“If you would let me finish,” Schmidt sighed as if he was dealing with a child. “You are going to take this gun, but you’re not going to shoot the Captain.” He paused, and a sinister smile spread across his face. “Well, you could if you wanted to. It’s your choice.” Bucky stepped in front of Y/N at the same time as Steve. “You see, Soldier. It’s easy, really. You can either shoot your best friend, or your girlfriend.”

“And what if we don’t want to play your twisted little game, Jigsaw?” Y/N scoffed as she pushed both men out of the way.

“Then both you and the Captain die,” he said simply. “And you…the Avengers may have erased all traces of the Soldier from your mind, but we can always start the process all over again if we need to,” he turned to Bucky.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve glared at him.

“All these years, Captain America, all this time I’ve been kept alive by one thing and one thing only. My sheer hatred for you. I care not for the modern day Hydra and their false prophecies, nor my conquest. All I care about is my revenge. What better way to exact my revenge than by forcing your closest friend to either kill you or his lover. Either way, I win, for as I have come to learn…” He paused to bring a careful hand to the hideous burns on his face. “Some pains are worse than death.”

“I won’t do it,” Bucky sent the man a murderous stare. “I won’t kill either of them.”

“You have fifteen minutes to decide, soldier,” Schmidt turned his back to the three of them briefly. “And just to make sure you don’t have any funny ideas, I’ll be watching from the next room. My men will keep an eye on you.” Three more men walked in once Schmidt left, all armed to the teeth. Under any other circumstance Steve, Bucky and Y/N would have been able to take the five of them down without a sweat. But the large guns that were being pointed at them made them reconsider. One of the guards kicked over the gun Schmidt had dropped and it skidded across the floor and came to a stop in front of Bucky.

“I’m not doing it,” Bucky repeated, looking between Steve and Y/N. “I won’t.”

“You can’t let them brainwash you again,” Y/N said quietly.

“So what?” Bucky whirled around to face her. “You want me to kill you or Steve to save my ass?” he laughed darkly and shook his head.

“I don’t…” she sighed and looked away from him. 

“What if we took them all down?” Steve asked in a hushed tone, looking at the five guards who were staring them down.

“They’d shoot us before we even took a step towards them,” Y/N muttered. “And then they would just take Bucky away and brainwash him all over again.”

“I’m growing impatient, soldier,” Schmidt’s voice sounded through the room, making the three look around in confusion before realising he more than likely installed a speaker in the room.

“I thought I had fifteen minutes?” he snapped. “Fuck off for the rest of the thirteen and leave us alone.” There was no response or order given to shoot them all on the spot. “How are we going to get out of here?” he lowered his voice considerably and shuffled closer to Steve while wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist.

Steve was just as adamant as Y/N that Bucky stayed himself and wasn’t taken away to be turned back into the soldier. They argued back and forth about it for a few minutes before Bucky finally caved and the two of them discussed a game plan, with every scenario failing because of one issue or another. Y/N remained silent and simply leant against Bucky’s side to steal some of his warmth. Her mind was going at a mile a minute as she tried to figure out a strategy of her own. She wasn’t optimistic about the outcome of the situation they had been placed in. She knew there were only two outcomes. Either she or Steve died and Bucky left with the remaining person, or they both died and Bucky would be taken, brainwashed and tortured into being the Winter Soldier again. 

“Time is running out, Solider. You have seven minutes.”

“Thanks for the countdown,” Bucky growled. Schmidt chuckled through the comm, a sound which made Y/N shiver in repulsion. Bucky held her closer, his hand running up and down her side in hopes of comforting her. “Don’t worry, doll,” his lips brushed the top of her head gently. “We’re all getting out of here. Alive.” She tried to smile and nod to show she believed him, but it came out as a grimace. He simply gave her an apologetic look before turning back to Steve to figure out an escape route.

“You have five minutes to shoot someone. Are you going to pick, or shall I?” Schmidt asked.

“Fuck off,” Bucky hissed.

“Pick one, soldier.”

“I won’t,” Bucky’s hand shook in concealed rage as he stared at the floor. “You can’t make me.”

 “If you don’t choose then I will make the choice for you,” he snapped. “Now tell me, your best friend, or your girlfriend?”

“Buck –”

“Shut up Steve,” he practically growled. “Don’t you dare cave in and try to give me that speech. It’s my choice and I will not choose.”

“Guards?” The men standing in the room stepped forward and knocked Y/N and Steve to the ground forcefully.

“Don’t touch them!”

“Ah.” The barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of both of their heads. “One more step and they both die.” Y/N looked at Steve from the corner of her eye and received a failed attempt of a reassuring smile in return.

“Why?! Why are you making me do this?” Bucky yelled, spinning around to face a man that wasn’t there.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to see who you’ll choose. The man who’s been your best friend for almost a century, or the girl whom you’re in love with.” Bucky’s eyes slide over to look at you and Steve helplessly.

“Buck…I –”

“Y/N, don’t you –”

“Shut up,” she looked over at him. “Just shut up. I’m not letting you do this alone. Shut up and let me help you for once.” He held her glare for a couple of second before they were interrupted once more.

“Let them stand.” They rose to their feet slowly, bodies on full alert as they looked at the guards that surrounded them. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you, Captain America. I still have guns aimed at all three of you.”

“Hey there, Sarge,” she tried to send Bucky a reassuring smile.

“Y/N…” his voice cracked as he watched her carefully with unshed tears.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say –”

“Don’t –”

“And you’re going to want to fight me on it,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You both are. But you got to pick me, Buck.” 

“No,” Steve cut in. “I’m a century old, I’ve passed my date. You and Y/N have just found each other. You deserve a chance to be happy.” Bucky watched them both in silent rage as Y/N took a hesitant step forward towards him. When Schmidt and his guards didn’t make a move to stop her, she took another. 

“You and Steve are best friends. You need each other.”

“I need both of you,” he rasped.

“You don’t need me that much, not like him,” she shook your head sadly and took another step. “It’s got to be me. You need to be soldiers, boys, and that means to hell with what happens to me.”

“Tick, tock, solider,” Schmidt said, eyes gleaming as he watched the three of them in amusement. Steve tried to step forward and started to sprout all sorts of reasons why Bucky should kill him, but Y/N didn’t let him get very far.

“Hey, look at me,” she ran her fingers over his jaw and smiled weakly. “Let me see those pretty eyes of yours one last time, Sarge.” Tears ran down his face and she was quick to wipe them away. “You know how I feel about being sappy, but considering the circumstances I think I can let it slide this one time.” His hand came up to wipe away a few of her own tears, a protest already bubbling on his lips. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me these past couple of months.”

“Y/N –” 

“Sh, it’s my turn now. You’re a good man, James Barnes. The best I know, including old mama Steve. I just want you to know that. Winter Solider or not. I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world and I just wanted to thank you for letting me get to know you.”

“I can’t.” He almost sobbed as she brought the gun up and held it to her stomach. “Please, doll, don’t make me.”

“Steve needs you, Buck.”

“I need you. I love you.” He wiped at his eyes angrily and pulled her in for a hard kiss. “I love you.”

“I know,” Y/N bit back a fresh wave of tears and kissed him back. “I know and I’m so sorry Buck but there isn’t any other choice. You can’t kill Steve. You need him more, whether you know it or not. Until the end of the line, remember? And anyway, the world isn’t quite finished with Captain America.”

“Fuck the world! I can’t lose you. Either of you.”

“You won’t,” she tangled her fingers in his hair. “I’ll be right there with you. Forever and always.” She placed his shaking finger on the trigger before flicking the safety off. “But you need to do this.” She took in a shaky breath and looked away from Bucky for two seconds to the man behind her. “Steve?”

“Y/N, you can’t –”

“Stop wrecking my moment, Rogers. You know I like to be dramatic.” She tried to lighten up the situation to no avail. “You need to take care of him, you hear me? If you don’t look after him properly I’m going to resurrect myself just so I can kill you. Promise me you’ll take care of him Steve.”

“Y/N –”

“Promise me or I’ll knock you out so that you will stop fighting me on this!”

“I-I promise.”

“And tell everyone else on the team that I’m sorry – so sorry – and they’re the best family I could ever ask for. And hug Wanda tight for me. She’ll need someone after I’m gone. Got it?”

“Understood.”

“Soldiers?”

“Soldiers,” Steve nodded, tears falling down his own face.

“And you,” Y/N turned back to Bucky. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. It was my choice, not yours. I don’t want you to wallow and mourn over me for the rest of your life. Get yourself out there. Be happy. Move on.” She pecked him once more. “Well, give it a couple months before you date anyone else, but promise me you’ll try to be happy.”

“I won’t.”

“Bucky, please,” she closed her E/C eyes as tears cascaded down her face. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You’re making me kill you. And don’t you dare try and tell me it’s for the greater good.”

“Utilitarianism then,” she swallowed thickly. “The greatest pleasure for the greatest number.”

“No one will be happy if you’re dead.”

“But they sure as hell will be fewer unhappy people than if Captain America died. Or all three of us. The whole world will be at stake then.”

“I don’t care. At least you would still be with me.”

“I’m getting bored with how long this is taking,” Schmidt tsked in annoyance. “Are you going to kill one of them or do I have to decide?” 

“I really don’t care about antagonising you right now, Red Skull, so shut the fuck up, we are trying to have a moment to say goodbye over here,” she looked up at the ceiling and all but growled at him. They could all picture him flaring in anger at her words, but no one made a move to shoot which prompted her to look back down at the beautiful, emotionally wrecked man in front of her. “Look at me. It sucks. It fucking sucks so bad, but you need to do this, Buck.” She held his hand more securely around and gun. 

“If you’re going out then I’m going out with you,” he leant down so his face was levelled with hers.

“That’s not part of the deal, Sarge,” she smiled weakly and shook her head. “Pull the trigger.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head violently. “I won’t.” Y/N wrapped her hand around his wrist and pressed the gun firmly to her skin. Wiping her tear-stained eyes on her shoulder, she leant up to kiss him one last time as they both squeezed the trigger.

“I love you, James.”

[midnighthwng]

sight to see // hyunho

an unexpected find during the end of the world.

₊˚.⋆ pairing: lee know + hyunjin; ft. i.n

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ genre: sci-fi + meet cute (kind of)

₊˚.⋆ warning/s: mentions of blood

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ word count: 2.2k

₊˚.⋆ ao3 link

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"hyung! did you hear that?"

minho rolled his eyes, walking over to jeongin, who eagerly peeked out one of the windows. 'the window', made of a tiny slit in between the wooden boards, hastily nailed in place of broken glass. they figured that convenience stores were built to be steady, but glass was glass.

"you could hear the wind blow and you would think it's an approaching survivor," he sighed after he saw nothing through the space. he almost went back to his resting spot before jeongin pulled him back to peek.

"no, really! i heard something, i heard footsteps," the younger whisper-yelled. he was shaking his brother's shoulders, which really didn't help with his now growing headache.

minho swat his hands off of him, before pulling away from the window and walking to his previous seat. "it was probably, i don't know, a dog? i mean if you were sick of our biscuit supply, then i could have a look…"

a newspaper roll came flying onto his face. where'd that come from? "oi!"

"that's disgusting, hyung! i can't believe you think i would ever!" jeongin whined. minho chuckled and approached him again, ruffling his hair. the younger kept his pout.

"we'll… ah," he sighed, he's giving in, again. "i will check it out. only me."

"but hyung," the other whined again.

"no 'but's. you heard something and that's enough, we don't want you in danger."

"i don't want you in danger, either!"

"hyung can take care of himself just fine, buddy. besides, it's really probably just the wind," he winked.

minho stood and collected keys and a big padlock from the counter across the entrance of the store.

before he unlocked the doors, jeongin stood to hold him back by the arm. "wait."

the elder raised a brow. jeongin slowly lifted his arm to place something in his palm. a lollipop?

"in case you get hungry…?"

minho's eyes suddenly felt heavy with water. "what are you saying— i'm not gonna leave for that long!" he grabbed the candy and pulled his brother into his chest, into a tight embrace. "you're annoying."

"i'm just being cautious! you won't let me leave with you," jeongin chuckled. minho felt growing warmth on his shirt.

"i'm not gonna…" minho trailed off. he didn't want to say the word. why was he leaving again? ah right, jeongin heard something outside. "i won't be gone long, okay? i'll just round the building and i'll be back." the younger nodded, pulling away and unlocking the doors for him. he kept the keys and the lollipop in his front pocket and stepped out.

the atmosphere hadn't changed from when they first came here. the same gloomy red skies, abandoned cars, other stores broken in, electrical posts knocked down. there was a nonfunctional tank in the middle of the road, crashed to its side and reeking of undead remains it had run over before. maybe there was one or two in there, still.

minho sighed and turned to lock the outside bars with the padlock. he put the keys back into his pocket and looked over to their window, meeting a pair of eyes, to whom he smiled and waved.

then he heard it. rubble cracking underneath light footsteps. minho quietly walked over to the general direction of the sound, slowly reaching for the pistol in his makeshift holster. don't shoot, just warn. he made it a couple of buildings past their store before he found the source, situating himself behind a rundown car and peeking out.

some guy had half of his body through the backseat window of a car across the road. what the hell is he doing? the man was shifting around as he seemed to be looking for something, rocking the car and causing metal to creak together. he's being too loud…

just as the thought entered his head, he recognized a second pair of footsteps approaching. he looked around to find the origin; an alleyway behind the rundown car. where the man was still halfway seemingly stuck inside.

"damn it," minho cursed under his breath. he took his hand off the pistol and reached for the knife next to it.

the walker looked around for the sound and started speeding towards the car. just before its hands were to grab onto the guy's black pants, minho shoved it onto the floor and pierced its head with the knife. rotten blood laid itself onto his hand and flew onto his cheek. what a mess…

the creaking noises had stopped. minho slowly stood, wiping the blood off with his denim sleeve, and turned around to face the almost victim, who had finally pulled himself out of the car. the man, tall with messy, jet black hair and a black hoodie, stood there, with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. he grew red all over his small face. minho would've laughed had he not almost died because he was being too careless. he may have noticed the other's admittedly pretty face, though.

"sh-shit, i'm sorry— you had to— i'm sorry," the man hung his head low.

minho chuckled. "you should pay attention to your surroundings, kid," he said coldly. "if i hadn't been here… well, you'd be making different, unfortunate, noises…"

he thought the other's eyes couldn't go any wider, but they did. "i-i'm really, really sorry, sir," his voice grew bigger with panic, minho looking around for any danger, "you had to go through the troub—"

minho turned the man around and cupped a hand over his mouth to shut him up for a bit. loud rustling came from the direction of the store. jeongin… he had no time to get back inside.

he led them to a block farther from the store, farther from the approaching horde, hoping to find temporary shelter. hoping that the horde would only pass by.

he found an opening; yet another shattered window to an electronics store. it had been almost wiped clean by survivors— thieves, what would you need electronics for in the apocalypse?— save for a few blocky monitors ruined on the floor.

minho encouraged the man to climb in first before he followed. "here," he whispered, both of them ducking behind the store's counter. the rustling became louder. as if the horde was taunting them, following them wherever they had gone, trapping them until there was no way out, no way back home. back to the convenience store… back to his little brother.

"who are you? why did you save me?"

minho slightly jumped and stared at him. he didn't expect a conversation, nor did he want it. the man's voice was soft but it wasn't quiet. not with how the walkers could hear everything, and how they would follow whatever they heard. minho held a finger to his own mouth as a shhh and peeked over the counter. he immediately sat down.

"they're coming," he mouthed, closing his eyes and listening to the approaching parade.

both of them seemed to stop breathing in anxiety. noise attracts attention, not only to humans, but to the undead. especially the undead.

seconds before the first walker stepped into view, minho was grabbed and pushed to the ground— his eyes flew open and was met by the sight of the man he rescued wrestling with a walker, an unlucky store clerk that they didn't notice before they stepped in their hiding spot.

"fuck—" minho cursed, shuffling behind them and kicking it behind its knee, causing its calf to dislodge but not fall off. it lost its balance, but was still inches from being face to face with the man, so dangerously close to pulling him to the other side.

minho pulled out his knife and, as carefully but swiftly as possible, dug it into the walker's brain. slowly, it lost power and collapsed in the other's arms. he pushed it away and sat back down, checking himself for injuries. "damn it…"

as silence swept over them again, they noticed that the commotion outside had stopped. minho carried his gaze to the outside of the store. it was clear. the noise only faded into the distance, but the horde was out of sight.

"do you feel a sting anywhere?" minho looked over, eyes widening as he saw blood on the man's nose. "is that—"

"no, it doesn't hurt anywhere," the other responded. he stood in front of minho and bowed. "thank you for saving me. thrice."

minho had his brows raised. he was surprised to see the respectful gesture after so long. but to think… he was the first other survivor he's run into in a while. minho held his shoulders to help him stand, "it's no problem… just be careful and be alert, alright?"

the man smiled brightly and nodded. well, that was a sight to see. "yes, sir." as if he remembered something so important, his smile dropped, eyes widened, and bowed again. "m-my name is hyunjin, sir. how rude of me."

"wh— it's okay," he chuckled, helping him stand straight again. "minho." he held out a hand which the other respectfully shook. they listened to the wind blow for a second, before he asked hyunjin where he even came from. "do you have family to go back to?"

hyunjin looked away. minho observed as the other's eyes seem to start watering. "shit, sorry, you don't have to answer..."

"it's alright," hyunjin sighed. "just… we should probably get somewhere safe first."

minho almost jumped in realization. they weren't anywhere near safe right now, plus he had to get back to his brother. "i'll take you to our place, we gotta go now," he rushed, already climbing through the broken window. hyunjin followed suit and basically ran towards the convenience store.

as they approached shelter, minho sighed in relief as he saw the same pair of eyes peeking through the slit in the window. "you been watching the whole time, bud?" he whispered, almost giggling as he noticed how the younger's eyes seemed a bit damp.

"you scared me when you just ran off… come inside now, please?" jeongin pleaded. his expression went from worry to shock as he saw hyunjin come into view.

minho waited for hyunjin to catch up before he took out his keys and unlocked the door. he let him in first and scanned their surroundings as he followed.

jeongin shuffled to stand, jaw dropped as he stared at the taller boy. "you were right, innie," minho called after he secured the padlock, walking over to mess with jeongin's hair. "finally."

quickly, jeongin went over to hyunjin and started patting him everywhere— from his hair to his hoodie to his pant pockets— "who are you? where did you come from? why are you here— is that blood on your nose???" hyunjin's eyes blew open as he pushed jeongin off of him and rushed to the surveillance mirror of the store.

he looked over himself in panic, but quickly calmed as he seemed to realize what it was. he sighed as he wiped the blood off with his sleeve. "it's just a splatter from earlier…" he turned and sat on one of the benches in front of the other two.

"earlier? what happened earlier??" jeongin nearly yelled, minho not appreciating the sound at all. his headache had suddenly come back.

"we ran into two of them," minho tiredly answered, reaching over to pat jeongin's head. "no one is hurt, don't worry." he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. he hadn't been aware that he was out of breath and energy from today's encounters. how long had it been since then?

jeongin cleared his throat. "why are you staring? what are you planning?" he said lowly. minho opened an eye to peek and met with hyunjin staring at him like the younger had said.

"w-what," hyunjin stuttered, quickly averting his gaze and moving it to one of the windows, "i'm not.. staring.."

"you were," minho chuckled. "it's fine, i know i'm cute."

jeongin groaned, brows furrowed and making that silly, disgusted face that minho adored. "hyung, please, can you not." hyunjin turned extremely red.

minho couldn't help his laughter. he missed these moments. teasing his friends and his brother about literally anything, not worrying about anything around them. not being worried of lurking danger from people, alive or undead. "am i wrong?"

the younger made a face, causing minho to chuckle a bit louder and tackled him into a hug.

"actually, he isn't wrong," they heard from the seat across them. they both turned and saw hyunjin, less red, looking at them with a soft smile.

then, minho finally got a good look at the other's face. the messy hair, intimidating siren eyes, small nose, and the plump lips… it's a good combination. "you're really handsome, hyunjin-ah."

he laughed as he watched hyunjin avert his gaze again, eyes wide and furious blush brought back. he felt jeongin chuckle on his side. "so that's it? y'all were just checking each other out?"

"checking ea— jeongin, where did you learn this language??" minho mocked, giggling at jeongin's exhausted expression. faintly, he heard a chuckle from the other seat as well.

minho looked at hyunjin and saw that bright smile again. "you can stay here for a bit."

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☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

another repost from my ao3, yippee! fun fact, i wrote this with their double knot teaser images in mind, so if you wanted to imagine them in certain clothing or in a certain setting, that was the inspo for this :)

i've had the idea to continue this zombie au as a series with the other kids but haven't had the motivation to do it, buttt maybe i can restart that idea sometime soon :o idk yet hehe

thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed <3

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽

[gresidentdoorkicker]

There are many expressions that can be used to describe how hard it is raining. The more absurd the expression the harder it is raining. Today was one of those days. Those days when it wasn't simply raining cats and dogs but it was raining whales and hippos.

She cursed the rain, why couldn't the clouds have waited just a few minutes before throwing down their cold wrath onto the innocent earth. She could hardly see 10 feet in front of her. The car crawled forward agonizingly slow, seemingly timid, and scared of the golf ball sized droplets of frigid rain that bombarded everything below it.

She missed her turn and kept going down the road. She realized that she was lost when she glanced at the clock and saw that she was over an hour into a 20 minute drive. She pulled to the side of the road and shut the car off, staring at her phone as the battery indicator blinked red. She tried to open up her GPS, but she had no bars. The clouds up above were too thick.

She had kept the music up, along with the air conditioning, this storm had come from nowhere and she was not appropriately dressed. One moment it was bright and sunny, with ominous clouds brewing just beyond the mountains, the next trees were falling amidst the crashing rain.

Now she shivered. Almost selfishly she went to turn the key in the ignition, just to get warm, but to her horror her car stalled. The engine sputtered and died, refusing to turn over fast enough to roar to life.

"Son of a Bitch! You have got to be fucking kidding me, of course! Now of all times!"

She turned the key again, but this time she was greeted with a humble click, not even the sputtering of an engine trying to start.

Rachel slammed her hand against the steering wheel. Seething in anger she jerked the key hard in the keyway, seemingly believing that if she turned the key harder it would make the engine start. Alas, it did not.

She pondered her odds as she stared out of the fogging window. The nearest gas station was miles behind her, she couldn't go back there, she couldn't call for help, she had no service out here in the sticks, even if she had cell service her phone was dead.

She rubbed her face, flinging the door open, she figured her best bet was to backtrack and try to get home.

As she reached the back end of the truck she froze, breathing a sigh of relief. Through the fog and rain she could see light. Light meant electricity, electricity meant people.

She jogged down the road, trudging toward the cabin. The fleeting thought crossed her mind of evil creeping denizens, but she pushed the thought out of her mind, she had her pepper spray after all.

Besides, what scum of the earth had such a cozy cabin? Well tended wildflower beds, quaint picket fence guarding roses, oiled log porch and hand carved rocking chair.

She rapped sharply on the door, pounding above the pouring rain on a metal roof.

Relief flooded her sopping wet face as she heard a chain slide across a security lock and the door swung inward, then immediately fade away as she took in the sight of who had opened the door.

[viridiansworld]

Chapter 2: Cat & Mouse

Collateral Damage Masterlist

Pairing: Changbin x Original Character [Rory] x Lee Know

Includes: Underground Crime Member Changbin, vigilante original AFAB main character, antihero district attorney Lee Minho

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of criminal behavior (theft & robbery), angst, mentions of knife & gun violence, tattooing

He thought he was covert. Parking his motorcycle down the street in an alley. It had been 5 days since the incident at the museum and the last 3 nights he had been watching me. Or more like watching my building. From 10 pm till about midnight he kept tabs on me. Only watching, never confronting me. I wondered if tonight would be the same.

"If he dies I'm coming for you alley cat." his words running through my mind again. I was still living and breathing so his friend must be ok, right? So why only watch me?

I sat in the open window straddling the window seal. One leg inside with my foot resting on the hardwood and one leg outside with my foot rested on the old metal safety barrier. I leaned back against the window frame behind me and took a deep breath. The sounds of night life in my old neighborhood drifting through the air.

I had figured if Batman wanted to spy I should give him a show. Make it easier for him. Let him have me in clear view if he wanted to watch. As much as I wanted to be curled up in bed in sweats, messing around on my phone, I opted for jeans and a leather jacket. Waiting to see what tonight brought.

The familiar roar of his bike could be heard at around midnight telling me that another night had come and gone and he was heading out. Little did he know, tonight was going to be different.

I waited until he had driven past my apartment and down the street. I quickly slipped down my fire escape fetching my street bike parked below. I whipped on my helmet and floored it, peeling away from the curb. I didn't have any plan aside from catching up to him. After that I had no idea what I was doing.

My street bike ate up the asphalt in front of it, it's roar echoed off the buildings around me. I had lost sight of his bike, he could have turned off anywhere and been lost to me. If he had, then I guess I'd wait till tomorrow, assuming he'd come back to watch me and I'd try again. Lost in my thoughts the sudden rush of another bike speeding past me caught me off guard. It was him on his lean, loud rumbling Harley.

Even with our faces hidden I could tell he was scanning me up and down. I was doing the same to him. His tight black tshirt hugged his body and showcased the ink that ran down his muscled left arm. His ragged, worn jeans perfectly hugged the strong thighs that straddled his bike. He reved his engine and sped forward, snapping me out of my thoughts and leaving me staring at his back.

"Alright, let's play." I huffed under my breath as I shifted gears and gunned it.

We played a game of cat and mouse weaving through the city, I didn't know where we were going or what the hell we were doing, but I went with it. I knew we couldn't do this all night long so after a while I decided to take the lead. My bike was faster, hands down either way, and I knew just the place to go with him following me.

Every so often I'd check my mirrors to make sure he was still behind me. He was always there, weaving in an out of the city traffic. My destination was in reach and he had to know exactly where we were going. I sped up leaving him stuck at a light giving me a lead in the race. When the place I was looking for came into view I quickly braked and parked my bike right in front of the brick building. The red neon lights from the Wonderland bar across the street cast a warm glow on me as I pulled my helmet off awaiting the arrival of my sudo "partner in crime". I could tell my hair was a hot mess since I had hurriedly put my helmet on and chased after the biker. I tossed my hair a few times to try and even out it's chaos as the rumble of his bike was heard coming down the street.

He came into view and he slowed down, lazily taking his time as his bike rolled up to park in front of the shop right beside me. His heavy boots hit the asphalt, balancing him and the bike in place as he turned his head to look me over in person.

"Nice place you got here ." I spoke smoothly.

He put his kickstand down and dismounted his bike. I got a wonderful view in the process. His thighs flexing in those sinful jeans. He pulled his helmet off. It was almost unfair how good looking he was. He smiled and shook his head, a dimple popping up in his right cheek.

"So the alley cat can hunt too...full of surprises." He walked to the front door of the building as he sifted through his key ring.

"I'm assuming your friend Ji is ok since I'm not currently dead?" I stayed rooted where I was but turned to face him.

He found the right key and put it in the lock, opening the door. "Yeah, he's alive and kicking. Maybe the idiot will stay in the van next time instead of picking knife fights." He pulled the door open, motioning for me to go in. "Ladies first." He smirked.

I walked past the front windows of the shop decorated with scrolling font. 'Broken Compass Tattoo' it read across the top with an elaborate compass underneath. Identical to the one I saw the other night that was tattooed on his neck.

It was what led me to connect the shop to him. Sort of by accident, because I knew the area pretty well but I had known his tattoo was familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. That is until I was driving by the other day and almost all but wrecked my bike when I recognized the compass. After Yeji did some digging, it was easy to confirm a Jisung that was affiliated with the business, as well as a Changbin and several other people.

I walked into the dark shop, feeling his presence behind me as he let the door shut. He locked it, securing us both inside.

"A little reminiscent of our first night, hm?" He hovered against my back as he spoke, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. Standing in the dark, senses heightened, adrenaline coursing through each of our veins. Same as in the museum.

"Brings back so many pleasant memories Batman." I breathed out.

He chuckled before walked around me and turning on the lights that lit up the lobby area. They had a small reception desk and a cozy leather sectional in the corner. He sat his helmet on the reception desk as he breezed by.

"Come on back." He said as he flipped on another set of lights and walked deeper into the shop. They lit up the rest of the place, revealing low dividers that separated several tattoo booths. I followed him, placing my helmet on the desk beside his before continuing in his footsteps. I was on edge and at ease all at the same time. I felt unsure of this guy because I knew nothing about him outside of what the Yeji could find, which wasn't much, and somehow I felt comfortable with him.

"Take a seat." he motioned to the tattoo table in the last booth on the left. I sat on the table and crossed my ankles.

"Do you have any tattoos?" He asked as he sat down in a roller chair that was in the corner.

"A few." I peeled my jacket off and laid it beside me. My tank top underneath exposing my half sleeve tattooed on my arm. "Looks like you have a couple yourself." I leaned back supporting myself with my hands.

"A few." He joked, "Nothing too crazy though." Moving to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He was looking at the ground for a moment before he tilted his head up, some stray hairs had fallen in his face and he raked his hand through his hair trying to tame the medium length dark locks.

"I'm assuming you know my real name if you know my shop. Care to share your name with me?" His eyes danced with mischief as he prodded for information.

"I certainly enjoy calling you batman but it is nice to know your name...Changbin, you're telling me you haven't figured out my name yet?" The smirk on my face had to kill him. Being bested didn't sit well with him at all.

He shook his head and bit his bottom lip before he spoke. "Well Jisung is the hacker. He's down for the count recovering, no thanks to you, so I'm at an unfair disadvantage."

"I would like to point out that he pulled a gun on me first." I leaned forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table now "and then also he was the one who charged at me while I was holding a knife- definitely shouldn't let him out of the van ever again- and let's face it, I was just trying to get out of there. You guys crashed MY job." I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms.

"And what about your damsel in distress bullshit you pulled with me?" He scoffed

"First off, I am no damsel. But I certainly needed you to think I was so you would let your guard down." I uncrossed my arms and shrugged, "I hope your head didn't hurt too much after that roundhouse kick." Man I loved pushing his buttons. "And secondly don't tell me you didn't like being on top of me. Having me pinned to the ground. I'm sure that fed your ego. Or maybe when the guard came walking by did you enjoy feeling like the big strong man protecting me?" I made a fake crying motion of rubbing my eyes as I mocked him.

If looks could kill, his stare would have killed me right on the spot. Silence was shared between for a long moment before he spoke. "What if you were the one who liked it?" His voice deep with a hint of gravel to it.

"Oh you wish, big boy." I scoffed.

"Play your games all you want." Venom in his words. "I know you stole that diamond out from under me and hell I even let you get away with it. But only..." His voice softened, no venom to the words that followed, "Only because you tried to help Jisung."

I decided to stare at the walls. Give the staring contest with Batman a break. My eyes roamed the artwork that was on the walls for a moment before I spoke again.

"I stole it fair and square. I was better than you. You're just too macho to admit you got beat."

"Whatever you wanna tell yourself alley cat." His smooth drawl was almost cruel with how sexy it was.

The room was quiet again, the hum of an air conditioner was all that could be heard. I scanned the walls some more, taking in artwork that was plastered in the walls of the neighboring booth. When I scanned back across to Changbins booth I found him yet again staring at me. Unreadable eyes.

"I'll tell you my name on one condition." I finally spoke, an idea having crept up in my mind.

"And what would that be?" his interest peaked.

"You let me tattoo you-"

"Tattoo me?" He cut me off holding up a hand. "You're crazy."

"Yes." I said flatly. "I am crazy but if you let me tattoo you, anywhere I see fit, I'll tell you my name...and no one knows my name except me, my boss, and my back up. You should feel honored I even offer."

He sat there for a moment thinking it over, but soon a smirk crossed his face and he shook his head. He stood, heading to the counter where he started getting things out of the drawers and making a setup on the rolling tray nearby. He didn't have to say yes to the proposition, he was obviously on board. He got the tattoo gun set up and finished laying everything out.

"Is this your first time?" He turned to ask as he set the box of gloves on the counter nearby.

"No, I'm not a virgin." I cut my eyes at him playfully.

He almost dropped the bottle of ink that he had just picked up. "I-I'm talking about tattooing!" He stammered.

"So am I Changbin, jeez what a dirty mind you have." Our eyes met and I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. The satisfaction that teasing him gave me was intoxicating.

"Forget it!" He quickly turned away getting back to filling the tiny ink cup up. I didn't say anything back, only laughed to myself because this was way too fun.

"That's everything. I only gave you black. Nothing fancy, ok?" He said as he wheeled the tray over in my direction. I got up off the table and examined everything he had put together.

"Don't worry, that's fine. Take a seat for me." I instructed and motioned to the tattoo table I had just gotten up from. He looked at me a little apprehensively but complied, sitting at the end of the table just like I had been.

A little theatric anticipation building never hurt anybody, so I walked around the table slowly. I made a full circle round before I rested my butt against the counter in front of him, debating what location I should choose for his tattoo. Changbin watched my every move and I wasn't complaining. Having power over a handsome specimen such as him was quite euphoric. I moved to slide the tray closer to the table as I made my final decision on the location I wanted.

"Lay back for me." I said. He eased back, leaving his legs hanging from the knees down at the end of the table. Once he was comfortable he laced his hands together across his broad chest waiting to see what else I was going to say or do. "I think......Here." I pointed. "You got some free real estate here?"

Changbin looked down to see where I was pointing. He paused, eyebrows shooting up as if to say 'are you serious?' I returned his look with a slight nod and a smile. We were about to get acquainted very well and on a whole new level.

He laid his head back with a huff and began to undo his belt. Next was the button and the zipper of his jeans. He raised his left hip ever so slightly to tug them and the waistband of his briefs down just enough to reveal the smooth bare skin that would soon be marked by me.

"No ink down here yet I see." I sassed at him as I grabbed a pair of gloves from the box and began to prep his skin. He didn't reply back but i could see him worrying his bottom lip the entire time. He put his arms behind his head and damn it almost made me forget how to breath as the sleeves of his tshirt rode up on his arms revealing more of the muscles he obviously worked hard for. The lower half of his stomach was more exposed now too. A soft happy trail leading down into the delicious V that was literally right in front of me. I thought picking this spot would be funny but somehow I had only managed to flip the script and turn myself on.

Clearing my mind of my dirty thoughts I finished prepping his skin. I nudged the rolling stool over to the table with my foot so I could sit and start tattooing but I had a thought. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm letting you tattoo my crotch if that says anything."

"It's not your crotch!" I complained jokingly "It's your hip. And I take that as a yes you do trust me." I laughed. "Care if I get cozy?"

"Cozy?" He tilted his head up to see what I meant.

Sitting on the rolling stool I wheeled myself right between his legs. I grabbed the tattoo gun and rested my arms on each of his upper thighs. My chest flush to his crotch.

"This kind of cozy " I quipped, smirking at him.

He swallowed hard. "You're mad you know that?"

"I'm not the one letting a stranger tattoo them!"

"I-...Just get it over with." He groaned, resigned to be at my mercy. I tested the weight of the tattoo gun in my hand. I tested the foot pedal, the feel of the gun and the speed of the needle, all before I finally felt ready to start my art project. It had been a minute since I tattooed somebody but it was sort of like riding a bike, right? Once you learn you never forget.

Scooching up as close as possible I rested my left hand on his lower stomach to steady myself as I tattooed with my right hand. I dipped the needle in ink and then got to work. In less than 3 minutes I was done with the line work and sat the gun down. He popped his head up being curious. "No peeking!" I scolded. So he laid back down with a grunt.

I grabbed the green soap and a towel to clean the small mess of black ink on his hip. The cool feeling of the soap made him jump which I couldn't help but chuckle at. This man really had let me mark his hip with anything I wanted.

"Alright...you can look." I said softly. Honestly a little nervous. I slid the chair back just a bit but I was still sitting right between his legs. I peeled the gloves off and chucked them in the trash bin to my right as I waited for his reaction.

He sat up, only looking at me first, apprehensive of what he was about to find. Our proximity to each other very intimate but I don't think either of us minded. He leaned back on one arm, holding his shirt to his stomach with the other to keep it from blocking his veiw. He stared down for only a moment at his hip before a chuckle racked his body. No bigger than a quarter, I had put the outline of 2 cat ears, a nose, and added 3 whiskers on each side. A cat.

"Alley cat." Was all he said as a stunning smile flashed across his face as he admired his new tattoo.

"Or you can call me Rory." I spoke up, clearing my throat. He immediately looked at me almost like he had forgotten that was what all of this was for.

"Rory..." He repeated, seeing how it felt on his tongue. He move his right foot behind me and used his heel to push the stool, along with me on it, back closer to him. A small gasp of surprise escaped me. Being trapped between his thighs wasn't a bad place to be at all. I let my hands rest on them, not backing down from his advances. The intense eye contact making my skin heat.

He leaned down, "Nice to meet you Rory." Was all he said before he captured my lips in a breathy kiss and snaked his hand into my hair.

Next Chapter>>>

A/N: I realized this week my Christmas Changbin one shot I have posted to my page is also a Tattoo Changbin story💀 now it's been almost 2 years since i posted that one but ...like damn, I'm really exposing myself here with the tattoo kink💀 hahahaha

Anywayyyyy, enjoy! Thanks for reading! ♡

[myhiraeth]

@starlightfreed​​ asked: DISASTER :  for both muses to work together to escape a fire, flood, or other disaster. // let August rescue Fox pls apparently I can only write short stories disguised as meme replies these days I’m so sorry Belle lol BUT IN MY DEFENSE THERE WAS A LOT OF SETUP notso NECESSARY FOR A PROPER RESCUE

When the first shudder rumbled through the floor, she didn't think much of it- big machinery was always causing rumbles in the city. It was only when she had managed to slip into the nearest office with it's low, fifth floor view out floor to ceiling windows, that she realized something was wrong. From the window she watched people running westbound, and then a figure flying past the window, followed by several more in varying shades of Hero Primary Colors. Another shuddering rumble wracked the floor, causing her to reach out to brace herself against the window. " Shhhhhh-it. " 

She bolted from the office, joining the others that were quickly running to vacate the building as the fire alarm started blaring. Most of the crowd went straight for the elevators, but she detoured with a few others to the stairs, barely making it down to the third floor before another shake and the lights went out, emergency lights flickering on after a few seconds of darkness. Fox kept running, though some of the others had stopped to see what was going to happen, and it was sheer luck that when the building gave in under their feet and the stairwell started twisting in on them that she only got her ankle twisted in the debris, but managed to avoid getting skewered by a railing as concrete and metal rails caved in above them. Others weren't so lucky, and once the screaming started, she couldn't think clearly, panic and pain scattering her thoughts.

She didn't realize the other survivors had made a run for it, the pained screams and shouts of the ones slowly bleeding out were too loud to block out, and she backed herself against the cracked wall, hands over her ears as she tried to block out the chaos, tears tracing down her cheeks as another ripple shook the building.   " Stop, stop, stop, please stop. "  She murmured, trying to override the screams. 

By the time voices had given out and lives has extinguished, allowing her to think once more, she was alone. The stairs were twisted and broken off above her head, only option was the door, with piles of concrete and brick blocking it. But the doors swung outward from the stairwell, they always did, and she only needed to pry a few heavy pieces of concrete off the pile to reach the push bar door handle and push out to freedom. 

A great plan, until she realized the door was blockaded on both sides, and the panic started to set in again.   " No... no, no, no, don't do this, c'mon. "  She shoved at the door, again and again until her shoulder screamed in protest, and started trying to yank away the debris on her side, thinking if she could clear it enough, she could push through.   " Hello! "  She shouted as broken concrete ripped apart her palms.   " Anyone! Hello?! " 

A voice on the other side of the door almost made her cry in relief. A guy, his voice filtered like he had a mask on, announced he was NYFD and called back if she was hurt. She glanced down at her ankle, her bleeding hands and arms from working the door free.  " Just trapped! I can't get the door open! "  He shouldn't leave her just for being hurt, not if he's actually a firefighter, but instinct says being hurt is a liability, and liabilities get left behind. Let him figure out for himself that she's hurt. 

He helps get the door somewhat pried open about a foot, and helps her shimmy through the opening, introducing himself as August. She offered a smile, hoping he’ll ignore the tears on her face and the way she favors her right leg.   " Hi, August. I'm Fox. Come here often? "  She teased, letting him lead her back toward the front of the building. 

A body came bursting through the walls, raining yet more debris down on them and she ducked, not realizing August had leaned over her protectively until she risked a look back up. She couldn't tell who it was, but it was definitely a super of some sort- friend or foe, who knew? August nudged her back further into the building, trying to avoid them being seen and with a wistful look at the exit, she followed.