#wooden camera zip box

[jaywoods1]

The Father Hunt

Wendigo

Two tents were set up near a fire ring, and you could hear crickets chirping. Inside one of the tents, two young men named Brad and Gary were playing head to head handheld video games.

"Dude, you're cheating." Brad complains. "No, you just suck!" Gary rebuts, slightly miffed at his friends accusation. Something growls outside while in the other tent, a young man named Tom Collins lies on his bed recording a video message. 

"Hey Hailey, day six. We're still out near Blackwater Ridge." A shadow flashes behind Tom, the camera barely picking it up, but he doesn't notice. "We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow." He stops recording and sends the message to his girlfriend of three months, whom convinced him to go on this trip. 

In the other tent, Brad closes his game system and tosses it aside. Gary stares at his system for a moment, then turns to look at him, who is getting up and unzipping the tent. "Hey, where ya goin'? My moment of victory." He complains, as he was so close to winning. In his head at least.

"Sorry man, nature calls."

Brad goes outside and zips up the tent behind him. He goes to stand against the tree to relieve himself while the fire crackles. Something snaps a stick and Brad glances towards the sound and sees the trees rustling. He shakes his head and returns his attention downward, then looks up sharply as something growls. In both tents, the boys look up as they hear their friend scream.

"Brad?" "Bud, what's going on?" The two ask as they unzip their tents. Suddenly something grabs Gary. Tom screams as the thing grabs him as well, dragging him into the dark.

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Birds chirp as Sam, wearing a suit and tie and carrying a bouquet of various flowers, though  no roses, walks through an otherwise deserted cemetery.

He sighs and stops next to a gravestone. It reads "JESSICA LEE MOORE", "Beloved Daughter", "January 24th 1984 – November 2nd 2005". There is a small picture of a grinning Jess set into the stone above her name, a black-and-white picture of her leaning against the stone between a white teddy bear and a wooden box with a crucifix leaning on the picture, a small American flag next to the box, and three candles standing on the gravestone; one of the Virgin de Guadalupe.

Sam looks between the grave and the flowers.

"I, uh..." He laughs. "You always said roses were, were lame, so I brought you, uh... everything else."

Sam looks at the picture set into the gravestone, then looks away, choking back tears. He steps closer to the gravestone, tears clouding his eyes. 

"Jess, oh god. I miss you so freaking much. I should have protected you. I should have told you the truth." He says, kneeling as he puts the flowers next to the crucifix, when an arm covered in dirt shoots out of the ground and grabs him by the wrist.

He jerks awake in the shotgun seat with his brother driving and sister in the backseat, the dream nothing but that: a dream. He shakes his head as the sound of the music helps him move the dream to the back of his mind for now. He smiles, as he remembers that this was the song the three of them had done together when they had snuck into a bar.

Dean glances over at his brother. "Glad you're up. You okay though? You looked like you were having a nightmare." Sam looks over at his overprotective older brother, then to his younger sister. "Yeah, I'm good, Jay still asleep?" He quickly changes the subject. Dean nods. "We'll wake her up later, she barely sleeps as it is. You want to drive for a while?" Sam laughs, then sees his brothers serious look. "Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that." "Jeez, relax, just thought you might want to because-" "Look, man, you're worried about me." Sam cuts him off. "I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay." "Mm-hm." Dean mumbles, clearly not believing him. Sam sighs, then grabs a map from the glove compartment, where he had stored it before falling asleep. 

"All right, where are we?" He says, talking more to the map than his brother. "We are just outside of Grand Junction. Man, last time we passed through here, Jay punched that fat, greasy guy in the face, remember?" Sam laughs at the memory, before glancing back down at the map of Colorado, which has a large red X labelled 35-111.

"You know what?" Sam asks his brother, not looking up. "Hm?" Dean glances at his brother then back at the road. "Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon." He sighs, remembering where he spent some of his happiest days. "Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-" "We gotta find dad first." Sam finishes, determination evident in his eyes. 

"Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence." Dean says, clearly showing he had put a lot of thought into it. "Dad'll have answers. He'll know what to do." 'And hopefully not beat the shit out of Jay if he finds out she tried to leave.' Sam thinks, remembering that last time his sister tried to run. She was 16, and had grown tired of the constant abuse, so she ran. She was gone for two months, before dad had found her, and when he did, Sam didn't see her for a week and she flinched from his hugs for a month. Even though she though he couldn't, he'd seen the marks, though he wasn't sure what caused them.

"Dude, you listening?" "Huh, yeah, this's just really weird man, these coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge, there's nothing out there; it's just woods." He puts down the map, and glances at his sister. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?" He states as they pass a sign welcoming them to Lost Creek.

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They park the Impala next to a sign that says "Ranger Station: Lost Creek Trail, Lost Creek National Forest".

"So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote." Sam says as he studies a 3D map, especially the part of and surrounding the place their dad sent them while Dean looks at decorations and Jay does research on her laptop. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place." Jay glances up and laughs softly. "Maybe he came here to get rich? I mean, silver and gold are worth a lot right now." Dean ignores her and laughs at something. "Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear." Jay glares at him. "Respect it dumbass, we may not have encountered an animal ghost yet, but that doesn't mean we won't. Besides, it was once a majestic creature, so cut it out before I smack you." She threatens. Dean raised his hands in surrender and slunks away from the taxidermy. "And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It's no nature hike, that's for sure." Sam says, continuing to list what's around what is beginning to seem more dangerous than what they had expected. 

A forest ranger walks in, Wilkinson from the look of his tag, Jay notes, and walks up behind them.

"You boys aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" Jay laughs as her brothers spin around, clearly startled. "Dammit, you saw him and didn't warn us?" Dean say to her, playful irritation in his voice. "Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper." Jay says sweetly. "Recycle man!" Dean says playing along. Jay and Sam rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Please ignore him, he's just doing it for the easy degree." "Hey no I'm- yeah, yeah I am."

The ranger raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. "Bull. You're friends with that Haley girl right, I mean, you girl barely look high school age."

"Okay, first of all, I'm 22, second..." Jay thinks for a second, considering the outcome of each. "Yeah, we are, ranger Wilkinson."

"Well I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?" 

Jay hides a glare at her brothers. She had told them that it wasn't a missing persons yet, but did they listen? No.

"You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"Of course, she's just so freaking worried, like, it's all she goes on about, um, so do you think you could show me it, the permit I mean, and maybe get a copy for her, so she relaxes? I mean, she's my best friend, and I love her, but if I hear one more time 'oh, he's probably dead' imma lose it."

He smiles at Jay, and gives her a copy, and the three of them make their leave.

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"Dean, I swear to fucking god, if you're just going to see this girl for a hook up, I will murder your ass. I mean, we have the coordinates, lets just go!" Dean shrugs. "I'm not, I swear. Just, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?" 

Jay raises her eyebrows. Her brother was not like that. "Uh-huh. That's my job, Sam's the worrier and you're the dumb-ass who shoots first and asks questions later, living like everyday is his last. So who the fuck are you, and get out of my brother, or I'll make you eat salt."

Dean laughs. "It's me Jay, chill, besides, since when are you all shoot first ask questions later, anyway?"

Jay glances at Sam. She knows that he's hurting and needs revenge soon, or he'll become another John Winchester, and that's something she can't deal with. "I'm not really, but you and Sam both are now, and you're both bigger than me- don't even think it Dean- so there's no real point in arguing."

Sam gets in and slams the passenger door shut. Jay and Dean share a glance, conveying the same message before getting in: we need to find yellow-eyes, and fast.

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"Stay back this time, OK Jay. You don't exactly look the part of a park ranger, so stay in the car and figure out the best route." Jay sighed, knowing she wasn't getting out of this one. She nodded and watched her brothers greet Haley and show her their fake IDs before heading in. 

She glanced down at the map, quickly finding the best route, though it would take them a day or two to reach the ridge still. 

Jay folded up the map and let her mind wander. I mean, did she really want her dad back? He had been torturing the living shit out of her for years- he hated her. She could run, go to Bobby's, or maybe the road house, the place she had stayed for a few nights when she ram away when she was 16 to make enough money to get to New York. Jo and Ellen were nice, and they told her to come back when ever. 

She shot out of her musings when her brothers came back.

"What did you two idiots get?" She asked, ready to get going. "It's gonna take us a few days to get there, so tell me while you drive."

"Well, she likes the car-" "Important stuff Dean." "You're no fun. Fine, she says she knows Tommy's in trouble because he hasn't checked in in a couple of days. In the last video he sent her, a big shadow ran past in the background. We promised we'd find her brother, she said she might see us 'cause she hired a guy and she forwarded the videos to Sam."

Jay quickly ran through that. "Her being out there might be a bad thing, but you said you saw a shadow? If it moved that fast, it might be a wendigo." Dean shrugged. "Maybe, but did you find a route?" Jay sighed. "The fastest one their will take a couple of hours. We should head out tomorrow, get somewhere to sleep tonight."

The trio agreed, and at Deans insistence headed to a bar.

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There was a game of pool going on as they all sat at the bar, Jay getting carded there and at the bar. 

"So, on the way here I looked through dads journal. Last April, two hikers went missing, no remains found, bear attack was the official story, and in 1982, eight went missing; grizzly attack, and before that in 1959 and again before that in 1936. Every twenty three years like clockwork." Jay said while nursing an alcoholic apple cider.

She checked the video's, "Thanks for giving that girl my email Sam, and after watching these twenty someodd times, I noticed something."

Jay pulls up the video and played a certain section, a shadow moving quickly across it.

"Play it again."

She complies to her oldest brothers request.

"That's three frames. A fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move." She says. "My wendigo theory is becoming more and more likely."

The three share a look. 

"One more thing. In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Sam looks

 over at her.

"Does the kid have a name?" "Yes, duh he has a name." "I mean did you find one."

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They pull up outside of Mr. Shaws house, the man who was attacked, and are invited in, Jay staying outside again.

"Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a-" "Grizzly? That's what attacked them?" Sam interrupts, still annoyed at Dean for making Jay stay outside; she would have gotten the info in 30 seconds flat.

Shaw blows a puff of smoke from his cigarette and nods.

"The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?" Dean continues, now regretting his decision to leave Jay outside.

With no reply, Dean keeps talking.

"What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?"

Getting annoyed at the mans lack of reply, Dean keeps going.

"We knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it."

Shaw finally speaks up. "I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

He sits down, and Sam sits across from him.

"Mr. Shaw, what did you see?"

Shaw takes a deep breath and tells them something he hasn't told anyone in years.

"Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like...no man or animal I ever heard."

"It came at night?" Dean questions, thankful they were finally getting somewhere. 

Shaw nods. "It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming. Don't even know how it killed them, just dragged them off into the night." he shakes his head. "Why it left me alive...been asking myself that ever since."

He reaches and pulls down his collar.

"Did leave me this, though." He says, revealing three long scratches. Sam and Dean share a look: their sister was right.

"There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon."

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After they got to the motel they were staying, they filled Jay in.

"I knew it was a wendigo!" She cheered before stopping. "Oh shit, it's a wendigo."

Dean hides a smirk at his sisters enthusiasm, the most energetic she has been since the fire.

"At least we know how to kill it. But we can't let that Haley girl go in there."

"You're not wrong, but she's leaving in the morning, and it's not safe at night, even with our knowledge." Sam says, ever the smart one. "Come on man! I don't wanna baby-sit!" "Dean stop being a baby."

They pack the impala and after Jay goes to bed, Sam pulls Dean aside.

"Dean, I'm worried about Jay." "What do you think she can't handle the hunt? She had ghosts begging for mercy after she lectured them for hours when she was ten!" Dean replied incredulous, as well as surprised that his brother, his sisters biggest supporter was saying that.

"I'm not worried about the hunt, I'm worried about what'll happen when we find dad. He blames her for something, maybe about mom, but what I do know is that if he finds out that she almost left with me, there'll be hell to pay, in the form of I don't know what, but it'll all be on her."

Dean stared at his brother.

"Come on man, dad wouldn't do tha-" Sam just stares at him. "He would?" Sam nods. "I don't know how long it's been going on for, but even in the recording, there was some sort of warning about Jay."

Dean sighed. "We'll cross, or burn is more likely that bridge when we come to it. Now, come on, let's get some sleep."

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The Winchesters pull up to the forest and see Haley and Ben arguing with a guy, something about Ben staying home, though Ben doesn't look pleased about that as he cocked a shot-gun.

"Look, you're paying me good money to keep everybody safe. I think Ben's safest at home." They hear the other guy saying as they step out.

"You guys got room for two more?" Jay asks. "Who are these guys?" "Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue."

Jay pretends to shrug of the insult. "Be glad you're getting us. It took ages to convince them." "You're rangers?" Jay nods. "Yep, I know I especially look young, but we are, Mr. whatever-your-name-is." "It's Roy." "And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley continues. 

Dean looks down at his attire.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts." He says as he walks past her. 

"What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt." The Roy guy says, a little pissed off.  The trio turn back.

"Believe us, we know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all."

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The rag tag groups hikes through the forest with Roy at the lead.

"Roy, you said you did a little hunting." Dean says, starting up conversation.

"Yeah, more than a little." "Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?" "Mostly buck, sometimes bear." "Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" He continued, passing Roy. Jay lunges forward and yanks back her older brother. 

"Bear trap. Nice going girly. You should watch where you're stepping though ranger." Roy says, poking at the trap with a stick, causing it to snap shut. Jay rolls her eyes at the nickname.

"You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers." Haley says, finally putting the pieces together.

Jay smiles. She likes this girl.

"The three of us are, and we're looking for our father. He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that we're in the same boat." Jay says, hoping the half truth might appease them.

"Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?" "Um... I'm telling you now. 'sides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a person. ...ever. So we okay?" After a pause she replies. "Yeah, okay." 

"And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" Dean pipes in, reaching in his pack and pulls out a big bag of peanut M&Ms. Jay rolls here eyes and mutters about idiotic brothers, before walking on.

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"This is it. Blackwater Ridge." Roy announces. Jay glances at a GPS. "Coordinates: N 35o 45.383, W 111o 00.55."

The siblings share a look: this was it.

They listen around, but here nothing. "Sam, do you hear that?" Jay whispers. "Not even crickets."

"Imma go take a look around." Roy announces. "You shouldn't go by yourself." Dean quickly jumps in. "That's sweet. Don't worry about me." He says, waving a gun. "Five bucks says he gets taken Sam says. "Deal."

"Alright, everyone else, stay together." Dean says, taking charge.

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Everyone save Roy is looking around a large-ish rock when they hear Roy call out: "Haley! Over here!" Haley runs towards him, closely followed by the others. "Oh my god!" She cries out. "Not God last time I checked." Jay mutters under her breath, having always had a sort of underlying resentment to God, though she did love the angels, but was slightly horrified all the same, but not as bad as Haley, having grown a shield to prevent herself from freaking out.

The tents are torn open and bloody and all the supplies are scattered.

"Looks like a grizzly." Roy says as the Winchesters share a look. "Tommy?" Haley calls, then proceeds to run through the campsite. "Tommy!" Jay runs to her. "Shh." "Tommy!" She continues to cry, close to tears, so Jay grabbed her. "Shut up! Something might still be out there."

"Jay!"

She runs over to her brothers. "It's a wendigo all right."

Haley is inspecting her brothers tent at the same time. She looks over his phone, which is bloody and the back popped off.

"He-hey, he could still be alive." Jay hopes her words bring at least a sliver of comfort to the girl. 

"Help! Help!" They all quickly look around, but don't see anyone, and Roy leads everyone in a quick search. "Help! Somebody!"

"There's no one her- shit. Everyone, get back to camp!" They rush back to find it completely ransacked. 

"Our packs!" Haley cries, while Roy mutters something about his GPS and satellite phone. "What the hell is going on?" The girl half-shrikes out. "It's smart. It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help." "You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear." Roy says, incredulous. "Dean, Jay come over here." The two separate off from the little group and approach Sam. "Oh yeah, this is definitely a wendigo." He says. "See, I told you, now aren't you glade we brought flame-throwers- which were in our stolen packs. Shit. Well, we gotta at least get these people out of here."

Sam agrees and goes to try and convince the people to leave, and Dean goes with him. 

When Jay see an argument though she steps in. 

"All right, enough, all of you." Haley stepped in as well. "Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him." Jay sees that the girl would not back down, and after a pregnant silence, Dean spoke up. "It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves." Haley looks confused at him. "How?"

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The group builds a campfire while Jay draws symbols in the dirt and patiently explains them to Haley. 

"One more time, that's-" "Anasazi symbols. It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."

Roy snorts, with his gun over his shoulder. Jay rolls here eyes. "No one likes a skeptic Red Arrow." He gives her a confused look. "You know, Green Arrows protégé, Roy Harper, Red Arrow? Never mind."

She goes and sits next to her brothers who were in the middle of a conversation. 

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tell you the truth Sammy, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek." "Then let's get these people back to town Dean, and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?" 

"That's how." Jay steps in. "That book. That's Dad's single most valuable possession- everything he knows about every evil thing is in there. And he's passed it on to us, or well probably you two, but still. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business." She finishes with dramatic air quotes on family business part, a reference to how it took so long to convince Dad to let her hunt.

"That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just-call us? Why doesn't he-tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?" Sam says, shaking his head. "I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it." Dean pipes up. "Dean...no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about." Jay looks down; that hunt to find their mothers killer had consumed him so much, that when there wasn't a monster to take it out on, he took it out on her, blaming her for the fact that a week after she was born, their mother died. She could only hope the same thing didn't happen to Sam.

Dean glances at her and remembers his conversation with Sam. "Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me. You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man." Jay gives Dean a thank you look while Sam looks up and down.

"How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?" Jay glances at Haley and Ben. "For me it probably helps with the fact that I didn't know mom all that well-" "Yeah, it's a bit harder for me, but I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable." Jay rolls her eyes for what feels like the billionth time. "Took the words right out of my mouth Dummy." "Wait, dummy? That's the best you could think of?" "You know, Dean Boswell from X-Men? If you don't like that I could call you Lucy In The Sky, after Karolina Dean. Oh, and Sam, incase you were wondering, you're Nova, you know, after Sam Alexander." "Pass, but why does Sammy get a cool one? One other thing though, Sam." He glances up, relived at the argument end. "Killing as many sons of bitches as I possibly can."

The three snap their heads up at the sound of a twig snapping and someone beginning to cry for help.

"He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put." Dean calls to the others. "So, inside the magic circle?" "Yes Red Arrow, inside the magic circle." 

It continues to cry out for help, so Roy, in his complete and utter stupidity, shoots it as it runs by.

"I hit it!" He exclaim, running to see what he hit.

"No, Roy, don't!" Jay cries out after him, right before it reached down and snapped his neck.

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They couldn't do anything then, so they waited till morning. Dean and Sam are looking through Johns journal, while Jay talks to Ben and Haley.

"I don't...I mean, these types of things, they aren't supposed to be real." Jay sighs, having heard this about a bajillion times. "I wish I could tell you different, but welcome to my life." "How do we know it's not out there watching us?" "Ooh, a good logical question. The answer: we don't. But it only really hunts at night so we should be good for now."

Haley stares off into the distance while Ban rocks back and forth. Jay feels bad for them; their whole world had been practically blown to bits. The only reason she was okay was because she grew up with it.

She walks over to her brothers to discus strategist. "So we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil bastard." "Well, hell, you know we're in."

Sam and Dean go over to the others to explain better what a wendigo is, and Jay walks over after they're done. "And then how do we stop it?" Jay smiles, holding up the last flamethrower she had found. "We gotta torch the sucker."

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The group makes their way through the forest, Jay and Dean in the lead, with her holding a flamethrower and him holding a scraped together half passable one as they pass trees covered in claw-marks and blood.

Later he and Sam switch, but Jay stays in the front with her never tiring pace. All of a sudden she stops in a clearing of broken branches and blood. "Am I the only one thinking this is way to easy?" 

Growling starts up out of nowhere, and They whip around to see blood dripping on Haley, from Roy's corps in the trees. 

"Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go! Haley, no, you can't save him."

Ben stumbles and falls, so Sam and Dean pick him up while Jay and Haley keep going, Jay half dragging her, only to stop short in front of the wendigo. Jay reaches for her flamethrowers, only to find that she dropped it. 

"Fuck."

Sam and Dean keep running only to find Jay's flamethrower and hear Haley's scream.

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Sam, Dean and Ben continue hiking through the woods when Ben posses a question.

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" "Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off." Sam answers.

They stop short when they see a peanut m&m.

"Jay must have grabbed them, she's leaving a trail."

The three follow the trail until it reaches an abandoned mine.

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Sam shines the flashlight ahead of them and they hear growling, and he quickly shuts off the light and pulls Ben against the wall, the wendigo speeding towards them. Sam covers the new kid's mouth before he can scream, and thankfully Dean was against the wall as well. 

The wendigo takes a different tunnel, so the three keep going. The floorboards creak. "Fuck." The three fall through the floor and land in a pile of bones. Ben spots a pile of skulls and leaps backward, barely remembering not to scream.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay." Sam calms him down. 

The three look up and see Jay and Haley hanging from their wrists, Haley out of it and Jay barely holding on to consciousness. 

"Took... you... idiots long enough." The brothers sighed in relief at their sisters still spunky spirt while Ben ran over to his sister.

"Haley, Haley, wake up, wake up!" Sam cuts Jay down, while Dean goes over to help Ben, before moving to an empty section of floor.

"You sure you're okay?" The worried brothers say in unison. "I'm fine, chill." 

Haley and Ben are standing up and staring at one of the bodies. 

"Tommy..." The girl lets out a soft cry, touching his cheek, causing him to jerk back to life.

"Cut him down!" Haley screamed.

Dean leaps up to do as she says. 

"We're gonna get you home." Haley whispers to her brother.

"Hey y'all, look at this." Dean holds up two flare guns. "These'll work." Sam and Dean lead with the guns and the others follow, supporting each other.

They hear growling and look at each other in varying levels of annoyance and fear.

"Looks like someone's home for supper." "Dean, like 90% of the time I love your cheekiness, but right now we have bigger issue. There's barely any way for you, Sam and Ben to out run it, and Haley, Tommy and I definitely can't."

Dean glances at his younger brother.

"You thinking what I'm thing?" Sam nods and Jay groans. 

"Oh God, I hope not." She mutters.

"All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam. He's gonna get you out of here." "And let me guess, you're gonna be the dumbass distraction." "You know me all too well little sis!"

Dean starts walking down the tunnel in the opposite direction calling out into the darkness. "Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good."

Jay rolls her eyes, but follows Sam as they start making their way out of the tunnel.

Dean keeps going shouting insults at the wendigo, but instead, the other group runs into it.

"Haley, Ben, take my sister and Tommy and go." 

"What the fuck, I'm not leaving you Sam!" 

"Go! Go! Go!" Haley starts supporting Tommy while Ben drags Jay out.

Sam stands at the ready, flare gun held strong. "Come on. Come on."

He hears growling and turns around to find the wendigo behind him. "Fuck." He shoots and misses, then runs after the Collinses.

"Sam!" Jay cries out after her brother.

"Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry." They all make it out of the tunnel, the wendigo right behind them, and Sam orders them to stand behind him, his large stature hiding them all.

The wendigo approaches slowly, as if already knowing it has won, but Dean comes up behind it. 

"Hey!"

The wendigo turns around and he shoots it in the stomach, the flare going off and the monster going up in flames.

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

Back at the rangers station Tommy gets loaded up into an ambulance, not Jay or Haley since they insisted they were fine. The rangers, interviewing Ben are in various states of disbelief as Sam stands behind him.

"And the bear came back again after you yelled at it?" "That's when it circled the campsite. I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred, nine hundred pounds."

Sam nods, hoping it brought a slight amount more sincerity into the other boy's statement.

"All right, we'll go after it first thing."

The two circle back to the others. "You did pretty dam good Lucy in the Sky and Nova." Dean groans. "Literally anything but that!" Jay smirks. "I'll think of a different theme tomorrow."

Haley finishes thanking Dean and she and Ben go into the ambulance to ride with their brother.

The three siblings get in the impala and start driving off.

"You know what we should do more often? Camping." 

"Fuck no!"

[chungdha]

Wooden Camera Zip Box 4x4 Matte Box worth it?

Wooden Camera Zip Box 4×4 Matte Box worth it?

In my previous video someone asked my which Matte Box I was using and it is the Wooden Camera Zip Box 4×4 80-85mm version https://amzn.to/31WyI3a which fits perfect onto the Meike Cine Lenses. This video review I explain if it is worth it as a matte box.

This video is filmed with: Panasonic GH5 – https://amzn.to/37WUyWp L…

[sourholland]

Some timothee fluff pleass :)) love your work !!

Cake || Timothée Chalamet

Summary → You go live on Instagram and bake a cake. Timothée comes home halfway through and doesn’t realize you’re live-streaming.

AN → This is just pure fluff tbh, a little short but pure fluff

Pairing(s) → Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language

Word Count → 900

You stepped back, pressing the ‘go live’ button on your Instagram. In the shot behind you was your oven and white countertops, a few plants, and the earthy green cupboards.

Since you had done 73 questions with Vogue, your New York City penthouse apartment had become sort of famous. Everyone had absolutely died over your kitchen, adoring the many plants and bronze pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.

You were dressed in a pair of white flowing pants, overtop of it was a simple black tank top and a grey zip up that belonged to Timothée.

Within the first few seconds, thousands of people had joined the livestream. Comments began to flood in, some of them making you laugh while you leaned in to glance at the phone you’d sat against the counter. There were dozens of remarks just on the atmosphere of your apartment.

It was heavily raining outside, a thick smog covering the city. You had lit candles all throughout your’s and Timothée’s shared space. He didn’t mind the crystals scattered around, resting on windowsills and shelves. He quite often asked for you to read his tarot cards, loving the way you would sit crisscross in front of him on the carpet and explain what everything meant.

userone: im so fucking in love with you

usertwo: where’s timmy????

userthree: make a tiktok pls

You scrolled through comments, laughing at a few, making sure not to dwell on some of the harsher ones. You smiled at the few familiar friends joining the live, exchanging a bit of banter as you grabbed some ingredients out of the fridge.

“Okay—so, as you all know, I’m no chef,” you snorted, holding up the box of cake mix. “All it needs is like eggs, water, and oil—I figured I couldn’t really fuck that up.”

florencepugh: i’m disappointed y/n

oliviarodrigo: you’ll find a way y/n/n

“Flo, I’m sorry,” you whined, drawling out the y.

The soft hum of Fleetwood Mac played in the back, Spotify just barely visible behind you on your laptop. Timothée was out, and you had tried to occupy yourself, finding nothing better to do than bake.

You cracked the eggs into the large plastic bowl, grinning at the phone in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that someone would turn these clips into an Instagram edit.

userfour: i love u sm

userfive: how do u look so effortlessly good tf

usersix: i love ur kitchen stoppppppppp

userseven: bi panic

“You guys are hysterical—shit, I think I almost put too much oil in,” you said in a hushed tone.

lydianight: NOT U LITERALLY FUCJING UP CAKE OUT OF A BOX PLEASEEE

odessaazion: ur literally so hot y/n even if u can’t make food for shit

userseven: LMAOO DID SHE EVEN READ THE BOX ???

“You guys have no faith in me,” you said, chuckling as you whisked. “It’s disheartening, really. I’m hurt!”

You jokingly placed a hand on your heart, pretending to cry. You had bits of the packaged cake mix on your cheeks, hair pulled back and out of your face. The pan was greased in front of you, This Town by Niall Horan coming on behind you.

You were so focused on getting the clumps of chocolate powder separated that you hadn’t even heard the jangle of keys at the front door, or the sound of it shutting. You held the bowl up to the camera, nodding that it looked good enough.

You yelped when a pair of hands slid over your hips, pulling them back and making you jump. Timothée turned you around a moment later and cupped the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a quick kiss. He was in a grey hoodie and black joggers, hair skewed about under a navy blue baseball cap and slightly wet.

“If the whole world was watching I’d still dance with you,” he mumbled, spinning you around in a playful dance a moment later.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” you giggled at his swaying motion.

“Yeah? I yelled your name,” he pecked your lips in between each word.

usereight: im gonna go cry now

usernine: tell me ur single without telling me ur single

userten: fuck that’s so cute

usereleven: AND NIALLLL STOP

“I’m on live,” you said, watching him look over at the phone and awkwardly wave.

“Shit, why didn’t you tell me?” He chuckled, dipping a finger into the cake mix before you could swat his hand away.

He sucked on his index finger a moment later, ignoring you as you hit him a few times with the oven mitt at your right. He snatched the wooden spoon not far from him and held it up with a wide grin.

“You sure about that?” He mused, waving it in the air.

usertwelve: when they hit each other with kitchen suppliesssss

userthirteen: i’ll never be over this

“Was the cake mix any good, at least?” You couldn’t help but ask, watching him take off the hat, ruffle his hair a bit and then put it back on.

“I love you—but it tasted like shit,” he barely got out, running as you started to swat him with the mitt again.

userfourteen: god im so alone

[victoria-daydreams]

The Long Way Home

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

AN: Thanks for the birthday wishes everyone and thank you to everyone who has liked this story! Claudia hasn’t even shown up, but you all are invested in this story and I appreciate it!

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe​, @greatscott--wrongdecade​

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

Logan, Hank, and Charles all stood around a table, discussing how to get Erik out.

"The room there holding him in was built during the Second World War when there was a shortage of steel. So, the foundation is pure concrete and sand. No metal," Hank explained, gesturing to a rolled out blueprint of the Pentagon, specifically, the facility Erik was being held in.

"He's being held a hundred floors under the most heavily guarded building on the planet," Charles added, with a sigh.

A look of confusion took over Logan's face, "Why's he in there?" he inquired, his eyes bouncing between Hank and Charles.

Charles let out a snort and raised his head as the rest of his body hunched over. "Did he forget to mention?" he asked with a laugh that was anything, but humorous.

"Uh...JFK." Hank muttered.

"He killed..." Logan trailed off, with shock evident in his tone before cutting himself off in disbelief. "That was Erik?" he questioned.

"How else do you explain a bullet miraculously curving through the air? Erik's always had a way with guns," Charles said snidely, as he turned his head to face Logan. "You sure you want to carry on with this?" he asked, uncertainty evident in his voice.

You could tell that a part of him wished that Logan would give up. Naturally, that didn't happen.

"Hey, this is your plan, not mine," Logan shrugged.

"We don't have the resources to get us in," Hank argued, shaking his head.

"Or out," Charles added. "It's just me and Hank," he breathed out.

Logan paused for a moment, "I know a guy. Yeah, he'd be a young man now, living outside of D.C.," he chuckled, as a look of fond memories filled his eyes. "He could get into anywhere. Just don't know how the hell we're gonna find him..." Logan trailed off.

Hank turned to Charles, "Is Cerebro of the question?" he asked, and Charles rolled his eyes before lowering his head down, slightly nodding it with an exhale. "We have a phone book," Hank offered.

~~~x~~~

"Here, here, here," Logan said, as he leaned forward between the seats.

"Where?" Charles questioned, carefully driving down the small street.

"Just stop here," Logan replied with agitation.

"All right, all right!" Charles surrendered, pulling up to a house in a suburban neighborhood.

"Next time I'm driving," Logan scoffed, as Charles brought the car to a stop, it was clear he hadn't driven in years.

"Don't get used to it," Charles retorted, rolling his eyes.

The three of men stepped out of the car and up to the house's front porch, passing by a mailbox with 'Maximoff' written across it's side. Strangely, the doormat at the front door had skid marks across the lettering. Logan knocked on the dark wooden door, before watching it open up to a brunette middle-aged woman her smile dropping from her face.

"What's he done now?" she sighed. "I'll just write you a check for whatever he took..." she shook her head, the woman sounded so tired.

"We just need to talk to him," Logan reassured, she nodded and opened the door all they way, allowing them in.

"Peter!" She called. "The cops are here!" she stepped out of their way. "Again." she added, seemingly sick and tired of her son's troublemaking antics. "Down there," she told them, pointing to a door.

Logan turned the knob and led the group down the wooden stairs. Stolen road signs hung on or leaned against the walls as they made their way further down. There was music was playing loud along with what sounded like a ping pong game. Once the men got to the last step, they stood in a large room and witnessed a peculiar sight. There was indeed a ping pong game being played by a young man with silver hair, but he was playing against himself, rushing to each side to hit the ball effortlessly.

"What do you guys want?" Peter asked quickly, not taking his eyes off the game before flashing past them and onto a couch eating an almost finished popsicle, "I've been here all day," he told them.

"Just relax, Peter. We're not cops-" Logan reassured, before Peter cut him off.

"Course you're not cops. If you were cops you wouldn't be driving a rental car," Peter pointed out.

Charles raised his eyebrow, "How'd you know we got a rental car?" he questioned.

"I checked your registration when you were walking to the door. I also had some time to kill so I went through your rental agreement. Saw you were from out of town. Are you FBI?" he asked, speaking quickly. Using his speed, he grabbed Charles' wallet in a second, looking through it's contents. "No, you're not cops. Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters' place?" he asked, as he sped away, dropping the wallet and Charles' business card on the floor.

"That's an old card," Charles stated annoyed, slipping the items back into his pocket.

"He's fascinating..." Hank commented, watching Peter speed around.

"He's a pain in the arse," Charles scoffed, running his hand through his hair, which was windblown because of Peter's speed.

"What? A teleporter?" Hank questioned.

"No, he's just fast. And when I knew him he wasn't so...young," Logan replied.

Peter frowned at his statement before grinning, "Young? You're just old," he quipped.

They turned back to the couch, seeing Peter already lounging on it finishing up a popsicle that he just got.

Hank stepped forward, "So you're not afraid to show your powers," he observed, raising an eyebrow.

Peter faked innocence, "What powers? What are you talking about? Do you see something strange here? Nothing anybody would believe if you told them..." he said very quickly, before zipped between Charles and Logan to the Pac-Man machine across the room, that was obviously stolen. "So, who are you? What do you want?" he asked.

"We need your help, Peter," Logan stated briefly.

"For what?" he quickly asked back, keeping his eyes glued to the game screen.

"To break into a highly secured facility...and get someone out,"

"Prison break? That's illegal you know..." Peter chuckled back, looking at the middle aged men who were apparently planning to do something worse than all of his crimes combined.

"Um..." Logan looked around the room at all the stolen items filling the room, which were mainly TV's and Twinkie boxes that still had price tags on them. Logan turned back to look at Peter who was still playing his game. "Well, only if you get caught,"

"So, what's in it for me?" Peter asked, keeping his eyes glued to the game screen.

"You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon," Charles informed, taking off his sunglasses to wipe his eyes.

This promise piqued Peter's interest, he stopped playing the game and turned around to face them.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter questioned.

"Because we're just like you," Logan said plainly, keeping his arms folded.

"Show him," Charles told Logan.

Logan raised his fist up, slowly, three bone claws poked through his skin and grew between his fingers.

Peter grimaced before nodding, "That's cool, but disgusting,"

~~~x~~~

"Built in 1943, the Pentagon is the world's largest office building," The tour guide began her routine. Charles, Hank, and Logan walked together in a large tourist group. "Housing more than 25,000 military employees stretched out over six million square feet,"

"Where's the bathroom?" a little boy near the front asked.

"He always need to pee!" the little boy's sister groaned.

"Well, lucky for you, you'll have plenty to choose from. The building was constructed during the segregation so..."

Logan and Charles quickly slip away from the tour guide, throwing their visitor's passes in a bin at the bottom of the stairs they went down. While Peter went away earlier to break Erik out. Hank stayed with the group and as discreetly as he could, pulled out a small a radio monitor twisting a couple switches—to interfere with the security camera signals. When activated, it would cut all the signals in the Pentagon, canceling the security footage and show Sanford & Son on the screens.

Logan and Charles climbed several flights of stairs until they finally reach door to the Pentagon kitchen. Signaling for Hank to set off the fire alarm sprinklers causing water to sprinkle down on the staff and them. Charles began speaking right away.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is a Code Red situation. We are evacuating the entire floor...so that my associates and I...can, uh, secure the prison..." Charles finished, and Logan sent him a 'what the hell?' look, but all the kitchen staff immediately left, leaving only two guards to deal with.

"Who are you?" One of the guards asked, advancing on them.

'We're special operations, CB...FB-CID..." Charles was getting flustered. "Perhaps you didn't hear me when first I spoke...but it is imperative that you understand... we're in a complete lock down situation. We have to get you to the third floor..."

Logan getting frustrated with Charles' rambling, rolled his eyes before taking charge of the situation. He walked forward to the guards, grabbing a frying pan on his way and punched one guard in his gut before smashing the pan on the other guard's leg then slapping him with it, knocking him out cold. Logan used the pan again on the guard that was doubled over and smashed the pan against his arm, throwing over a cart of food.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you finished?" Logan asked Charles sarcastically.

He stared at him in shock for a few seconds before shaking his head and grabbing the key to the lift from one of the guards.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, looking up to meet Logan's eyes. "I'm just not very good with violence," he declared, as the elevator doors opened.

Revealing someone Charles never thought he'd see again...Erik.

Erik looked at his old friend in shock, "Charles?" he asked in surprise.

Charles looked at him for a second before his face scrunched up, fiery with anger, and he launched a blow into the other man's face. Charles was no fighter though and ended up stumbling into the corner of the lift.

"Good to see you too, old friend," Erik commented, as he wiped at his sore lip. "And walking." He noted.

"No thanks to you!" Charles snarled.

"You're the last person in the world I expected to see today," Erik stated truthfully.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to," he informed the man. He quickly advanced on him. "If we get you out of here, we do it my way. No killing," Charles demanded.

Erik nodded unfazed, "No helmet," he said, tapping his head. "I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted," Erik reminded.

"I am never getting inside that head again. I need your word, Erik," Charles pressed.

Erik nodded his head slightly, not knowing the truth that Charles had lost his powers. Once there silent agreement was established between the two of them they turned to walk out of the lift. Before they could even leave they were surrounded by six security guards, aiming their guns at the intruders who broke into the Pentagon.

"Nobody move! Hold it right there!" an officer shouted.

"Charles," Erik called, turning to his friend.

"Don't move! Hands up, or we will shoot!" another ordered.

"Freeze them Charles!" Erik instructed him.

"I can't," Charles admitted bitterly.

Erik's face dropped, looking at his old friend then faced forward with a look of determination. Suddenly, all the metal in the room began to vibrate.

"No!" Charles cried, as the metal rose into the air causing the guards to fire their guns.

Logan held up his hand and his bone claws began to protrude from his knuckles. While Peter put on his goggles and slid on his headphones and began to zip around the room. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion compared to the pace that Peter was moving. He knocked some guards' hats off, poked another one's cheek as he ran along the wall. He set one of the officer's fist right beside his own face, so he'd knock himself out. He pulled a plate out of the air and sent it flying across the room. He gave two men a wedgies and raced back to move the bullets fired from the officers guns from their targets. He raised them slightly above everyone's head and stood back in his place.

Erik was the first to recover from the shock of everything that had just happened. They all looked around in complete confusion. Charles looked at the young man who was smiling at them. Charles made his way through the kitchen and out the door without even a second glance. Erik looked down at Logan's claws for a moment, and followed Charles out.

Logan nodded, "Thanks, kid," he said, patting Peter on the shoulder as he passed.

He grinned and jogged to catch up with everyone. The mutants left the Pentagon building as quickly as they could. Hank stood outside with the car, waiting for them to return. He started the car immediately as soon as he saw everyone, once the five men were seated in the car Hank took off from the parking lot.

"So, that's it then? Right?" Peter asked, looking at the older mutants.

"Still gotta get Claudia," Hank replied, focusing on the road.

"Get?" Erik echoed, before glancing at Charles. "I was wondering why the lovely Claudia was strangely absent from your side," he stated.

Charles' lips formed into a thin line, "It's a long story that I rather not delve into right now," he complained, narrowing his eyes at Erik. "I hope either of you remember seeing her address in the phone book, because I don't," he said.

"Well, that's the thing, I didn't see a Claudia Walker listed," Logan responded, frustration lining his forehead. "We have no way of finding her." He added.

Hank began to shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat which Charles noticed, frowning he slowly leaned forward in his seat.

"What is it, Hank?" Charles asked, sensing something was off.

Hank was most definitely hiding something, and it was setting Charles on edge slightly. Even Logan seemed to pick this up and looked curiously at him.

"Charles..." Hank called. "How angry would you be if I told you I had Claudia's address...for several years now?"

Chapter Five: A Summer Place

[ssa-thotchnerr]

Nerve Gas - Chapter One

Word Count: 1500 words

Warnings: Violence, swearing, angry!hotch, angst, saw references

A/N: lmao this was legit only supposed to be a one shot but welcome to the SAW series!

—

"Y/N, I know that you're mad at me, but just...answer your phone? I won't be mad at you, I just wanna know that you're alright,"

Hotch sighed as he threw his phone down on the desk in front of him. You'd stormed out after an argument about your midterm grades that the school had sent your dad, he wasn't too happy with your grades, to which you blamed it on stress from both him and school before you left. And now?

It seemed like you were off the grid completely.

"Still nothing?" Prentiss asked, standing at the doorway of Hotch's office. He looked up at her and saw the look on her face, she looked sorry.

"Zip," He said, looking back at his phone as if he could manifest you picking up your phone and calling him back. "Judging but that look on your face I have a feeling that there's something you wanna tell me?" Emily nodded.

"Yeah, Garcia located Ben Rogers, he's at the old Wilson Steel factory," She told him. Hotch nodded as he he stood up, taking his phone with him just in case you did call.

"And she's positive she's got him this time?" Hotch asked Emily.

"Positive"

—

You let out a groan as you woke up, a sickly yellow light barely illuminated the room you were in. As you looked around, you saw 4 other people in the room with you, none of them you knew.

It felt as though you couldn’t remember what you knew.

You pushed yourself up the wall and onto your feet, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not alert the intimidating looking people around you.

"What's this, house arrest?" One of the women asked, another one was pacing around in the corner opposite your own.

"No, this is far worse than any jail you could even think of," Someone said. Looking up, you saw a man standing at the door, trying to open it. "Shit, it's locked." He said, making another futile attempt to rattle the door open, the noise making you screw your face up

"Look, people must be watching us," The other woman said, pointing up at the camera in the corner, the red glow of its lens catching your attention. "Hey! Let us out!" She yelled. You looked over at her and shook your head, hiding your face in your hands as you tried to take in what was actually going on, since you weren’t quite sure that it had hit you yet.

"Do you really think that they're gonna help us? The person on the other side of the camera's probably the person that got us here on the first place," You said, stepping back as everyone in the room looked at you weirdly.

"Oh yeah? How'd you know that?" The last man asked. You looked around at everyone else, they looked at you with suspicion in their eyes, like you were part of some masterplan.

Oh yeah, because you, a small 15 year old of average intelligence could be able to think of something as elaborate as this. And anyway, why would you put yourself through this?

"I don't know, it was just an idea," You mumbled, a scowl on your face as you looked around. In the wooden crate beside you, you caught a glimpse of a tape player inside of it, you reached in to grab it, glimpsing at the key hanging on to the bottom of the ancient device. "And whoever put us in here needs a reality check into the 21st century." You said, pulling it out and pressing the play button. The small tape inside begun to spin, a voice coming from it as it played.

"Hello and welcome. I am confident that you are all wondering where you are. I can tell you that, while your location is not of great importance, what these walls offer for you is important: salvation... if you earn it. Three hours from now, the door to this house will open. Unfortunately, you only have two hours to live. Right now, you are breathing in a deadly nerve agent. You've been breathing it since you arrived here.

You looked up at the ceiling grate above you and stepped away from it to try and avoid the glass that would inevitably be entering your lungs anyway.

"The only way to overcome it and walk out that door is to find an antidote. Several are hidden around this house. One is inside the safe in front of you. You all possess the combination to the safe. Think hard. The numbers are in the back of your mind. Once you realize what you all have in common, you will be in a better understanding of why you're here. X marks the spot for that crucial clue. Let the game begin."

One of the men aggressively stepped towards you, you took a step back, only to come into contact with the wall behind you. You yelped as he pushed you against the wall roughly, your head bouncing as it smacked against the concrete behind you.

"How'd you know how to find that?" He growled, his hands having a bruising grip on your shoulders, making you wince as you tried to get away from him.

"It was in the box," You told him, shaking as he gripped you harder. “H-Here, take-take it.” You stuttered, flinching back when he grabbed the tape recorder and the key attached to the bottom of it.

“What are you doing?” One of the girls asked, watching as he lunged towards the door and shoved the key in, desperate to escape from the room you were all entrapped in. As he twisted it, it must have been connected to a mechanism, because a shot from a gun behind the door went off. You screamed as his body turned around, a bloody hole in his head where his eye used to be. You used to think that you would know what to do in this situation, especially with your dads line of work. You thought you’d be able to be brave and take charge, be a superhero and save the day just like your dad. But you were wrong, so, so wrong.

But hey, you knew what you wanted now.

You wanted your dad.

-

“Do not even think about moving, Rogers,” Derek called out to the figure sitting on the chair. Ben Rogers smirked as he looked up at the FBI agents, a sick, twisted, malicious grin, aimed at one SSA Hotchner. “Cuff him, take him back to Quantico.” Derek said.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to stay here, Agent Morgan,” Ben said. Derek, Hotch and Emily were in charge of the case, and they were the only ones at the building. “And besides, I’m sure you’ll be much busier with the other problem that should be much more concerning than little old me.” He said, nodding over to the sheet covering a row of computer monitors in the security office. The three kept a watchful eye on Rogers, despite knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. He was stuck on an IV drip and looked half alive. As they entered the room, Emily pulled the sheet away from the monitors, Derek flipping the switch on and watching as they whirred to life.

“Hotch,” Emily said, getting his attention. Hotch furrowed his eyebrows as he loooked at the monitor in front of him, hearing your voice coming from the speaker made his stomach dropped.

“Y/N,” Hotch breathed out. “Call Garcia.” He ordered, marching back into the room to see Ben sitting with that same twisted grin on his face.

“Hotch, be careful,” Derek warned him. Hotch briefly turned back to nod at him, but he felt too overcome with anger, this was the very man who’d kidnapped his daughter.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch asked, placing his hands on the table and staring down the man in front of him.

“That was your daughter, Y/N, you know her, don’t you?” Ben asked, tilting his head at Hotch. Hotch let out a scoff as he shook his head.

“Of course I know who she is, now tell me where the hell she is!” Hotch yelled angrily. Derek called Garcia while Emily stood outside, watching through the window.

“She’s in a safe place, Mr. Hotchner, no need to worry,” Ben said, shaking his head and smiling. “Well, I made a bit of a mistake there. You do have to worry. You see, Y/N has about 2 hours before the deadly gas she’s breathing in in that house begins to close off her airways and cause a very, very painful death. And there will be blood.”

—

Taglist - Open!

@psych0crybaby @laiba-the-person

[ghostly-writers]

Ok so these will be two fanfics in on both based of fan-art by Abrlik so let’s get started

First story: run Bunny

Nicky ran as fast as he could through the complex house. It’s many doors could either lead you to the kitchen or to certain death. Nicky held the crowbar in one hand and a key in the other he tried to scramble through the window but failed miserably as he fell flat on his face and blood started to dribble down his face in a thick line staining his shirt slightly. He half heartedly wiped it away with the back of his hand and kept trying to climb out the window his foot got caught multiple times. “Hey!” Nicky’s blood ran cold he twisted his head round and saw it two emerald green staring straight into his soul. “ H-hey n-neighbour” he stuttered out. He felt a sharp tug on the back of his shirt he gagged as he was pulled back into his neighbours chest “well” he started a vice like grip on Nicky’s shirt to keep him from bolting. Nicky scratched and scraped at the hand in a desperate attempt to get away. “God your like a bunny all jumpy and quick… wait bunny”. He suddenly grinned evilly and grabbed Nicky’s chin so he was now looking him straight in the eyes and smiled again “ I have an idea”. He walked through the house dragging Nicky behind him Nicky struggled and begged to be let go Theodore ignored him and dragged him upstairs letting Nicky hang limply behind him. Each step was pain as his legs thumped against the wooden stairs. Nicky felt himself being thrown into a room and onto a bed he watched dumbfounded as his enemy started looking through an old tattered box that was positioned inside the wardrobe at the other end of the room he saw photos and shoes and a few dresses placed on the bed next to him then finally he seemed to find what he was looking for he smiled as he held up a tattered pink bunny suit! Nicky's mouth hung open in horror he was going to wear that! “I know exactly what your thinking and yes you are going to wear this” he grabbed Nicky’s ankle as soon as he realized he was about to bolt and forced his legs into the suit than his arms and finally zipped it up. Nicky stared at Theodore with hatred his hands were in a pair of mittens attached to the suit to make as if he had ‘paws’ .“Now don't you just look adorable!” Nicky growled at Theodore. “ I'm not cute and if you don't get me out of this then I'll shove one of my paws up your a-” he was cut off as a fake carrot was shoved in his mouth Nicky's protests were muffled as he tried to say something. “ this was my wife's Diane we dressed up as a bunny and a carrot farmer for easter and you fit it well.” Theodore clicked his fingers and searched through the box and found what he was looking for a sweater a lot like his own except this one was a deep brown and had a cartoon carrot on the front he replaced his normal blue sweater with this one, smiling happily. He picked up a camera and pointed it at Nicky .“Come on bunny smile for the camera” he smiled at Nicky. Spat out the carrot and gave him a grimace he bared his teeth his cheeks were dusted lightly with a pink blush. “ I played you little game now what,” Nicky said after the photo was taken. Theodore placed a finger on his chin and complemented what do next “ well since your so cute as a bunny why don’t you keep it on. Nicky’s balled his fists and growled at Theodore. He felt a carrot pushed against his cheek and Theodore horsley laughing .“What’s wrong Nicholas did the bunny not get enough carrots?”

Second story: smile Nicky please!

“Come on Nicky sweetheart just one photo and that’s it I promise” begged Luanne. She held the family’s polaroid camera in one hand and attempted to reason with Nicky with the other “please Narf one photo then we can go home I’ll get you ice cream”. Nicky crossed his arms and let out a frustrated huff he turned away from both his parents and let out a stubborn “ No”. Nicky was dressed in an itchy brown sweater that had a cartoon reindeer on the front his mum had picked out because it made him look ‘adorable’. Tangled in his messy hair was a pair of fake plastic reindeer antlers, the paint was peeling off and was falling into his hair. He wore a pair of elf shoes that had tiny silver on the end that jingled when he walked. Jay sighed and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "One photo with Santa ok?"

Nicky didn't want to but to get his parents off his back he would do it. He hesitantly walked past the fake candy canes and elves. The screaming and crying, toddlers that littered the floor and approached the man in the white and red suit. A kind-looking woman came to Nicky with a wide grin on her face she was dressed in a green button-up shirt with white and green socks that came up to her knee caps and her hat has an obnoxious golden bell on the end that jingled with each step she also wore a green skirt that had red baubles on the end. Her brown hair fell over her face as she talked to Nicky. She looked as if she had fallen into a box of Christmas decorations. Nicky had to suppress a laugh. “Come on honey are you ready to meet Santa?” Nicky looked back at his parents who mouthed ‘please’ Nicky sighed and looked back at the women and nodded. She gently took his hand and led him up the red carpet to we're ‘Santa’ was but when he saw who it was he almost choked laughing. His neighbour

Mr Peaterson was sat there just finished talking to a spoiled little girl who has just wished for a pony. As soon as she left his wide grin fell and he turned to scowl at the elf. “Who’s next?” The sweet women motioned towards Nicky Theodore's eyes lit up as if to say. ‘Oh this will be good.’ He suddenly had a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face Nicky could see behind the eyes though that he was trying not to laugh. Nicky hid behind the women leg who gently patted him on the head .“There's no need to be nervous sweetie Santa won't hurt you". Nicky shook his head but the elf took his hand and walked him towards his neighbour when he was close enough Theodore lifted him up onto his lap and lent very close “have you been a good little boy or a naughty one?” Nicky gulped nervously “I-i-ve b-been g-good.” Theodore's smile spread wider he pointed at Nicky's mum and dad “come on Rudolf smile for mommy and daddy”. He squeaked Nicky fake nose and attempted to make Nicky smile. “I'm not smiling” Nicky grumpily said. Theodore pushed the corner of Nicky's mouth up in an attempt to make him smile, Luanne quickly snapped a photo of Nicky sitting on his sworn enemies lap. After the photo was taken Theodore was unable to contain it anymore and let out a wheezing laugh. Nicky scowled at him and growled out. “Keep laughing and I will tell my parents you tried to touch me there” this ‘threat’ only made him laugh harder. “You wouldn't” he said between wheezing. After he was done he slid Nicky off his lap and stared at him right in the eyes “Merry Christmas Rudolf!” Nicky was about to say something when his mum grabbed him by the hand and led him away from the still laughing man. “ there's the next Christmas card!”

Present time

Theodore sat laughing as he held the photo for Nicky to see. “ I told you I still had this photo” Nicky scowled at Theodore a bright blush on his face “ don't.you.dare!”

[1kook]

acatalepsy

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡

chapter summary; Since the appearance of the entity the world he knew had begun to dismantle itself. Societies they had spent centuries building up crumbling in the mere span of a few weeks. He hadn’t seen a person in almost a month now, and the first ones he did see almost beat and humiliated him to death. He can’t be blamed for his pessimistic outlook. overall warnings; gorey scenes, depictions of death, appearance of weapons, survival!au, apocalypse!au, super l o o s e bird box!au (no birds - jk is the bird 👀), eventual smut, dark and angsty, character death chapter specifics; depictions of death, depictions of animal dissection, fall of society, otherworldly entities, appearance of weapons, assault of main character, mentioned acts of self-sacrifice, brief nudity wc; 8.2k

notes; yes this is dark and sad BUT it’s the introductory part where I have to dump all this info on u guys so u understand later hehe enjoy, all feedback is welcome !!!

special thanks to; rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) my amazing proof reader and editor🥺 i would be in a ditch without her ...

When Jungkook was in his last year of primary school, his class had been tasked with the very grown up job of caring for the school’s pet rabbit. It was a fuzzy brown ball that lived in a wooden cage, built along the side of their communal garden; a little on the overweight side, a fact that greatly confused the school. As far as his classmates and teachers were concerned, the rabbit ate its regularly scheduled two meals during school hours, an additional serving given to him by the night custodian. A scan through the cameras proved that no one broke into the primary school lot after hours, no one was unnecessarily feeding the rabbit. So there was really no reason for the rabbit to be as big as it was.

But Jungkook knew better.

The rabbit, as endearing and angelic as it appeared, was an intelligent creature that had wormed its way through a loose board on the side of his cage, sneaking into the neighboring garden frequently to munch through their cherry tomatoes. It always did so when it knew no one was around, save for the day Jungkook had seen it, the two of them caught in a staring battle that had both parties grappling for a way out.

Jungkook had never snitched.

He simply pocketed that little secret for himself to laugh about when his mind drifted too far from the material on the chalkboard. He remembered the tiny twitch of its nose as it regarded Jungkook. Its eyes were two dark marbles, no signs of the milky white that Jungkook had, zeroed in on Jungkook’s frozen figure. In the moment, Jungkook was amazed by its cunning nature, even more so by the way it had come to recognize him, repeatedly showing off his little trick whenever it was Jungkook’s turn to clean his cage. He slipped to and from the garden with ease, as if he trusted Jungkook to carry this secret to the grave.

He did, and when he graduated from primary school into secondary school, he often found himself wondering what that sneaky rabbit was up to then. Had it been discovered? Had the adults caught wind of the rabbit’s thieving nature and patched up the board? He’d never know. All he knew was that rabbits were quite devious creatures. A cute exterior that hid a more complex personality.

It is probably why he doesn’t feel a single ounce of remorse now, dark brown fur clutched tightly between his knuckles, squeezing until the last breath escapes the small rodent. The memory flashes through his eyes, a glance into an innocence he will never have again. The rabbit thrashes in between his hands, muscular legs kicking wildly until finally, it falls still.

He should feel bad, he knows he should.

This animal had played a nostalgic role in his youth; for a brief moment, this rabbit had been a leading source of happiness for him. Its black eyes remain open, forever frozen on Jungkook during its last few moments. Jungkook should be disappointed in himself for ever harming such a creature, and he almost does, before he’s interrupted by the painful tightening of his insides contracting on an empty stomach.

So he pushes it away, choosing to rise to his feet instead, dead catch dangling in one hand.

The trek back to the gas station is lonely. When he crosses the street, there is no angry driver to honk at him for not checking both ways, or a jogger rudely bumping into his shoulder. The street is empty just like the rest of the town.

Jungkook imagines it was probably like this before anyway. It’s practically in the middle of nowhere, this place he finds himself in, just another unimpressionable name on a map that Jungkook’s probably never heard of. There’s a main street lined with essentials—a diner, a car shop, and this gas station—and a few tiny homes littered behind it. It was one of those places his family would drive through on their way to see a far-off family member or as a stop on a road trip.

Either way, it looks exactly like the handful of towns he’s been through, all small and empty just like this. At least in the city there was variety, there was excitement. The most exciting thing Jungkook sees these days is the occasional deer.

The bell above the door chimes when Jungkook enters, not that there is anyone it would have alerted of his presence. It’s empty just like the rest of the town. Well, kinda. There’s a body in the women’s restroom that had scared the shit out of Jungkook when he first arrived, had left him trembling in shock for about an hour before he was able to go back and tug the stall door shut.

He finds them occasionally, the undeserving victims of an evil he will never understand. Each encounter wears him down, until eventually he feels no emotion toward them at all. They were bodies, he tells himself, nothing else.

How they ended up like that is another story in itself.

Truthfully, Jungkook isn’t completely sure how it happened, but he remembers when it started.

He remembers the cacophony of laughter that had filled their club bus, some corny Top 50 song filling the speakers, as they had celebrated another win that would push them further up the league ranks. His feet were sore from all the running they’d done on the pitch that day, and he was hungry as hell. Luckily they’d been on their way to their favorite celebratory diner, ready to suck the place dry of its Cherry Coke and bottomless fries the same way they did every other Saturday after a victory.

Jungkook’s coach had pulled him aside shortly before they arrived and had mentioned the possibility of Jungkook becoming the team’s captain next season. He had been ecstatic at the news, immediately pulling his phone out to call his dad.

His hand stills on the counter where the dead rabbit is limply sprawled across. He can’t remember where the switchblade he’d opened last week was, so he stomps to the other end of the shop, snatching another one off a rack. The only problem then is the zip tie that binds the blade to the cardboard display sheet. It doesn’t give when he tugs at it, and with a growing sense of irritation, Jungkook realizes he doesn’t know where the scissors are either. Before he can get too down on himself for misplacing things again, he angrily tears at the tie, loops two fingers on opposite ends. The skin on his palms pales at the pressure, and one mighty tug later has the tie snapping apart.

There. Now he could skin the rabbit in peace.

His dad answered on the second ring, immediately launching into a congratulatory song. Jungkook’s parents watched all his games, sometimes from the sidelines, sometimes through a TV. They were his biggest fans, the same people who had first enrolled him into summer little league watching him grow into the leading scorer of his city’s club.

The first chorus had just ended when the coach bus began swerving, the men stumbling across the aisle as it became apparent it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Their manager had shouted first, snapped at them to find their seats, before lurching forward to the driver’s seat to presumably stabilize the vehicle. An effort made in vain when the bus flipped. It had almost happened in slow motion, Jungkook recalls, the two turns of the bus, ultimately skidding to a stop on its side, ramming straight into a light pole.

The initial shock had lasted for a few beats, the pained groans from his teammates around him slowly filtering back into his ringing ears. Some of them had panicked right away, choked gasps as they struggled to breathe. Dongmin was the first to get up, jamming the emergency window open on the side of the bus that wasn’t flush to the pavement.

Immediately, Jungkook knew something was very wrong.

Outside there were terrified screams from all around, the telltale shriek of car brakes working hard, the eerie wailing of weather sirens. Was it a storm? A quake? Jungkook didn’t know as he climbed out of the wreckage, taking Mingyu’s hand as he hopped off the side of their bus.

The ears are cut off first.

Two, silky appendages that don’t stand a chance against the blade. Without them, Jungkook finds the rabbit looks funnily enough like an otter. But with the separation of the ears comes an unsettling feeling in Jungkook’s chest as he falters.  

He’s never killed a rabbit before, but he has killed a handful of birds these past few weeks. He imagines the process is the same. With the birds, one quick twist of the neck made them go limp, their feathers easily falling away. With the rabbit, Jungkook only remembers the rapid thumping of its hind legs and the soft texture of its ears.

He didn't particularly care for the birds—and he probably never would. The rabbit, his memories remind him, is a different story.

There was neither a storm nor a quake that had brought upon this chaos. Whirling around, there was no imminent attack occurring, no invasion, that could cause all these people to suddenly lose all semblance of normalcy.

There was a woman beside a fire hydrant, an abandoned stroller flipped on its side. A bundle of fabric in her arms cried loudly, nearly drowning out her own tears as she begged for her life. From what? There was nothing attacking her, nothing threatening her and her child. But the longer Jungkook watched, the more distraught she became, until eventually, her eyes cleared over. Her screaming stopped, though the baby’s continued. She began ramming her head face-first against the metal of the hydrant, blood gushing down over her eyes.

Jungkook and his teammates had stood by in horror, watched her bash her head in until she fell back lifelessly, the child on her chest wailing before a sight it would never understand.

It was Jaehyun who had urged them to move the second time, pulled him away from the scene before them.

With every stride he took, he was rewarded with similar scenes. All around him the chaos spread, people being infected with this, this madness, Jungkook supposed.

They’d stepped out of their cars in a daze, eyes clouded over before taking their own lives in a multitude of ways. It was a disturbing scene to watch, one that spurred Jungkook to run faster and faster, until he bumped into the back of a teammate that had been running before him. He remembers the shout he’d let out, frustratedly scolding the man for stopping now of all times. He was their main striker, could run faster than anyone else on the team, yet here he was, frozen stiff.

Then, slowly, he’d turned around. Jungkook had watched as if behind a glass wall, watched a man he had played alongside with for years saunter over to where the railing of the highway began. His face was devoid of any fear, almost peaceful, as he climbed over.

Jungkook coughs, the overwhelming stench of animal blood flooding his nostrils. This is always the most difficult part for him, trying to overcome the initial putrid stench as he slices the animal open with one clean cut down its ventral side. When he does, one of the rabbit’s hind legs surprises him by twitching.

He vaguely remembers learning this in a high school anatomy class. Something about the stiffening of muscles after death. Rigor mortis? He’s not really sure, pushing the leg to lay flat against the table gently. He lets out a humorless snort, like this animal needed this type of caring treatment now.

The wail Jungkook had let out had wrenched itself from the depths of his soul, and he fell to the ground in horror at the scene he’d just witnessed. His forehead touched the rough pavement beneath him, body trembling as his mind struggled to process the world around him. As he did so, a strong gust of wind whipped around him, the mania around him increasing as it went. It fluttered through the cotton of his tracksuit, tickled his skin as it went, until eventually disappearing.

He had either laid there for seconds or hours. Jungkook wasn’t sure. Dongmin had been the one that had finally hauled him to his feet, grip deathly tight around his wrist as he pulled him along.

They ran and ran, until the forest outside the city came to view. He didn’t want to look back, in fear that whatever had possessed those people would get him too. He was out of breath and lost, caught up in the whirlwind of whatever those things were that made people lose their minds. He was comforted by the fact Dongmin was there. Mingyu and Jaehyun, too. He was too afraid to ask where the others were.

There’s a hot dog cooker on the counter, thick with years of grease. The overhead heating lamp takes a moment to flicker to life, and when Jungkook decides it’s stable, he tosses his lunch onto it, watches the pink meat roll back and forth.

He could use the sacks of coal littered along the back aisle to start a real fire, the prongs and tools above them, but that was too much work.

They had done fine for a while, aimlessly traveling about in search of help. But after the first town they realized whatever happened that day in the city wasn’t an isolated event. The entity had scoured through this town too, leaving bodies in its wake at a smaller scale compared to what had happened in the city, but just as horrific. They were a fleeting creature, whatever they were, that confronted people with their greatest fears. Infected them with a madness, as Jungkook has grown to call it, so twisted and gruesome that it drove people insane. After infecting every person with the madness they’d leave. They seldom returned, most likely content with the way they left things.

From Jungkook’s understanding, the entity was a singular being that felt like a thousand. It could easily spread over large places, infect everyone with the madness at once, but that would be too easy. It took pleasure in catching people one by one, focusing its powers to properly torture each individual to the fullest.

Their little gang had gotten along fairly okay after that realization, their own natural abilities supporting each other. Dongmin led them, mostly because he was the only one among them with a sense of direction. Jungkook knew which way was what only when the sun rose and set. During the day he was clueless. Dongmin always knew which way was north or south, east or west, regardless of the time of day.

Mingyu and Jaehyun had been the brawns of the group, muscular bodies lifting fallen signs from in front of shop entrances, wrenching car doors open. There wasn’t a place they couldn’t get into. They were quick to barricade buildings they slept in, even better at dismantling them. Without them, Jungkook thinks they’d have starved early on.

As for Jungkook, well. Jungkook had a special ability under his belt—he could sense the entity before the others. It was difficult to explain such a feeling, but he knew he had it because he’d saved them many a time. Sure, the tell-tale gust of wind alerted them of the entity entering their little circle, but that was useless. Once the entity was there, they didn’t go away until they completed whatever fucked up mission they had.

It was a tickling on the back of his neck, the faint feeling of never being alone that Jungkook felt, usually a few minutes before they appeared. It was like the uncomfortable silence of a concert hall, the voices all echoey and distorted. It awoke an animalistic reaction in Jungkook, one that would have him shoving his friends into a pile of dead bodies.

Whatever it was, they didn’t distinguish well between those alive and those, well, not alive. Tricking them was by no means a simple feat, but it certainly did save them a few times, even if Jungkook was forced to lie face to face with an unmoving figure, stare into the horrified gaze of someone who was taken too soon.

Overall the four of them together were a great team. Well, were. It's been a couple weeks now since they’d gotten separated. Since he got separated, watched their retreating forms head down to a lake to bathe. He had been reckless, forgot about the feeling behind his neck until it was too late, the window shutters of the motel they’d taken shelter in suddenly flailing wildly.

He remembers dropping to the ground with shut eyes, cupping his hands over his ears as the sinister presence of the entity surrounded him, trying to get inside his head. He had suffered through it for twenty minutes, quietly sobbing against the motel’s ugly green carpet.

Just as he’d resigned himself to the same painful death he’d seen so many others fall prey to, he’d heard Mingyu’s harsh laughter, the soft chattering of voices, as his friends returned to the motel.

He knew what he had to do then, desperate to save his friends from suffering through this same, undeserved pain.

So Jungkook did the same thing they’d been doing until then: he ran.

Blindly at first, arms feeling around for the door, for his coat. The pavement of the single road that passed through this town had been smooth, his ratty shoes slapping hard against it. He could feel the tears squeezing out from his screwed eyelids, the air that whipped at his face with every step he took. The entity had followed him for hours, whispering in his ear, caressing his skin.

He’s not sure how long he ran, how long he wished it would all end, as he listened to those twisted visions. Jungkook just knows that one moment he was running, and the next he was falling, tumbling into a small stream filled with cold water that soaked him to the bone.

Beneath the water, all sound was distorted. He couldn’t hear the entity, nor sense its all-consuming presence. And when Jungkook had broken through the surface, gasping for air, he couldn’t feel it there either.

In his paranoia, he had sat there for an hour, routinely dunking his head in and out until he was brave enough to open his eyes again.  

That had been weeks ago. Jungkook’s great escape from the entity feels so far away now, he thinks, idly watching the meat roll over the hot dog cooker. It’ll be hours before it’s cooked safely, but Jungkook will probably grow impatient and eat it before. Whatever, he thinks, settling against a plastic chair behind the counter. The cash box is unlocked, a multitude of bills sitting out in the open. Jungkook flips through them, figures they’re pretty useless now.

If the entity had been able to dismantle a city as populous as the one Jungkook had lived in, the one he had spent his whole life in, he imagines it’s done it again. After all, the towns he’s crossed through until this point were all devoid of life.

He’d like to wash his hands after touching all that money, but he knows none of the water lines in this town work. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a shower or cleaned himself. The old clean freak in him was suffering.

He’s just about settled in for a nap when he hears something.

It’s quiet at first, a faint humming from outside. As it grows closer it becomes louder, until Jungkook can distinguish the sounds of chattering somewhere down the street. Shit, he panics. He’ll never be able to say why exactly the thought of meeting other people terrifies him, but it does. He slinks down behind the counter, glancing at the emergency exit that leads to the dumpsters behind the gas station.

He shifts over slowly, ears perked like the rabbit’s. The voices grow closer, and when the bell over the door rings, Jungkook uses the opportunity to shuffle completely across the floor.

There’s a ball of nerves caught in his throat as he listens to these people come in, though it will never match up to the fear that the entity instills in him. They move around the shop, picking up things as they go. There’s a relaxed tone to their words, like they’re the least bit worried about whatever horror awaits them, just another group of friends stopping by a convenience store.

In another life, he’d feel drawn to such a group. He was a somewhat shy kid in high school, too focused on his training to truly make friends. Not that he didn’t have any; the soccer team had always been his friends. Jungkook could always count on them, young boys and men who were there for him at the lowest points in his career. College had been the same, and by the time he made it into the league nothing much had changed.

After being separated from his friends now, he doesn’t see the point in making new ones. They were all going to die anyway.

When he places his hand on the doorknob, the metal releases an obnoxiously loud creak. Jungkook freezes, as do the people on the other side of the counter. The longest second of his life passes, breath caught in his throat as he waits for them to brush it off, letting him escape into the forest behind him in peace.

They eventually do, conversations picking up albeit more quietly than before. Jungkook exhales, tightens his hand around the knob as he turns it. It doesn’t make a sound.

But when Jungkook nudges the door open, the opposing air on both ends emits a popping noise, and that sets the group off. “What was that?” One of them barks, and before they can find him, Jungkook is flinging the door open, all reservations thrown aside as he stumbles into the forest.

He tears through the initial overgrowth of bushes behind the gas station, stumbling into the dirt. Faceless voices are shouting behind him, their hurried footsteps jumping over the counter in their attempt to grab him.

Fuck, why were they chasing him? Why couldn’t they just let him leave? He wasn’t the entity they feared, he was just some guy trying to live.

He runs for about twenty yards, but the tree line nearest to the town is thin, and he doesn’t doubt they can see him out in plain sight. He needs to lose them and fast. Running a few more meters, he dives into a thicket of bushes. If he curls himself up small enough, maybe they won’t see the glimpses of his blue tracksuit from above.

He knows it’s stupid, thinking the distance will delude them into thinking he was farther or closer, but what else can Jungkook do? Literally nothing. He hugs his knees to his chest, slows his breathing as they come up closer.

“Where’d he go?” One of them shouts a few meters ahead of him.

Jungkook holds his breath, listens to their dragging footsteps against the forest floor. They pad around for a few minutes, probably sweeping over the tree line in search of him. One of them comes scarily close to his hiding spot, and through the gaps in the flora, Jungkook can see a knife strapped around their thigh. Eventually, they seem to congregate a little further away from him, quiet murmurs as they pronounce him gone.

Jungkook nearly cries in relief when they begin marching away.

He celebrates too soon. 

“You alright?” One of them calls to another, and a long beat of silence follows. Jungkook wonders if they got injured, hurt themselves in their hurry to catch him, but he finds he doesn’t really care anyway. Just as that selfish thought hits, so does someone’s boot against his face.

Jungkook splutters, the iron taste of blood flooding his mouth as someone drags him out from the bush, the cold glare of a stranger greets his blurry vision. “Got ya,” he sneers, shoving Jungkook down to the ground. “Look what I found,” he calls to the others, and they all chatter excitedly at his find, swarming Jungkook’s body.  

A wave of emotion floods him one by one. First is the fear that tightens around his heart when he registers the guns in their hands, on their waists, or over their backs. The knife alone had startled Jungkook; the sight of an even more murderous weapon scared him shitless. Second is the confusion, similar to the one from earlier. Didn’t they recognize there were bigger, scarier evils out there to worry about? Why were they so bent on catching him, just another straggler as far as they were concerned. Lastly is overwhelming humiliation.

Here he was, pushed to the ground in front of a group of strangers who sneered and laughed at his trembling form. They were obviously amused by his discomfort. Jungkook never wanted to hide so bad in his life.

The one from before nudges him hard in the ribs, pulling a pained groan from Jungkook. “Who are you with?” He spits, narrowed eyes focused on Jungkook.

Jungkook flounders, weakly covering his body with his arms. “H-Huh?” He stutters, not understanding their question. Who was he with? Obviously no one. Why else would he be here hiding in the forest like a baby?

The man, who Jungkook assumes is their leader, doesn’t find his answer amusing it seems, as he digs the toe of his shoe against Jungkook’s side again, rough enough to fracture. “Who the fuck are you with?” He repeats. Jungkook flinches.

What is he supposed to say? No one, I’m alone and scared of whatever is out here. As if the man would understand. The glint in his eye tells Jungkook he won’t be gaining any sympathy points with that one.

Enraged with Jungkook’s lack of response, he begins raining down more painful blows against him. The others join in, kicking his quivering body until Jungkook is crying out, begging them to stop.

After all his grueling efforts running from the entity, he can’t believe he’s going to die at the hands of another human. Fate was cruel.

Just as he’s resigned himself to his shameful death, the crack of a gun bounces across the treeline, the whizzing of a bullet filling his ears. For a moment he thinks he’s been shot, body coiling up as his attackers slow to a stop.

But then one of them curses, hiking his weapon into his arms. “Fuck, where are they?”

“I don’t know!” Another responds, whirling away to scan over the area. With their attention turned away, Jungkook goes to escape, making a pitiful attempt at crawling away. “I don’t see anyone.”

The leader seethes at the reply. “Well, they’re fucking here.”

Jungkook doesn’t know who ‘they’ are or why this admittedly terrifying group of individuals is afraid of them, but he supposes he should be too. After all, whatever scared these folks was certain to petrify him.

Another gunshot sends them scrambling apart, the metal bullet digging into the wood of a tree just behind Jungkook. They all see it, his attackers sharing a look of unease amongst themselves. Finally, they seem to come to the same conclusion, gesturing for the leader to speak.

“Alright,” he shouts to no one in particular. “We get it. We’ll back off now.”

A pause, another shared look, before they slowly begin retreating in the direction of the gas station. Jungkook wants to follow them, despite how scary they are, because he’s even more terrified of whoever scared them off. When he leans up onto his elbow, one of them kicks it from under him, sending him face first into the soil.

They snicker as they leave. “Good luck with those bitches,” one of them jeers, gives him a wonderful parting gift by spitting in his face.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated, Jungkook stays put.

Maybe it’s better to let whoever is out there just end this for him now. He can’t believe his first interaction with people outside of his friends was this degrading, this disheartening. Why had he spent so much time running from the entity if this is what waited at the other end?

The rev of an engine starts up, and he watches in disgust as a Jeep full of assholes takes off down the road, hurling a multitude of insults his way one last time.

As if he didn't feel bad enough already.

So caught up in his depressing thoughts, he forgets about whoever scared them off in the first place, finally sitting up and dusting himself off. His already dirty tracksuit reeks from weeks of usage, the front now stained with blood. When he reaches up to wipe the spit off his face, he sees the dirt that crusts over the sleeve. Would anything ever go right for him?

Something moves to his left.

Jungkook pales, stills his movements as the shuffling continues, eventually registering in his ears as the harsh crunch of leaves under someone’s boot. His heart thunders in his chest, expecting another kick to the face, a shove to the ground. When a hand touches his shoulder he nearly sobs.

“It’s just a kid,” a gruff voice calls out, and the announcement has more people crawling out of obscure hiding places, more strangers appearing before him, until a new set of faces towers over him.

There’s not as many of them, only about six that surround him. The group from before easily outnumbered them two to one.

Amidst the people, one person maneuvers their way to the front, an inquisitive face that’s presence makes everyone step away from the claustrophobic half-circle they’ve formed around him. “Let me see,” the woman says, dropping down to a squat before him. She's got a pistol attached to her hip, a larger rifle slung over her back.

Her eyes flicker over Jungkook’s face, and his over hers. She’s got ethereal features, he thinks, that don’t match the automatic weapons decorating her body. Despite the protection she carries, Jungkook doesn’t feel the same crippling fear from before. In fact, there’s something comforting about the way she glances over him, over his bruised eye and bloody nose.

A hand taps his cheek, a tentative pat, as if she senses he’s not fully there. “Hey,” she greets carefully, meeting his gaze for the first time. “You okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. For many reasons, he was obviously not. Mentally, he was still as distressed as he was the first day the madness hit, since the entity appeared. He feels like he’s going insane from the weeks he’s spent wandering through a desolate world, alone and desperate for human interaction, a sort of self-induced madness of his own. He’s so afraid too, but he imagines she understands that. Physically, he doesn’t think he looks much better.

He wants to say, no, not really, those people made me feel more humiliated than I ever have in my entire life and I would like to go home now except my home doesn’t exist anymore and it probably never will.

In a monotone voice he replies, “just peachy.”

A couple of the people behind her snort, and her lips pull into a subtle smile.

“Well,” she claps, rising to her feet. “Glad to hear it.” She sticks out a hand for him. He stares at it like he’s never seen one before. She shakes it in his face, and he belatedly realizes he’s supposed to take it. She hauls him up with a strength Jungkook doesn’t expect, wiggles the sleeve of her dark sweatshirt down in a fruitless attempt to wipe the spit and blood from his face. He imagines it doesn’t do much, but it’s the thought that counts. “My name’s __,” you tell him, and he lets the name roll around his head as he stares deeply into your eyes.

Fifteen minutes ago Jungkook had given up on humanity as those psychos pummeled him into the earth.

He wonders if this is the universe’s way of apologizing to him.

“Jungkook,” he says breathlessly, eyes focused on your every feature, like if he blinks you’ll disappear from right in front of him. He’s partially convinced himself you’re a figment of his imagination, a reprieve his mind provided in these dark times, when you speak again.

“Jungkook,” you repeat; he doesn’t think anyone’s ever pronounced his name so beautifully before, but everything about you seems to be just that.

Vaguely, he remembers learning about this in some freshman psychology class. What was it called? Suspension bridge effect. Was he seeing you like this just because you’d saved him from a very dire situation? Probably. It’ll go away soon, he assures himself.

“Well, Jungkook,” you say, stepping back into the comfort of the group of people with you. The aura you emanate is the complete opposite of his attackers from earlier, despite the fact you’re nearly identical in appearance; dark clothing, utility boots, armed weapons. “Are you alone out here?” He barely remembers to nod. You hum, glancing at the man beside Jungkook who initially stepped out. “My friends and I have a place out here. Hidden from psychos like them,” you glare pointedly at the gas station obscured by the trees, “you’re welcome to come rest up there if you’d like.”

Unlike his attackers your group seems to travel on foot, carefully navigating through the forest like you’ve got it memorized. You stick him with the guy from before, a fellow named Taehyung who’s quite the chatterbox once Jungkook breaks through his serious exterior.

Before anything, Taehyung gives him a practiced speech detailing the horrors of the world right now, almost like he’s had to explain this to people before. Jungkook already knows it all, but still nods along politely to everything he says. The longer they walk, the more anxious he becomes.

Maybe following this pack of strangers back wasn’t the brightest idea, he begins to think. For all he knows you could be exactly the same as that original group of stragglers, luring him deeper into an unknown landscape to kill him. Part of him is disappointed in the negative progression of his thoughts, the lack of faith he has in his fellow human. But what else is he to do?

Since the appearance of the entity the world he knew had begun to dismantle itself. Societies they had spent centuries building up crumbling in the mere span of a few weeks. He hadn’t seen a person in almost a month now, and the first ones he did see almost beat and humiliated him to death. He can’t be blamed for his pessimistic outlook.

They walk through the forest until they reach a creek, a thin trickle of water that widens the further south they go, and continue flush against the water bed. Eventually, Jungkook begins to hear the bustle of more people, which immediately sets him on edge. Taehyung flashes him a wide smile that grows the closer they get to the noise.

His heart pounds in his chest, feels it in his ears.

Part of him is expecting an end to this long journey, maybe a bullet to the head or a knife to the chest. No matter how much he tries to convince himself that you and your friends are nice people, he can’t. He’s caught up in a whirlwind of anxieties, breaths growing more shallow and choked off, and by the time they finally stop walking, he’s nearly struggling to breathe, peering through the trees only to find—

A huddle of tents. A few wooden structures. Some kids kicking around a ball.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, and Jungkook flinches with a loud yelp. “This is Oleander,” you inform him, waving a hand over the tiny establishment.

Oleander.

He walks through the grounds with his shoulders pulled up damn near his ears, nervously glancing around at the people that wander by him. There’s about fifty of them—some older and some younger—that mill about, all greeting him politely. In his shock, their faces all blend together and he can’t tell one apart from another. The first face that his mind truly registers is that of a trustworthy man with a big smile.

Hoseok, you introduce him as before promptly disappearing.

Hoseok is the man who shows him around this Oleander place, walking him to and fro. He’s also the man who shows him to the creek about a hundred meters behind the Oleander base, as he calls it, watches over him as Jungkook scrubs weeks of grime off his skin.

Oleander, apparently, is a safe haven established by Hoseok and you. You make do by scavenging through nearby towns, occasionally sending groups of scavengers farther out. You’re accepting of all those who wish to escape from the entity, finding solace in a carefully secluded plot of land far from any signs of civilization; Strays, Hoseok refers to him and others like him as.

Beneath all the dirt, his skin is tender, soft, and pink. When he rises from the water, he’s extra careful of covering his privates with both hands. Hoseok says nothing of his nudity, tosses him a towel and new clothes, though he advises him to wash his smelly tracksuit anyway. The garments are similar in style to the ones everyone else on this base wears, a collection of muted browns and muddled greens that make him blend into the trees around him. The stained tennis shoes go back on his feet, because Hoseok doesn’t have anything else to offer him at the moment.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions about what this place is, so feel free to ask me!” Hoseok tells him when they get back, passing by the largest of the wooden structures that smells absolutely heavenly. Suddenly, he remembers the rabbit meat he left on the hotdog cooker. 

Jungkook’s mouth starts before his brain. “Why the tents?” He asks, watching people duck in and out of the shabby quarters. They’re camping tents, the same kind his dad used to rent on their family trips. He quickly pushes that memory away.

Hoseok answers his question. “Well, as you probably know, the Thing out there likes hitting up cities, towns. Anywhere with noticeable traces of life,” he explains. Jungkook nods. “This place is pretty empty as you can tell,” he says, gesturing towards the vast expanse of forest around them. “So we’re not too worried about it finding us here. But in the case that it does, however,” he shakes his head here, like he doesn’t even wanna imagine that possibility. “We gotta be ready to move everyone quickly.”

“It’ll follow you,” Jungkook blurts out, hates how negative he sounds telling a sunny man like Hoseok such news.

Hoseok doesn’t seem the least bit phased by Jungkook’s words. “Yeah, but,” he trails off, glancing over the grounds, until he finds what he’s looking for. “We have a secret weapon,” he sings, gestures towards where you’re standing by a group of kids trying to scale the side of a tree.

Now what did that mean? “A… woman?” He says tentatively, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re a funny guy, Jungkook,” he says, patting his back. “But no. We have someone here with a, let’s say, unique ability,” he explains. Jungkook blinks. Hoseok grins, tugs him close like he’s about to share some national secret with him. “Our friend __ over there can sense the Thing,” Hoseok whispers.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “So can I?”

Hoseok, a fairly relaxed soul as Jungkook is quickly learning, let’s go of him in favor of releasing a deep, belly-shaking chuckle. “Let me guess,” he teases. “The wind and the voices? We can all do that, buddy.”

Jungkook shakes his head, eyes slowly returning to you. You’re holding onto one of the kids now, tucked beneath your arm like a football as you drag them closer to the camp. “No,” Jungkook says softly. “It’s different.”

“Really?” Hoseok drawls, though Jungkook can tell he doesn’t believe him for a second. “What’s it like?” He plays along anyway.

Jungkook shrugs, glances down at his fingers. He recalls the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the memories. “It’s like… a rope around my throat. Except the knot is never tied, so it just brushes the back of my neck, over and over again.”

When he opens his eyes, Hoseok is staring at him like he has three heads. Jungkook takes a step back, fearing he’s grossly overshared and now they think he’s some nut job. “Holy shit,” Hoseok exhales, glancing over him with wide eyes.

“Seokjin!” He screeches, catching Jungkook’s wrist in between his bony fingers before he can run away. Jungkook’s heart lurches in his chest, cheeks flushing when Hoseok pulls him across the grounds under everyone‘s inquisitive glances. They stop before a tent that’s larger than the others, one flap pinned open. “Seokjin,” Hoseok repeats once inside, the space smelling strongly of antiseptic.

How long have you and your friends, as you called them, been here? There’s a huge amount of medical supplies overflowing inside this tent, like you’ve raided every pharmacy in a fifty mile radius.

Hoseok pushes him into the center of the space, where he nearly bumps into a tall man in glasses. “Seokjin,” Hoseok gasps. “This kid has the thing.”

“Huh? What thing?” The man—Seokjin—asks, seemingly unimpressed with Jungkook’s appearance before him. “Who even is this kid?”

“Jungkook,” Jungkook offers, though it gets lost in Hoseok’s sudden outburst.

“He has the thing,” he emphasizes. “The __ thing.” He glances at the entrance to the tent, like you’ll suddenly appear at the mere mention of your name. You don’t.

Something registers in Seokjin’s features, a slow realization as his eyes flick over to Jungkook. “Holy shit,” he says, wide eyes bouncing between him and Hoseok. “You’re kidding.”

Hoseok looks oddly proud of himself as he plops down on the cot pressed against one end of the tent. “Nope,” he responds. “Described it just like her and everything.”

Seokjin pushes his glasses up his nose, eyes scanning over Jungkook’s frame behind the magnified lens. “Uh huh,” he hums, pinching the skin over his tricep. Jungkook flinches. “I see.”

Jungkook can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry—who are you?” He blurts out, taking one cautious step away from Seokjin and his grabby hands. He hadn’t interacted with another person in weeks and today alone he was beat up like a loser and now gawked at like a slab of prime meat.

“Oh, right. Kim Seokjin, only registered nurse in this lovely Oleander,” he introduces, sticking one hand out for Jungkook to shake. He does, surprised by the force of his handshake. He doesn’t give Jungkook the chance to introduce himself either, using their connected palms to hold Jungkook’s arm up and glance over him some more. “Lean, healthy. How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty-five,” he responds, snatching his arm away. Seokjin doesn’t seem offended, instead circling around him. Sensing Seokjin won’t be of much help, he turns back to Hoseok. “You said if I had questions to ask you.”

Hoseok nods. “I did.”

Seokjin gasps. “Hobi, look at the thighs on this kid, Jesus,” he exclaims, poking at the corded muscle beneath his borrowed pants. “You run track?”

“Soccer,” he corrects. “Who were those people and why did they attack me before?”

Another voice answers, significantly less loud than the men he was currently stuck with. “Magnolians,” you reply from the entrance. Jungkook jumps at your abrupt appearance, suddenly finding it hard to look you in the eye. “Another camp like ours who used this catastrophe to become the sick fucks they never got to be in their regular lives,” you explain, coming around to stand in front of Jungkook. Your solemn expression fades upon meeting his gaze. “Jungkook, how are you feeling?” You inquire, worried eyes checking him over the same way Seokjin’s just did, except it sparks a sense of bashfulness in him when it’s you.

“Fine,” he mumbles, suddenly wishing Seokjin was back on him again. But the guy chose now of all times to fuck off, settling beside Hoseok to watch him talk to you.

“That’s good to hear,” you say, and then almost absentmindedly reach a hand up to caress his hair. Jungkook freezes, hyper aware of your close proximity. He very pointedly ignores looking at your beautiful face. It’ll go away, he reminds himself, heart panging when you retract your arm. “Is Seokjin evaluating your health?”

He glances over at the man, who gives him a half-assed shrug. With not a lot of confidence in his answer, Jungkook replies, “kinda.”

Before you can question him or Seokjin, Hoseok is jumping in to intervene. “Jungkook has the same freaky power as you,” he reveals, eyes sparkling at the news he reports.

Though you initially jolt in surprise, meeting his gaze with a wondrous glint in your eyes, it eventually fades away. Replacing it is a look of skepticism. “Really?” Your arms fold over your chest as you trace over his features. Jungkook has never felt more shy in his entire life, having a woman like you drink him in with absolutely no shame. “And what power is that?”

If it’s a test, Jungkook fails it. “The, um. Thing.”

Seokjin snorts, burying his face in Hoseok’s shoulder at his weak response. His cheeks flush, the rosy hue slowly filling his face until the tips of his ears are warm, your unimpressed expression staring back at him.

He rushes to redeem himself. “The feeling,” he adds. “Around your neck. Like there’s someone else in the room but you don’t know where.”

Slowly you nod, arms falling back to your sides. You don’t say anything else about this power (as Hoseok calls it), instead turning to face Seokjin. “Your thoughts?”

Seokjin claps his hands together, hopping off the cot to round Jungkook again. “Great body, experience in sports, so I’m assuming lots of stamina. Doesn’t look like he knows his way around a gun, but that can be taught.”

The ending of his evaluation leaves Jungkook confused. “Why would I need to know how to use a gun?” Seokjin glances at you pointedly.

“Actually,” you admit, “I came here with a proposal for you, Jungkook.” Jungkook stills. The only proposals he’s ever heard of usually end in big, classy ceremonies on the beach. He’s just met you a few hours ago. “I would like it if you joined us here in Oleander.”

Jungkook falters, glancing warily between you and the other men in the tent. “Why?” He says, sounding like a child.

You don’t mind. “Well, truthfully, I think it would be good on your end,” you say, “to have the extra protection. Taehyung tells me you’ve been on your own for a while now. We wouldn’t mind taking you in.”

“What’s in it for you?” He interrogates next.

Jungkook thought you were really cool. You had saved him from a group of crazies who wanted to kill him, showed him your secret hideout, and on top of that, you shared something in common with him (apperently). Sure, you had helped him, but Jungkook knows better than to not expect anything in return.

His straightforwardness brings a smile to your face. “Well, if what Seokjin says is true, I think you could become a valuable member of Oleander. I think your support and protection would be a huge help to us here.”

You’re looking at him with these big, sparkly eyes, like the mere idea of Jungkook joining this group of strays is all you’ve ever wanted. Admittedly he sees the logic in your words.

Jungkook thinks about leaving here alone, about returning to that nameless town in the middle of nowhere. There were only so many bags of beef jerky he could eat through, so many rabbits he could strangle before it wasn’t enough. What would he do in the winter? It didn’t snow often in this part of the world, but with the animals in hiding, what would he eat? Would he have to keep traveling from town to town, risk encountering those Magnolians from before?

They really did a number on his faith in humanity. How could people just resort to violence so easily, even after having the knowledge that there were far more harmful things out there than a loaded gun? Jungkook’s been thinking about it since it happened, hours after the event, and he still hasn’t reached a plausible conclusion. Were they deranged? Or simply losers, as you’d so eloquently implied, who were taking advantage of such calamity to live out these frankly disturbing lifestyles. Jungkook didn’t understand, and the longer he ponders it, he realizes maybe he never will.

Some things are just better left unknown, he supposes. But that didn’t mean one had to face them alone. He returns his attention to you and your expectant eyes.

As for you, he still had a lot of questions— who you were, why you did this, what this shared power of theirs was. He figures he can ask you them later. For now, he sticks his hand out for you to take.

“I’m in.”

⇢ part two 

Copyright © July 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[aciid-eater]

"Canvas" Shoji mezo x artist! reader

Summary: Y/n uses the class's art history project to get closer to the boy she's been eyeing.

Warning: none

___________________________________

"And the project will be completed in partners, you may choose your own partners, class dismissed." Midnight stated, watching as the students collected their stuff and got ready to travel back to their dorms.

"So who's gonna be your partner y/n-chan?" Mina asked thoughtfully. She would have been her partner, but she was already in a three way partnership with Denki and Sero since theres an uneven amount of students in the class.

"I- uh." She said, zipping up her bag. Y/n suddenly felt eyes on her, turning around, she immediately caught the gaze of the six-limbed male that sat across the classroom. He looked away with a startled blush, y/n doing the same.

"Why don't you ask him?" Mina said, nudging y/n's arm softly. She had known about y/n's crush on shoji for a while now.

"I want to, but I'm nervous." Y/n sighed.

"You can do it girl! Don't be shy!" Mina exclaimed, giving her a pat on the back. Y/n smiled sheepishly, nodding her head.

Straightening her back, y/n began walking over to Shoji's desk. The boy could feel his heart quicken as she neared him. They didn't talk much, but he for some reason had a strong crush on the girl. One that he wouldn't dare speak on.

"I- uh... hi." Y/n smiled sheepishly, a tiny of red dusting her face as she looked up at the male.

"Hey, L/n." He replied, using on of his arms to speak as always.

"I don't know if you already have a partner but, if you don't, would you like to be mine?" She asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

Shoji's eyes widened a little before returning to their normal state.

"That sounds good." He said calmly.

"Great! I uh, I mean cool, yeah. Since you know, Art is like right up my alley, we could go to my room since all my paint stuff is already there." She said, the two of them now walking in the halway together to the dorm building.

"Okay. What were you thinking for the project itself, I have to admit I'm not very artistic." He said.

"Have you ever heard of body painting?"

"Huh?"

"I-I was thinking I could do the painting on you, like on your chest. You can keep your mask on because I know you always wear it. Then I'll shoot a couple pictures with my lighting equipment and we can turn that in."

Y/n looked to the dupli male, watching as he rubbed his clothed chin in thought. She swore she could see the dust of a blush under his mask.

"I....can do that. I mean it is 'out of the canvas' as miss Midnight said, it isn't even on a canvas." He said. Y/n smiled excitedly.

"Great! Come to my dorm tomorrow morning so we can get started." She smiled as the two entered the dorm building finally.

____________________________________

Y/n jolted a little when she heard the knock on her wooden dorm door. Quickly she jumped up from her desk chair and opened it, letting Shoji in.

"Woah." He said, having never been to her dorm before. There were vibrant paintings all over the walls, faces, people animals, and places. There twinkle lights that hung from the cealing that just barely brushed the top of his head as he walked by.

"You like it?" She asked, her hands on her hips pridefully.

"Its really nice, fits you perfectly." He said. Y/n laughed a little, pulling out a hair tie and tying her hair back.

Within the first 20 minuets of the painting, where y/n was finally fully focused on her work, Shoji's face was already red to the tip of his ears. He was propped up on her bed, his back leaning straight against her headboard and some pillows, while y/n was firmly strattled over his lap, trying to map out where things would go on his torso. Shoji was... tense to say the least, it wasn't that he didn't want to do it, it was just being in such a compromising position with his crush was nerve wracking.

He watched her face, she was seemingly deep in thought, gears in her head turning as her gaze glazed over his chest. She wasn't flustered at all. Shoji jumped in surprise when her hand brushed his side, making her reel back a bit. Before he could apologize, she spoke up.

"Hey. Relax." She said softly, placing her hand flat in the middle of his chest. Y/n was admittedly very attracted to him, and spending a couple hours in his lap and painting on his abs was her kind of day. Shoji took a deep breath and gave a short nod. Y/n picked up her phone from the table at her side and placed her it in his hand.

"Here, you can pick a song if you want." She said. Reaching back over to the table, she picked up a medium sized brush and dipped it in blue paint.

"I've been told paint is cold, so brace yourself." She said, flashing him a small smile.

"I dont listen to music on my own that much, do you have any recommendations?" He asked, his eyes closed tightly as y/n laid the first cold strokes along his pec. Immediately y/n's eyes lit up, a pretty smile lacing itself on her face.

"SZA is one of my personal favorites, I have a playlist with just her music on it, pick one you think sounds cool." She smiled. Shoji scrolled through her phone using two of his left arms. He scrolled for a bit before clicking a random song.

"20 something? How did you know that was my favorite?"

"Lucky guess." a hand called out from behind her.

"How could it be, 20 something, all alone still, not a thing in my name, Only know fear. That's me, Ms. 20 Something. Ain't got nothin', runnin' from love, Wish you were here." She sang softly, running soft brushstrokes over the curves in his torso.

'You're voice is really pretty." Shoji said softly, watching y/n's face flush.

"Thank you, I normally dont sing infront of people." She replied with a shy smile. Shoji tired to keep the conversation going to stop himself from squirming as the paintbrush rolled over his skin.

"Does that mean I'm special?" He teased.

"I dont paint on all my classmates, so yeah, I'd say youre special." She smirked, then she leaned back, shifting her weight back against his bent legs.

"You're squirming, do you need something to hold on to?" She asked, a little concerned.

"...That would be nice." He said sheepishly. Y/n internally swooned at his shyness before leaning over the table sitting next to the bed.

"Now that I think about it, I dont think I have anything for all six of your ar-" Y/n was cut off when she lost her balance. Shoji acted quickly, wrapping his arms around the plush of her thighs, just below her shorts to stop her from falling. Once she was stable, her two hands braced flat against his chest. Y/n gulped, her face red once again, Shoji the same.

"Does that work?" She asked, flicking her gaze to his six hands that were gripping her legs and thighs.

"I-y-yeah."

"Cool." Y/n said, regaining her composure once again. Picking her paintbrush up, she began dragging it across her skin again.

"I'm surprised you haven't been asked to do this before by any other artists." Y/n pipped up.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"Well, you're a built guy, it gives a lot of area to cover." She replied.

"So that's why you wanted me to be your partner?"

"No, I could have done a body painting on anyone. I wanted to be your partner because I dont talk to you that much." She said calmly.

"Besides, youre a little more talkative today, I like it" Y/n smiled, meeting his eyes. She giggle when he turned away, the tips of his ears very red.

After a few hours, y/n leaned back, stretching her arms.

"Do you wanna get up and take a break?" She asked. Shoji nodded, using his arms to lift her effortlessly off his lap. He stood and stretched his arms, careful not to stretch the paint. Looking in the mirror of y/n's vanity, his eyes trailed over the paint. his chest was covered in light blue paint, and soft fluffy clouds were painted along his collarbones down to his belly button.

"What do you think? I want to add cherry blossom branches on the sides, then have them trail down your V line. Then add some blossoms up your neck and down your arms." Y/n yawned, taking her hair tie out momentarily. Shoji nodded, ruffling his own hair.

"You're very talented." He said

"Thank you, I'm gonna got get a juice box, I'll be back." Y/n said softly, slipping out of her room.

______

"Be still for me." Y/n mumbled, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Shoji's hands on her legs tightened as Y/n grabbed his chin softly, tilting it up so she could run the paintbrush over his neck. The lump in his throat bobbed, his eyes trailing over her face.

"You're blushing, Shoji." She smirked, releasing her grasp on his chin.

Y/n moved back a little, sitting back on the boy's thighs.

"Give me your arm." Shoji pulled his six hands from her thighs, lifting them up with a raised eyebrow.

"Arm B1, sorry." she said with a chuckle. Shoji inwardly smiled at the little naming system she gave his arms. He presented his top left to her, watching as she painted vined flowers over his biceps.

"Now A1." She said as he placed his top right arm in her hands, watching her do the same.

"And one last thing." She mumbled, leaning in and paining her signature on the edge of his collarbone.

"Aaaand we're done!" She said happily, sitting back on his lap to admire her work. Moving off the bed, Y/n pulled Shoji to his feet, going to grab her camera while he looking in the mirror.

"This is amazing." He mumbled, moving around to see the paint.

"I'm glad you think so, can you come stand infront of this wall for me?" She asked, holding up her camera. In the next half an hour, y/n took a few professional looking photos of shoji and the body paint before picking one they both liked.

"Wait! I wanna take one with you." She said, propping the camera up on a tripod and setting a timer. Y/n stood next to him, making grabby hands upwards.

"Up please." she said, smiling goofily. Shoji let out a lighthearted laugh, picking her up and holding her up on his back. He looked at her from over his shoulder, making note of her smile and the peace sign she held. So in turn, he made peace signs with his two dominant hands. Y/n giggled as the camera snapped, getting down to look at the picture. She grinned at the screen before showing it to Shoji.

"I like this one. I'm sure we'll get an A."

"I mean it is 'Outside of the Canvas'." Shoji recited. Y/n laughed.

"I think that's what I'll call this piece. Outside of the canvas."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [4]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve continues his observation.

Note: I’m excited to share more with y’all. I have a doctors appointment today but I don’t know, if you really want Painted Windows too, I have a chapter that can be edited otherwise I can save that for after this is done. Anyways, have fun and be safe.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

Steve was up all night thinking about her. He tried to forget, tried to hide his face in his pillow and doze off but it was hopeless. He tossed and turned until the sky began to lighten through his window and went for an early run. Even at that hour however, he wasn’t alone. He saw the lens as he set off down the sidewalk but managed to lose the photographer by the next block.

He returned home and showered. He was still agitated. He wasn’t used to being angry for this long but the pit in his stomach remained. Her face stayed etched in his mind; her voice echoed in his ears. He caught himself thinking of how her body draped over the lumpy cushions and her chest rose and fell steadily. 

He cranked off the faucet before his mind could float away with the steam. He stepped out and wiped away the clouds that had obscured the mirror. He looked at himself. The wrinkles had been more obvious for a while. After Thanos, the edges had begun to fray. The serum slowed the process but didn’t stop it.

He leaned on the sink as he looked closer. He was a centenarian now but he looked closer to forty. As well as time had treated him, it was running out. How long would he do this? If he did keep his job, how long would he go? Until he was grey and bent? Still alone and even more bitter?

He heard the crack and looked down. The porcelain had broken in his grip and the sink split in a ragged line. He pulled away the chunk and sighed. Well, that would be something to keep him busy. He tossed the piece on the counter and turned away from his reflection.

He went into the bedroom as he dried off. His blond hair stuck out as he pulled the towel away and he smoothed it with his fingers. He dropped the damp terry cloth on the mattress and went to his dresser. His fingertips tapped on the polished wood. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“I’m fine,” He said to himself. “Just stressed.” 

He pulled on the drawer and opened his eyes. He took out a tee shirt. He searched through the levels and collected what he needed from the closet.

“I’m just going for a walk,” He said as his imagination conjured the silhouette sitting just behind him; faceless and silent. “Yep, I know. Almost out of milk.”

He dressed carefully and neared the long rectangle mirror that hung on the wall. The aged frame he’d made himself. He zipped up his hoodie and grabbed the cap he’d dropped on the little round table the night before.

“I shouldn’t be long.” He said as he pulled up the hood and turned to the bed. He saw her clearly now.

“Where are you going?” She asked as her hands clasped together in her lap.

“To find you.” He answered and she disappeared.

He was alone again but he didn’t feel so lost.

🖋️

Steve tilted his head as he watched the familiar figure stride down the sidewalk. Why was Fury there? Did he know? Had he somehow found out about Steve’s little adventure? No, he was trained and careful. He would know if he was being watched unlike that foolish woman. Damage control, he assured himself.

It was only an hour before she appeared. She was anxious, he could tell by the way she twiddled her fingers. He could hear her heartbeat above those around her. He followed as he had the day before. He liked this feeling. Of being anonymous; invisible.

She went to an electronics store and he entered after ten minutes. He saw that she was waiting in the cell phone section and he bought a cord he didn’t need before he left. She never even looked in his direction as she walked along the displays.

He returned to his vigil outside and played with the small box. He pulled out the white cord and twisted it between his fingers. He pulled it taut and his vision blurred around it. He pulled harder as he imagined it around flesh; around her brittle neck. It snapped and his trance did too. He shook his head and shoved it back into the box and buried it in his pocket.

When she emerged, he kept on. After a subway ride, she ended up at a small coffee shop in her neighbourhood. It was barely discernible among the line of shopfronts; some abandoned and others close to. He saw her through the window as she sat and stared into a cup. She fidgeted now and then but was fixated on the table.

He exhaled as he crossed the street and neared the door. If she saw him enter, his cover was blown. He shouldn’t but he had too. The chime of the door made him flinch but she didn’t move. He went to the counter and kept his voice down as he ordered a black dark roast. He didn’t really drink coffee but he would today.

He went to the other side of the shop and sat with his back to her. He took out his phone as he placed his cup down and opened the camera. He granted the permissions to access the gallery and messed around until he saw himself on the screen. He figured out how to switch to video then angled it over his shoulder so he could see her clearly. 

He stopped for just a second as his thumb hovered over the red dot. He gulped and leaned on the narrow arm of the uncomfortable wooden chair. He clicked the screen and the timer began to tick. He watched the digital reflection of her as she sipped her coffee. He could hear her tongue as she licked a droplet from her lips. 

He dragged his thumb along the line and the lens zoomed in. He sat like that until she seemed to wake up. She tilted the empty cup in disappointment and stood. She tossed it in the bin and he quickly hid his phone. He kept his shoulders slumped and tasted his cold, strong coffee. He blanched and waited for the door to ring.

When it did, he rose and dumped the coffee in the trash. He waited before he stepped out onto the street. He caught sight of her before she turned the corner. She was going home. He hung back and kept a languid pace. When he finally came upon her building, he was jittery. 

He could go home. Stop this. It had already gone too far. He looked up at the brick facade and cracked his neck. Not far enough.

He went around the alley but a homeless man was drunkenly staggering there. He waited by the mouth of the alley until the man wandered out the other end, his voice trailing behind him. Steve dipped between the building and winced at the smell of piss. 

He climbed up as he had the night before and counted the platforms. He stopped at her floor but as he looked inside, she wasn’t there. He saw her purse on the counter but not her. He ducked back down and listened. 

He heard her voice and his pulse quickened. He moved over to the other side of the escape but found himself blocked by frosted glass. She was singing out of tune. He heard her near the window and he bent down again. The old clasp turned and the window grinded as she pulled it up just an inch.

She walked away and her words turned to a hum. He heard the groan of metal and water begin to splash down. He carefully sat up and glanced through the small slit between the pane and the frame. He watched her shirt fall to the floor, then her pants. He was hypnotised by her movements.

He moved his head as he tried to see more of her. He caught the curve of her breast as she removed her bra and a full view of her ass as her panties joined the heap. He had to angle himself awkwardly to see the tub as she lowered herself into it. Her voice died as she leaned back against the porcelain and stirred her hand in the water.

He watched until she sat forward to quell the water and then some more. He heard the soft movement of water around her. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until his temples began to pound. Something deep inside him nagged at him. A voice growing louder and louder.

And it was stifled by the other. That one which had ruled him for so long. A sudden pang of guilt stabbed his chest. He tore his gaze away as she began to scrub herself with a loofa. He crawled slowly across the escape and descended, quite enough that any shift was disguised by the noise of the city.

When he was back on solid ground, he was dizzy. And uncomfortably hard. Certainly, he wasn’t the perfect, pious man everyone thought him to be but he’d never felt this… ravenous. He needed relief. Needed it bad.

He adjusted himself behind his belt and walked out of the alley way. He blindly found his way to the subway and rode it as close to his home as he could. He took the back streets and stopped to glimpse the press lined outside his house. He heard an angry voice and an impatient knock.

Shit. He ducked through the gate and let himself through the back door. He removed his cap and his hoodie and hid them in the chest filled with old newspapers and magazines. He closed the lid and the knock came again. He had calmed down, barely. Even after the long train ride, he was riled.

He kicked off his shoes and ruffled his blonde hair just a little before he answered the door. Bucky sneered back at him and sidled through without a word. Cameras shuttered and Steve closed the door.

“What the hell were you doing?” Bucky asked as he stretched his metal fingers.

“Napping, “Steve lied.

“Napping?” Bucky squinted.

“Not much else to do,” Steve shrugged.

“Sure. Not since…” Bucky sighed as he went through to the living room. Steve didn’t mind; he always told his friend this was his second home. “I read the article. You don’t have to get so defensive. I can take care of myself.”

“It wasn’t about you, it was…” Steve trailed off and thought as he lingered by the doorway. “I didn’t like her tone. She was so… I don’t know how to explain. Calm but eager. Almost knowing. I think she wanted me to bite back at her.”

“Was it worth it?” Bucky sat and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Because I can guarantee I have no desire to work with this spider punk. You know what he did today?”

Steve crossed the room and turned on the dial of the artificial fireplace before he sat.

“What did he do this time?”

“Let’s just say my arm had to be calibrated after.” Bucky frowned. “My gun works just fine though.”

“I’m sure Fury enjoyed that.”

“Fury? He’s been storming around somewhere else.” Bucky said.

“Somewhere else?” Steve prodded. 

“This girl that wrote the article. They’ve got eyes on her and they’ve done their research. Fast.” Bucky brushed his fingertips over his stubble. “She pissed off every single person under Fury’s direction.”

“She’s just a reporter,” Steve said. She was his to deal with, not theirs.

“Maybe but she sure knows how to stir the pot,” Bucky lowered his hand. “There’s a new investigation. I could say I’m relieved I’m not the target now but it seems we all are actually.”

“What do you--”

“They want new accords.” Bucky said curtly. “I think Fury’s going to have to start reporting to someone.”

“Fuck,” Steve swore and Bucky blinked. Steve didn’t have a Christian mouth but he didn’ often go past a ‘damn’ or ‘shit’. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s hers,” Bucky insisted. “She knows nothing about what we do. What we have to do.” Bucky grimaced. “Fuck her.”

“Yeah…” Steve felt the tic in his jaw. “Fuck her.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

Home Invasion

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: While at home for the weekend while your parents are away for a business trip, you decided to order pizza. You didn’t think anything would go wrong when doing this, but then again, you were now living in a nightmare

Warnings: Mentions of being shot, home invasion

Word Count: 1770

        It was a pretty regular Friday night for you. The house was quiet but for the movie playing in the background, your parents were on a trip to Washington DC for business, and Damian was set to arrive in 2 hours to stay over. You didn’t have much planned that night, however when your stomach started to rumble, you decided to order some pizza for yourself. Ringing up your favorite pizza place, you got your favorite and sat back to wait for its arrival.

        As you were walking down the hallway and back into the living room from the bathroom, you heard the doorbell.

        “Strange.” You thought, “There was no notification from the guards.”

        Looking down at your phone, your thoughts were confirmed. Since you were home alone, you went to a covered part where no one would see you and checked the front cameras. It was the pizza guy, the right pizza guy in fact. You could tell that he was getting impatient more and more and eventually, you opened the door figuring that if anything happened, you’d be able to handle it.

        “Hello.” You said opening the door, “I paid online already.”

        “That’s wonderful Miss. L/N, however that’s not what I’m here for.” The man that was standing there said.

        Before you could slam the door, he pulled out a small pistol. Without much time at all, shots were fired and you had been grazed by one bullet and shot in the arm by another. Luckily, this one wasn’t a very good shot. You stepped back in pain some before throwing the box at him and slamming the door, locking it and then shutting the curtains on the windows. The only thing that you had heard from him was his voice calling an all clear for more in his group on the cell phone that he now had in his hands.

        “You have got to be kidding me!” You hissed army crawling into the kitchen, “Siri, call Dami.”

        As the phone was ringing, you grabbed the first aid kit and started wrapping up your arm. It wasn’t long before he picked up with a casual voice.      

        “Hello belov-“

        You cut him off quickly, “Damian, I need you to get here now. I ordered pizza and instead it was some guy with a pistol. He got me in the arm and called for backup.”

        Damian paused before you heard the loud sounds of footsteps running down the hallway.      

        “Where are you?” He asked entering the cave.

        “I’m in the kitchen wrapping the wound, I don’t know about getting my suit on since it would give me away but I can try and get to my weapons and upper body armor under my clothes.”

        “Do that, I’m on my way.” You heard him zip something up, clip another item, and then rev up his bike before speeding off.

        “Just give me a second, I’m switching to the comms.” Quickly, you hit the emergency button on your phone for the police and then put an earpiece in before you started talking some more.

        “Can you hear me?” You asked working up the steps.

        “I can, are you still okay?” Damian questioned.

        “I am. I’m going up to my room. I don’t know where they are but I’ll check the cameras once I’m changed.”

        You ran down the hallway and turned left into your bedroom before shutting and locking the door. All of the other doors upstairs were locked and you hoped that they would pick the right side of the staircase to clear before your side. Immediately, you went inside to your bathroom and locked that door before doing the same in your closet door and then, into the secret vault room that you had installed to keep your suit and weapons. You liked to call it your mini Batcave when wannabe killers weren’t chasing you.

        Quickly, you took off your top and put the bullet -proof armor that you typically wore on and then put your shirt on back over it. Over that you had your swords, similar to Damian’s but not too close. In your holsters, emergency knives and, just incase, two pistols with plenty of magazines to keep you going. You knew that you could just stay in here and wait for Damian to arrive to take out the assailants. But this was your home, and you’d be damned if any fake pizza man got into it.

        Quietly, you walked to the camera monitors. In the back of the house you noticed no activity. Then you checked the sides along with the fencing cameras. That’s when the thought dawned on you that the people at the front gate are either dead or they left. You were all on your own in this fight. The only place that the men could be now is the front. It was a bold move but you knew it was probably something that they did because they were either inexperienced or they were trying to scare you.

        You hid in the shadows, shutting off all of the lights and getting into position. All of them were accounted for, knowing that the man only called for 5 more. Not moving, you waited and waited for them to enter before the sound of the front window busting open put you on a higher alert. Watching them enter, you noticed their height and build, looking for their weak spots and sizing them up.

        “Miss. L/N! We’re here!” One of them called out laughing.

        You cringed some at his actions not really wanting to think about what he was to do if it wasn’t just a murder and robbery. They walked in and split up. That would make it easy to take them out without starting a firefight. Besides, you did want to keep the house as in tact as possible, you know, parents and all. They didn’t know that you were doing this kind of work so you figured it would be best to not stab them with a sword since that would be extremely telling. Instead, you leapt down to the first one and as he turned around, threw a knife right into his chest. Batman might have had a no kill rule, however right now, you didn’t care anymore.

        The first man was down. Now, there were only 5 more to go. Carefully, you tracked the next one and after taking him out, the third one. You didn’t think you’d need Damian during this but at the same time, you didn’t really want him to see what you were doing and had done.

        The third target wasn’t as easy. As a heavier set, taller man, he didn’t go down without somewhat of a fight. You didn’t want to pull out your guns as to not alert the others in the house of your location, but you didn’t have to worry about that for long since he knocked over a plant causing a great smash.

        You sighed, “That was more expensive than the hospital bills my parents paid when I was born you idiot.”

        Now that your position was given away, you fired a few shots into his head and chest, effectively taking him out. The other three rallied around you. For some reason, these were more experienced. They had had training and you could tell. One of them punched your arm which made you let out a cry in pain.

        “You stupid girl, thinking you could take us all out.” The one that hit you laughed.

        He tried to do it again before you moved out of the way and threw him into the fireplace. The man groaned in pain as the others looked at you with more anger in their eyes. They two pulled out more guns making your eyes go wide before you let a smoke screen down and escaped to regroup.

        “Damian where are you?” You asked.  

        “I’m about to enter the house, are you still alright?” He replied in a worried but angry tone.

        “Yeah, just bruised up a bit. These guys aren’t like normal robbers, they’re trained.” “Just be careful.” You said.

        “You know I will be.”

        With heavy breaths looking down at your leg you noticed that you’d be grazed again. This time you didn’t really notice because of the adrenaline that was rising. Sighing, you stepped back out and went into the hallway where the men had disappeared.

        “Damian, they’re not in the living room anymore… I don’t know where they are.” You informed.

        “They’re on the upper porch with me, I need assistance.” Damian said.

        “W-what? How did they get up there?” You mumbled heading upstairs in disbelief.

        The moment that you got to the railing of the third story porch that was just above you, you went to reach to pull yourself over. That was when a shot fired and the sound of metal hitting the wooden flooring rang out. You heard someone stumbling and then saw Damian hit the concrete floor three stories below. He didn’t move as blood pooled around him.

        You felt sick looking down at it, throwing up for just a second before shooting up at the floor knowing where they were. When you heard bodies hit the floor, you came up, swords ready with the look of fierce anger plastered on your face. That was when you stopped cold in your tracks. It wasn’t the men. Those bodies were your parents. Knees going weak, you dropped next to them before looking across the patio and seeing the three men laughing. That was when another shot rang out and you woke up in a cold sweat from your bed breathing heavily.

        The room was dark in your home and there was no bandage on your arm. You knew you were safe, it just didn’t feel like it. Within a few seconds, you found yourself reaching for your phone and calling Damian. Like in the dream it was a few seconds before he answered.

        “Beloved, are you alright?” He asked in a groggy voice.

        “Y-yeah. May I come over?”

        “Yes, what happened?”

        “It was just a bad dream.” You said heading to your car and leaving a note for your parents that you needed to go see Damian.

_______________________________________________________________________

        It was insanely late when you made it to the manor. Damian was at the door when you came and opened it without you having to answer. There wasn’t that much of an exchange, however you explained what the dream was about and then headed upstairs into his room for some sleep and the comfort which you couldn’t get alone fighting off strange nightmares.

Yooooo 😂. So I wrote this at like 5am one night and forgot about it. That’s kinda why it’s hot trash and I needed something to post today while I'm working on requesttsssss. I’ve been binging skincare by Hyram cause I had a breakout and also Chloe Ting is kicking my butt 😭 😂

[nico-drives-badly]

Pizza Delivery - DMC Edition

(A Parody of the Krusty Krab Pizza Episode from Spongebob)

[Episode begins in the Devil May Cry main office in Red Grave City, where Dante is messing around with a mop and bucket instead of actually cleaning the chairs]

Lady: Hurry up with those chairs, Dante! It's after closing! And I'd LIKE to go HOME!

[The phone rings.]

Dante: I GOT IT I GOT IT— [leaps for the phone, but Vergil answers it first, and Dante falls onto the floor]

Vergil: Hello? [listening to voice on the other end] Sir, I think you have the wrong num—

[Lady snatches the phone from Vergil]

Lady: Devil May Cry. How can I help you? [customer explains pizza order over the phone] Pizza? [suddenly remembers that Dante still owes her money and her eyes turn into dollar signs] Of course we have pizza!

Vergil: Lady—?!

Lady: Our delivery boy will bring it riiiight over. [cheerfully hangs up the phone]

Vergil: [flabbergasted] But Lady, we don't serve pizza!

[Lady grabs a leftover pizza box from Dante’s fridge and heats it up in the microwave. Then she slaps a “Devil May Cry” sticker over the original label.]

Vergil: [even more flabbergasted] We don't deliver!!

Lady: We don't deliver, but you do. [hands Vergil the pizza and starts to walk away]

Vergil: [runs after Lady] Can't you just get Dante to do it?!

Lady: Great idea! Take him with you.

[Dante finally stands up and slides over next to Vergil, giving him a troll-faced grin]

Vergil: [shouts after Lady as she departs] That's NOT what I had in mind!

[Scene changes to outside, where the Devil May Cry van is parked. Dante is checking the car while Vergil sits in the passenger seat.]

Dante: Front end...check! Antenna...check! Bumper...check! Bumper sticker... [gestures to bumper sticker that says "I Brake For Nuthin’, Deal With It Assholes"] ...check!

Dante: Tire pressure... [uncaps the tire pressure and puts his mouth in it like the dumbass he is, causing him to take in WAY too much air and start coughing and sputtering in Vergil’s face] ...check! All right, everything looks good!

Dante: [climbs into the driver’s seat] We're really making history here, Vergil. That lucky customer is (technically) going to get the first Devil May Cry Pizza ever! AND I can finally pay back Lady! Man, this is great. Why did I never think of this before?

Vergil: Whatever. Let’s just get this over with already.

[Dante starts to turn the ignition key, but then pauses suddenly.]

Dante: Wait a minute...I can't drive!

Vergil: What do you mean you can’t?! You literally drive a motorcycle!

Dante: Exactly! I only know how to drive a motorcycle! I never learned how to drive a van!

Vergil: [groans] Come on, Dante. It can’t be THAT different. Besides, it’s just around the corner.

Dante: Well, yeah, but—

Vergil: Just do what you do on a motorcycle.

Dante: Well, okay... [looks down at the gear shift and his mind goes completely blank] ...Wait, don't tell me.

Vergil: Back it up.

Dante: Huh?

Vergil: Back. It up.

Dante: Right. Back...it up... [grabs the stick shift and starts to pull it down, but he hesitates]

Vergil: Back it up!

Dante: OKAY OKAY!

Vergil: Shift into reverse, you fool!

Dante: ...Reverse? OH YEAH YEAH, REVERSE!

[Dante looks down at the gear shift, but the letters turn into random Japanese symbols in his mind.]

Vergil: BACK IT UP!

Dante: [suddenly shifts the car into reverse and floors it out of panic] Backing uUUUPPP! BACKING UP!!

Vergil: [desperately tries to grab the wheel from Dante as the van zips backwards at top speed] Give me the wheel, Dante! Give! Me! The! Wheel!!

Dante: Backing up! Backing up!

[The van roughly goes over a series of bumps]

Dante: Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ack-i-i-i-i-i-ng u-u-u-up!

[Th van starts to spin in circles, leaving Dante and Vergil screaming.]

[The next morning, the van can be seen slowly emerging over the horizon, miles and miles away from their original location.]

Dante: Backing up...backing up...backing up...

[The van runs out of fuel and sputters to a stop in the middle of nowhere.]

Dante: ...Backing up.

Vergil: Well. You backed up. And you know what? [gestures to the empty fuel gauge] I think we're out of gas! And you know what else? [steps out of the van and screams into the abyss] WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!

Dante: [climbs out of the van with the pizza box in hand] And you know what else else? I think the pizza's getting cold.

Vergil: [sarcastically] OH, and the PIZZA’S cold? Oh, the pizza's COLD. Oooooh nooo, NOT the PIZZA! Oh, how could this get any WORSE—?!

[Vergil DTs and kicks the van’s bumper out of sheer frustration, which somehow fills the van back up with gasoline. The van starts to drive away into the distance without them, leaving Vergil standing in his SDT with his jaw hung open in shock]

Dante: Well...at least we can still deliver it on foot.

[Vergil narrows his eyes dangerously at Dante, but he reverts to his human form without another word.]

[Scene changes to Dante and Vergil walking on the side of the empty road. Vergil is griping with every step he takes, while Dante is singing terribly at the top of his lungs.]

Vergil: Ow, ow, ow...

Dante: 🎶 The DMC Pizza! Is the pizza! For you and me! The DMC pizza! Is the pizza—

Vergil: [interrupts Dante’s song in a mocking tone] 🎶—AND MY FEET ARE KILLING ME!

[Suddenly, Vergil trips over Dante, who is lying on the ground for hell-knows-what reason.]

Vergil: Dante? What are you doing?!

Dante: [rubbing the ground expertly] It's an old pioneer trick. I saw it in a movie once.

Vergil: Dante, this is no time for...!

Dante: [aggressively shushes Vergil] It's working!

Vergil: What is it?

Dante: Truck! Sixteen wheels! [points to an approaching semi-truck in the distance] Now I can show you how the pioneers hitchhiked.

[Dante whips out the Dr. Faust Hat and starts dancing in the road like an idiot.]

Dante: [weird hitchhiking noises] WheEeEeEeE eeeeeeeEEEE, yoooOOOOOUUUUuuuUuu WUWUWUUWEHEHEHE...

[Vergil sits on a rock and rattles a wooden spoon with an annoyed look on his face.]

Dante: [more hitchhiking noises] UUuuUuuUuAAYAYAYAYAYA GLGLGLGLGLGLGLGLG—

Truck Driver: [noticing Dante in the road] Crashin' frashin' break dancers! [honks his horn aggressively]

Vergil: He's stopping! He's stopping!

Truck Driver: [CLEARLY NOT STOPPING]

[Vergil suddenly realizes that he's not stopping and pulls Dante out of the way before he gets run over. The truck zooms past them, covering them in roadside dirt. Vergil glares scathingly at Dante, who gives him a nervous smile.]

[Scene changes to Dante and Vergil walking against a heavy wind.]

Dante: [still singing badly] 🎶 The DMC pizza! Is the pizza! For you and me! The DMC pizza—

[The wind changes direction and blows Vergil’s hair forward. Grimacing, Vergil tries to slick his hair back into place, but the wind messes it up again, much to his annoyance. Finally, Vergil just gives up and goes into SDT so he doesn’t have to deal with it.]

Dante: [doesn’t even notice and keeps singing] 🎶—is the pizza! Free de-li-ve-ry! The DMC pizza! Is the pizza! Very ta-a-sty!!

[All of a sudden, a random Qliphoth root springs up out of nowhere and grabs the pizza box. Dante refuses to let go, however, and he gets flung back and forth helplessly in the air as he tries and fails to fight it off.]

Vergil: Will you let go of that stupid pizza, already?

Dante: [still being flung around in the air] I can't! It’s for the customer!

Vergil: WHO CARES about the customer?

Dante: I DO!

Vergil: Well, I DON’T!

[The wind stops suddenly, as does the Qliphoth root, and Dante gasps at Vergil in disgust.]

Dante: D:< Vergil!

[The wind immediately picks back up again, and the Qliphoth root resumes flinging Dante around helplessly in the air.]

Vergil: Dante, we don’t have time for this foolishness! Let go of the pizza!

Dante: NO!

[The Qliphoth root sends Dante barreling straight into Vergil, knocking him off his feet.]

Vergil: OW! [grabs onto Dante’s legs as the Qliphoth continues to drag him around] Dante! Let go of the pizza!

Dante: No! It's for the customer!

Vergil: DANT-AYYY! LET GO OF THE PIZZA!

[The Qliphoth root lifts them high up in the air.]

Dante: NO!!

Vergil: DANTE— [looks down and suddenly realizes that they’re dangling over 100 ft in the air] HANG ONTO THE PIZZAAAA!

[The Qliphoth root finally lets go of them and flings them in a random direction, sending them both flying. Dante screams and falls flat on his face. Vergil technically could’ve broken his fall using his SDT wings, but he doesn’t think of that and instead falls flat on his face next to Dante, reverting to his human form in the process.]

Vergil: [slowly gets up and looks around in confusion] H-hey...where's the road? Where's the road?! [a random tumbleweed rolls by, sending Vergil into a panicked stupor while running around in circles] WE���RE DOOMED! HOW ARE WE GOING GET HOME NOW? WHICH WAY DO WE GO?

[Dante slowly gets up while Vergil continues to run around like an idiot.]

Vergil: WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO? THERE’S NO ROAD HERE!

Dante: Hm... [points in a seemingly random direction] I think town's this way.

Vergil: [stops dead in his tracks and rolls his eyes at Dante] Oh, don't tell me, Jethro. The pioneers?

Dante: That's right. [gestures to a mossy rock] Moss always points to civilization.

Vergil: That way? That way there?

Dante: [nods]

Vergil: So, let me get this straight...YOU think that WE should go THAT way?

Dante: [nods again] Yep.

Vergil: [turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction] Well, then I'm going this way.

Dante: Huh? Verg, wait! I don't think—

Vergil: Trust me, I KNOW where I am going.

[The camera pans out to show that Red Grave City was clearly in the direction Dante pointed towards, which means that Vergil definitely has no idea where he’s going.]

[Scene changes once again to Dante and Vergil walking, while Dante continues to belt out the DMC Pizza song at the top of his lungs.]

Dante: 🎶 The DMC pizza! Is the pizza! Absolu-tive-a-ly!

Dante: [beatboxing] 🎶 Boomboomboomboom PIZZA powpowkakachihchih PIZZA chihchihchoopapaaaaa—

Dante: [walking backwards while beatboxing] 🎶 Dododododo PIZZA dododoododododo PIZZA dodododooddodoooo—

Dante: [with soul] 🎶 D-M-C-aAaAayy-aaaAAAAaaAayy-aAaAayyy pi-zzaaaa! Is the pizza, ye-aaah, for you and— [awful-sounding falsetto that causes Vergil to visibly flinch] 🎶 MEE-EEE-EEeeEee-EEEEEEEE!

Dante: [dragging his feet tiredly] Pizza...for...you...the DM and...the C...and the... pizza insiiiide...

[Eventually, Dante and Vergil both collapse onto the ground in exhaustion.]

Dante: Verg...we gotta eat something.

Vergil: [sarcastically] I heard in times of hardship, the pioneers would eat tumbleweed.

[Dante grabs a nearby tumbleweed and starts eating it savagely, chucking the pizza box aside. Thankfully, Vergil catches the pizza box right before it falls on the ground.]

Vergil: [notices how desperate Dante is and cracks a mischievous smile] No, no, wait...maybe it wasn't tumbleweed.

[Dante yelps and spits out the tumbleweed in disgust.]

Vergil: Maybe it was sand...no, mud—!

Dante: [sits up suddenly and grabs Vergil by the shirt collar] Gimme the pizza, Verg!

Vergil: [holds the pizza box defensively] WAIT I REMEMBER NOW IT WAS TUMBLEWEED!

Dante: Give me that pizza!

Vergil: No! We promised Lady that we’d give it to the customer!

Dante: OH, SO NOW YOU CARE ABOUT THE CUSTOMER!

Vergil: Dante, I am not going to risk MY life explaining to Lady that we can’t pay her back all because YOU got a little hungry! That pizza is for the customer, and that’s final!

[Dante pouts broodingly for a moment, but then he comes up with an idea...]

Dante: [cunning voice] Yeah, you're right. It's for the customer.

Vergil: [slightly confused] Uh...yeah...

Dante: Well, maybe we better check on it and make sure it's okay.

Vergil: [looks down at the pizza box reluctantly] Well...

Dante: [starts to open the box] C’mon, just a peek—

Vergil: [quickly snaps the box shut] OKAY IT’S FINE.

Dante: No, wait! I think I saw something!

[Dante opens the box fully, revealing a very appetizing pizza.]

Dante: Oh...nope. I was wrong. It looks okay. [nudges Vergil] Sure is a fiiine looking pizza, don’t you think? You definitely don’t have food like that down in Hell, huh?

Vergil: [falters] Yeah, you...certainly don’t...

Dante: And what’s that? Is that the cheese?

Vergil: [lip twitches slightly] Yeah...

Dante: And the pepperoni?

Vergil: [mouth starts watering] Yeah...!

Dante: [grins as Vergil starts savoring] Oh, looks good, huh?

[Vergil, suddenly realizing what Dante is trying to do, quickly snaps out of it and slams the pizza box closed.]

Vergil: WAIT A SECOND! I know what you're trying to do, Dante! I'm not letting you eat the pizza!

Dante: Give me the pizza, Vergil!

Vergil: No!

Dante: Don't make me take it away from you!

Vergil: Get AWAY!

[Vergil starts to run away while Dante chases after him.]

Dante: Get back here, Vergil!

Vergil: NO!

Dante: VERGIL!

Vergil: NO!

Dante: VER-GILLL!

Vergil: NO!

[Eventually, Dante starts to run out of energy and collapses due to exhaustion, while Vergil is still running around.]

Vergil: NO! NO—

[Vergil trips over Dante suddenly, falling flat on his face and dropping the pizza. Dante snatches the pizza while Vergil is distracted, but Vergil quickly pins him down and points Yamato threateningly at his chest.]

Vergil: Dante, I am NOT letting you eat this pizza! And you are going to hand it over to me, one way or another!

Dante: [points at something in the distance] Look, Verg, we're saved!

Vergil: Yeah, sure, we're saved. Now GIVE ME THE PIZZA!

Dante: No really, Verg! We’re SAVED! [starts jumping up and down in excitement] We're saved! We're saaaaaved!

Vergil: WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT?

Dante: [chanting to a conga beat] 🎶Sa-a-aved, sa-aved! Sa-a-aved, sa-aved! Saved, saved! Saved, saved! Savedsavedsavedsaved saved, saved!

Dante: [runs towards a boulder in the distance while still chanting] 🎶Savedsavedsavedsavedsaved, SAVED! Savedsavedsavedsavedsaved, SAVED! YES, we are SAVED!

Vergil: [furiously] But that’s just a stupid boulder!

Dante: It's not just a boulder...it’s a rock! A ROOOOCK!! It's a BIG! BEAUTIFUL! OLD! ROCK!! [rubs the side of the boulder affectionately] Ohhhh, the pioneers used to ride these babies for MILES! And it's in GREAT shape!!

Vergil: DANT-AYYY! WILL YOU FORGET THE STUPID PIONEERS? Haven’t you ever noticed that there are NONE of them left?! That's because they were LOUSY hitchhikers, ate TUMBLEWEED—

Dante: Actually, it was you who said they ate tumbleweed...

Vergil: [points Yamato at Dante again to shut him up] —and took directions from ALGAE!

[Dante climbs onto the boulder while Vergil continues to rant.]

Vergil: And nooow, you're telling me that they thought they could DRIVE...

[Dante somehow shifts the boulder into drive and runs over Vergil.]

Vergil: [flattened against the ground] ...rocks? [gets up and runs desperately after Dante] HOLD ON THERE, JETHRO!

[Scene changes to Dante parking the boulder in front of the customer’s house, with Vergil sitting on the rock next to him.]

Dante: [jumps off of the boulder and runs to the door] I cannot WAIT to see the look on our customer’s face! [excitedly rings the doorbell]

Customer: [answers door] Yeah?

Dante: Congratulations, sir. Your Devil May Cry Pizza is here!

Customer: Wow, thanks! I've been dying for one of these. I— [face falls suddenly] Where's my drink?

Dante: [confused] ...What drink?

Customer: [angry] My drink? My diet Dr. Pepper?? Don't tell me you forgot my drink!!

Dante: [fishes the order out of his pocket and checks it] But, you didn't order any—!

Customer: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT THIS PIZZA WITHOUT MY DRINK?!

Dante: [dumbfounded] B-but Lady...! I-if I don’t pay her back, I’ll have t—!

Customer: Didn't you ever once think of the customer? [throws the pizza at Dante’s face] You call yourself a delivery boy?! Well, I ain't buying! [rudely slams the door]

[Dante walks back over to Vergil with a forced smile on his face.]

Dante: [eye twitches dangerously] He didn’t take the pizza.

Vergil: I’ll take care of this.

[Vergil grabs the pizza from Dante, storms up the stairs to the customer's house, and pounds on the door furiously.]

Customer: [answers the door again] Another one? Look, I told your friend over there, I ain't paying for that!

Vergil: [unsheathing Yamato] Well, this one's on the HOUSE!

[Camera sharply cuts to Dante, who flinches suddenly. Judgement Cut and Summoned Sword noises can be heard off-camera, as well as a petrified human scream, before Vergil finally walks back over to Dante, visibly covered in blood and holding the customer’s wallet in his hands.]

Dante: Did you...change his mind?

Vergil: [returns Yamato to its sheath while grinning smugly] Yep, he sure did. Ate the whole thing in one bite.

Dante: [counts the money in the wallet and perks up immediately] No drink?

Vergil: Nope. [jumps up onto the rock] Now, take me home.

Dante: [hops onto the rock and starts revving it up excitedly] Are you kidding? We have just enough time to make it back to Lady!

[Dante backs up the rock, and they instantly arrive at the Devil May Cry main office.]

Vergil: [eyes twitches dangerously] We‘re—?!

[Episode ends with the sound of Yamato impaling Dante’s chest as the screen quickly cuts to black.]

[darkanima2345]

A continuation of the continuation. Enjoy!

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

“Here we are, Light,” Hope said as he pulled into the driveway of a small thatched cottage in the middle of nowhere. Ivy covered the front of the house; birds flew around several bird feeders that had been set up; bees zipped in between scores of flowers that surrounded the base of house.

“It’s absolutely breathtaking Hope,” she said as she got out of the car. He smiled.

“Wait until you see the best bit,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. “Here, let me get that for you.” Hope took Lightning’s case from the passenger footwell. She gave him a smile, those reserved solely for him, and have been since the Whitewood. Hope unlocked his front door and held it open for Lightning to enter. Oooh, he's such a gentleman. Lightning could practically hear Lumina swooning.

Lightning entered Hope’s home. The first thing she noticed was the enormous window directly opposite the front door; the window went from the floor to the ceiling and was several paces in length. It had a stunning view of vast fields covered in flowers, with mountains in the distance and a fast flowing river curving around the base of them. Lightning moved up to the window, placing her hand on it palm flat.

“I take it that this window is the best bit then Hope?” she said, barely above a whisper .

“Yeah it is. Wait until sunset though, then it is truly spectacular. Although I must say that my view right now rivals it.” Lightning turned round and saw a pink cheeked Hope with his soft green eyes looking straight at her. Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him! Lightning was struggling to restrain Lumina now. Hope shook his head.

“Sorry Light, I’m being a terrible host. Allow me to show you to your room.” Hope turned on his heel and walked to the left of the front door, Lightning’s bag in hand. Lightning followed, noting that the room she was in had nothing on the walls.

“Here you are Light.” Hope opened the wooden door to reveal a small room, with a bed and a chest of draws in. Again, Lightning noticed, there was nothing on the walls. She walked in and placed the box containing Odin's crystal on top of the draws, next to a vase of freshly cut roses.

“There is a bathroom through the door there. It has a shower in, but if you would like a bath then feel free to use the bath in the main bathroom. My home is your home Light. Please help yourself to anything you would like. I’ll let you get some rest and freshen up.” Hope placed Lightning’s bag on her bed and turned to walk out of the room.

“Oh! That’s right. Wait Hope. I have something for you.” Lightning went over to her bag and opened it. Inside, buried underneath clothes was a rectangular package wrapped in blue wrapping paper.

“Oh just what I always wanted! A blue rectangle!” He said, smirking. Lightning shot him a glare.

“Don’t get cute. It’s a gift from Serah.”

“From Serah?” Hope moved over to the bed and sat down, taking the item offered by Lightning. Lightning sat down next to him. Hope peeled the wrapping paper off the corner and carefully unwrapped it. He was shocked to see a hand drawn Alexander in his Gesault form staring back at him, beautifully framed in a wooden frame. Hope traced Alexander’s left shoulder with his finger.

“Did Serah draw this Light?”

“Yes she did. She’s always had quite a passion for drawing.”

“But how? She never saw Alexander. How could she know what he looked like?”

“She doesn’t. She says that she can ‘see' him. But what is really strange is that she couldn’t continue the drawing unless I was in the room with her. She loses her glimpse of him if I’m not in the room” Hope looked up from the picture and turned to look at Lightning. Calming green met calming blue; she had been staring at him.

“Please pass my thanks onto Serah for me, and my regret that she couldn’t make it. And thank you Light, for bringing it all this way.”

“Its no problem Hope. I was coming to see you anyway, with or without Serah.” She smiled at him. He smiled back. They stayed there for some time, or no time at all, staring into each others eyes. Slowly, they both began to lean in, eyes fluttering shut. They were millimetres from each other, moving closer, Lightning could feel Hope’s breath on her lips. The moment was shattered when a loud buzzing noise came from Lightning’s pocket. Nooooooooooo! Lumina really did have a piercing scream, Lightning thought. She took her phone out, still buzzing in her hand, and read the name Serah on the screen.

“Sorry Hope. I need to take this.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.” Hope stood up, walked out of the room and gently closed the door, taking the picture of Alexander with him.

Lightning slid her finger along the front screen of her phone, answering the call.

“Hey Serah.”

“Hi Sis! Did you get to Hope’s safely? Is he okay? What’s his house like? Did he like my drawing?” Lightning chucked at the rapid fire questions from her younger sister.

“I’m here safely, yes. Hope is fine, if looking a little tired. His house is beautiful, a picturesque countryside cottage. He was made up with your gift, yes. Although I’m sure he would have appreciated it more if you were the one to deliver it to him. Remind me again why you and Snow and Vanille and Fang and everyone else couldn’t make it?” Serah just giggled.

“Because of work and other reasons that you couldn’t argue with. You were always close to Hope sis, and I know that he held you very close to his heart. You two should have some time to catch up without all of us there distracting him. Although do pass on all of our phone numbers and emails to him so he can get in contact when he wants to.”

“Yeah I will do.”

“Anything else to tell me sis?”

“No I don’t think so...” Lightning’s eyes glanced over to the draws and to the purple box that sat on top of them. “Oh, Hope bought me a gift. He gave it to me when he picked me up from the station.”

“Oooooh. What is it?”

“It’s a copy of the crystal I used to summon Odin in the old world.”

“Oh wow sis. Can I see it?”

“Unless you fancy making the trip down here, no you can’t.”

“Honestly Claire, you are so bad when it comes to technology. If you look at your phone screen it should have a symbol that looks like a video camera. Tap it.” Lightning did as she was instructed and Serah appeared on her phone screen, giving her sister a small wave. “See, you can show it to me and I don’t even have to be there.” Lightning smiled.

“You always were good with technology Serah. Hold on.” Lightning went and carefully removed the crystal from the box. She held her phone in her right hand and held the crystal in her left by her face. She wanted to see Serah’s reaction after all. Once Serah’s eyes fell onto the crystal Lightning could have sworn that they flashed white, if only for a moment.

“Oh wow Claire. That is absolutely stunning. I...” Serah paused, looking down, brow furrowed in concentration.

“You okay Serah?”

“Yeah. I- I- I think I may know what Odin looked like. Could you send me a picture of the crystal sis? I feel like drawing all of a sudden.”

“Of course. I’ll do that as soon as were done.”

“Thanks sis.” Lightning heard a knock on the door.

“One sec Serah. Come in.” The door opened and Hope popped his head in.

“Sorry to disturb you Light. Would you like anything to eat or drink at all?” As if on cue, Lightning’s stomach made a noise that could have passed for a whale’s mating call. Hope struggled to hide his laughter.

“I’ll take that as a yes then. Come on out when you’re ready.”

“Thanks Hope,” she said giving him a smile and trying desperately to ignore the burning she felt in her cheeks. He turned and gently shut the door. “You could have said hello you know Serah.”

“No I couldn’t. This is meant to be your time with him Light. I’ve kept you talking long enough. Speak soon!” Serah abruptly ended the video call. Ruuuuude! Lightning couldn’t help but agree with Lumina.

Lightning stood and carefully placed Odin’s crystal back into its box, taking a picture and sending it to Serah, and putting on the lid.

Lightning found Hope facing a counter in a kitchen, in a little offset next to the large window that she hadn’t noticed before. Hope turned around and held a tray full of cheeses, biscuits, crackers, and what looked like chocolate cake in his hands.

“Would you mind getting the door just there for me please Light?” Lighting turned to her left and saw sliding patio doors. She opened them and saw a small patio with a table and two chairs facing the mountains that had been revealed so well by the huge window. On the table were two champagne glasses and a bottle. Hope gracefully moved past Lightning and placed the tray onto the table, grabbed the bottle and after a loud pop!, was pouring fizzy liquid into the glasses. He pulled a chair out from underneath the table and motioned for Lightning to sit, then taking the seat opposite.

Lightning sat down, enjoying the heat the chair gave out after spending all day in the sunlight. Hope picked up both glasses and handed one to Lightning. He held his up to Lightning in a toast, “To the new world, and to the savior who brought us here.”

Lightning mimicked Hope’s actions, blushing ever so slightly, lifting her glass to him.

“To the new world, and to the man who saved the savior.”

[everydarkcorner]

Interrogation sounds nice for the bad Things happen Bingo...

Oooohhhh yes it does.

I went slightly balls-to-the-walls with this one and kept writing until 01:15AM with no time to edit, so if there are any mistakes do let me know. ^^;

Interrogation

Read on AO3!

Robin should have known better than to answer his communicator halfway through a grapple swing.  It was distracting, and it put him off-balance, and it usually ended in him smacking into a wall or tumbling across a rooftop.  He knew better.

              So when he flicked the communicator open, and the image of him flashed up on the screen, sat in his desk chair with his shirt shoved up to his armpits and his hand around his cock, he almost deserved it.

              Robin yelped, and narrowly avoided crashing through a window.  Instead, he slammed into the concrete wall next to the window.  Pain shot through his ribs, and then his shoulder wrenched as he fell two feet, and stopped dead, dangling by one hand.  Groaning, he clipped the communicator back to his belt, clasped the grapple in both hands, and hit the retract button.  It dragged him up the office building, and he tried to ignore the way people inside looked up from their computers, frowning at first, and then grinning as they recognised him.

              He finally scrambled up onto the roof, and allowed himself a couple of minutes to gasp for breath, crouching on the concrete.  Shaking himself, Robin flipped open his communicator.  He winced at the picture—his face was flushed, his mouth was open and his eyes closed, face tilted back in bliss.

              The communicator rang before he could close the picture.  Gritting his teeth, Robin answered.  ‘You nearly killed me.’

              Slade stared up at him from the screen, his single eye serene.  ‘You shouldn’t answer your communicator in mid-air.’

              Robin spluttered, jerking to his feet and staring across the buildings.  Slade saw that?  ‘Where—?’

              ‘I enjoyed our last little talk, Robin,’ Slade said, as though Robin hadn’t spoken.  ‘It would be a shame if it were our last.’

              It was expected, but Robin still felt a thrill race up through his skin.  He ground his teeth, trying to fight it.  ‘You gonna threaten to post that picture online, too?’

              Slade’s eye narrowed.  ‘Do I need to?’

              For a moment, Robin couldn’t move.  Blood pulsed in his ears, a steady thump-thump-thump like music pounding through the walls of a club.  He should struggle.  He should find a way to stop this.  To stop Slade neatly stacking one blackmail opportunity on top of another.

              He absolutely shouldn’t be feeling a rush of heat right now.  Shouldn’t be thinking of the sparks and the breathlessness, and the way he said Slade’s name on camera, just for him, and the way Slade had said, ‘Next time …’

              Robin swallowed.  ‘Where?’

              Slade’s eye turned up at the corner, and Robin imagined he was smiling.  ‘I’ll send you coordinates.’

              The screen went black.

              Robin sucked a breath, and then pressed his lips together as the coordinates came through.  Only a few streets away—a warehouse, by the look of it.  He snapped the communicator shut.

              He almost plummeted to his death twice more on the way to the warehouse, because his stupid hands wouldn’t stop shaking on the grapple.

              Robin slipped into the warehouse with bo-staff in hand; the door was unlocked, and the surroundings were quiet and empty, the sun just beginning to sink over the city.  Closing the door softly, he padded inside.  Dim electric lights buzzed on the walls, barely cutting into the shadows in the middle of the room—where a lone wooden chair sat.  And opposite the chair …

              Robin’s chest tightened.

              A camera.  Black and bulky, sat on a spindly tripod like a bird of prey glaring down from a telephone pole.

              Chewing the inside of his mouth, Robin turned his bo-staff over in his hand.

              ‘You won’t be needing that, Robin.’

              Before Robin could draw breath, Slade slipped up behind him.  His hand curled over Robin’s, and easily prised the bo-staff from his grip.

              Robin whirled.  ‘Slade!  Give it back!’

              ‘You can have your staff back—’  Slade twirled it expertly, then hit the retract switch; the staff zipped back into its handle, and Slade tucked it in his belt, ‘—after I’m finished with you.’  He gestured at the chair.  ‘Take a seat.’

              Robin curled his fists, glaring up at Slade.  But what was the point in arguing?  Slade had that photo—had two whole videos now—to use against Robin as he pleased.

              Stiffly, Robin walked to the chair and sat down.  Slade strolled up behind the camera, and touched a button somewhere; the camera lens whirred as it focused on Robin, and tiny red light flashed on.  Recording.

              ‘More home videos?’  Robin hated the way his voice trembled, ever so slightly.

              ‘Actually, I’d like to ask you some questions.’  Slade approached, steps slow and even.  Reaching into his belt, he drew out thin, white cords.  Zip ties.  ‘Hands on the armrests, Robin.’

              On instinct, Robin drew his arms up into his chest.  But when Slade leaned in and curled a hand around Robin’s wrist, Robin didn’t resist.  He let Slade push his hand down into the arm rest, and then tighten the zip tie around his wrist.  Robin winced, the plastic cutting into his skin.  When Slade took his other hand, Robin’s fingers were trembling.

              ‘Nervous?’  Slade’s eye flashed up to meet Robin’s gaze.

              Robin swallowed.  ‘No.’

              Slade laughed, low and soft.  ‘You should think about telling the truth.’

              Reaching into his belt, he drew out something else: a flat, black pad, like a plaster.  Robin’s heart thudded.

              ‘What’s that?’

              Slade pressed the pad to Robin’s arm.  ‘You’ll find out.’  He stepped back, and with a twist of his hand revealed a small, black box.  ‘Answer honestly, Robin.’

              Robin’s eyes flicked to the camera.  He wanted to say something—to put some kind of caveat on honestly. Something like, ‘As long as you don’t make me hurt anyone,’ or, ‘Depends on the question.’  But his throat was dry as dust, and instead he squirmed and flexed his fingers.

              ‘Do you live in Jump City?’

              ‘Yes.’  Robin looked from Slade to the camera and back.

              ‘Did you previously live in Gotham City?’

              Robin shifted his feet.  ‘Yes.’

              ‘Did you come here hoping I would fuck you?’

              Robin jolted, and the chair jerked beneath him.  The wooden legs cracked on the cement floor, the noise echoing through the warehouse.  ‘What?’

              ‘Wrong answer.’

              Fire shot up Robin’s arm.

              He bowed over, a scream tearing up out of his throat; surprise as much as pain.  The muscles in his arm tightened, throbbing, his fingers seizing.  Then, just as suddenly, it stopped.  Robin hung his head, panting.  Electricity, he realised.  He’s electrocuting me.

              ‘Did you come here,’ Slade said again, more slowly, ‘hoping I would fuck you?’

              Robin lifted his head, eyes wide.  The little black box—it was a remote.  For a moment, a similar image flashed into his head—of Slade holding another remote, his bulk a dark shadow in front of bright orange screens—

              Slade’s thumb twitched near the button.

              ‘Yes!’  Robin gasped.  ‘Y-yes.’

              ‘Yes what, Robin?  Say it for the camera.’

              Gritting his teeth, Robin straightened.  ‘Yes,’ he forced out, barely more than a whisper, ‘I came here hoping—hoping you would fuck me.’  His face burned, and he dropped his gaze instantly, staring at his feet in mute horror.

              ‘Good boy,’ Slade purred.  ‘Let’s try some easier questions.  Are you a member of the Teen Titans?’

              A shaky breath.  ‘Yes.’

              ‘Do they know you’re here with me?’

              ‘No.’  Robin’s stomach clenched.  Stupid.  Stupid and risky, and Bruce would kick his ass if ever found out.  But how could Robin tell them?  What could he possibly say?

              ‘Did you enjoy masturbating for me?’

              Robin snapped his gaze up.  Slade was staring, finger hovering over the trigger.  Robin took a breath—

              ‘Too slow, Robin.’

              Slade hit the button.

              He let it go on for longer this time, and Robin could feel that one eye burning into his as he jolted and seized, snarling in pain.  The burn in his arm crept through his body, muscles aching as they spasmed.  When it finally stopped, Robin bowed over, gasping for air.

              ‘Well, Robin?’

              ‘Yes,’ Robin ground out, each breath coming jagged and shaky.  ‘Yes, I enjoyed—I enjoyed—masturbating for you.’  He forced himself to sit up.  His eyes burned, tears threatening as he stared at the remote in Slade’s fist.  ‘Slade … Slade, stop.  Please …’

              Slade tilted his head.  ‘Stop?’

              ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’  Robin’s throat was paper-dry.  ‘Just … just take this thing off.’  He jerked his arm; the zip-tie cut into his skin.  ‘Just take it off, please.’

              ‘Answer honestly,’ Slade said, ‘and I won’t have to shock you again.’

              Robin moaned, but Slade was already ploughing ahead, his next question cutting straight over Robin:

              ‘Do you want me to cut those cable ties?’

              ‘Yes!’

              ‘Do you want to leave?’

              Robin opened his mouth.  Hesitated a beat.  Trick.

              Slade’s thumb twitched on the trigger.

              ‘No.’  He spat the word quickly, heart jolting.  ‘No, no, I don’t want to leave.’

              Slade lifted his thumb away, and Robin sagged.  This was it.  It was a game.  A game to mess with his head, and that was fine.  He could play games.  Slade wasn’t the first to try and upset a poor, hostage little bird.  Robin gritted his teeth.

              ‘Do you want my cock in your mouth?’

              Robin flinched.  But then he looked up, fixed his eyes on Slade, and said, ‘Yes.’

              For just a moment, Slade was quiet, and Robin wasn’t sure if he was surprised, or pleased.  Or … possibly … disappointed.  Disappointed that his prey wasn’t quivering in the corner anymore.  But then—

              ‘Do you like to imagine me fucking your mouth, when you masturbate?’

              ‘Yes.’

              ‘Say it, Robin.’

              Robin swallowed, face burning, and forced the words out.  ‘I like to image you fucking my mouth when I masturbate.’

              Something clenched, low in his belly, and a fresh wave of heat spread over Robin’s body.  He tensed, fingers tightening on the arm rests.  No … surely not.  He couldn’t—

              ‘Would you like to open your mouth and let me come on your face?’

              There was something … off about Slade’s voice.  Something sort, and clipped, and—and—breathy.  Robin straightened his back, pushing his shoulders back.

              Slade wasn’t disappointed.  Not at all.  His chest swelled with a weird sense of pride, and the muscles in his thighs tensed, and although it felt like his face must be on fire by now, he said,

              ‘I want you to come on my face.  I want you to come all over me.’

              Slade snapped up straight like a marionette on pulled strings.  His eye burned.  ‘Robin …’

              There was a note of warning in his tone, like Robin was pushing it too far.  Robin sat back.  Pressed his lips together.  Fine.  He could keep playing.

              Slade’s eye flicked down Robin’s body.  And widened.

              Instinctively, Robin pulled his knees in together.  But too late—too late to hide the very obvious result of the heat pooling low in his body.

              ‘Robin …’ Slade said again, and this time the warning was gone—replaced with a touch of laughter.  ‘Are you getting hard just answering these questions?’

              Robin set his jaw.  Took a breath.  Waited—just long enough for Slade to lift the remote again.  Then he said, ‘Yes.’

              Slade lowered the remote, and then tucked it in his belt.  ‘Do you want me to bend you over that chair and fuck you?’

              The remote was gone.  And despite the patch still resting on Robin’s arm, he sensed the game was over.  He curled his toes in his boots.  Chewed on the inside of his mouth.  Slade didn’t move; waiting patiently.

              ‘Yes.’

              He kept his eyes up, and didn’t flinch as Slade swept past the camera, and straight for him.  Robin’s breath shook, and his skin felt sunburn-hot, and he twisted his hands under the zip-ties.  Bending down, Slade rested his hands on Robin’s knees—a touch that sent jolts like more shocks of electricity shooting through Robin’s body.

              ‘Well then,’ Slade murmured.  ‘I’d better give you what you want.’

              His hands glided up Robin’s legs, and pressed into the hard lump of his cock.

              Robin cried out, heat tearing up through his body.  His head dropped back on instinct, and then Slade palmed at his cock, fingers curling and relaxing, and Robin whined.  Slade’s hands felt so different to his own.  So much bigger, and hotter, and firmer.  His legs shook as Slade reached up, unclipped Robin’s belt, and then tugged his leggings down.

              ‘I told you I would have my hands on you,’ Slade murmured.  ‘Do you like it, Robin?  Is this what you wanted?  Is this what you’ve been imagining all this time?’

              Robin opened his mouth to answer, and Slade tightened his grip around Robin’s cock.  All Robin managed was a strangled yelp, his hips bucking into the tightness of Slade’s grip.

              Slade laughed.  ‘Are you close already, Robin?  Did my home video turn you on that much?’

              The chair creaked as Robin arched his back.  Close—yes he was close—

              Slade lifted his hands away.

              ‘No!’  Robin lifted his head.  ‘Don’t stop—don’t stop—’

              ‘I’m not going to let you finish yet.  We’ve barely started.’  Slade’s face was close enough for Robin to see through the grill on his mask—to see white lips curling up in a smirk.  ‘Are you ready to take everything you asked for?’

              Robin’s eyes widened.  Everything he—oh god—

              But Slade was already stepping back, loosening his own belt, and Robin’s stomach tensed.  Was he—was Slade serious?  He was going to—

              Slade let his the belt drop.  He slipped the waistband of his uniform down, just enough to show a flash of white hair—and then—

              Robin stared, heart pounding through his chest—his ribs—all the way up in his throat.  Slade was half-hard, massaging the base of his cock in one hand.  Reaching up with his other hand, he traced Robin’s cheek.  His jaw.  Pressed the pad of his thumb against Robin’s lower lip.

              ‘Open up, Robin.  I’m going to fuck your mouth, just like you wanted.’

              Eyes flicking up, Robin clenched his jaw on automatic.  Slade’s eye was hooded, and that smirk behind the mask was smug, as if to say, ‘Coward.  I knew you wouldn’t do it.’

              Robin opened his mouth.

              Slade’s cock slipped in slow and easy.  The skin was soft and tasteless, and Robin closed his eyes and focused on breathing through his nose as Slade rolled his hips—once, twice, unhurried, like he was savouring every moment.  And gradually, Robin could feel it against his lips as Slade grew harder, the skin firmer, silk-smooth.  The blunt head of Slade’s cock glided over his tongue, and Robin shivered.

                I want you to fuck my mouth …

              An unexpected throb shot through his cock, and Robin groaned.

              ‘That’s it, Robin.’  Slade’s hand curled in his hair.  ‘Open wide for me.’

              Robin stretched his jaw, forcing his mouth open wider.  Taking a deep, trembling breath, he bobbed his head, letting Slade push in deeper.  He could do this.  It didn’t hurt.  It didn’t even taste bad—not really.  He felt full, and used, and somehow that sent wave after wave of warmth through his skin, pounding in his cock.  Moaning again, he slipped his tongue out, leaning his head in further, inviting Slade in deeper.

              ‘You want more, Robin?’  Each word came out short and sharp, Slade almost breathless as he thrust into Robin’s mouth.  ‘Do you want me to fuck you harder?’

              He couldn’t speak—couldn’t even nod his head—so Robin simply moaned in response, trying to make it long and loud and hungry. Slade’s fingers tightened in his hair, and suddenly Robin couldn’t move his head.  But it didn’t matter, because Slade bucked forward, and his cock brushed the back of Robin’s tongue, and then he was pounding into Robin’s mouth, sharp and fast, and tears burned Robin’s eyes.  He tried to moan again and couldn’t—the sound came out wet and garbled, choked off by the smack of Slade’s cock at the back of his mouth.

              ‘Good boy, Robin.  I’m going to fuck you.  I’m going to make you say my name, just like you said it for me in our videos.  I’m going to make you scream it for me.’  Slade tugged Robin’s hair, sharp enough to draw a sharp, high sound out of his throat—immediately silenced by Slade’s cock.  ‘Just like you’ve always wanted.’

              He stepped back, and Robin spluttered at the sudden emptiness in his mouth.  His longed to wipe his wet lips, and the fact he couldn’t sent a strange, cold thrill up his spine.

              Slade bent, reaching for his belt.  Remote.  Robin tensed, but when Slade came up, the little black box was nowhere in sight.  Instead, a Swiss army knife flashed in his hand.  He flicked out a short, sharp blade, and slipped it under the zip tie on Robin’s left hand.

              The breath huffed out of Robin’s body as the first zip tie snapped loose.  He stretched out his arm, flexing his fingers.  Then he sat back, giving Slade access to his right arm—and the second zip-tie.

              But Slade closed the blade with a soft snap, and crouched to tuck it back in his belt.  Straightening, he slid his hands up the outside of Robin’s thighs.  Robin let out a slow, shaky breath.  His cock throbbed, and he twitched, longing to arch into the friction of Slade’s hands once more.

              Slade’s fingers closed instead on Robin’s hips, achingly tight.  He lifted, and Robin grunted as he was forced to stand awkwardly, right hand still strapped to the chair leg.  Slade dragged him, stumbling, around the left side of the chair.

                Do you want me to bend you over that chair—

              Robin realised what Slade was doing a fraction before he felt the solid hand between his shoulder blades, shoving him down.  He flailed with his left hand—managed to plant it on the arm rest, and then his chest dropped.  Slade held him for a moment, pinned in place, bent awkwardly with his right hand stuck underneath him.  He tried to tug it back, but the zip tie wouldn’t budge, cutting into his skin.

              And then Slade curled his fingers into the waistband of Robin’s leggings, and Robin forgot about his arm, and his awkward position, because,

                —and fuck you?

              ‘Wait.’  He tensed.  ‘Slade, wait.  I haven’t—Slade—I haven’t done this before.’  No response—Slade drew his leggings down, and cold air hit Robin’s skin.  Robin pushed himself halfway up.  ‘Slade!’

              A hand planted in his back, pushing him back down.  ‘Relax, Robin.  I’m not going to hurt you.’

              Robin drew half a ragged breath, and then—

              A hand traced between his legs, and curled loosely around his balls.

              All the tension melted out of Robin’s body.  He sagged into the chair.  Slade tightened his hold, just reaching the edge of painful, and then loosened it.

              ‘I said relax, Robin.’

              Robin tried to summon a pithy response, and managed, ‘Hnnnmmugh.’

              Another hand traced down Robin’s lower spine—between his ass cheeks—and then one finger rubbed slow, gentle circles around his ass.  Robin’s eyes drooped and he felt so tense and yet so heavy.  He barely noticed when the finger withdrew—or when it came back cool and wet.

              And pressed, slowly, achingly, into him.

              He shifted, the sensation—alien—but not bad.  No, not bad at all.  Slade pumped his finger, slow, and his other hand reached lower, tracing the underside of Robin’s cock.  Robin moaned and arched his hips, trying to give Slade a better angle.

              As Slade closed his hand around Robin’s cock, he pressed a second finger into Robin’s ass.  This one felt hotter than the first—more tense—and for a moment, Robin gritted his teeth, aching.  But Slade dragged him through the discomfort with soft, easy strokes around his cock, and gradually Robin sank into the warmth and the fullness, and when Slade pressed in a third finger, he moaned.  Pushed up onto his toes.  Sank his chest lower, and his hips higher.

              Slade worked his fingers faster and faster, and Robin was moaning on every breath, his skin boiling, and he was closing in again—this time—this time—

              Slade stopped, and Robin almost screamed.

              He heard the tear of a wrapper; the soft sound of a condom rolling out.  And then—

              Blunt pressure.  Stretching.  Heat.

              He didn’t need Slade’s hand around his cock.  Slade rolled his hips, and Robin came apart with a scream.  He stretched across the chair, gasping, face flushed, and remembered too late,

              ‘Slade,’ he breathed.  And then, again, as Slade continued to fuck him, each thrust pounding into his body, and again, on every exhale, trying to make up for not saying it as he came: ‘Slade, Slade, Slade—’

              Slade’s fingers traced down his back, and if not for the gloves, Robin knew he would have felt the sharp scrape of fingernails digging into his skin.  He sobbed, Slade’s fucking suddenly too much, the sensation trying to drag him back into an orgasm when he was already dry.  His legs shook and his trapped arm burned, and Slade fucked and fucked and fucked.

              When he finally drew back, and out, Robin’s knees buckled.  He didn’t resisted when Slade hauled him up, and slammed him back in the chair.  He blinked as Slade rolled the condom off.  His cock was hard, and scarlet, and Slade curled a fist around it and pumped, and Robin realised he wasn’t done.  Not until—

              ‘Open—’ Slade gasped.

              Robin opened his mouth—opened it wide, like he meant to swallow Slade’s cock a second time.  Instead, Slade snarled, and Robin jolted at the sudden, hot spray across his tongue—his cheek—his jaw—

              He choked.  Now it tasted bad.  Now it tasted like drinking a gallon of saltwater and washing it down with bitter syrup.  Bowing his head, Robin spluttered, then closed his lips and tried and tried to swallow.  His face was sticky; a white trail dripped off his chin and landed in his lap, wet and lewd.

              Slade’s black-gloved hand tapped Robin’s chin, and Robin lifted his head.

              ‘Good boy.’  Slade’s voice was soft and hoarse, and filled Robin with a strange, unbelievable warmth.

              The Swiss army knife flashed again, and as the second zip-tie snapped, Robin groaned and sank back in the chair.  He swiped an arm over his face, and only half succeeded in clearing it off.  A sticky smear remained, tickling on his skin as it dried.

              ‘Next time,’ Slade said simply.

              Robin nodded.  His voice barely came above a whisper.  ‘Next time.’

[lotsofthinkythoughts]

The Catch (and Release)

This is the latest of the Bank Robber AU @gingerteaonthetardis and I have been spamming everyone with, so... enjoy? The rest is here.  

He told her to run, shoved her away and stood like a barrier between her and the police. And it had worked. He meant for her to leave, to take the duffel to the car, use the keys he’d shoved into her hands and drive away.

“That’s never gonna happen,” she mutters shoving the duffel in the trunk.

She stares at her reflection in the rearview mirror and plans. She’s not sure how long she sits there, cracked leather of the steering wheel beneath her palms- mind running over everything that had happened that night.

“See, easy!” He said, placing the last of the cash into the duffel

“And for your next trick?” She teased, bumping her hip against his as he zipped it.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps a disappearing act? Appropriate for a show like this, don’t you think?”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” She ran her hands through his hair, still shorter than normal, but long enough to grip nicely. The sensation wasn’t as nice through the black leather gloves the both always wear, but needs must.

“Rose,” he half-reprimanded, half-whined, nose brushing against hers in that way that he always did when he was so close to giving in and kissing her but knew he shouldn’t.

“Yes, I know, you don’t have to remind me. I have plans for you later.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

She grabbed the duffel, sauntering away with a swing in her hips put on entirely for show.

They nearly made it to the exit before things went wrong. The single night guard turning a corner just a moment too early, catching sight of them, and a police car passing at the same moment they came bursting out of the back of the bank.

“Run!” John shouted, scrabbling at his pockets for the car keys and tossing them to her and she ran beside him. She caught them out of instinct, fingers closing around the fob and chain, metal biting her palm.

“I’m not-” She started to protest, but he cut her off sharply.

“Yes, you are. GO.”

Then he was gone, pivoting on his heel and running away from her and Rose didn’t know what to do but what he said.

She leans forward, folding herself up tightly, her forehead against the backs of her hands. She knows there was always danger, that this life wasn’t easy or simple or without sacrifice. But the thought of John in handcuffs, shoved around by the police while she sits here and free roils bile over her tongue. Swallowing it down, she drives, all the way to motel.

The sight of the little room, with it’s dingy wallpaper and dirty carpet, maps and suitcases on the wooden dresser turns her throat dry. She thinks of the money in the car. “You know what to do,” his voice, soft and low and serious echoes in her mind.

She should pack everything. Throw it in the trunk, break up the money in another motel in another town- give some away, spend some, tuck the last away just in case. Instead, she stands against the closed door of the room, glad it’s a by the night establishment that asks no questions.

A long minute passes as she stands there breathing out stuck between doing something, and running. She turns, forehead pressing against the wood of the door, fingers half wrapped around the doorknob- thinking of going to the police station- she knows where it is and how to get there in under twenty minutes.

They could plan together, they always worked better together after all.

But she couldn’t shake the vision of John’s face, eyes sharp despite the worry in his tone, just before he turned away from her. She couldn’t ignore that.

She has work to do.

She spreads the city map on the bed, looking at the surroundings of the station and tries to find a way in; first by lamplight, and then by sunlight as dawn shifts into day bright enough for the sun to penetrate the thin curtains. By then her eyes are bloodshot and her head is heavy but she can’t stop. If she stops now, it’s giving up.

“I can’t do this,” she whispers under the steam of the shower, hot enough to burn.  The phrase bubbles up inside her, a negative mantra, one that she can’t squash until she’s leaning against tile, tears running down her face hot and ugly and pained. The water abruptly goes cold, and she stands in the stream, the shock of it against her skin sharp and biting. It hurts, but the pain gives her some clarity and pulls her back into herself.

Maybe she can’t do this- not the way they usually do, where John proposes a mad scheme and they laugh and walk it back until it’s realistic. But she can plan. And sneak. She’s done it before, so long ago it feels like a lifetime. The stakes are higher now.

(In her mind’s eye she can see John frowning at her.

“No they aren’t,” the ghost in her head says clearly enough that she can almost feel his hand against her cheek.

Even in her own mind he won’t let her think he’s more important than she is.)

It doesn’t matter if she thinks she can do this. She has to. She refuses to lose him.

--

It takes her a week to come up with a plan. A week of a stone growing in the pit of her stomach. A week of fighting off the voice inside her screaming at her to go- that she can’t waste anymore time.

The first day, she drinks cold coffee with a grimace while pouring over a library microfiche, looking at blueprints and sketching them out for herself in a tiny notebook. She finds so many ways that won’t work. Double enclosures and checkpoints abound and it gives her a headache after a while.

Prisons, Rose decides, are more trouble than they’re worth.

She shakes her head when the librarian asks her if she needs assistance, internally giggling at the face they would make if she said ‘Well, if you have any books on prison breaks’.  She’s not foolish enough to make even a joke, but she has to find her amusement where she can.  She tries not to think about John all alone in a cell.

She spends her evening eating Chinese food from a carton - looking at the city map and her blueprint sketches. There’s a plan in them somewhere, between the station and the city and the prison. She balances the box on her sock-covered knee with one hand as she leans forward to grab her notebook. The sleeve of John’s sweater falls over her hand from where she’d shoved it up to her elbow earlier.

She lets the notebook balance on the knee of the leg that’s tucked under her, as she goes back to eating, wrinkling her nose when one of the noodles drops off her chopsticks to the paper below.

There was no way to get him out from the outside.

So how did she get in, then?

She spends two days contemplating that question. She couldn’t imitate a police officer or guard; it was too obvious and too difficult to get hold of the uniform regardless.  So then, who else could she be. She drives in loops around the prison, where she knows they’ve moved him by now, and it’s in one of these that inspiration strikes. She sees the nice suits of the lawyers who go in.

That, she thinks, is an uniform I can get.

It takes another three days before she’s ready to go forward with the plan. She spends those nights sleeping in the car, running over the details as she stares at the roof of the car using John’s sweater as a pillow.  Her maps and notes and blueprints burned in the sink before she left, dwindling to ash as she kept the window propped open to let the smoke out.  She drives away to buy herself a smart skirt suit and a briefcase, one with a hidden compartment, then to another town for the tools she needs, and then to one last to make altered copies of the business card she’d stolen from the public defender's office the morning she left. (It was frighteningly easy, but then, Rose supposed they must have all sorts in and out of there why would they notice a single quiet blonde.)

The altered cards take most of an afternoon, but they’re cheap and the teen manning the cash register is more occupied with the magazine she’s reading than the face of the girl fiddling with cardstock in the printer. Nothing jams, and the knot of tension eases as she starts the drive back.

It turns out she needn’t have bothered with the second step, because when she walks up to the prison saying the public defender’s office sent her, they don’t ask for identification. Her hair is pulled into a sleek chignon, a pen holding it together, because it was what she had on hand. She waits, the guards moving around as they get John from holding. Her fingers clench and unclench around the handle of the briefcase as she walks herself through the plan again.

Get in. See John. Give him the tools. Tell him where to meet her. Wait.

Simple and easy to remember. She just has to remain calm.

“What happened to other guy?” the guard asks her casually, as he lifts up the lid of the briefcase.

There’s nothing to find except papers and a manila folder she’d stuffed with copy paper and clipped with paper clips. He doesn’t open the folder.

Rose shrugs, schooling her face into a neutral mask. “I don’t know, I just go where they send me. Maybe they thought I could get him to talk.”

The guard grunts, a noise she thinks means agreement, as he snaps the case shut and hands it back to her. She watches as he crosses over to unlock the door leading to the interview room. There’s a CCTV camera in the corner, but that’s the least of her worries.  

John’s face when he sees her, concerns her far more than the fixed lens she knows how to avoid.

He doesn’t say anything, not until the door is closed behind her.

“Why are you here?” He asks, angling his face so the camera can’t catch the movement of his lips.

“You know why.”

I told you to leave, he mouths, his face serious and blank as she takes a seat across from him at the table.  “I don’t have anything more to say,” he adds aloud, for the benefit of anyone who might be listening in.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” Rose says, attempting to portray an ice-queen to any security room voyeur even as her stomach turns. She sets the briefcase on the table, angling it just so, to block the edge of the hidden compartment being revealed in a moment.

She pulls out the manila folder and slides it over to him, watching his brow crinkle in confusion. “Review that for me, would you?”

He reaches out, slides the folder toward himself and flips it open, slowly flipping through the blank pages until he finds the one in the center. At the heart of the folder is the plan, in all it’s deceptively simple glory.

She helps him save himself.

The paper contains a sketch of the central wall of a cell, an arrow drawn to a panel beneath the bed. It’ll be a tight squeeze through vents for him, but he’s been in tighter spots, she knows.  There’s also a note: one that Rose wrote and rewrote a dozen times.

I’m never gonna leave you. I want you safe.  So be careful. And quick. Tonight, preferably.

The vents are open-  turn at first left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, and drop down. Go past the bins,  and take the fifth door on your left. The blue door, not the red.

Meet me at the abandoned lot behind that coffee shop - the one with the graffiti of the golden eyes.

He reads it and looks at her curiously- watching as she palms a screwdriver up the sleeve of her suit coat, an action blocked by the raised lid of the briefcase.

“Well?” She asks

“Seems reasonable enough.” He nods once. Then his eyes shift and his expression softens. It’s an expression Rose doesn’t dare think about at this moment. If she does the mask of professionalism and carelessness will absolutely fall. She’s spent too long worrying and planning to ruin things now because she couldn’t keep a lid on her own feelings.

“Are you certain you have nothing to add in your defense?”

His brow furrows, and then he seems to read between the lines, seeing the question she couldn’t ask. His fingers curl into themselves and she knows if she reached across the table he’d hold her hand in his.

“I’m absolutely certain. Anything that happened was my fault alone.”

She exhales through her nose, not surprised by the response. They’d talk about this when he was free- talk about his tendency to protect her, keep her from harm sometimes at the detriment to his own health. She thinks about that summer when they’d escaped by falling out a second story plate glass window. How he’d pulled her over him, cushioning her landing, breaking a leg and gashing up his back for his trouble.

She carefully circles the table, heels clacking on the floor as she goes to stand beside him. “I promise you, Mr. Smith, you’ll have the best defense we can provide.” She lets the screwdriver fall silently into his lap, watching as he tucks it away.

“I’m sure I will if you’re on the team, ma’am.” He grins up at her, and she can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his smile.

She packs everything up, careful to keep her face straight as he smirks at her- he knew full well what that look did to her. And she might not be able to tell him off for it now, but she would soon. Very soon.

---

The day drags by, leaving her feeling frayed and worried even after shedding her disguise for the sweater she’d been wearing off and on the past week. She considers the idea of going to the laundromat, spending time mindlessly watching clothes tumble around for a few hours, but the idea of shedding the comfort the sweater gives her makes the knot of tension pull tighter. Instead, she buys herself a coffee and lingers in the tiny play park on the edge of the town, sitting on empty swings and staring into the middle distance.

She only moves to the abandoned lot after dark, parking the car on the far side and leaving John a change of clothes in the backseat. Now all that’s left for her is to wait.

She’s never been good at the waiting. She thinks of all the days they’ve spent making waiting something else, filling up hours with the press of skin and the slickness of sweat between them. She thinks of the hushed conversations about what they both want from the future.

Her fingers clench and unclench around the steering column until she has to leave the car because the air is thick with memories and uncertainty. She waits under the graffiti instead the night air cold against her skin where she’s rucked up the sleeves of the sweater one more time.

Rose doesn’t know how long she stands there, running her fingers over the fabric pilled from hours and days of wear. She loses herself in the feeling and texture, so much so she almost misses the sound of soft footsteps over gravel.

John comes into view, looking tired and drawn in the dim moonlight, and Rose feels the knots of tension that has been her constant friend this past week vanish. She takes one step, then two, until she’s running full tilt at him so she can meet him sooner. He’s not close enough, not yet, she thinks.

They crash together like tides on the shore. It’s almost violent, the embrace they share, both exhausted and wrung out now clinging to one another. He’s saying something, whispering words into her hair but she can’t hear them over her tears. She pulls her head back from their tangled embrace, and he follows, arms clenched tight around her.

“Stay,” he says, grip on her so strong she’ll have bruises tomorrow. But she’s holding on just as tightly, unwilling to let him go, even for a moment.

“Always.”

She leans back in and kisses him. It’s more than words could ever say, hot and hard and desperate. His mouth is open under hers and they give and take equally, trying to take root in one another, to find the ground that’s always been between them solid and steady. She feels him backing her up, looking for something to lift her against and oh she wants, she wants, she wants.

“Wait,” she breathes, pulling her mouth away from his. “Car. We should - car.”

She can’t manage more of a complete thought than that, her mind still screaming with his presence and the feel of his skin against hers. He understands anyway. Their hands fall together as they run, fingers entwined. It’s barely any distance really to get there, but it feels like miles.

She finds herself shoving the carefully folded set of clothes she’d left out for him to the floorboard as she pulls him into the backseat with her. They should wait, until after they’re farther away, safer, but she can’t. And based on the feel of him as his hips press her down into the leather seat, neither can he. They lock eyes in the darkened car and she nods once, her hands already drifting to the button of her jeans.

It’s hot, messy and desperate, a metaphor for their lives even, if she was given to being poetic about such things. She kisses him hard as he presses inside, trying to pull him closer, and closer still. It’s not close enough. She’s not sure it ever will be again. Her hands trace over what she can reach of his chest and over his shoulder to his back, before burying one hand in his hair and holding on. His mouth is at her neck as his hips rock in a rhythm that’s chasing, motion as desperate as her heart feels. She’s not sure she can match his fall, but he knows her, and knows what she needs and so he works a hand between them and gives it to her.

They let the tide carry them away, clinging to each other the whole time. The world narrows to nothing but the sweaty stickiness of the leather under her back and the warmth of John above her. There’s nothing else that matters. It’s him and her and them together, clinging to the skin of an empty world tilting too fast for them to keep up. They lay like that for a while, coming down from the high.

By morning, they’ll find themselves somewhere new, somewhere quiet where they’ll drink coffee overlooking a lake vista. They’ll talk then, about what they should do differently, about his tendency to sacrifice himself for her, about her refusal to let him. But right now, they’re at home. And no matter the danger, it’s as it should be.

[rydcrs]

burned to the touch

Pairings: Mike/Will

Warnings: None

Summary: Hawkins didn't have much going for it. It was as boring as the people who lived in it. So, Will moved to New York City. The city of dreams to take up his own dream of becoming a professional ghost hunter. There, Will moves in with Mike Wheeler. A cute boy with a love for candy and a passion for writing. Mike joins Will on his ghost hunting adventures.

But, what happens with Mike starts acting a little strange and Will sets out to find out who, or what, exactly Mike is.

Words: 1,620

Parts: 1/?

Taglist: @erstwhilemagic , @bylerr , @theres-no-going-home , @midheavensmike , @moonlesbi4n

   Will shuffles awkwardly out of the cab, his suitcase tumbling out behind him. The door shuts after him and the cab driver doesn’t wait until it speeds off, disappearing into the distant. Will pays no mind to it and instead focusing on the building that towered over him. It was made of red bricks with concrete stairs leading up to a bright red door. He stares down onto the piece of paper where an address was written in messy small letters. Will shoves it back into his pocket and moves toward the door, struggling to get his suitcase over the stairs. He reaches the top and pushes the doors open, suddenly being hit with warm air that combated the cold, fall air outside.

  The first floor was surprisingly empty, no one was around. Will walks to the elevator and pushes the up button. He waits for a second, messing around with the hem of his dark green sweater. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He walks in and presses the button next to the number two. ‘Room 208. Room 208.’ Will repeats in his head. He was awfully nervous. It was his first time in New York without Johnathan’s helpful guiding. Although, Will used to find him annoying and would often say that he could make his way around the city just fine without him. But now, he was all alone in a big city with no one’s help. He was old enough to live on his own as he had reassured his mother, but he wasn’t so sure now.

  There wasn’t much time to time to regret his decision now as the elevator’s doors slid open once more. Will was greeted with a long hallway and ten or so doors. He walks out and pulls his suitcase with him. ‘Room 208. 208.’ Will looks to the right then left. Even numbers were on the left, and the odd numbers on the right. He moves forward, looking at each door carefully. ‘202. 204. 206. 208!’ He stops in front of the door labeled 208. “This is it,” Will whispers to himself, raising his hand to knock. Before he can though, someone opens the door. Behind the door, leaning against the door frame was a guy with jet-black hair, dark blue eyes, and pale skin. “Will Byers, right?” He said and give Will a small smile.

  Will nods and smiles back. “Mike Wheeler,” Mike says and moves away from the door frame. “Though, I’m sure you already knew that.” Will stands still outside the door, he was still stunned by Mike. He certainly wasn’t expecting Mike to look how he did. He was much cuter and wow, did Will love his voice. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?” Will laughs awkwardly and walks into the apartment. He looks around, taking in every small detail. One thing he noticed was a box from Dunkin’ Donuts surrounded by candy wrappers and an opened can of Coca-Cola sitting on the coffee table.

  “Here, I’ll show you your room.” Mike grabs Will’s free hand and leads him to the other end of the apartment. Will almost immediately notices the fact that Mike’s hands were unusually warm, especially since it was cold outside. But, he doesn’t focus on that and instead focused on the small table that sat in between the two doors. It had a small vase with a rose and a picture frame. “Here it is,” Mike says, and Will looks back at him. He had opened the door to the left and Will peeked his head into it. It was remotely empty, save for a bare bed frame and a few scraps of paper. “What happened to the last person who lived here?” Will asked, cautiously.

 “They died,” Mike says in a cold tone of voice. “What?!” Will body tenses as Mike stares him dead in the eye. A smile breaks out on Mike’s face and Will only really notices he was joking when Mike starts giggling. “Just kidding! They moved out.” Will lefts out a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to be living with a ghost and maybe even a potential murderer. His body relaxes only to tense up again when Mike places a pale hand on his shoulder. “Well,” He starts after a second or two of stillness, “I’ll leave you to it.” And with those words, he left. To what? Will wasn’t sure, and he assumed Mike didn’t really know either. He finally walked into the room after standing in the doorway for a minute or so and fully observed the room entirely.

  It was slightly bigger than his old room back in Hawkins with a dark tile floor and warm white walls. There was a small closet on the right end of the room. Will opened up the closet door, expecting it to be empty. And it was save for a few clothes hangers that hung from the white rack secured on the wall. He closed it again and walked toward the bed frame. It was wooden and colored a harsh black, where the mattress would be laid five or so sticky notes all in an assortment of colors. Will picked up a bright orange one and read what was on it. It seemed like some sort of to-do list. He put it down and grabbed another one, this one was a hot pink and was addressed to someone named Max.

  Will thought it was probably the person who had stayed in the room previous to him. Although, he didn’t give it much thought and moved the notes to the far corner of the bed. He shrugged off his backpack and pulled it into his lap. He hadn’t brought much as he didn’t own a lot. Will opened the bag and reach into it. He pulled out a camera case and zipped it open, carefully handling the video camera that nested inside. It was Johnathan’s who had given it to Will as a sort of “going away present.”

  It was a little scratched up, but it meant a lot to Will. It also meant he didn’t have to buy a new one. He didn’t know how well it would be in recording spirits and such, but he would just have to find out. When Will went to put it back into his bag, Mike appeared from wherever he had gone to. In his hands were his car keys that he jingled around. “Come on, Will. We’re going out.” Will raised an eyebrow and ponder on if he remembered agreed on going out. “Sorry?” Mike walked in and sat down next to Will. “What’s that?” Mike completely ignored Will and instead pointed to the camera in his hands. “Oh, um, it’s a video camera,” Will started out slowly. “For recording when I go hunting.”

  Mike look at him surprised. “Hunting? You don’t look like the hunting type.” Will shook his head and laughed quietly. “Hunting as in ghost hunting. Not hunting animals.” “Ghost hunting?” Will turned red, he knew how stupid it sounded to most people. “I feel like…” Will took a breath before finishing. “There’s someone, or something, out there. And most people choose to ignore that but not me. I want to know what’s out there and I won’t stop until I do.”

  Mike straightened up and looked at Will who had shifted his focus from the camera to Mike. Mike ran his hand through his hair and let out a small hum. “Well, just know that sometimes what’s out there is worse than what is right in front of you. And if you go too deep, you’re likely to find things that you would never have imagined. So, sometimes it’s best to leave things undiscovered.” Mike said softly and give Will a tight-lipped smile. “Although it’s your choice really.” And with that Mike stood up and dusted himself off. “Are you coming or not?” Will nodded and put the camera back into the case, following after Mike. “Yeah. Course.”

---  

  Will and Mike walked into the apartment together, Mike had an arm around Will who was laughing. They had spent a good few hours out, first going to a small bakery near the building. Then they wandered around a small park and time square. They had talked about pretty much everything, to Mike’s old roommate to Will’s old hometown. It was an enjoyable night and Will was starting to really like Mike’s company. Mike listened to everything Will said intently, and Will laughed at every one of Mike’s dumb jokes.

  Will had found out that Mike had a big sweet tooth and worked at the local animal shelter. He had also found out that Mike didn’t really have many friends beside two close ones that he had to know forever. Will was confused as to how since Mike seemed so charming to him.

  Will had to sleep on the couch since his furniture hadn’t arrived yet and Mike had given him a blanket, as Will didn’t bring one. He snuggled up against it and fell asleep quickly after that.

---

  He was awakened later by a loud noise which resulted in him to sit up half asleep. It turned out to be Mike who had gotten up for a late night snack. “Mike??” Will mumbled as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the kitchen. “Oh,” Mike said and looked towards Will. “Sorry Will, I get hungry a lot.” He said sheepishly as he took a bite of the leftover donuts. Will groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. Mike shut off the lights and made his way to his room. 

  “Goodnight, Byers. Sweet dreams.”

[timeywimeygalaxy]

The Ghost Of You {Chapter 2}

A/N: Chapter 2 ya’ll! and gotta say this got a lot darker than I anticipated it being xD so I’m sorry for that! also to note the way Roman says “Demon” is pretty much the way Shane says it here xD Dunno why it cracks me up and Deceit is mentioned in this chapter his name will be Dorian in this AU and throughout it, I hope you like this chapter!

Warning: descriptions of murder, Swearing, Deceit (mentioned), let me know if there is anything else!

Pairings: None....yet ;)

Words: 2530

Tag List: @accio-hufflepuff-power @just-an-anxious-ravenclaw-boy

Let me know if you would like to be tagged/untagged in future updates!

Ch1 Ch 2 Ch3 Ch 4

“C’mon Ro!” Virgil huffed as all three men scurried through the airport wheeling their suitcases behind them, after a 6-hour flight which included Roman freaking out upon seeing their plane number was 180 “Have you SEEN Final Destination?” Virgil was already anxious enough without that dork making him more so, luckily Logan had diffused the situation quickly by stating “no need to worry Roman the odds of dying in a plane crash are statistically one in eleven million” “That’s still one!” Roman shouted dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes as he pulled his arm to the checkout desk.

All three of them were frazzled, after one taxi ride, a 6 hour flight with a stop in between that, now they were finally on the ground back in their hometown and boy did it feel good to be back on home soil again, stepping out the airport helped as the cool breeze hit their faces, chucking their suitcases into a rental car, Virgil got in the drivers seat slamming the door closed, he wanted to get to their Air BnB and at least have some time to recuperate before tonight.

Arriving at their rental place, they made their way inside and dumped their suitcases in their respective rooms, Virgil opened his and started laying out devices on his bed as Logan entered his room and leaned on the door frame looking at the objects that Virgil was picking up inquisitively.

“What’s all this?” he questioned as Virgil finished laying out all the objects.

“these,” he said as he closed his suitcase and kicked it under the bed “are our tools for tonight” Logan raised his eyebrow at him, “Enlighten me?” Virgil knew Logan hated not knowing things, so he gladly explained, feeling somewhat superior that he knew more about this subject than he did.

“So you got this thing” Virgil held up a square box device, pressed a button and red light turned on “it’s an EMF meter, measures electromagnetic fields within a certain radius, also measures temperature” Logan nodded completely focused soaking in all of this information like sponge he chucked it back on the bed after explaining its usage and picked up another black box it looked like a portable radio “and this is a spirit box, it sends out radio signals at a certain frequency and could allow us to talk to a spirit if need be” he chucked it back on the bed “and this here” he said picking up a small black box with a lens in “is what we call a camera” he spoke in a condensing tone grinning as Logan looked at him like he was already done “I know what a camera is Virgil” both men laughed softly as a comfortable silence fell between them, Virgil started packing everything into a rucksack, zipping it shut he then eyed up Logan suspiciously “anyway why do you care what equipment we use? Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff?”

As if bought back to reality by social interaction rather than soaking in knowledge, Logan blinked and understood the question, he went back to his composed usual state, “I don’t, simply put it is scientifically impossible for any entities to exist in this world, in a 2000 study,  a cognitive neuroscientist from laurentlan university in Canada used electromagnetic fields to stimulate the brain of a forty five year old man who’d reported previous spirits and with the magnetic fields, the researchers were able to conjure a similar apparitions that the man had seen years before” He finished looking rather pleased with himself as Virgil sighed.

“So, you just think that’s it, nothing happens after you die?” he asked sounding monotone.

“yes”  

“That’s depressing.” Virgil muttered out loud mainly to himself, he could see that Logan looked somewhat hurt by this comment, and he quickly tried to correct it “that’s not- I mean- just I guess try to keep an open mind like I said before?” Logan nodded “if need be then I will concede if we actually find substantial evidence” now it was time for Virgil to nod as he smiled at his nerdy friend thinking how much he really did care for both of them.

As they pulled into the driveway of the abandoned place, the street lamps illuminated the outside of it, at night time it makes the house appear much more sinister, all three got out the car and looked up at the house, Virgil felt uneasy slightly knowing what had happened 10 years ago now…wow had it really been that long? He shook himself out of his nostalgic thoughts and turned his friends “okay let’s get in and set stuff up, Logan you’re on the camera, I’ll do sound stuff and Roman you…do whatever you do best” Roman grinned, as they walked up to the door.

Virgil pushed it and it slowly creaked open, the boys turned their flashlights on as they entered and Virgil swore it had looked worse than when he was first there, yeah 10 years does that to a place but this looked a lot messier, the narrow kitchen looked like a bomb had hit it as all the pots, pans and whatever had been left there was no sprawled all over the kitchen floor and the cupboard doors lay open bare.

“Welcome to creepsville boys” Roman whispered as they went further down the hallway three flashlights moved around the open living room, as the sofa and still broken coffee table from all those years ago, only now it appeared more broken like someone had hit it with a sledge hammer bits of it lay splintered on the ground “be careful guys” Virgil announced as he manoeuvred around the wooden splinters and lay his rucksack on the couch he pulled a few folded pieces of paper from the rucksack and handed Logan the go pro camera with a stick that it screwed onto to make it less shaky.

Virgil looked around the dark room flashing the light in all areas, squinting in the darkness he had an extremely uneasy feeling that he felt like a pair of eyes were watching them, it was unbearably silent his breath hitched as Roman put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, this calmed him down a bit as he turned to Logan who looked ready enough wit the camera, he turned the sound on to record his voice, if they were filming here then they were going to need some kind of back story for the audience plus Roman and Logan needed to know what had happened before they started doing anything stupid…Roman mostly.

Virgil sat down on the couch as a bit of dust escaped it, he unfolded the paper and held it shakily in his hands looking up at the other two “time for a history lesson” he switched on the audio recorder and started reading to them from the paper.

“On November 2nd 1997 two friends moved into 494 skylar avenue, Thomas Sanders 29 and Patton Prairie 26,  both men were described as very friendly and all around nice people by their peers, their neighbours described them as “very nice boys, they were always looking out for each other and everyone in the neighbourhood said how kind and caring they were they both always had a smile on ther face” soon after moving in though they described witnessing paranormal activity to their families, such as lights dimming, scratching on the walls and sometimes they said they heard what sounded like growling-“

“Like a lion?” Roman snorted as Virgil glared at him adjusting the paper in his hand.

“More like a demon” he retorted, Roman laughed as he looked around the place “Demahn, Demahn!” He called out and snickered, “Dude stop it! Virgil snapped but was clearly suppressing a half laugh at Roman’s antics, “Look let me just get on with this okay, just stop…antagonizing it” he sighed returning to the paper, Roman pushed his hands into his pockets suppressing a giggle.

“After one night, in particular, Patton had told his mother that he felt an eerie presence next to there bed so she called them in a medium in to exorcise whatever the presence was, it was performed and for a while everything seemed fine, until on the afternoon on November 2nd, 1998 exactly one year after the men had moved in, three men were found brutally murdered-“

“Three? I thought there were two” Logan inquired

“yeah alright I’m getting to that!” Virgil huffed at him.

“Thomas, Patton and a third person were found dead by a friend who said they were meant to be meeting them that day, Patton was found with multiple stab wounds in his body whilst Thomas was eerily found lying next to him, it was described “as if he was trying to hug him”, having nearly the exact same wounds as his friend.

Roman and Logan shifted uncomfortably at this piece of information and Roman glanced around the living room suspiciously.

“upstairs in the bedroom a third body was found, he would later be identified as a friend of theirs Dorian Bennett, family have said that they had a bit of a rocky friendship but they still cared for each other, Dorian had been seen by neighbours hanging out with the two men quite frequently before they had been killed-“

“He did it!” Roman assumed

“And how have you come to this conclusion?” Logan remarked

“C’mon it’s obvious! They had a rocky friendship, he was seen hanging out with a lot more before they died, maybe an argument happened or something and he killed them, then himself! There you go I solved it!”

Virgil glared at him “you didn’t solve anything because he was found with his neck snapped” Virgil smirked at him with a knowing stare that he had proven Roman wrong who had shut up giving him a pouty look, he shook his head and continued.

“although neighbours, friends, and family were questioned about there deaths, with no DNA found at the scene of the crime and no leads as to what happened, no one knows what went down within that houses’ walls but ever since people have described seeing a man wearing glasses appearing in the kitchen, there’s been male laughter heard as well as screams, growling and banging on the walls, one person even said they heard someone singing Disney songs-“

Roman let out a high pitch wheeze “I-I’m sorry…just- imagine walking into the kitchen and you just hear a far away echo rendition of let it go, I mean man those ghosts have good taste!” Roman declared, Virgil glared at him as he opened his mouth to continue he was interrupted again.

“Okay we get it!, enough we get the picture man, two friends, Demahn!” Roman snickered again at his pronunciation of the word demon, “and mysterious deaths, shall we get started with what you wanted to do?”

Virgil thinks for a moment before setting the papers down “okay, you guys ready?”

“As we’ll ever be” Logan replied as he pressed the recording button the small go pro camera, everything is silent for a moment before Virgil speaks.

“Is there anyone here with us right now?” He asks nervously slightly pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, he held his breath.

Nothing.

Suddenly Roman piped up loudly making Virgil jump “C’mon demahn! Do something! If you want to hurt us bang on the walls!”

“DUDE! What the fuck are you doing!?” Virgil yelled in fear as Roman and Logan (to Virgil’s surprise) suppressed a laugh, Virgil raised his eyebrows at him as Logan composed himself once more “I apologize, Virgil,, but Roman does have a humorous way of looking at his situation, and whilst I may be biased with the whole ‘non believer’ aspect I can still appreciate that the… demahn-“ Roman was now howling with laughter as Logan was trying to suppress his in order to not make the camera shake, “That’s the spirit, Logan!”  Roman starting chortling again at his own pun, Virgil was now giving them both daggers “you’re both assholes” he declared “why did I even bring you here?” he asked himself as he rubbed his face in annoyance, exhaling a large breath, both of the men’s laughter was suddenly cut short as multiple loud bangs on the wall echoed throughout the house, it was so loud that, Virgil jumped and shuffled backwards closer to the other two and Roman let out a dramatic scream, whilst Logan on the other hand remained calm and collected “now you’ve done it” Virgil whispered towards the other two, “what did I tell you, don’t fuck with a demon!” he snapped at both of them “it was probably the wind, this house is very old therefore it will be in need of repair work” Logan replied coolly.

“wind is not that strong dude, and there’s no sign of a hurricane hitting here anytime soon!” Virgil hissed at him under his breath whilst trying to calm himself.

Subtle footsteps were heard from the kitchen as Virgil flicked his flashlight to where the sound was coming from, he grabbed Roman’s hand subconsciously as he breathed in and held for seven seconds before exhaling for eight, “you got that on film, right?” Virgil checked with Logan and he nodded, Virgil gestured to Roman with his arm pointing at something, but roman couldn’t understand what he was trying to say Virgil continued nodding “grab the fucking spirit box thing!”.

“Oh!” once Roman understood he ran over to the bag laying on the couch, took out the spirit box and handed it to Virgil who shakily turned it on, a loud static noise rang through the house as Roman covered his ears and all three of them winced at the sound cutting through the air “Oh Jesus Christ! Does it have to be that loud!” Roman whined over the noise as Virgil nodded as he looked around the room with his flashlight he bravely stepped forward and addressed the room “if there are any spirits with us tonight then please make yourself known, we’re sorry about what happened to you”

“i-cant-“ two syllables of a male voice seemed to cut through the static, Virgil looked to the other two who didn’t seem convinced “did you just-“ Roman shook his head “all I heard was gibberish that could be any radio channel” Virgil sighed exasperatedly at his friends scepticism as he changed the knob on the radio to a more easier channel to hear.

“Okay, is there anyone here? We have this box and you can talk to us through it”

Static.

Virgil sighed and ran a hand through his hair when another voice broke through the static

“Hello” all three men looked at each other in horror and it was clear that they had all heard the exact same thing, Roman and Logan moved closer to Virgil and listened intently to the box.

“Ca-Can you tell us your name?” Virgil asked it

The static on the box didn’t seem to change for a minute, they all glanced at each other holding their breaths until a distinct voice on the box echoed through the house.

“Thomas”

HOOO BOI! XD sorry for that cliffhanger folks! Hope you all liked the chapter though! chapter 3 should be soon! ^^