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animationnut · 3 years

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Of Broken Spirits and Renewed Hope

Spoilers for True Colors.

Rating: K+ Summary: Three human girls arrived in Amphibia. Only one made it back home. Note: If Google has any degree of accuracy, นางฟ้า is Thai for angel.

“Home.”

Anne felt her vocal cords vibrate in her throat, felt her tongue curve around the syllable of the word, felt her lips as they moved to accommodate her vocal cords and her tongue. But she was speaking from instinct, not intent, as her brain swam in a haze of mixed colours—green, pink and blue, and the orange glow of a blazing sword—

Anne could feel herself wavering on the edge, practically see the black abyss threatening to swallow her whole, but three harsh coughs interrupted her dark spiral.

“What’s that smell?” rasped Polly, covering her nose as she wheezed. Her gags racked her small form and Hop Pop quickly whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to cover Polly’s face.

The buzzing in Anne’s ears stopped and the world exploded with sound and sensation.

Dozens of horns blared from commuters who were impatient and annoyed with traffic that should have been as familiar to them as the back of their hands. Heat seared Anne’s exposed skin as the metal of the vehicle they were lying on burned from the exposure to the Californian sun. Exhaust rose in black clouds, sour and noxious, burning Anne’s nose and making her eyes water.

There was the click of the car door opening and Anne snapped her head around. The portly man gazed blankly at her as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was witnessing. With a boggled expression, he looked between the girl wearing an armoured chest plate and the three large, anthropomorphic frogs sitting next to her.

“Hi,” chirped Anne, managing to sound upbeat and cheerful. “Sorry, dude. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Where did you come from?” he asked. Anne couldn’t identify his dialect, but his accent coupled with the maple leaf-shaped air freshener and his outfit screamed ‘tourist’. “And what the heck are those?”

Sprig opened his mouth, no doubt to introduce himself, but Anne seized the Plantars in a one-arm hold, squeezing just tightly enough for speech to be difficult. “Sorry,” she repeated, using her free hand to snag the strap of her backpack.

She slid down the hood and if it weren’t for months of walking over sticks, stones and hard, uneven ground, the hot asphalt seeping through her worn-out sock might have crumpled her. But she ignored the pain as she swung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of Frobo’s deactivated head nearly sent her sprawling, but she regained her balance and took off running.

She weaved her way through the bumper-to-bumper traffic, climbing over vans and sports cars and SUVs, ignoring the shouts and curses aimed her way by the disgruntled owners. She reached the metal barrier that separated the embankment from the freeway and she hoisted herself over it.

They tumbled down the grassy slope and Anne sprinted through the trees. The sounds of human civilization eventually quieted and Anne halted her sprint when she registered Sprig smacking at her arm.

She quickly let them go and they dropped to the ground. Anne’s knees buckled as the adrenaline drained right out of her. Her mind was a mess of thoughts and her lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

The flaming blade piercing through Marcy’s chest. The stunned expression in Marcy’s eyes, the way all colour faded from her face. The tears that spilled down her cheeks, and the final words that tumbled from her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Anne’s agonized scream was promptly choked by the vomit that filled her mouth.

Hop Pop was by her side in an instant, hands gripping her shoulders as she hunched over and hacked into the grass. Her throat burned and her limbs trembled, the sight of Marcy falling lifeless and the sound of Sasha’s horrified howl haunting her.

The sobs that pealed out of her came from somewhere deep inside the girl. They were filled with pure loss and devastation and it echoed amongst the towering trees. Tears poured down Anne’s face, snot leaked from her nose as she cried and her fists pounded into the grass as emotion overcame her.

“Marcy!” she wailed. “Marcy, nooooo! Maaaaarcyyyy!”

Hop Pop wound his arms securely around her neck and pulled her close. Sprig and Polly clung to her, and all of his grandchildren were in a state of grief, tears glimmering on their skin and their small bodies shaking.

Hop Pop swallowed back his own sadness. As traumatizing as it had been to see a child slain in front of his eyes, he had to be strong for his family. He stroked Anne’s hair, patted Sprig and Polly’s heads, and gave comfort not with words but his presence.

Anne cried herself hoarse. When she found she had run out of tears to shed, she weakly sat up and wiped at her face. “It’s not fair,” she said croakily. “Hop Pop, it’s not fair.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” Hop Pop rubbed his thumb gently over Anne’s knuckles.

“She sacrificed herself to save us,” said Sprig, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of despair. “Her and Sasha.”

Anne gave a distraught moan, her head bowing slightly as the weight of two worlds crushed against her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” ordered Hop Pop, and Anne reluctantly lifted her chin. “We don’t know what happened to Sasha. She’s a tough one. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“We don’t know that!” shouted Anne, her voice cracking. “Marcy should have been fine, but she isn’t! She’s dead, and Sasha might be too! This isn’t how it was supposed to go! We were supposed to come home together!”

She began to dry heave, stress and panic and grief clenching tight around her heart and making her feel sick. Hop Pop grabbed her face with both hands and stared steadily into her wet eyes. “Breathe with me. In and out.”

Anne’s first attempts resulted in strangled gasps, but eventually she gained control of her breathing. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.

“We worry about that later,” said Hop Pop firmly.

“But what about Andrias? And if Sasha is still alive—”

“Anne, right now, none of us are in a state to do much of anything,” said Hop Pop calmly. “To be honest, I don’t know if we can do anything.”

Anne blinked at him before realization hit. “The music box is still in Amphibia.”

Polly was crestfallen. “Does that mean we’ll never be able to go home?”

“What about Bessie and MicroAngelo?” asked Sprig desperately. “And Ivy! I didn’t get to say goodbye to Ivy!”

“Hush,” said Hop Pop soothingly, pulling Sprig and Polly into his arms. “The townspeople will take care of our snails, and I’m sure Ivy will understand, Sprig. As for going back home, I don’t know.” He let out a heavy sigh, feeling every year of his existence weigh down his bones. “Maybe we can figure something out. But if we can’t, we have each other. Home is where we are, even if we aren’t in Wartwood.”

He swept his eyes over his grandchildren, biological and adopted, and saw the words provided little peace in the moment of intense sorrow. But he knew they would come to appreciate how fortuitous it was that they returned to Anne’s world as a family, even when the losses they suffered hung darkly over their thoughts.

Anne was staring numbly at the ground and Hop Pop tugged lightly at her elbow. She fell easily into his embrace, as if she were made of nothing but feathers, and her forehead rested against the top of his head. For a moment they just stayed there, Anne’s body radiating warmth and causing Polly and Sprig to nestle closer to her, seeking her familiar heat.

Polly was the first one to hear the musical twinkling. She blinked over at Anne’s backpack. “Anne, your bag is singing.”

Anne slowly turned to follow Polly’s gaze, and it took her several seconds to register the noise. Suddenly it was as if a live wire had touched her and jolted to action, shrieking, “My phone!”

The Plantars were jostled as she dove for her bag. She ripped Frobo’s head out and Polly said furiously, “Hey! Don’t treat him like he’s junk!”

But Anne barely heard her. She plunged her hand into her bag, the bristles of her brush and points of her bobby pins sticking her flesh. Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she yanked it out.

Her text alert, which she hadn’t heard in months, was jarring to her ears. The notification center on her phone was being flooded by dozens and dozens of texts, missed calls and voicemail alerts. They poured in so fast Anne was only able to glimpse the names attached before they were replaced by another batch of notifications.

The majority of the texts were from Sasha, Marcy and Anne’s parents. There were a couple from the local police station, which caused Anne’s stomach to grow cold with fear. She hadn’t even considered the consequences of literally disappearing off the face of the Earth.

And then her phone froze, unable to keep up with the backlog of messages coming in all at once. Frustrated, Anne stabbed at her screen with her finger, but it was no use.

Her eyes fell upon the last text to make it to her notification center. It was from her mother.

Oh, นางฟ้า, your father and I miss you so much. We pray for a sign that you and the girls are alive, and that you will return home soon.

“Oh, Mommy,” whispered Anne, her fingers digging into the rubber material of her phone case.

Hop Pop approached and set a hand against her back. “Let’s go see your parents,” he said softly.

“But I don’t even know what to say to them,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know if they’ll understand. It’s…the things I’ve been through, the things we’ve been through, they don’t happen here. Not ever.”

“Well, we’re here to help you explain things,” said Sprig earnestly.

“Yeah, I’m…I think I might need some time to prepare them for you three,” muttered Anne. “They are so gonna freak out.” She glanced back at her frozen screen, and her heart plummeted as she read the most recent message from Marcy’s father. “Oh, how do I tell them?” she said in despair. “How do I tell Sasha’s parents that I had to leave her behind? How do I tell Marcy’s parents that their daughter is…is…”

Her voice wobbled and her eyes started to sting once more. Anne wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the energy nor the water for proper tears. Hop Pop gently set her phone back in her bag, which Anne allowed without protest. He laced his fingers with hers and said, “We’ll tell them the truth, Anne. That’s all we can do. We’ll tell ‘em how brave their daughters are.”

Anne gave a sniff. She tugged her hand free from Hop Pop’s grasp so she could rub at her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”

She took a few minutes to gather herself, to try and clumsily sort through the heavy emotions swirling in her chest. She wanted to mourn, but there wasn’t time. She had to see her parents, had to tell them what happened.

“So, how long have you been gone?” asked Polly in a small voice, embarrassed by her earlier outburst. “Does time work the same way here?”

“Um…I don’t know.” Anne gestured to her pink backpack, where her phone was once again nestled safely inside. “It froze on me, so I can’t check the calendar or anything. And I didn’t get to see the dates on the first few rounds of texts.” She looked over to see the pollywog nuzzling Frobo’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Polly. I shouldn’t have thrown him around like that.”

“S’okay,” mumbled Polly. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just really sad and upset right now.”

“Me too.” Anne leaned over and brought Polly into her arms, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. “I’m sorry, Polly. Maybe we can fix him.”

“Yeah,” piped up Sprig. “He just needs a new body, right? When we get home, we can go back to that weird machine place and get him a fresh one.”

Polly perked up at that. “Yeah…yeah!” she said. “If we keep his head safe, we can rebuild him!”

There was hope in her eyes. It glimmered and shone and Anne found herself hypnotized by it.

Something flickered in her heart.

“Until then, we’ll do what we can here.”

Hop Pop, Polly and Sprig looked at her in surprise. The teen’s chin was set, her mouth settled in a determined line. “Anne?” ventured her best friend. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not just going to sit here and wait,” said Anne. Her own hope ignited, and the spark soon blazed throughout her whole being. “I’m not gonna just do nothing.” She set Polly down and stood, her fists clenched by her sides. “You’re right, Hop Pop. Sasha’s fine. Marcy…Marcy made the mistake of turning her back to Andrias, but that wasn’t her fault. Sasha won’t do that. She’ll find a way to take the box from that monster and open the portal again.

“But until she figures that out, I gotta do my part. That music box came to Earth somehow. The thrift store where Marcy found it, they had a wardrobe with the Amphibia symbol engraved into the wood. And Marcy knew what the box could do, which meant she found some information about it somewhere.”

She thought about Wartwood, her home away from home. She thought about Wally, Mrs. Croaker, Archie, Bessie, MicroAngelo, Toadstool, Toadie, Loggle, Ivy, Sylvia, Felicia, Stumpy, Maddie and the rest of her friends from the humble country town. She thought about Sasha, who despite her need for control and her habit of lying to get what she wanted, came through for her friends in the end.

She thought about Marcy.

She had tricked them into leaving their parents, their lives, and trapping them in a world so beyond imagination that Anne never in a million years would have dreamed it up. She had done it because she was so scared to lose the friends she loved most, so desperate to stay with Sasha and Anne forever.

She had been inconsiderate. She had been selfish.

So had Anne. So had Sasha. Marcy didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes—none of them did. They were just three teen girls who sometimes did stupid, stupid things.

But they cared about each other—Anne believed that. Even if it was misguided, even if it was manipulative, she knew Sasha and Marcy cared about her—they sometimes just went about it in all the wrong ways.

And even though Marcy was the reason they were in this mess in the first place, and even though Sasha’s trickery was the reason Anne didn’t initially believe her about Andrias, she cared about them, too.

Right now, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to be friends with Sasha after all she had done. It didn’t matter that she still stung over Marcy’s own manipulative scheme to take her friends away from everything they ever knew.

However complicated her emotions currently were, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still care about the two girls she’d shared her most precious memories with.

She was going to find a way to get back to Amphibia. She was going to save her friends. She was going to bring her frog family back home. She was going to save Amphibia and countless other worlds from Andrias’ tyranny.

She wouldn’t let anyone else she loved die by his hands.

“We’re not helpless!” she said fiercely. “We won’t let him make us helpless! We’re gonna stop him!”

Her pupils and irises illuminated a bright blue.

“They did it again!” exclaimed Polly.

Anne blinked and the colour of her eyes returned to normal. “What?”

“Your eyes! They did the funny light-up thing! Are you gonna turn blue again?”

Anne flexed her fingers, but she didn’t feel numb or tingly, like she had when Andrias had thrown Sprig out the window. “No, I don’t think so.” She glanced down at her hands, brow furrowed. “To be honest, I have no idea how that happened. I don’t even really remember it? I mean, I know what I did, but it felt like I wasn’t in my body while I was doing it.”

Sprig looked between Polly and Anne in confusion. “I clearly missed something when I was falling to my death.”

“Oh, it was so cool, Sprig! Anne went all glowy, and she was using blue magic, and she was flying! She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias!” said Polly excitedly.

The words reverberated through Anne’s mind; She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias.

She could beat him. She was still connected to her stone, and that fact seemed to cause Andrias great unease.

“Do you think you’d be able to use those powers again, Anne?” asked Hop Pop, following her same train of thought.

“I’ll learn,” said Anne firmly. “I’ll figure it out. Once I get control of my powers, Andrias won’t stand a chance.”

There was no question of whether or not she’d be able to gain control of her newfound abilities—she had to. It was her best bet to defeat Amphibia’s king.

Sprig tilted his head to the side. “Do you know what activated them in the first place?”

Anne regarded him, intense warmth and adoration bubbling in her stomach, and she gave a soft smile. “You. When he threw you out the window, I thought you were dead, and I was so angry.”

At a momentary loss for words, Sprig’s eyes filled with touched tears and he jumped into her arms. “Oh, Anne.”

“I love you,” said Anne passionately. She lowered to her knees and brought Hop Pop and Polly into her steel embrace. “I love all of you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“We love you too,” said Hop Pop tenderly, lightly running his fingers through her curly hair. “That’s what we’ve got over Andrias—love for one another. Pardon the sappiness of it, but that’s what we’ll use to beat him.”

“It’s not sappy at all,” said Anne. “It’s the truth.” She gave them one more tight squeeze before setting them back down. She grabbed her backpack, swinging it over her shoulders, and she picked up Frobo’s head. “Come on. I’ve kept Mom and Dad waiting long enough. I can’t wait for you guys to meet each other.”

They headed back to the freeway, where Anne hoped one of the stuck commuters would be willing to lend her their cell phone so she could call her parents to pick them up. As they made their way up the littered slope, Anne closed her eyes briefly.

Hang on, Wartwood. I’m coming back for you. Do what you can until I get there, Sasha. I know you can do it—you never give up.

A lump swelled in her throat, and she swallowed back a sob.

We won’t let him win, Marcy. I promise we won’t. You saved us, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t return the favour.

A breeze kicked up, ruffling her thick, curly hair, and in the caress of the wind she swore she could hear a carefree giggle and a sweet summons of Anna-Banana. She let out a slow breath, and a lone tear spilled from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.

I forgive you, Mar-Mar. I forgive you.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #true colors #amphibia fanfic #true colors fanfic #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #hop pop plantar #polly plantar #grief #mourning #angst #hurt/comfort #byanimationnut #tw death #death

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akatsukinojutsu · 3 years

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gods of the mortal world -- uchiha madara / pain

req: @madaras-tiny-diamond : Soo for the request.. ahem.. i think ill go with one of my favorites (took sometime to decide:)) ) I'll request a threesome with these two Gods-literally never seen a fic or Hcs with this on tumblr

You find yourself between two gods -- Madara and Pain (an alternate timeline, heh)

warnings: NSFW content below as well as non-con elements!

You panted heavily as you ran through the battlefield. Around you were an indescribable amount of dead bodies of the shinobi that attempted to fight off their opponents. Panic and adrenaline ran heavily through your veins. It wasn’t until you were able to be alone on an overlooking rock to the battlefield that you were able to get a chance to calm down.

Your body collapsed under you and your chest heaved heavily as you tried to calm your breathing. Deep breath in through the nose and deep out through the mouth.

Your eyes clenched tightly and you were startled by the sounds of feet pounding onto the ground near you. “[Y/N], you did well.” the voice was from a familiar male. Behind you were the two gods among men, Uchiha Madara and Pain. Madara was the one who spoke, his arms were crossed and his lips were in a smirk. You didn’t reply. Pain took a step toward you, “We’re pleased with your willingness to give up your comrades for our plan.” He stopped before you before taking a knee. His hand pushed some messy strands from your face, his painted fingers twisted some of it in his fingers.

Guilt washed over you now as you recalled all the people you sacrificed just to get a taste of the power that Pain and Madara had.

“She feels guilty,” Madara said as he too approached you. His stature shadowed over you and your [e/c] eyes shook as they locked on with Madara’s dark ones.

“Why don’t we show her our appreciation, Pain? [Y/N] doesn’t deserve to feel any guilt over any of this,” he knelt down on the opposite side of you, his fingers also pushing more of your hair away. His face leaned in close and with his hot breath wafting onto your sweat stained skin, “She did only what is natural...”

It took not much time for you to realize what they had in plan. When you tried to push yourself up from the ground, Pain pushed you back down. He took your hand and brushed his lips against your skin. Pain’s lips made their way all the way up your arm and to your throat. It wasn’t long until Pain’s hands made their way to your chest and tightly clenching your clothing in his fists.

Pain didn’t have to use much strength to remove your shirt as it was tattered from the battle. Madara decided to step in and made quick work of your shoes and pants.

“Your body is finely crafted,” Madara commented as his hands roamed your skin. Your mouth opened to protest but nothing came out -- you were fully under their control. “I don’t even need to use my Sharingan,” Madara snorted lightly.

“You want this power, don’t you?” Pain asked as he removed himself from you and stood up. Your eyes examined his Rinnegan eyes and it was as if your mouth was about to water when thinking about what you could do with that dojutsu. All you could manage to say was a stuttered, “Y-Yes.”

Pain unbuttoned his cloak and dropped it to the ground. His bare chest was exposed and the moonlight from above glinted off of his skin, accenting his muscled façade. This prompted Madara to remove his armor and clothing, then nearly pushing Pain aside to present himself to you first. Madara dropped his pants to expose his already hard member. He took his erection into his hand and proceeded to pump it, his eyes closed as he imagined the things he was going to do to you.

Madara dropped down to your side, grabbed your hand and placed it on his cock. “Pump it.” he demanded but you hesitated, “I-I don’t know how.” Your confession irritated him and in response, he grabbed your chin roughly, “Are you stupid? A stupid virgin?” he spat. Your lips parted to defend yourself but Madara pressed his mouth onto yours. His tongue roughly explored the inside of your cavity. As he kissed you, his hand grabbed yours and put it over his member; then, proceeded to guide you as to how to jerk him off.

Meanwhile, Pain exposed himself fully and began to make his way to your clit. The cool metal of his tongue piercing sent ripples through your body. Being a virgin, you only could make yourself feel good. Nights of laying in bed with your fingers buried inside of yourself was as far as you went. So, the sensation of Pain’s tongue being buried deep inside of your cunt was a foreign feeling.

Your thighs began to shake as your body felt an overload of stimulation. The inside of your mouth was being conquered by Madara’s tongue, your hand was pumping his cock, and Pain was furiously eating you out. “I-I,” you stammered, “I can’t do this. Pl-Please stop,” you beg through brief gasps between Madara’s aggressive kissing.

Madara pulled away, a long string of spit stretched from your detached mouths. Your face was red and wet, your mouth gasped as air finally made its way to your lungs properly. Madara told Pain to stop but when he didn’t, Madara forcefully grabbed you from the ground and slammed you down onto his erect cock.

Pain growled in anger at Madara’s actions, “I wasn’t finished,” he hissed as he wiped his mouth. In the meantime, you shrieked in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Your pussy stretched around his larger than average cock. He watched your face and ignored Pain’s words. “Put her on the ground,” Pain insisted and Madara complied.

You were now on your back and Madara was beginning to push himself in and out of your virgin cunt. Your eyes were wet with tears and your mouth croaked broken moans. Pain got onto his knees and put his fingers into your mouth. His fingertips traversed over your teeth and hooked under your upper lip. He grabbed his cock, which was a decent size, and placed the tip of it into your mouth. Just the warm sensation from your body caused him to moan in pleasure, his eyes closed and he pressed it in further down.

You laid between the two gods of the shinobi world, nearly helpless. Madara gained intensity of his thrusts as you adjusted to his girth. He praised the tightness of your cunt as he drilled deeper and harder. Responses from you were mostly unintelligible as again, the intense waves of pain and pleasure overwhelmed your body as well as your mind. Pain picked up the speed of his cock in your mouth. Gags and gasps erupted from your throat. With his free hand, Pain moved it to your throat and watched as your face grew more and more red with the intensity.

“Switch,” Pain spoke. Madara still was more focused on his own pleasure and ramming his cock into you. Pain repeated himself between his huffs and thrusts. Madara ignored him again. This of course angered the Akatsuki leader; so, he summoned a black receiver and proceeded to plunge it into Madara’s shoulder blade.

You screamed in terror as a splash of blood sprayed across your face. Madara let out a chuckle and pulled the rod out, then threw it onto the ground. “I suppose,” he removed his cock from your aching and bruised cunt. Before he pulled away completely, he placed his tongue on the side of your face and took a long lick of his maroon liquid. The taste of his blood reminded of him that this was truly his body.

“On your hands and knees,” Pain instructed. You pondered if this would be a time to get away but then the reality of it all dawned on you. There was no way this was going to be over on your own terms.

So, you complied. You pushed yourself from the ground and your body wobbled beneath you. The sensory overload and the sexual barrage that you received caused your body to weaken more and more. So, just the act of moving yourself to the position you were asked of felt heavy and difficult.

Once you were positioned as asked, Pain raised his hand and gave a hard slap to your ass cheek. You yelped and Pain admired the bright red palm print that was now welting on your soft skin. His palms roughly grabbed and tugged at your cheeks, his fingers rubbing between your cheeks and down to your slit. He could feel just how wet your were from Madara and insisted that he would make you cum.

“You’ll cum only for a god,” he hummed before slamming his hips into you. Your body shuddered and a loud moan escaped. “Just like that,” he cooed. Pain took your hair into his fist and yanked back. The sounds of his balls slapping against your skinned echoed through the empty air.

The idea of Pain making you moan louder than he did annoyed Madara. So, he decided to fuck your mouth better. He grabbed both sides of your head and shoved his cock deeply in. Your eyes welled with tears because the length of Madara’s cock was quite far down your throat.

You were dominated once again between the two gods and you could feel your climax coming. Your eyes clenched shut and your legs shook harder than previously. “Cum for me,” Pain moaned out as he quickened his pace and as did Madara. “If you want this power, you will cum when I allow it,” he added. Your brows furrowed and fingers dug into the ground. It was then that you released your orgasm. Pain could feel your body clench around him and become soaked. A smile grew on his lips as he rode out his own, he didn’t bother pulling out. You could feel the warmth of his cum inside and with a few more pumps -- Pain was finished but remained inside until Madara was finished.

Madara harshly grabbed your hair and used your mouth as a fuckhole. He growled and tightened his grip as his orgasm arrived. His cum was hot and it was plentiful. You couldn’t push it out of your mouth and was forced to take it all. Madara sighed loudly and pulled out.

The two men then stood over your collapsed body. Your chest heaved heavily just like it did before this whole thing began. “Now, let us teach your true power.”

#naruto imagines #madara uchiha imagines #pain imagines #pain naruto imagines #pain nagato imagines #madara uchiha x reader #pain x reader #pain nagato x reader #madara x reader #naruto #madara uchiha #pain naruto #pein #pain nagato

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idris-hunts-the-mando · 3 years

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Right place, Right time \the departure pt.1/

Rating: Mature

Words: 6.1k

A/N: this took me the bulk of a week to complete, i think ill make a few small bite sized works for a while, working on the next part in a week or so, once i get myself back together. give me all the love you as a reader can, I’m fueled by praise/hj

pairings: none yet

Warnings: series typical violence, hard swearing, moderate gore

I woke up sore and hurt in the bunk room, the cold cot felt like frozen river stones under my tired bones. I could tell we arrived at our destination from the frostbite settling into my fingers and nose. The slow neutral hum of machinery was a tell tale sign that the ship was at ease, the noise usually deafening. Pulling my threadbare scarf up over my neck and chin, i started regretting choosing this particular cargo ship going to a frozen planet for a runaway plan. I braced for the aggravating beginning to the tiresome day and sat up from my cramped bunk space. sleeping in a room with a dozen oily work worn men didnt make any part of the trip to Maldo Keris easier, not to mention the fact they all saw me as more of a womp rat and less of a sentient being. keeping my eyes to myself, i shoved my tattered boots over my feet buckled my tool belt to my hip and hurried out of the barracks before the bulk of my crew mates woke up. stepping out onto the loading dock,i took a breath in. the smell of poorly filtered air irked my mechanics brain. It would be such an easy fix if they payed me to care. But alas, for this particular voyage, i was bunked out like a stowaway, giving in return my fix-it help around deck for passage off my planet of origin. Sighing out the musty air, i checked my stations. Navigating the hold was like a womp rat through a maze, you had to be rather nimble and graceful to get through the makeshift corridors without issue. Unluckily for me, I was neither nimble nor graceful. When i got to the panel, i took out my key ring and unlocked the rusted metal door to expose the intricacies within. the wiring looked tip top shape, but the fuel lines needed a bit more attention than the other tangle of electronics, so i took out my multi-tool to tighten the fittings. The liquid distilled Rhydonium that flowed through these particular lines was a less explosive substance than its pure form, but dangerous nonetheless. the multi-tool was a newer model, so it didn't fit this type of bolt all the way, but it was better than nothing. Better than allowing it to loosen over another voyage and have the ship explode mid hyper-speed.

My mind was so stuck in its own world, the training I had over the many years in a scrappers shop spewing all of its knowings about rhydonium and fuel lines that I didn't have time to notice the first lieutenant Maegs stalking his way over to me. I jumped a moment before he spoke, tightening the last half inch of the bolt down maybe a bit too aggressively.

"We the captains crew appreciate the helping you've been do'en for this ol beasty of a ship," he mentioned, one his independent eyes viewed me separably, while the second one was monitoring my work. I froze for a moment out of fear, but i didn't think he took notice. "You're more than welcome to stick 'round 'an see what else you can fix up for this rust-bucket." the first lieutenant never gave me much of a hard time, unlike most of the crew. But I had made up my mind the first night in hyperspace that I would haul ass out of this suffocating ship as soon as a habitable planet was spotted. I finished up closing and locking the wires box, shaking my head slowly and turning to face him.

"I do love the sentiment, lieutenant. but maybe another time if our paths cross again." I forced an obligatory smile, avoiding making eye contact with him at all costs out of fear for not having the attention span to pick and stick to a wondering eye. If i could ever force myself to say something nice about the ship and its crew, it would be the acceptance of short interactions. A conversation rarely surpassed the 'how are you doing today' phase, by the moons it never got to that phase in the first place. And I was a person of not many words, and not much of a filter.

Maegs nodded slowly, clasping two of his 4 arms behind his back and turning away. I felt the need to repay his unprompted kindness with some suggestions for the ship before I left it for good. Call me sentimental, but this ship, albeit mostly composed of literal blood sweat and spit, was my ticket into a new life. "don't let yourself get caught without changing the air filtration system, them new republic scouters are picky about what type of poison you use for cremates." I remark with a little smirk. Maegs paused, narrowing his eyes, amused by the backhanded remark. He had surely gotten complaints about the smell before. He gave a thoughtful nod toward me, and allowed himself a small smile. I looked down in my hands, the key ring still hanging off my index finger. I tossed it towards him and was relieved when he caught it. he turned with no further words needed. On his way to the control room, he pushed the cargo bay door release button. My line of sight was clear from the opening door to the nearby port town and when the frosty air stung my face, I knew in my soul that this was a good thing. Taking in a breath of the salted frozen air, my body naturally recoiled. I'm not one for cold. 'Ah well, way to go picking the nearest ice planet than idiot' I scolded myself, pulling my cloak back over my shoulders to take the first step out of the ship held together with sticker line and bantha spit. 'Good riddance'.

Walking into town was harder than expected, the ice on the ground blended into the ice of the horizon, making spacial reasoning a thing of the past. The only anchor I had to the planet besides its heavy gravity was the stark grey buildings stapled to the sheets of ice about 10 meters in front of me. I never could have guessed the sky of Maldo Keris could get any uglier, but planets like these have a way of surprising a person. I tucked my hair and ears away with the hood of my raggedy travelers cloak, bracing myself from the heavy winds by retreating further and further into my cloths. I stayed on the worn path from the ship's dock port, hearing from previous crew mates that this was the warm season, that the ice was thinner and the creatures lurking underneath had no sense of remorse. Now nervous at the revival of that pleasant memory, I kept a close eye on my surroundings, not having the most faith in my feet for staying their course. The wind stung at my exposed skin, reminding me I was wearing only my work cloths that weren't meant for the sudden change in climate. The cloak I had was best at protecting my human skin from the suns above. Beyond that, my tatterd outer layer didn't do much for the safeguarding of my body heat.

I was relieved to have stumbled to shade from the wind so quickly, the heavy kit bag on my back was starting to feel more like a boulder taped to my body than a simple means of containing my tools and spare cloths. Paying attention to the signs overhead, i quickly located the nearest cantina and rushed towards it as fast as any human Popsicle can. Opening the circular doors with the press of a button took me into what felt like a summer time resort. Hiding my appreciation for the warmth from the patrons staring at me, i collected my composure and swiftly found an open table. The electronic doors closed rather harshly behind me. I recognized the sound of faulty pressure hinge and eyed the door for a moment when i took my seat. That door was a danger to customers who get caught in it, it could cause some serious injuries for larger species and even fatalities for humanoids.

Sitting down at the frosty old wooden chair was a relief on the fatigue in my joints. It was neither a comfortable seat, nor a relatively stable one, but it gave me time to take off my pack and study the small, rather ugly, room I found myself to be in. It wasn't too long before I would have to order something, or I feared starvation. The crew mates on the cargo ship were kind, if the bare minimum counts. Food once a day (as per average in the parsec), and as much sleep as necessary per species or race. For humans in particular, that amount of time was annoyingly low. tired and hungry was a bad mix for me as it is, but add cold to that mixture, and the first person to get on my nerves would be the last. i checked the contents of my bag to make sure everything looked as it should and moved up from my chair, replacing the spot with my hefty bag. I was rather confident that if any Kung Nerfhearder tried to run off with it, it would be too weighted for them to get far. I may be rather small compared to other sub species of humans, but i pride myself on my strength often.

Making my way to the bar counter, I lean up between two silent patrons sitting a few seats away from each-other. I get the barkeep's attention with a wave of my fingers, calling him to me. "What kind of meal do you have on the stove top right now?" I ask with my flattest low tone. In port towns like this its important to be as emotionless as possible in order to not draw attention to yourself. Colorless, shapeless, uniform and mad was always the role you had to play to make it through the galaxy.

"We got a silver weed in the radiator, it'll be 3 credits." He replied, picking up a glass and wiping it out with his rag covered hand. I pulled the amount needed out of my pocket and set it down on the bar counter. he swiped his hand over the credits, picking them up quickly. nodding, he left the sight of the bar for only a spit second before returning to the table with a small bowl of mush. I tried my best to smile and be thankful for the meal, but as the bowl transferred to my hands I had to focus on not gagging. I hurried back to my private table in the corner and settled back into my seat, dropping my bag on the floor between my legs to keep it as safe as possible. The last thing I want is a soup that tastes like the scrapings of a persons shoe into street worn snow, but what can you expect on a planet such as this. Prodding the gelatinous mass in the bowl with my spoon, I ponder the ever growing question of 'what in the hell is in this shit'. my mind wonders deep into its personal wonderland while my environment continues to be less and less favorable.

Hostile voices from the other side of the cantina rise louder and louder, as if at the warm up stage of a slowly progressing screaming match. The feeling of sourness in my heart rose with a predictable inclination. The tension in the air grows as yet again the same scene unfolds before my and all other patrons of the cantina's eyes. I strain my neck to see what was happening. At the far end of the room, closer to the door than I am, I saw the oddly familiar face of a poor amphibious creature's head being slammed on the table he was sitting at. The oldest and most primal of situations, the strong picking on the weak. Three tall imposing figures towered over the poor humanoid looking fellow who was obvious to any idiot to be lacking in intimidating features. Seeing this obligatory show of power for any insecure creature with anger issues never sat right with me. It reminded me too much of where I came from, the slums of sand and glass where bullies like these were treated like royalty without challenge from the ones they harassed.

'Dank ferrik, don't do it' i challenged the assaulter internally, as if pleading with them to harm their victim any more so I would have a reason to put in use my blade skills. i had no idea where I've seen that face before, but as they say, curiosity killed the Cathar. And there it happened, the final action in the escalation. The largest of the assaulter lifted the poor guy to his feet and the ring leader lifted his knife to the throat of his victim. A cry of anguish and fear came from the poor fool being restrained, and that was my last straw.

I stood from my chair, kicking away my bag and drawing my vibroblade from my thigh holster, walking over to the group across the tavern. I growl, squaring my shoulders and stiffening my legs to make me seem bigger. I must have looked pretty wild, my tattered cloak drawn over my body like a dark fog, and my scarf still pulled up like a mask over my nose with only my furious green eyes over the top. Just as I started my warpath towards the men, the heavy ring shaped door to the cantina opened abruptly, startling a few of the onlookers. I knew what type of situation I had put myself in and how important focus and intimidation was, so I didn't take any time away from the assholes with blades to gawk at who had happened to stroll in. With my attention solely married to the poor bastard and his assailants, I noticed all of their attention was stripped from their target and glued to the newcomer. Evaluating my surroundings, I saw most of the other patrons in my sight were enthralled too. This piqued my interest and I felt it safe enough to turn and check out the royalty.

Standing soberly at the bar counter, the figure of a mandolorian stood in silence, facing the bar keep. My heart dropped first, than my jaw. Only legend, only in the oldest fables and the scary stories my nan would use to scare me into not stealing the sweets late at night, had I ever heard of the likes of him. from the bescar armor forged in the heart of a black flame forge (or so i've been told) to the galaxy known creed of mandalore, this being was the stuff of leadgeneds. To be feared and adorned wherever they so chose to walk. but not anymore. Not since the planet turned to glass a hundred years ago, destroying much of what was known of the infamous warriors.

I don't think the aggressors saw me and the dangerous piece of weaponry clasped in my hand, instead they looked drunkenly amused at the new patron, like sly cats with a new toy. surveying his surroundings, the warrior's expressionless visor swept the room. He inspected the threat levels of the patrons, the bullies, the amphibious humanoid sucker that was caught under it all. The mandolorian made no comment as he momentarily swept over me, with my clenched fist around the vibroblade. Rather he ignored me entirely, leaning against the bar counter and staring absentmindedly at the wall ahead of him. The scum saw this as an odd mandolorian intimidation tactic and took it to heart, growling a string of multilingual insults. I couldn't quite understand all the words from their chosen dialect, but something about a drink spilling and how it was somehow the mando's fault.

when they didn't get a response, they snorted, puffing their chest out and stalking towards the armored newcomer. Continuing to talk in another language I didn't understand fully, the bar keep attempted to translate, feeling the tensions rise in the air. "He says you spilled his drink." a moment of silence, with the smell of anger wafting from the half intoxicated bantha shaggers, And the barman attempted to diffuse the situation by offering the men drinks to hopefully get them to settle down. And by the two suns it did not. The drink slid from the barkeep's hand and down the table. The mandolorian took it out of its trajectory and started the assault, smashing the creature's head on the counter to his right and simultaneously twisting the louder man on his left arm until the knife in his hand stabbed himself in the ass. As the third attempted to run out the front door, mando caught him with his grappling wire and pulled him back. The tangled creature got his blaster from a thigh holder and shot a round at his would-be captor. The blaster fire ricochet off the bescar Armour, bringing the mando's attention to his own firearm. With the tangled assaulter in the right position, mando fired a single shot at the door of the cantina, Forcing the wiring to go into hyperactive shut down, closing the doors around the alien. The doors struggled for a moment, and so did the thing caught in it, but nothing stopped the metal and electricity from slicing through the meat of its body. The legs of the now dead man fell to the ground at the door with a sickening thump.

After this, the silence in the room was so thick you could swing at it with a hatchet and not make a dent in the shock factor. unsurprisingly enough, every patron went back to their own businesses with each other as if nothing had happened. A pair sitting at a table close to the door went swiftly to the half body to move it away to continue the flow of traffic as they then scurried out the doors, carrying the top half between them. Scavengers i bet, black market womp rats' i thought, sighing at how quickly the circle of life can flash before your eyes. death isn't something to be dewlled on in a universe like this, now back to the issue at hand.

recollection hit me like a half ton of bricks when I remembered where I saw the face of the teal looking bastard with a knife previously on his neck. Spite flooded in my blood as I narrowed my eyes at my next target, shoving my vibroblade back in my thigh holster aggressively and stomping towards the useless excuse of flesh. "You're a dead man now, Mythrol." I said to myself. he must have heard me, or possibly sensed all the rage walking swiftly at him. His eyes upturned towards me, full of fear, but I now remember there is an ugly smugness to him too. I made it to the table, putting my hands down in front of him, leaning my top body weight on my palms. "You better have a divine excuse for not meeting me at that port you Druk Nerfhearder, or you'll be seeing the wrong side of the ice ocean outside in 30 seconds." I could barely contain my frustration with this sniveling worm, he was the reason i had to bunk with the disgusting oiled engineers for a week in hyperspace. The reason I had only 12 credits in my tech vault and less than that on hand. He scammed me out of a decent ride and my entire years savings. It was a genuine miracle how well I kept myself from not leaping over the table he sat at and giving him a new meaning to crazy bitch.

"H-hey, hey you, long time no see huh, man am I sorry for missing out on that meting we had that one time, sorry pal I kinda slept in-" but before he could make up any more exuces, any more lies, my vibroblade was at his throat right where the other man's was just a moment ago. He hissed and recoiled back in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to breathe, to speak. whichever it was, it wouldn't matter soon. He had talked enough in his lifetime to anger hundreds of poor victims throughout the parsec, letting him one last word would be a dishonor to all of them.

Before I could press the blade into his flesh, a firm leather covered hand wrapped around my forearm, pulling it away carefully. I looked at the arm, attached to it was a shoulder, and atop the shoulder sat a gleaming bescar helmet. I felt my heart sink into the depths of my stomach, the anger switching places with feral panic that I tried my absolute best to contain. No words came from the mandolorian, a simple shake of his head was all i got. he loosened the grip on my arm, letting it recall back to my center of gravity.Ii looked down at the arm, looking for any obvious signs of damage, but his grip was closer to gentle and firm than harsh. A soft metallic thud brought my attention to the table, where the mando has tossed a puck. A bounty puck. Today was certainly a day for emotions, because T felt as pleased as a jawa coming across the flashing screen of Mythrol's face on the holographic screen projected by the puck. Mytrol looked between me and the mandolorian a few times before painting his face with a fake smile, the wheels in his head turning into overdrive trying to make a lie up to get himself out of this one. "Is that me?" he questioned, the forced denial barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "Aw come on, I can pay you more than that pitiful bounty, a whole new cruiser," he pleaded, bargaining for his life. "on me, waddaya say."

The mandolorian doesn't waste a breath to reply, his electronically filtered voice filling the getting-to-be awkward silence. "I can take you in warm." he placed a hand on his hip holster, bringing attention to the deadly gun strapped in it. "Or I can bring you in cold." Mythroll's face turned pale with fear, looking like a sort of pale blue spirit. Gulping down what could have been vomit, or another plea for life, he couldn't move at all, just staring at the mandolorian's unfeeling visor.

The mandolorian slaps restraints on mythrol's wrists, pulling him up and out of his chair in one swift motion, the disparaged lump following along with his hands bound together. He seemed resigned to his fate as he was pulled out of the cantina, leaving in his wake and eruption of whispers and a few sobs of relief from the clientele of the bar. I myself was in a state of shock by what had happened and the intense speed at which it had occurred, Standing in front of a table with drops of blood on it not knowing what to do next. Mythrol had cheated me out of a lot of money, and he was just walking away, atoning for crimes he didn't commit against me. that in and of itself felt somewhat fair, fair to any of the galaxy he had screwed over so far.

My body flew back to my table mostly on its own, smashing into the chair at which I had just been sitting less than a minute ago. I hauled my ridiculously large bag over one shoulder, the extra strap free in the wind. I knew i had to at least try. for myself. Running back to the door panel where the halfed creature had met his end, I slammed the controls urgently, opening the door back out to the wild wind of Maldo Keris. Scanning the nearby environment was hard without protective goggles to shield me from the dust and yuck in the wind, but I spotted a pair of hulking figures 15 yards from the cantina, moving at a steady pace away. Try for me, I can do this one thing for myself. I sprinted as fast as I could with the pack over one shoulder, making me surely look like some sort of lame bantha to any possible onlookers. "Wait! wait please!" I called out to the mandolorian, my tone accidentally becoming demanding, but I think that helped to get the mandolorian's attention. They stopped and Mythrol looked at the mando, as if he was pleading to get him away from me in fear I had came back just to fight a mandolorinan for a chance to stab him again. As tantalizing as that thought was, the actions I were taking were purely selfish. I deserve justice just as much as any poor sap sad enough to cross paths with the scamming womp rat or the mystery person who called for the bounty.

"Please let me come with you for when you collect his bounty." I asked somberly, stopping my chase a few paces away from the pair standing together. "I swear I wont take the credits from you, I just want to see him pay for what he's done." Tiny beads of sweat pearled at my brow, my breath was labored in my throat. Even walking with my bag was hard, but I had just chased down a bounty hunter and his captive. Strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and I wiped them away with the back of my forearm once they crept into my eyes.

Mytrhol had to get his two cents in of course, holding the bounty hunter by the cape and making his eyes go wide with worry. "I don't know who this person is, don't let them come along, they could try to hurt me!" He plead, tugging on the cape like a whiny child. Now the anger came back, a cold rage in my fists, ready to start brutalizing someone at the drop of a pin. I narrowed my eyes at Mythrol, who didst bother to return the look. the mandolorian stared for a moment, looking off behind me in thought. The worry then set in, a fear whispered in the back of my skull 'You'll never get your closure and die alone on this hell planet.' My eyes went to the obsidian visor of the mando, creasing my brows together, subconsciously chewing on my lip as he made his decision. Loosening his shoulders, he slumped his head downward, as if morally defeated. I was taken aback by the conflict he was having about weather or not to let a weird stranger aboard his ship or not. oddly enough I understood his seeming frustration, I wouldn't let me go if I were him. He picked his head up after a second, looking me up and down as if to study me entirely. I felt eyes over my body, it was weirdly intimate. When he made his way back up to my eyes, he stood in silence for a moment before asking. "Do you have any weapons on you besides the blade?"

Certainly a different question than what I thought was going to be asked, so for the answer, I had to think about it for a moment, mentally going through my bag and person. "n, no. I have my vibroblade. and a sack full of my electrician's tools, but they arn't traditional weapons." I responded earnestly, my tone going flat again. Another moment of silence, Mythrol looking quickly between the bounty hunter and myself.

"If you truly wish to see the bounty delivered, I can take you to the trade. In exchange for the ride there, my ship needs mild internal repairs. If you try to cross me," He paused, a hand went to his blaster as a warning. A flashback to the cantina entered my forethought, the image of his hand on his blaster the same way as it was now moments before a man got cut in half. The warning was received properly, I felt thoroughly intimidated. "You'll be dead before you could pray to any gods." damn. That was intense. thoroughly intimidated, to the core. i took a breath in, almost allowing myself time to rethink my request in its entirity. but i responded with a quick nod. I knew my way around most ship interiors, if the ship wasn't rusted and breaking in half on take off, i knew i'd be able to mend it.

The mandolorian gave no other word to me and turned, walking towards the ice flats docking crew. I allowed myself a cheeky smirk, fulfillment at the succession in my pursuit gave my heart a good warm squeeze. Following along behind the mandoloian a pace, he negotiated with the docking crew, asking oddly enough for a live pilot, not a droid. Some harmonic whistling came from the ferryman, hailing over a rust bucket of a speeder. As the speeder came to a stop to collect its haul, rusted pieces of under backing fell from the rear, clanking to the ice annoyingly. We all loaded into the speeder, I sat in front with the driver, the mando and his bounty in the back, a gloved hand around Mythrol's bicep at all times. We reached out frozen destination, the driver of the speeder calling one last warning to the three of us after collecting his dues and puttering off towards the port.

I took a moment to asses the hull of the razor crest, it wasn't too bad for a pre new republic vessel. Some battle scars here and there around the landing gear, a charred blaster fire mark on the windows of the cockpit. This was truly the ship of a bounty hunter. Turning to follow the speeder's course, I couldn't help but feel a deep unease, he had warned about the ice planet's personal creature of death, Ravanack. Just then, the entire rusty hull of the speeder and its driver were swallowed whole in a single angry bite. The ravanack retreated back into the ice just as Mythroll let out a girlish scream of terror. He booked it twords the mandolorian who was opening the hatch to the belly of his ship, screaming for dear life to let him in. The ice where the speeder was swallowed started cracking in the direction of the ship, very quickly speeding directly at Mythrol.

My instincts kicked in and I hopped out of the way, swinging myself onto the floor of the cargo hold of the ship with the momentum of my bag. Just as i got out of harms way, the mandolorian swung himself out of the ship to grab the petrified blue idiot only moments before the jaws of his early death lunged out of the ice, driving sickeningly deep into the landing gear of the razor crest. I winced at the damage done, scrambling back away from the flying Mythroll the mando had haphazardly chucked at me. The mandolorian seemed to ignore me entirely, herding his bounty into the cockpit with him. As the engines revved and the propellers blasted their heat down towards the ice at max capacity, the beast clung tightly to its prey of metal and paint, determined wholeheartedly to bring the ship down to its frigid death. The mando hopped down the ladder, rushing to the cargo bay door with his riffle. he stabbed the bayonet into the beast's head, sending a current of electricity into its skull. the beast roared furiously, releasing the ship and sinking back into the inky ocean.

I collected myself and scrambled up off the floor. the cargo bay doors closed quickly, leaving the mandolorian and myself in the ambient humming of the bay. His breast plate rose and fell, getting less an less noticeable as he calmed down. turning towards me. He nodded at a upturned metal basket with a weather worn blanket tossed over it. I took the hint and put my bag on top of the makeshift stool, retrieving from it my more universal tools. Going from one job to another wasn't my ideal, but this was a more opportunistic adventure. My original goal was only ever to get off the sun bitten planet i was from, beyond that was up to fate, and I can't really complain about where it took me today. Now i'm headed to gods know where with a mandolorian and his bounty who single-handedly ruined the last year and a half's hard work I had done. turning my head towards the mandolorian, I saw him stand in the hallway between the cargo bay and the cockpit, eyeing his bounty.

Words hung on the end of my tongue, ready to ask millions of questions out of pure adrenaline fueled thrill. But I stopped myself from spilling over, taking notice of the details in the mando's body for the first time. For the most feared warrior in the galaxy, this man looked as any other bounty hunter. His armor was chipped and dented, highlighting the flaws in the outer most shell of himself. A deep rooted curiosity took roots just then, desiring to know more of what laid under his iron and bescar plates. "Where should I start working first?" I asked as politely as possible. feeling a need to use respective words when in the presence of a man who just stabbed a water beast in the head. This got his attention away from the bounty if only for a moment. He paused for a second, going through the archives of his mind to see where needed the most urgent attention. Turning 180 degrees, he lifted a gloved hand to point at the panel of buttons and levers at the end of the metal room. It looked mostly in tact, but only mostly. There was blaster char at the center of the damage, near the bottom left hand corner of the panel itself. "Yikes." I whispered mostly to myself, reaching in my bag for a clean oil rag. Acknowledging the mandolrian's request with a glance and half nod, I got to work at the station. It looked to be the control panel for the gun hold under the main cargo bay. The possible stories tied with the maiming of this piece of equipment swarmed my mind, finding my own way of theorizing any number of adventurous tales.

A few minutes go by, tweaking the damaged area as best I could to fit my hands into the circuitry. Mythroll passed by quickly, entering the open door of the munitions hold to the ladder down. I got nervous for a moment, than I heard him calling back to the mandolorian pilot, talking about molting and stellar seasons. What an odd being. Slimy thieving nerfhearder. Going back to work, not questioning the reasons tmythroll went down there. so wrapped up, figuratively and literally, in the wires of the control panel, i hadn't noticed mando sneaking past me, silent as death. I hadn't noticed him, that is, until I heard the thumping and crashing of combat and the pitiful yelps of the bounty rise to draw my attention toward the lower hold. Mythroll's shout cut short with an angry metallic hiss. The fear now taking a hold of my stomach, I pulled my hand out of the tangle to look nervously down the ladder, seeing the mando start his ascent. "carbon freezing." he said simply. I know his intention was to explain what had just happen in hopes to ease my worry, but no. it worried me more. Drawing my thought to the intense reality that I was willingly trapped on the ship of a proven dangerous bounty hunter. I felt rather idiotic in that moment, the crushing weight of the situation bringing me to a moral defeat. The mando slid by me, his body language more casual than it should have been seeing as how he had just half killed someone in the hold of his ship. He paused momentarily, looking over my work. nodding, He left in silence, returning to the cockpit.

After a second, I gathered my thoughts and took a deep breath into my lungs. The reality of my life now was flipped upside down and tossed into a spinning vortex of crazy, but I know my strengths. I know myself and what i can handle. This? was obviously odd and scary and new, but the skills I cary can get me far. Exhaling, I focused my mind at the task at hand. Knowing my entire world was going to be changing from here on out was more calming than expected. The determination I felt towards my own new chapter of life soothed my aching back and fried nerves. This was going to be epic.

A/N: i'm so glad to have finally finished this, holy hell ;-;

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wooyunhwa · 4 years

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𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔴𝔬

check pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (with plot!)

Pairing: mafia au!seonghwa x fem!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: kidnapping, non-sexual violence, bondage, spanking, choking, sensory deprivation (blindfolding), mentions of alcohol use,

Synopsis: Kidnapped and helpless, Seonghwa is the only one that can save you. Will his secrets finally come to light?

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and comments are always appreciated <3 I hope you guys like it! Stay tuned for part three!! Sorry, had to end on another cliffhanger, but I promise, you won’t be disappointed with what part 3 has in store. My tags aren’t working at all so if you could reblog this that would really help me and this story be seen I’d really appreciate it! So much work has gone into this. Thank you~

The trunk of the van was cold and unforgiving against your limbs as you sat helplessly against the wall, the curve and bumps of the road jostling you slightly. It was hard to keep your balance with your wrists bound together behind you. In front of you, your ankles were also bound tightly with rope. Your captors had blindfolded you, and no matter how much you writhed and tossed your head around, you couldn’t figure out a way to slip it off. Not that it would have mattered - your eyesight was the least helpful thing you could have had right now. Your screams and cries for help only echoed uselessly in the metal cage of the van, and at a certain point your voice gave out and you gave up entirely, hanging your head in defeat.

You felt the van swerve around a sharp corner, nearly toppling you over on your side. The car rumbled beneath you as if going over loose gravel. Finally you halted to a stop, lurching you forward slightly. The doors of the van unlatched with a distinct click and swung open. The voices of the men were clear now.

“Help me grab ‘er,” one said, and you felt the van’s weight shift as he climbed in the back with you. You screamed as he grabbed you and yanked you from the open trunk. You were met with the brisk outside air and the cold, wet feeling of rain gently falling around you.

The man guided you by your shoulders through the gravel, and you shuffled your feet to keep from tripping. You were inside a building now, and he shoved you down onto a creaky wooden chair. He took a second to re-tie you to the chair before slipping the blindfold off, your eyes taking only a few seconds to adjust to the dim light in the room. It looked like you were in some kind of shed, maybe even a barn, but you couldn’t tell. There were two men in front of you, one significantly taller than the other, their height being really their only distinguishing features.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. We won’t hurt you as long as your little boyfriend brings us what we want,” the taller man said. The pet name made you cringe.

“Fuck you. And he’s not my boyfriend,” you sneered through gritted teeth. “What do you want from him anyway?”

“Not your business sweetie,” the shorter man said.

“I don’t know how much of a piece of shit you have to be to kidnap an innocent girl, but don’t think Seonghwa is gonna let you get away with this,” you spat at them. You don’t know what overcame you to be so openly combative with the men who were holding you hostage, but the spite dripped so easily off your tongue.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Don’t make us gag you,” the tall man said. He stepped close to you, tipping your chin up to look at him. You cringed in disgust, trying not to meet his eyes. “We don’t want to hurt a pretty girl like you,” he said, running a finger across your jaw. You fought back the urge to bite down hard on his finger. You might have been angry, but you didn’t have a death wish.

“We’re not worried about Seonghwa. He might be the boss’ son but he has... well… a reputation. That pretty boy would never have the guts to do anything,” the shorter man said from across the room, laughing lightly. “I don’t know if you knew this, but your boyfriend has a reputation for being kind of a pussy.”

“Still not my boyfriend,” you grumbled through your teeth. Despite what they were implying, you weren’t worried about his ability to fight—you could still vividly recall the smooth and almost effortless way he took out your boyfriend, the way he stretched out his fingers casually afterwards like it was nothing to him. You remembered the way Seonghwa looked at him like trash on the floor afterwards. And most of all, you remembered how Seonghwa had told you he made arrangements to ‘take care of him’. Although you didn’t question it much at the time, a part of you wondered if he had ordered for him to be killed, especially knowing the connections he must have. You shook the thought out of your head. There were more important things to worry about, like being tied to a chair in some dingy shack.

The taller man stepped away from you and leaned into his partner’s ear, whispering something you couldn’t make out.

They left shortly after that, leaving you tied on the chair for what could have been anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours, you couldn’t tell. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as you waited with nothing but your thoughts and the pattering of rain on the ceiling.

A loud noise shook you from your trance. Someone had kicked through the door, and it rattled off its hinges easily as if it was held together with duct tape.

Seonghwa.

In your sudden relief, you could only choke out one stupid sentence. “You probably could have just opened that, you know.”

He laughed at your unexpected greeting, but quickly growing serious again at the sight of you tied helplessly to the chair. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not yet… fuck, can you get me out of these things? They’re starting to cut off my circulation.” you gestured to the ropes viced around your limbs.

Your relief was short-lived. In an unskillful display of desperation, your kidnappers shoved their way through the kicked-in door frame. Was your vision giving out? You were sure you had been kidnapped by two men before, but there were four now. Fuck. You were confident in Seonghwa’s ability to fight against two men, but four? The newer additions were much burlier, too.

Seonghwa turned on his heels to face the captors, but he seemed unshaken. He shot you a confident glance over his shoulder, and something gleamed in his eye. What was it? Was he seriously going to take on four men on his own? What kind of overconfident idiot-

Before you could conclude your thought, one man was on the floor already. There was a sickening crack and a thud as he hit the ground, but Seonghwa hadn’t moved. One of the men lunged forward. He grabbed Seonghwa by the lapel of his jacket, cocking his elbow for a hook, but Seonghwa intercepted him with a viper quick jab to the throat. He staggered back, saliva dribbling from his lips as he clutched his throat.

As your line of vision cleared, you saw two additional men had entered the fray. At first you thought you were fucked, but then you heard a voice call out a friendly greeting.

“Yo, Hwa! Heard you were getting your ass kicked.”

The distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh echoed against the walls of the room, and another one of the kidnappers staggered back.

“Who, me? Like hell,” Seonghwa called, smiling viciously as he dodged another blow from throat-punch guy, who looked furious. Seonghwa landed a well angled hit to his jaw, effectively uppercutting his lights out. He landed hard on the floor, dead weight as he was knocked cold, and Seonghwa turned on his heels to grab his next victim.

A flash of red hair caught your eye as he ducked and weaved between two guys, while a blonde guy wound up a swing with a crowbar like an all star baseball champion. Red hair baited one opponent closer, ducking just in time for blondie to knock him out of the park. The sound of the crowbar hitting his teeth sent shivers down your spine, but you simultaneously wanted to leap up and cheer them on. You stayed glued to your seat, heart pumping with adrenaline.

Molars scattered across the floor. Poor guy landed hard, wailing in agony as blood poured from his lips. Red haired guy threw a lethal cross, twisting his hip to power up his momentum as his fist impacted the other guy’s nose, most likely shattering it, sending him staggering back in a daze. He fell right into Seonghwa, who grabbed him by the jacket and sent him careening toward the wall, his forehead cracking against a support beam. He dropped like a rock, and the room fell quiet, save for one guy shrieking in pain. A swift boot to the jaw silenced him, and blondie turned, tossing the crowbar over his shoulder with a satisfied smirk.

Seonghwa turned back to you, rubbing his bruised knuckles with a huff. His lips turned up into a smile, and he gave a nod with his head toward the new guys.

“So, these are my cohorts. Wooyoung—” he paused, pointing at blondie, who tilted his head up in a friendly nod, “—and Jongho,” he pointed at the redhead, who gave you an adorable smile and a wave.

“So this is the girl, huh?” Wooyoung said, smiling at you as he looked you up and down. Out of the three of them, he looked the most like he belonged in the mafia. He wore a loosely fitted leopard print button up under a black leather jacket, his side-shaven bleach blonde hair neatly styled with gel. “She’s cute.”

Next to him, Jongho stood sternly. You wondered how this baby-faced guy could have taken out the burly one all on his own. He seemed younger than Seonghwa, but certainly stronger. “She definitely looks like your type, Seonghwa,” Jongho said, flashing a knowing smile at him. “We all know you like a girl in bondage.”

Seonghwa’s face immediately went flush. “Shut up, Jongho,” he said, shooting him a threatening glare. “Come on, help me untie her before more of their goons come looking for them,” Seonghwa said, moving around the chair to loosen the tight knots bound on your wrists.

You turned your head over your shoulder and widened your eyes at him, arching your eyebrows as you watched him skillfully disentangle the knots. “You like a girl in what?”

“We can talk about this later,” he muttered through his teeth, his cheeks an incriminating beet-red.

“Careful, you’ll scare her off,” Wooyoung teased.

“Honestly, if getting kidnapped didn’t scare her off, I don’t think anything will,” Jongho reassured Seonghwa with a pat to the shoulder. You felt oddly proud at that, for some reason. He was right, you were a tough cookie, you could handle a kidnapping or two.

Seonghwa gave you a hand as you rose from the chair, steadying you with a delicate hand around your waist. Your joints creaked from being tied up for so long, but you could walk on your own. Still, he kept a protective arm around you as he escorted you back to the car. You stepped over one of the unconscious bodies on your way out, his tall frame blocking the doorway. You cringed at the puddle of crimson around his mouth, but celebrated your freedom nonetheless. His hand twitched as you lifted your leg over him, and you flinched, curling your fingers tighter into Seonghwa’s shirt. He laughed softly, pulling you close.

You slid into the passenger seat of Seonghwa’s car, the plush leather of his Bentley Continental soothing the ache in your bones. It was hands down the single most expensive thing you’d ever touched, and you couldn’t help but to imagine what it would be like for him to pick you up in it for a date. You sighed as you relaxed into it, feeling tired from the adrenaline comedown.

A blacked-out Mercedes S Class revved its engine as it peeled out of the lot, and Wooyoung winked at you from the driver’s side window.

“That douche,” Seonghwa laughed as he turned his key in the ignition. The engine purred decadently, and Seonghwa slammed on the gas, tearing down the road right on Wooyoung’s heels. You gripped the edge of your seat as the inertia slammed you backwards, a thrilled laugh bubbling up from your chest.

He shifted gears, launching into a high speed battle of pride with the other guys, flying down the rural highway with his tongue poking out in concentration, one side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. He put the S Class in his rear view mirror, and you couldn’t help but to roll the window down, shoving your fist out with a triumphant holler. You grinned widely as the wind blew your hair in a wild tornado, your screams and laughter lost in the roar of the highway. You noticed Seonghwa peek over at you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, but just for a second.

Exhaustion hit the moment you stepped into his apartment, but your mind was still reeling from the day’s events. You didn’t plan on getting much sleep that night, and you were still a bit angry at Seonghwa for not disclosing the fact that he was in the fucking mafia, but you chose to shove those feelings aside. Mafia or not, you still felt much safer with than without him.

“Seonghwa.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t leave me tonight. Please?” you looked at him with the biggest, saddest eyes you could manage, hoping to hit a soft spot. You didn’t need much.

He sighed. “Of course I won’t. This is all my fault anyway. If something were to happen again I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

And so he stayed.

You talked for a while on the bed as you tried your best to calm yourself down. You were still in a rush of nerves from adrenaline and relaxation felt hopeless, sleep even more so. In fact, sleep wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.

As you made conversation, you recalled a question that had been nagging at you since he'd saved you earlier. You could have asked him anything you wanted. You could have asked what the men wanted, or how he found you, but instead…

"Hey… what was with that thing Jongho said back there? About ‘liking a girl in bondage’?”

Seonghwa immediately pulled his gaze away, breaking eye contact, heat rising in his cheeks like before. “He was just teasing me.”

“So it’s not true?”

“I never said it wasn’t,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. You admired the curve of his jaw, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right there. His eyes went dark as he paused to pull his gaze up and down at your body. “I always thought you’d look good tied up for me.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. You saw how he looked at you, hungrily, as if picturing you bound to the bed frame right then. But something seemed to be holding him back, like he was trying to resist the temptation to fall back into a bad habit. You wouldn’t let him. You held out your wrists playfully in front of you. "Well then tie me up." His eyes widened at your proposal. "C'mon. Look, I can't sleep like this. I need a distraction. Please."

He drew his tongue across his bottom lip pensively, before finally giving in with a click of his tongue against his teeth. "I really can't say no to you."

You smiled at how easily he conceded to your pleas. He was surely thinking the same thing that had been on your mind for the past week—this was going to have to end, and some time had to be the last. He had made you promise to never contact him after this was over, and you were sure now more than ever after putting you through danger that he was going to hold up his end of that deal. This would be your last soiree with him, and you wanted—no, needed—it to count.

He leaned in, hooking his hand on the collar of your shirt, eyes glazed over with lustful intensity. “You’re too dangerous for me, you know... I have no control when it comes to you.” A shiver traveled down your spine. That’s exactly what you wanted: you wanted him to lose his control for you, you wanted him weak for you. You wanted him to want you like you wanted him. “And that’s why I want to make this last time unforgettable.”

You broke the thick tension between you with a slow, sensual kiss, sliding your tongue against his. He nibbled at your lip as you pulled back slowly, lingering your lips precariously close to his, nearly touching. His fingers dug into your waist hungrily. “Do your worst.”

“Are you sure you mean that?” he asked carefully. The air between you grew hot as the tension rose, your lips barely grazed against each other’s.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Something about the amount of restraint he seemed to be exercising told you there was a part of him he was holding back, something more animalistic.

“You have to tell me if I’m being too rough, okay?” he said, voice smooth like honey, tracing a finger along the curve of your jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded eagerly, willingly accepting his terms. If this was the last time you could experience him, you wanted everything he had, no matter what it was. Something about the soft way he talked about hurting you gave chills. He was entirely gentle and yet his words felt sinister.

He stood up to receive something from the closet, what looked like a thin scarf. You expected him to cinch your hands together with it, but instead he sat himself behind you, pulling the silky material around your eyes and fastening it tightly with a knot at the back of your head. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice deep and smooth like honey.

He let his fingers wander down your neck and shoulders, pausing to stroke your collarbone. His touch was gentle but electrifying. You were entirely blind now, but you could feel the heat of his gaze from behind you. The blindness was exhilarating, as it left your other senses completely heightened. He continued to let his fingers trace your collarbone as his lips made contact with the sensitive skin at the back of your neck, placing slow and sensual kisses slowly down your neck and shoulders. He took his time, excruciatingly, as you squirmed in anticipation for his next move. You were truly submissive in the blindfold—he had complete control over his next move. The thrill of anticipation made your head spin.

Still behind you, he lifted the hem of your shirt up slowly, and you followed suit by pulling your arms up to help him strip you. He released the clasp of your bra, gently removing it. His hands wandered at your breasts, tracing over your nipples until they grew hard and sensitive.

Out of nowhere, you felt a sudden tension around your wrists behind you. The familiar rough sensation of rope cinched your arms together. “You’re doing so good for me darling,” he whispered in your ear, delivering one final tightening of the knot, causing you to yelp out in surprise. “You look even prettier like this than I imagined.”

You were sitting on the bed now on your knees in only your panties, blindfold cutting off your vision, wrists bound behind you. Seonghwa sat straddling you from behind, and you could feel he had stripped entirely. He caressed your body for a while, teasing you with a brutally faint touch. You moaned and squirmed eagerly as he wandered his hand closer to your already soaked panties, rubbing his fingers against the damp fabric. His fingers slipped inside you briefly, and you let out soft pleasured moans. The sensation was overwhelming after such excruciatingly drawn out teasing.

Your moans were cut off by Seonghwa’s finger hooking over your teeth and pushing into your mouth. You sucked at it eagerly, and he shoved a few more inside, eliciting an involuntary gag. You heard Seonghwa sigh lustfully in your ear at the sound, taking pleasure in what he was doing to you. “That’s it baby,” he said, his deep voice resonating like music to your ears. His other hand continued to pulse in and out of you, and you were practically dripping now, unable to hold back your neediness. Your pleasured moans were muffled as you sucked and licked at his long fingers.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered. He’d never been so forward or vocal before. You loved hearing his deep voice dripping like honey in your ear-- just the sound of it could have been enough to drive you all the way over the edge if he kept talking.

“Mmf- I want- you- fuck me-” you mumbled through his fingers, and he shoved them in further, eliciting another soft gag. You couldn’t express what you wanted, not only because of his fingers muffling your sounds, but your head was spinning from his touch. “Please- fu- mm-”

“How cute, you can’t even get words out.”

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drool pooling at the sides of your lips. Between your legs, his other hand pulled your soaked panties down your legs as he began to circle your clit with his thumb. You whimpered under his complete control. He used his fingers so masterfully, like everything else he did. His contented breaths in your ear sent shivers down your spine.

He repositioned himself suddenly, sitting up tall behind you, and dragged you up straight against him. You felt both his hands move under your ass, hoisting you up over his waist and pushing you down on his dick without warning. You let out a choked cry as his dick stretched you out entirely. “Fuck, Y/N…” he growled, his voice getting darker every time he spoke. “You have no idea how much I want to ruin you.”

He rutted his hips up under you, thrusting himself even deeper inside where you sat on his dick. You let out another cry, and his hand came up to your neck. Your arms, still bound together behind you, squirmed and writhed at the urge to claw at the fingers viced around you. You loved the sensation as his grip tightened, sending you soaring in an unfamiliar headrush. He bucked his hips up and down as you tightened around his shaft

“Seonghwa, fuck- ah-” Your choked cries seemed to spur him on to grip tighter around your neck. Your high nearly spilled over into darkness as he loosened his grip suddenly. You let out a few sputtering coughs as you caught your breath.

He thrusted a few more times up into you as you caught your breath. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay- ah- I like the pain,” you said breathlessly.

“Mm…” he sighed roughly against the back of your neck, planting a few soft kisses. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

His hands came to your waist, hoisting you off his dick. It slid out with a lewd sound, and you felt him get up from behind you. You were sure you looked like a drooling, horny mess, still bound and blindfolded on the bed helplessly.

You sat there for a while in silence, and the anticipation of his next move kept you on edge, unable to settle in. The silence was unnerving, almost excruciating. Was he gone? Was he watching?

You snapped up when you finally heard footsteps again, pacing around the room and then coming towards you. He leaned into your ear, pulling his arms around your waist to untie the ropes around your wrists.

“Do you trust me?” he asked carefully. You nodded. You did trust him, but at this point, you would have said anything to keep his hands on you. You didn’t care what he did, you just craved his touch.

“With your words.”

“Yes, yes, I trust you Seonghwa. Please.”

He untied your blindfold and it slipped off your face, falling to the bed by your knees. It was dark, but your eyes took a moment to adjust to the faint glow of the moonlight washing through the window. His face overwhelmed you instantly—you didn’t realize how much you’d missed it while blinded. The cut of his jaw was the first thing you noticed, then his dark, lustful eyes sparkling in the faint light. His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched your eyes trace his features. You’re sure the look on your face indicated the way you were marveling at him, as if you were admiring the world’s most beautiful piece of art.

“We’re gonna play a game,” he purred, still leaning over the bed where you sat, fully freed from the ropes. His eye contact was piercing, almost terrifyingly.

“What’s the game?”

“I’m gonna fuck you, and every time you make a pretty little noise…” he delivered a light smack to the side of your ass. “I spank you.”

Your jaw dropped at his proposal. You liked it—you already admitted you liked a little pain to him earlier—but was this the same Seonghwa you practically dommed in his penthouse?

“What if I can’t control it?”

“Well then your ass is going to hurt tomorrow, isn’t it?”

You gulped, nodding. His aura oozed power now. He may have been in the mafia, but he’d never displayed so much power, so much control, until now.

He climbed on the bed, flipping you over easily and guiding your face to the pillows. He hoisted your hips up to be flush with his, running one finger along your folds to test your wetness, before aligning the tip of his cock at your opening. Already, you were struggling to hold back moans, your body trembling under his touch.

He slid the tip in slowly, and you rocked forward in pleasure, biting your lip to keep in the noises. He positioned one hand at the small of your waist, the other on your ass, waiting. As he thrust himself all the way in you couldn’t control the cries that fell from your lips.

“What did I tell you?” He said, delivering the first harsh smack to your ass. You gritted your teeth at the sudden impact, but the light sting also felt incredible as he rocked inside of you. Your breathing grew shallow as he toyed with you, switching up the pace in a way that had your head spinning. You could tell he wasn’t moving in a way to get himself off—he wanted to watch you squirm.

He thrusted in another time, hard, and you whimpered involuntarily. Another smack. This went on for several minutes, Seonghwa continuing to deliver harsh smacks to your ass until it was stained with a permanent sting. You were shaking under his touch, and he let up, rubbing your back with comforting pressure.

“Have you had enough, darling?” he cooed softly, almost condescendingly, but it sounded amazing coming off his tongue. You nodded. “Mm, okay, we can be done now.”

He stroked your hair as he thrust himself back in, picking up a considerable rhythm now. You moaned like your life depended on it now, finally able to let it out. He gripped a hand in your hair, pulling it together into a messy ponytail, tugging lightly as he slid his dick in and out. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pounded into you. You could definitively say now that he fucked exactly how he looked—like a god.

His other hand made its way underneath you, tracing your clit. It only took a few seconds of stimulation for your orgasm to hit, and it was more intense than you’d ever experienced before, or imagined you could experience again. It rocked through your body like a wave, overtaking you entirely. You let out a final cry as it reached its summit. Seonghwa let out a final grunt as he reached his tipping point, pulling out of you to spill over onto your back.

You collapsed onto your stomach, completely spent, and you could swear you blacked out for a moment while he brought in a damp washcloth to clean you up with.

The dominant side of him seemed to melt away instantly, as he stroked your back gently. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too much?”

You nodded drowsily, all your pain seeming to dissolve under his touch.

You fell asleep on him that night, nestled in the warmth of his neck. You fit so perfectly in his arms like that, like it was meant to be. You imagined what it would feel like to cuddle up to him like this every night, but the thought was too good to be true. You knew this was the last chance you would have to touch him like this.

It had been several months since you last saw Seonghwa, and you were just starting to move on from him. Well, part of that was true. The last time you’d been in contact with him was when he had dropped you at your apartment, ex-boyfriend nowhere in sight. You didn’t push him too much on how he managed to “take care” of him, assuming he’d paid him off or ran him out of town by threatening him. Either way, you had just been happy to be back home. Your days with Seonghwa felt like a distant fever dream, but it was several weeks until you could get the taste of him off your lips and his image out of your mind.

You did your best to scrub him from your head, but it felt impossible. He haunted you in every way possible.

On one day of particularly drunken weakness, you paid a visit to his bar. You justified it by saying you were just checking in on him, making sure he was okay, but really you just wanted to see his face. Was it risky? Extremely. Were you drunk? Also extremely. You sat in an indiscriminate seat at the end of the bar, hoping not to be seen. But another part of you wanted him to notice you, regardless of the consequences. That was the drunk part.

But he didn’t notice you. In fact, he wasn’t even concentrating on the happenings of the bar at all. You could see him atop his VIP throne, the one that overlooked every seat in the bar from the lofted second story. He had a girl by his side, his arm draped around her waist, clearly flirting. Scorching heat rose in your chest as you watched him seduce her, your heart stinging with a fiery jealousy you had never felt before. In the back of your mind, you always knew he was bound to be back to his socialite self, bringing girls up to his penthouse suite every night—the same penthouse suite you had shared that first fateful night… and the morning after. Even so, the jealousy burned in your throat, and so did the alcohol you were knocking back to drown your feelings. A large part of you wanted to disappear off the face of the earth right that second, shrink into the bar stool and never be seen again. The other part wanted him to notice you, even if just for a moment. You didn’t care if he was mad that you came, you just wanted to take him in up close again. You wanted him to acknowledge you. You watched in anguish as he let the girl by her waist in the direction of the elevators, not to be seen again. You left the bar that night sobbing, and didn’t stop until you passed out in bed. Since then, you swore you were never going to think about him again. He wasn’t worth it. You had to come to terms with the fact that you were just another one of his playthings—one he just happened to take pity on.

You swore you’d move on, and you did, mostly. The independence of not being tied down felt incredible, and you took advantage of your newfound sexual prowess to download a dating app and have some fun for yourself. But there was a small part of you -- one that you didn’t ever want to admit to—that could only picture Seonghwa every time you fucked another guy.

11pm.

You were laying in bed, swiping hopelessly through men on your phone, sifting through hundreds of desperate guys you couldn’t care less about. You couldn’t sleep, even after a few pathetic drinks alone in your kitchen, when you heard a knock. You had felt on edge about people coming to your door ever since the kidnapping, but today you were too tired to deal with the incessant knocking. It just kept coming. It was probably your neighbor coming to tell you you left your lights on again.

You swung the door open, wondering who could possibly be knocking with such carelessness at this time in the night.

Park Seonghwa.

You were immediately flooded with the same intimidated feeling you had on the night you met him. He looked like a model, maybe even a god, standing in your doorway. He ran his hand through his freshly shaved undercut and you took in the sight, unable to tear your eyes away. He looked just as stunning as you remembered—even more so. But something wasn’t quite right. He was swaying slightly, and as he spoke your name, the words were slightly slurred.

“Y/N… I-”

“Are you drunk?”

“No… yes… maybe,” he laughed lightly before stumbling inside without an invitation. You knew enough to move out of his way. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You froze. You’d never seen him so incoherent. You immediately recognized the smell lingering a bit too long in his breath as the expensive champagne he had poured for you in his penthouse that night.

“Seonghwa, how much did you drink?” you asked, voice laced with concern. You led him through your apartment to the couch, where he plopped himself down with an alarming amount of force.

“Enough to know what I really want.” He looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “You.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you said seriously.

His eyes glimmered with lust. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want you to fuck me right here.”

This man was dangerous. And you didn’t mean in the mafia sense, although that was also true. You meant in the way he could completely ruin you if you let him. You had tried so hard to finally wipe him from your memory and move on, but you were stained with a constant desire to feel his touch again. You were finally moving on until now, when the desire surged back in, and it was like it had never left.

“You’re drunk,” you said dismissively, doing your best to ignore the fact that you definitely wanted to fuck him, like right that second. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

His eyes looked heavy as he struggled to even hold the cup in his hands. His eyes were glued on you with the lust of a thousand horny teenage boys, but something about his hungry gaze felt comfortable to you, and you welcomed it.

“You look like an angel,” he muttered softly. “You’re an angel sent from heaven to ruin me. I know you are.” You laughed as he seemed to get more incoherent. You glanced down at your oversized pajamas, wondering what he meant when he said you looked like an angel. “I missed you… I-I can’t get your body out of my head.”

You shook your head, trying to clear any desire you had out of your mind. He was way too drunk. “Shh, Seonghwa. Lay down.”

You grabbed the water glass from his hand and handed him a blanket, guiding his shoulder gently down a laying down position on the couch. You settled in next to him, and he placed his head in your lap. Something about his current state felt incredibly vulnerable, and you’d never seen him like this.

You petted his hair softly. He looked up at you with sad, sparkly, drunken eyes. “You’re pretty,” he said with a dorky smile.

You chuckled. “You’re drunk.”

He nodded, and his eyebrows furrowed suddenly. “I hate my father.”

You zipped your lips tightly, trying to give him room to continue. He still hadn’t spoken about his family since the first night at his house, and you wanted to take advantage of his drunken state.

“He treats me like his puppet, but I’m nothing like him. I never asked for this. I just want to live a normal life for once.” You nodded, urging him to keep going. You didn’t want to ruin this moment of vulnerability. “You know those paintings… at my place, above the bar? Those are mine.”

“You bought them?”

“I painted them.”

You went silent. You couldn’t remember them in detail, but you remembered that they were beautiful, like they belonged in a museum. You kind of assumed they were stolen, to be honest.

“You painted those? All of them?”

“I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” He paused. “But I’m trapped being my father’s stupid fucking puppet. I’m supposed to take his position next year, but I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. I’m so sick of the bar. He expects me to just sit there and keep his appearances for him. I’m sick of just drinking myself numb and fucking girls mindlessly.”

Fucking girls mindlessly? Was he fucking you mindlessly?

“Girls like me?” He paused, trying to remember what he had just said. “You’re tired of fucking girls like me?”

“No…” he shook his head vigorously, realizing what he said. “You’re the only girl that has made me feel something... in a long time.”

Your cheeks went red hot. What was he admitting to you? His eyes were getting heavier, and so was his head, the heavy weight of his skull starting to crush your thighs. You stroked his hair a few more times and gently scooted out from under him, guiding his head down to the couch.

“Get some sleep.”

You checked on Seonghwa immediately when you woke up. He was sitting upright on the couch where you left him last night, hunched over slightly, rubbing his temples. He raised his eyes as you walked in. “God, what happened last night? I feel like I got hit by a train.”

“What do you remember?”

“Drinking… and not much else.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

He froze, the look in his eyes quickly transitioning from confusion to pure terror. “Oh god… what did I tell you?”

“Everything. About your family. Your paintings. You told me I was pretty.”

“Well, that last one I don’t regret,” he said, rubbing his temples harder. “Do you have like… some painkillers? Coffee maybe? God...”

“Wow, you really don’t get wasted much.”

He chuckled. God, you missed his laugh. “Takes a lot.”

You returned to him on the couch with a cup of coffee and some Ibuprofen. Something about giving him painkillers felt… wrong. As ridiculous as it sounded, by the way he carried himself, you would think he was almost invincible, like he didn’t even feel pain or something. You plopped yourself down next to him, and you talked for a while as he drowned his hangover with coffee.

You made him breakfast, buttered toast and fried eggs, and suddenly you felt like a housewife. It was nice - you wished you could do this more often. He smiled at you around his toast, with his messy, tousled hair and tired eyes, and he almost looked human for once. As close as he ever could, at least.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, thanking you for breakfast as he pressed his lips against yours. You melted against him, embracing him like your body was designed for it. You wanted to hold him close and never let go, and the idea of him never coming back was one you shoved deep into the back of your mind as you deepened the kiss.

He pressed you against the counter, kissing you like your lips held the answers to all of his problems, and you kissed back like you knew how to solve them. His hands were warm as they slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, and you ran your fingers through his hair, soft and freshly cut.

You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his pants, and his hands immediately tightened their grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your hands sank further down, teasing your fingers over his cock through the fabric, and he groaned low in his throat.

He pulled back suddenly, a concerned look growing on his face. “What time is it?”

You glanced at the clock. “11am. Why?”

“Shit. Fuck. I have to go.”

Damn it. It was just getting good.

“Will you come back?” you asked, a little too desperately. You flashed the puppy dog eyes you already knew he couldn’t resist. You didn’t realize just how much you had missed him until he was right in front of you, his hands all over your body.

He sighed. “I mean, there’s no point in hiding anything from you anymore. I guess I laid everything out on the table when I burst in here drunk last night.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. I just have some… matters I need to attend to with my father.”

“Is that why you were drinking?”

“It’s not important,” he said dismissively, and suddenly you felt him building a wall again. You gave him one more soft kiss before he left.

“Don’t let him get to you, okay? I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”

He gathered himself up quickly, glancing over his shoulder one last time before heading out. “Thanks.”

Over the next month, you dated in secret. Nothing was ever explicitly stated about the nature of your relationship, but he visited you almost every night, and you did everything together from dinners to movie nights on your couch to fucking on the kitchen counter. Well, mostly the last one. You weren’t sure if you could call him your boyfriend, but he would have been by anyone else's standards.

Every day that passed you learned a little more about him. The thing you liked the best? He was secretly kind of a dork. Contrary to the serious and powerful image he put on to the outside world, his true nature was much softer and sweeter than you could have ever anticipated. You fell for him in the simplest tasks: the way he hummed while he washed the dishes, the way he cried a little when he laughed too hard, the stars that shined in his eyes when he discovered something new. You wondered if he had ever experienced such simple things before, things you took for granted - watching sitcoms at 2am, the pain of eating a little too much ice cream, the unadulterated joy of laughing over a bowl of cereal after a long night of sex. You’d watch his eyes sparkle at every new experience, and there was a part of you who really, really wanted to meet his father so you could punch him for ever depriving Seonghwa of a normal life.

Even so, there were moments when he struggled to open up. There was something still so dark about him, mysterious, hidden. Even after experiencing his wide-eyed, almost childlike sense of wonder, you detected something still slightly sinister kindling within him -- something you would expect out of a mafia boss’ son. He kept a tight seal on the resentment inside, but you knew it was festering just under the surface. You had tried to get him to talk about it, but he evaded your questions each time. You wondered when he would finally boil over.

A knock sounded at your door. Seonghwa, for your date.

You opened the door with a sweet, expectant smile. “Seonghwa! Just in time, I was making-” The expression on his face caused you to pause. He looked frighteningly serious, more than he usually did, and that was saying something. You furrowed your brows. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to go right now. I can explain in the car. Get a bag together, only what you absolutely need.”

“Seonghwa what the f-”

His voice went completely dark, commanding as he spoke. “You’re in danger. We have to go. Now.”

#seonghwa smut #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fic #yunho smut #hongjoong smut #mafia au #san smut

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

A Solo Act part 2

A/N: Yay backstory! And obligatory masquerade ball! Shoutout to Becca for helping with the clothes ❤ This will most likely have a third part--I have it outlined, so let’s see if I’ll write it 😅

This covers the Masquerade square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

Part 1 here

Tags: poison, branding (like with a hot metal), talks of death, injuries (one character is beaten)

Words: 2973

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @berniesilvas

It had been almost a year of you living in the city. You and Nick had a few more run-ins, and your relationship stayed very much the same. He annoyed you as much as you annoyed him, and you fought constantly, almost always on sight. But you were both pretty equal in terms of skill. The only time either of you got the upper hand was when you got the element of surprise.

And, of course, your showboating started to turn into flirting. There was a heavy sexual tension between you two, and you didn’t know what would happen when it finally snapped. But for now, you enjoyed riling him up.

*******************

You looked yourself over in the mirror, taking in your gown. It was a deep shade of emerald, with silver embroidery that added to its elegance. You were gorgeous in it, the way the bodice hugged your form, your cleavage on full display—that was one of the reasons you bought it. Men scrambled on hands and knees for a beautiful woman, and it would help distract them from the dagger in your hand. The skirts of the gown bloomed out, giving your legs room to move.

Grabbing the simple mask of matching green and silver, you got into the waiting carriage outside your place, heading for the Duke’s palace. It wasn’t hard gaining an invitation to the biggest masquerade ball of the season, just as you were sure it wouldn’t be hard to take the Duke out.

You affixed the mask to your face just as the carriage rolled to a stop. While you disliked having your peripherals blocked, you did appreciate the disguise. No one would look at your body in that dress and think assassin, and the mask would help during your escape. You just had to make sure to be out of the palace before the Duke fell.

The ballroom was expansive, filled with the rich and noble. Couples danced while others sat and talked about nothing, or stuffed their faces while those in the streets starved. You felt you blood boil; you hated these rich bastards.

You glanced around until you found the Duke; masked or not, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His doublet was a bright gold, the sleeves slashed to show the lining inside, and the light seemed drawn to the material, making him glow. From what you could see of his cheeks, which were rosy, he was already drunk. You rolled your eyes, then headed for him, hoping to earn a dance. Before you made it more than a few steps, however, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You fought the urge to break whoever’s fingers it was as you turned to look at the offender.

“May I have a dance, Miss?” Nick asked, voice velvet. He was incredibly handsome in his black doublet, the gold embroidery subtle, but effective.

You glared at him, “I thought I told you to never touch me.”

“That’s not a no.” He smirked, and you wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. Before you could deny him, he took your hand, dragging you to the dancefloor. His free hand dropped to your hip, and he started moving. You missed a step in your annoyance, then caught up, to not cause a scene.

“What are you doing here, Nick?” you asked. His hand was warm on your skin, cocooning your hand in warmth. And his cologne was intoxicating; you found yourself leaning closer, trying to catch a whiff before you noticed and pulled away to a respectable distance once more.

But he had noticed, grinning cheekily at you. “Same thing you are, I’m sure. The Duke.” He spun you, then dipped you as the song ended. Your heart fluttered as he brought you back up, pulling you close against his chest.

“D—don’t you dare get in my way,” you stuttered, trying to regain your composure.

Nick’s grin widened as another song started, and he swayed with you once more. “Oh, don’t worry; I won’t.” He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “He’s about to make a toast, and I’ve already poisoned his goblet.”

You leaned back to look at him, shocked. “When did you—”

“You might want to get out of here before he makes his toast. Once he goes down, the guards will start unmasking guests,” Nick quickly explained. Sure enough, the band stopped playing when there was a clinking. Turning to look, the Duke was standing, goblet in his hand, a spoon in the other that he had used to call attention. When you looked back, Nick was gone.

Every eye was on the Duke, and you slowly started making your way towards the exit. His voice rang out as he gave a short speech—more like a sentence—and he sipped his drink. Almost instantly, he started to choke, his face turning purple, then blue. You were close enough to the exit that you turned and walked quickly out into the hallway, trying to fight the urge to run; that would only draw attention.

“Hey! Stop!” you heard from behind you, and you ran towards freedom, attention be damned. Two guards appeared in the doorway in front of you, and you braced yourself, crashing into one. But before you could take him out, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head, and everything went dark.

***

Nick was still smug the next day; the look on your face after he told you he had poisoned the Duke would be forever imprinted on his mind. As would the image of you in that dress, your body warm against his. And when he dipped down to your ear, he had caught a whiff of the perfume in your hair, and he swooned.

Pushing that from his mind, he swiped a newspaper from a stand. But he stopped in his tracks as he saw the headline:

MYSTERIOUS WOMAN CAUGHT AT BALL WHERE DUKE POISONED

It couldn’t be you, right? As much as Nick hated you, you were skilled, almost on the same level as him. There was no way you were captured. But he had heard the Duke’s speech as he left, knew he had less time than he had predicted. He had been distracted, though, seeing you in that gown, dancing with you so close, seeing the pure lust in your eyes as you gazed at him after the dip. He had been so tempted to kiss you last night, so tempted to—

No, you were enemies, and he hated you. Even so, you were connected under the assassin’s code. Sure, you weren’t in the same guild—or any guild, really—but it was hard for Nick to leave you to your fate, whatever that would be. Though, he had a pretty good idea what it would be. A branding and an execution; the same thing that awaited every assassin captured.

The thought of someone pressing the scalding metal to your skin filled Nick with a white-hot rage. He made up his mind then and there; he wasn’t going to let that happen to you.

***************

Guards were perhaps the easiest people in the world to bribe…well, depending on the guard. Personal bodyguards? Not really. But guards of a prison, where they’re spit at, shit thrown at them? Absolutely.

Nick gained easy access to the jail’s interior. This would be the harder part; the guards in these sections were mostly likely dedicated to the crown. He was able to ambush a lone guard carrying food, stealing his clothes. The man was bigger in the torso than Nick, so he had to tuck in the tunic and hope no one would really notice.

As he was pulling on a glove, however, a piercing scream rang throughout the jail. The hair on Nick’s neck and arms stood up straight, and his heartbeat tripled. It was the worst sound Nick had ever heard in his life, and it seemed to go on forever. Finally, it stopped, but in the silence, it could still be heard, echoing throughout the jail.

He finished pulling on the guard outfit, picked up the food tray, and hurried in the direction of the sound. Three other guards were coming towards him, and he tried to act nonchalant.

“She’s not going to want to eat after that,” one of them said to Nick, and the other two laughed. He ignored them, heading towards the cell they had just vacated, praying you weren’t the one in there.

He stopped a few feet away, as soon as a limp body was visible in the cell. You were trembling, sobbing softly, curled on your side. The smell of burning flesh permeated the room, and Nick struggled to not gag. Slowly, he moved closer. But he scuffed his boot on the ground, and you flinched.

“G—go away! I’ll—I’ll kill you!” you shouted, your voice hoarse and laced with fear. Nick said nothing as he came right to the cell, unlocking it with the key he stole. He opened the door and made his way over to you, until he stood over you. You curled in tighter on yourself as he crouched next to you. The burned and blistered skin on your forearm made him see red, and he wanted nothing more to kill the bastards that did this. But there was only so much time, and he needed to get you out of there.

He gently touched your shoulder, and you flinched away from him. He reached for you again, this time rolling you over to look at him. You blinked in surprise to find Nick crouching over you, but his face was set in stone. Wave after wave of rage pulsed through him as he saw your face, your body; you had been heavily beaten. The guards probably had fun hitting you around, and he clenched his teeth.

“Nick?” you asked, voice soft. That one word said in a voice so terrified was enough to drag him from his dark thoughts, calming the rushing in his ears.

He grabbed your non-branded arm, hauling you to your feet. “We don’t have much time; let’s go.” But the moment you stood, your eyes rolled back, and you lost consciousness. Your body went limp, and Nick caught you against his chest. He let out a low curse before throwing your body over his shoulder and leaving the cell.

***

You were in so much pain when you awoke, especially your arm. You remembered the guards attacking you, calling you names and threatening worse if you fought back. You also remembered two of them holding you down, your body pinned on the ground, while a third heated up the blackened metal until it was glowing red. You had struggled as he got closer and closer, but it was no use. You had tried to brace yourself for it, but the moment the metal touched your skin, you couldn’t stop the scream that tore from your throat. You barely registered the men’s laughter as you felt like you would surely die from the pain alone.

You knew what happened next, that you’d be executed; the brand was just in case you got away or survived…and as a marker for the afterlife about your sins in this life. As you grew more conscious, though, you realized you weren’t on the ground, the sparce straw not even fit for a pillow scratching your skin. No, you were in a comfortable bed.

Your eyelids slowly fluttered open, and you found yourself in a foreign room. What the hell is this? you thought, confused. You grit your teeth against the pain as you struggled to sit up. Just then, the door opened, revealing Nick in his normal tunic and slacks, carrying a bucket of water, bandages, and washcloths.

“Hey! Don’t move, just lay back and relax,” he said, hurrying over to you. He placed the bucket and supplies on the floor, then gently, but firmly, pushed your shoulders back down on the bed.

You let him guide you down, your eyes scanning his face. “What’s going on here?”

“You are heavily injured and shouldn’t be moving,” he explained.

You rolled your eyes. “How’d I get here? Why are you helping me?”

“I broke you out of jail. Now just lay there and shut up; I don’t need you asking all these questions while I change your bandages, okay?”

You huffed, relaxing back on the bed as he pulled the sheets off you. You couldn’t stop the heat from flooding your cheeks as he examined your body, the injuries. He had taken you out of your dress, leaving you in your undergarments—at least they covered you. But he didn’t look at you with hunger like most men; his eyes were tender. Your arm was the worst injury of the bunch, and he started there. His hands were so soft, so gentle against you as he unraveled the old bandage.

When the bandage fell away, you finally tore your eyes from his face, looking at the brand. Your skin was shiny and red, the blisters and burned skin cleared away, leaving the mark in the shape of a dagger on your forearm. You felt tears; with this, you were forever branded as an assassin. There was no hiding it—besides with long sleeves—no going to a normal, retired life later. Everyone would know who and what you were, what you are.

Nick dunked a cloth in the bucket, wrung it out, then started washing the wound. You winced in pain as he worked, his fingers gentle. It was silent in the room outside of the water when he rewet the cloth: him intent on washing your open wounds and binding the internal ones, and you intent on his soft touch.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Why did you save me? Why are you helping me now?”

He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge that you had spoken. He just continued working. You were about to ask again when he said, “you needed the help.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Nick. We’re not friends, don’t even like each other. I need a better reason,” you replied harshly.

He continued wrapping a cut on your leg without looking at your face. Once done, he sat in silence, looking at the ground. Sighing, he slowly pulled the tunic over his head and off, revealing an undershirt. Your eyes widened at the white scars littering his broad, muscular body. But what caught your eye was the imprint of a dagger, burned into his right bicep. Your jaw dropped in surprise, and you tore your eyes from the brand to his face, finding him staring at you.

“I helped you because I knew what it felt like…and because I didn’t want to relive the mistakes I’ve already made,” he muttered.

That explained why your wound had looked so clean; he knew how to take care of it from experience. “Wh—what mistakes?”

“You really want my whole life story? When I’m not even sure you won’t try to kill me once you’re healed enough?”

He didn’t really believe that, you could tell. Plus, assassins didn’t kill each other, not unless absolutely necessary…or the assassin goes rogue. But you didn’t know how to pry him—well, that wasn’t true. You took a deep breath, looking at your hands in your lap.

“I’m not in a guild because my parents warned me to never join one,” you said softly. “They were in different guilds and yet…they fell in love. But they weren’t allowed to be together; their guild master forbade them. So, they did the only thing they could; they left their guilds. Once their masters found out, they tracked them down, and—and branded them. Twice. One was the mark of the assassin—” you glanced at the bandage that hid your own mark— “the second was the mark of the deserter. They were then banished, and no guild would take them, not after the mark was on them.”

Nick sat in silence while you talked. You wanted him to understand, understand why you worked alone, why you didn’t trust anyone. He gently reached out, taking your hand in his. You glanced up at him, but his eyes were locked on your joined hands.

“I was in a guild when I was younger; they’re still around, actually. But I, uh…” he closed his eyes, taking a breath. “I left.”

“Why’d you leave?”

His eyes opened and you noticed the tears. “It was a routine contract. Me and a rookie; I was showing him the ropes. What I didn’t expect was that it would end in the rookie dying and me rotting in a jailcell.” You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “I let my guard down, and he was killed right in front of me. I should’ve saved him or died in that cell.”

“How’d you get away?” you asked, voice hushed.

Nick chuckled humorlessly. “My guild broke me out. I was the one that was saved, even after I had failed. And I just…I couldn’t be there anymore, couldn’t ever experience that pain again. So, I chose to work alone, never let anyone close.”

You felt terrible for him, to go through that. Sure, your parents passed away, but it was natural causes, not murdered. It was always a fear of the job, but it still hurt to see those you knew and loved taken from you.

Nick stood, stretching and rolling his neck. “Well, your bandages have been applied. I’m going to make supper; you should rest. I’ll bring you a plate.”

You watched him walk away, mumbling a quiet, “thank you,” as he went. But he made no indication that he had heard you.

#nick amaro x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Dark”

Welcome back, everyone! Can you believe it's been six weeks already? I can't. Something something the uncomfortable passage of time during a pandemic as emphasized by a web-series.

But we're here to talk about RWBY the fictional story, not RWBY the cultural icon. At least, we will in a moment. First, I'd like to acknowledge that shaky line between the two, growing blurrier with every volume. A sort of good news, bad news situation.

The bad news — to get that out of the way — is that we cannot easily separate RWBY from its authors and those authors have, sadly, been drawing a lot of negative attention as of late. This isn't anything new, not at all, but I think the unexpectedly long hiatus gave a lot of fans (myself included) the chance to think about Rooster Teeth's failings without getting distracted by their biggest and brightest production. There's a laundry list of problems here — everything from the behavior of voice actors to the quality of their merch — but as a sort of summary issue, I'd like to highlight the reviews that continue to pop up on websites like Glassdoor, detailing the toxic, sexist, crunch-obsessed environment that RT employees are forced to work in. A lot of these websites requires a login to read more than a page of reviews, but you can check out a Twitter thread about it here.

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not bringing this up as a way to shame anyone enjoying RWBY. This isn't a simplistic claim of, "The authors are Problematic™ and therefore you can't like the stuff they produce." Nor is this meant to be a catch-all excuse for RWBY's problems. If it were, I'd have dropped these recaps years ago. I'm of the belief that audiences maintain the right to both praise and criticize the work they're given, regardless of the context in which that work was produced. At the end of the day, RT has presented RWBY as a finished product and, more than that, presents it as an excellent product, one worth both our emotional investment and our money (whether in the form of paying for a First account, or encouraging us to buy merch, attend cons, etc.) I'll continue to critique RWBY as needed, but I a) wanted fans to be at least peripherally aware of these issues and b) clarify that my use of "RT" in statements like, "I can't believe RT is screwing up this badly" is meant to be a broad, nebulas acknowledgement that someone in the company is screwing up, either creatively (doesn't have the skill to write a good scene) or morally (hasn't created an environment in which other creators are capable of crafting a good scene). The real, inner workings of such companies are mostly a secret to their audiences and thus it's near impossible for someone like me — random fan writing these for fun as a casual side hobby — to accurately point fingers. Hence, broad "RT." I just wanted to clarify that when I use this it's as a necessary placeholder for whoever is actually responsible, not a damnation of the overworked animator breaking down in a bathroom. Heavy stuff, but I thought it was necessary (or at least worthwhile) to acknowledge this issue as we head into the second half of the volume.

Now for the good news: RWBY has reached 100 episodes! For any who may not know, 100 is a pretty significant number in the TV world because, when talking about prime time programming, it guarantees syndicated reruns. Basically, networks don't want audiences to get burned out with a show — changing the channel when it comes on because ugh, I've seen this already, recently too — and 100 episodes allows for a roughly five month run without any repeats, making it very profitable. RWBY is obviously not a television show and doesn't benefit from any of this (hell, modern television doesn't benefit from this as much as it used to, not in the age of streaming), but the 100 episode threshold is still ingrained in American culture. Beyond just being a nice, rounded number, it is historically a measure of huge success and I can't imagine that RT isn't aware of that. Regardless of what we think of RWBY's current quality, this is one hell of a milestone and should be applauded.

All that being said... RWBY's quality is definitely still lacking lol.

Our 100th episode is titled "Dark" — keeping with the one word titles, then — and I'd like to emphasize that, as a 100th episode, it definitely delivers in terms of plot. There's plenty of action, important character beats, and at least one major reveal, everything we'd expect from a milestone and a Part II premiere. The animation also continues to be noteworthy for its beauty, as I found myself admiring many of the screenshots I took for this recap. There are certainly things to praise. The only problem (one we're all familiar with by now) is that these small successes are situated within a narrative that's otherwise falling apart. It's all good stuff... provided you ignore literally everything else surrounding it.

But let's dive into some examples. We open on Qrow starting, awoken by the thunder outside. Robyn has been watching him and makes a peppy comment about how none of them will be sleeping tonight, followed by a more serious, "Sounds bad out there." Yeah, it does sound bad, especially when they all know — thanks to Ruby's message back in Volume 7 — that this is due to Salem's arrival. I think a lot of the fandom has forgotten that little detail because people often discuss Qrow as if he is entirely ignorant of what is going on outside his cell. Even if we were to assume that he's forgotten all about the pesky Salem issue (the horror of Clover's death overriding everything else, perhaps) he still knows that Tyrian is running loose in a heat-less city with a creepy storm going on and, from his perspective, the Very Evil Ironwood is still running the show. So it's bad, which begs the question of why Qrow (and Robyn, for that matter) hasn't displayed an ounce of legitimate worry for everyone he knows out there. Thus far, their interactions have centered entirely around Qrow's misplaced blame and Robyn's terrible attempts to lighten the mood, despite the fact that a war is raging right beyond that wall. It's another example of RWBY's inability to manage tone properly, to say nothing of balancing the multiple concerns any one character should be trying to juggle. Just as it rankles that Ruby and Yang don't seem to care about what has happened to their uncle, Qrow likewise doesn't seem to care about what might be happening to his nieces. When did we reach a point where these relationships are so broken that someone can be arrested/chucked into a deadly battle and the others just... ignore that?

So Robyn's otherwise innocuous comment immediately reminds me of how badly the narrative has treated these conflicts and, sadly, things don't improve much from here. We are thankfully spared more of Robyn's jokes when Qrow realizes that what he's hearing can't be thunder. A second later, Cinder blasts through the wall — called it! — and Qrow instinctively transforms.

The only downside to this moment is that the whole ceiling falls down on Qrow and the others because APPARENTLY these cells don't have tops on them. Seriously. As far as I can recall we don't see the stone breaking through the forcefield somehow and this looks pretty open to me.

If it is... you're telling me these crazy powerful fighters who practice landing strategies and leap tall buildings in a single bound —

— can't just hop over this mildly high electric fence to get out? Qrow can't just fly away?

We're, like, two minutes in, folks.

We transfer to Nora's perspective as she wakes up, seeing Klein giving her the IV. He tells her not to worry, that "you and your friend are going to be just fine." What friend? Penny? Klein went upstairs prior to Weiss hugging Whitley or Penny crash landing outside. I had thought them bursting through the door with another unconscious friend was the first time he learned what the big bang outside was, but apparently not.

Penny is, obviously, a mess. While I now understand the choice to make her blood such an eye-catching color when that's crucial to the Hound's hunt, I still think it looks strange visually. Like someone has taken a copy of RWBY and painted over it. It doesn't look like it fits the art style. More than that, it implies some rather complicated things about Penny's humanity, especially in a volume focused around her being a "real girl." Real enough for Maiden powers, but with obviously inhuman blood that isn't even referred to as "bleeding." Penny "leaks" instead.

Toss in the fact that she's literally an android who is made up of tech — recall the running gags about her being heavy, or it hurts to fist-bump her, to say nothing of keeping things like multiple blades inside her body — yet Klein says that her "basic anatomy" is the same and he can "stitch up that wound."

I'm sorry, what? Whatever Penny looks like on the inside, it's not going to resemble a human woman's anatomy, and Klein might be able to stitch the outer layer of skin she's got, but that won't do anything to fix whatever metal bits have been broken underneath. Penny isn't a human-robot hybrid, she's a robot with an aura. Penny has knives in her back, rockets in her feet, and a super computer behind her eyes. When our clip introduced that Klein would be the one to help Penny, my initial reaction was, "Seriously? He's a butler and a doctor and an engineer?" But RWBY didn't even try to get away with a Super Klein explanation, they just waved away Penny's very obvious, inhuman anatomy. Yeah, I'm sure "stitching up" an android wound is just like giving Nora her IV. I hope the surgical sutures he used are extra strong!

In an effort to not entirely drag this episode, I do appreciate that Whitley is allowed an "ugh" moment about the non-blood covering his shirt without anyone calling him out on it. That felt like the sort of thing the show would usually try to make a character feel guilty about and I'm glad that, for once, he was just allowed to be frustrated without comment.

Then the power goes out and May calls, which raises questions about what state the CCTS is in and when scrolls are available to our protagonists vs. when they're not. But whatever. She's checking in because she just "saw another bombing run light up the Kingdom" and —

Wait. Bombing? Salem is bombing the city? I know we've seen explosions in the sky, but I'd always just attributed that to evil aesthetic. Why does this dialogue sound like it's from a World War II film and not a fantasy sci-fi show about literal monsters launching a ground attack?

May looks pretty against the sky though. I like her hair color against that purple.

I'm admittedly grasping at positives here because we finally return to her "You have to choose" ultimatum and — surprise! — May has pulled back completely. Ruby says that once they've helped Penny, "We'll...we'll do something!" which is once again her avoiding making a decision. Ruby still refuses to choose, instead falling back on generic, optimistic pep talks. They'll figure out how to stop Salem later. They'll think about the impact of telling the world later. They'll choose who to help later. Ruby keeps pushing these problems into the future where, she hopes, a perfect, magical solution will have appeared for her to latch onto. When that continues to not happen, others pressuring her to actually do something and stop waiting for perfection — Ironwood, Yang, May — she panics and continues stalling for time. Wait an episode and the narrative supports her in this.

Because initially May was forcing Ruby to decide. Now, May enables her desire to keep putting things off. "Don't beat yourself up, kid. At this point, I don't know how much is left to be done." That's the exact opposite of what May believed last episode, that there was still so much work and good to do for the people of Mantle. This is precisely what the show did with Yang and Ren's scenes too, having people call Ruby out... but then return to a message of, 'Don't worry, you're actually doing just fine' before Ruby is forced to actually change.

None of which even touches on May calling her "kid" in this moment. That continues to be a convenient way of absolving Ruby of any responsibility. When she wants to steal airships or Amity Tower, she's an adult everyone should listen to, the leader of this war. When the story wants to absolve her of previously mentioned flaws, she becomes a kid who shouldn't "beat herself up." I said years ago that RWBY couldn't continue to let the group be both children and adults simultaneously, yet here we are.

So that was a thoroughly disappointing scene. Ruby gets her moment to look sad and defeated, listing "the grimm, the crater, Nora, Penny" as problems she doesn't know how to solve. Note that 'Immortal witch attacking the city I've helped trap here' isn't included in that list. Ruby is still ignoring Salem herself and no one in the group is picking up where May left off, challenging her to do more than wring her hands over things others are already trying to take care of: Ironwood is fighting the grimm, May has gone off to help the crater, Klein is patching up Nora and Penny. Ruby, as one flawed individual, should not be expected to come up with a solution to everything, but she does need to stop acting like she can come up with a solution to everything when it matters most (office scene) and rejecting others' solutions when they ask for her help (Ironwood, May).

If it feels like I'm dragging the flawed, traumatized teenager too much, it's not in an effort to ignore those aspects of her identity. Rather, it's because she's also the licensed huntress who wrested control from a world leader and violently demanded she be put in charge of this battle. Ruby, by her own actions, is now responsible for dealing with these problems, or admitting she was wrong and letting others take the lead, without purposefully derailing their plans. She doesn't get to suddenly go, "I don't know," cry a little, and get sympathetic pats.

But of course that's precisely what happens, courtesy of Weiss.

During this whole scene I kept wondering why no one was celebrating Nora waking up, especially when Ruby outright mentions her. Have they just not noticed given all the Penny drama? Because Nora absolutely woke up.

Aaaand went back to sleep, I guess. What was the point of that POV shot? No worries though, she'll wake up again in a minute.

Willow arrives and announces that they can fix the power (and Penny) using the generator at the edge of the property. I'm convinced RT doesn't actually know what a generator is because the characters are acting like it's some super special device that only richy-rich could possibly have. Whitley says that it's the SDC executives who have their "own power supply" and that it's "extremely unfair." Now, don't get me wrong, a good generator powering large portions of your house can run you 30k+, but you can also get one that plugs into your extension cord and powers your fridge for a couple hundred. There's absolutely a class issue here, just not the one Whitley and Weiss seem to be commenting on. They make a generator sound like the sort of device that only a politician-CEO could possible have and it's weird.

Likely, it sounds weird because it's a choppy way of getting Whitley to bring up the wealth disparity so he can then go, 'That's right! We're crazy rich with a company housing tons of ships! We can use those to evacuate Mantle.' Awkwardness aside, I do like that the Schnee wealth is being used for good purposes, but... evacuate where? To the city currently under attack by a giant whale? In a RWBY that wasn't determined to demonize Ironwood, this would have been a great plot point during the office scene instead, with Weiss offering her services to Ironwood, even if the group decides that a continued evacuation still isn't possible.

Instead, we get it here from Whitley. Do I need to point out the obvious? That Whitley is the MVP of this episode? He's done more good in an HOUR than the group has managed in a year. Give this kid some training and make him a huntsmen instead.

We're given a (very pretty!) shot of the shattered moon because it wouldn't be RWBY if we weren't continually reminded that gods once wiped out humanity before destroying part of a celestial body... and absolutely no one talks about that lol.

Blake's coat might not make any sense for her color scheme, but it does make her easy to spot as she and Ruby run across the grounds. Oh my god, they're actually doing something together! It only took eight years. They even get a lovely talk where Blake admits how much she looks up to Ruby, despite her being younger, and once again I'm struck at how much more I would have loved this scene if it had appeared elsewhere in the series. It is, indeed, as sweet and emotional as all the RWBY GIF-ers are claiming... provided you overlook that this is the exact opposite of what Ruby needs to hear right now. She doesn't need to hear that she's more mature and reliable than her elders when she's functioning under a "We don't need adults" mentality. She doesn't need to hear that not knowing what to do is totally fine, not when that led to her turning on Ironwood, despite not knowing how to stop Salem. She doesn't need to hear that "doing something" — doing anything — is a strength, because Ruby keeps avoiding the big problems for smaller ones she's comfortable with, like standing by Penny's bedside instead of deciding between Mantle and Atlas. Blake's speech is heartfelt, but it's a speech that suits a Beacon days Ruby who is having some doubts about her leadership skills, not the girl whose impulsive — and now lack of — actions is having world-wide repercussions. Everyone is babying Ruby to a staggering degree. It's like if we had a med show where the doctor is standing by the bedside of a coding patient, fretting between two treatments. 'Don't worry,' their colleague says, patting their shoulder. 'I've always looked up to you. You'll do something when you're ready' and then they continue to watch the patient, you know, die.

Also: who does Ruby look up to? Everyone talks about how much they depend on and trust Ruby, but who does Ruby look to for guidance? A number of her problems stem from the fact that she has rejected the advice of everyone who has tried to help her improve: Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, even Yang. Ruby is presented as the pinnacle of what to strive for in a leader, rather than a leader who has only been doing this for two years and still has a great deal to learn.

Anyway, they get the generator on and the Hound shows up.

I am begging RT to just make RWBY a horror story. All their best scenes the last three years have been horror I am bEGGING —

Anyway, while Ruby waits to be eaten we cut to Willow and Klein, the former of which is reaching for her bottle, pulling back, reaching again, all while her hand shakes. This is good. This is what we should have gotten with Qrow. Which isn't to say that their (or anyone's) addiction should be identical, but rather that this is a far more engaging and complex look at addiction than what our birb got. Willow tells us that she doesn't drink in the dark despite bringing the bottle with her; tries to resist drinking when she's scared and ultimately fails. Qrow just decided to stop drinking after decades of addiction, seemingly for no reason, and that was that. Why is a side character we only met this volume written better than one of the main cast?

Blake manages to call Weiss about the Hound and she asks if Whitley can handle the airships without her. I mean, I assume so given that Weiss is looking at the bookshelves while Whitley does all the work lol. He makes a teasing comment about how he can if she can handle that grimm and she comments that they still need to work on his "attitude."

No they don't. Weiss stuck a weapon in her kid brother's face. Whitley made a joke. Even if Weiss' comment is likewise meant to be read as teasing, it's clear that we've bypassed any meaningful conversation between them. That hug was supposed to be a Fix Everything moment even though, as I've laid out elsewhere, it didn't even come close.

We cut back to Ruby getting thrown through a wall into the backyard and the Hound creepily coming after her. She's freaked out by this clearly abnormal grimm and Blake is weirdly... not? "It's just a grimm. Just focus!" Uh, it's obviously not. Have we reached the traumatized, sleep-deprived point where the group is sinking into full-blown denial? I wouldn't be surprised. They've been awake for like... 40+ hours.

Because the Hound knocks Ruby out with a single hit. Just, bam, she's down. "Focusing" is not the solution here.

Weiss calls to warn the others about the grimm, telling them to stick together. Willow (understandably) starts freaking out and flees the room (classic horror trope!). Klein is left alone when Penny wakes up with red eyes. Oh no!

Don't worry. You know nothing meaningful happens.

She shoves Klein before (somehow?) resisting the hack, her Maiden powers going wild in the process. Just when it looks as if Penny might cause some serious damage, Nora wakes up, takes her hand, and says, I kid you not:

"Hey... no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do... It's just a part of you. Don't forget about the rest."

Okay. I want to re-emphasize that I love hopeful, uplifting, victory-won-through-the-power-of-love stories. Istg I'm not dead inside, it's just that RWBY does this so badly. I mean, what is this? It has similarities to the character shouting, 'No! Resist!' to their mind-controlled ally, but this is not presented as a desperate, last-ditch effort by Nora. She just speaks like this is the most obvious truth in the world. If you don't want to have your mind taken over... just don't! It's that simple. The problem definitely isn't that Watts has changed her coding and has implemented a command she can't override, it's that Penny has forgotten about the "rest" of her personhood.

And this works. Granted, not for long, but we leave Nora having successfully calmed Penny down and until her eyes unexpectedly go red again scenes later, we're left assuming that this is a permanent solution. That, imo anyway, is taking the Power of Love too far, overriding the basic reality of Penny being hacked. It’s not a personal failing she must overcome, it’s an external attack. I would have rather had Nora react to the scars she saw on her arm, or have a moment with Klein, or get some love from the group. Not a wakes up, falls asleep, wakes up again to save Penny with a Ruby level 'Just ignore reality' pep-talk, then back to sleep again.

So Penny isn't attacking her allies, or mistakenly hurting her allies with wild Maiden powers. Not that the group doesn't have enough to deal with, but still. Weiss arrives to help with the Hound and attempts a new summon, only to fail when two minor grimm burrow up into her glyphs. I really enjoyed that moment, both for the wing visual and the knowledge that Weiss' glyphs can fail if you break them somehow (which makes sense). Also, I just like that she failed in general? Weiss is, as per usual now, about to demonstrate just how OP she is compared to the rest of the team, so it was nice to see her faltering here.

The Hound tries to make off with Ruby and Blake does an excellent job of keeping it tethered. Ruby finally wakes, only to realize that the grimm is actually after Penny since it's staring at her power up through the window, no longer trying to escape. Moments like this remind me that there's someone on RT's writing team that knows what they're doing, at least some of the time. The assumption that the Hound is after Ruby as a SEW, the surprise that it's actually Penny, realizing it holds up because Ruby is covered in Penny's blood and Blake is not... that's all nice, tight plotting. More of that please!

The Hound drops her and Ruby's aura shatters when she hits the ground. I want everyone to remember this moment as an example of how strong the Hound is. The group may be tired, but unlike YJR they've been sitting around in the Schnee manor for a number of hours, regaining strength. We saw the Hound hit Ruby twice — once through the wall and once to knock her out — and then she falls from a not very high distance for a huntress, yet her aura is toast. That's the level of power and skill the Hound possesses. Decimating YJR, knocking Oscar out, same for Ruby, avoiding Blake and Weiss' hits, soon to treat Penny like a ragdoll. Just remember all this for the episode's end.

Blake tells Weiss she'll take care of Ruby, you go help the others. Yay breaking up the duos more! Bad timing though as the new acid-spitting grimm pops out of the ground and Blake is now left alone to face it.

Weiss re-enters the mansion, knowing the Hound is somewhere nearby, but not where. Suddenly, Willow's voice sounds through her scroll with an, "Above you!" which... doesn't keep Weiss from getting hit lol. But it's the thought that counts! Willow has accessed the cameras she's set up throughout the manor, watching the Hound's movements, and I have to say, that is a WAY better use of her separation from Klein than I thought we were getting. I legit thought they'd have Willow run away in a panic, meet the Hound, die, and then Weiss could be sad about losing her mom.

It does say something about RWBY's writing that this was my knee-jerk theory, as well as my surprise when we got something way better.

The Hound runs off, uninterested in Weiss, and she asks Willow to keep tabs on it. It heads for Whitley next (also covered in Penny's blood) and very creepily stalks him in the office with a, "I know you're here." Whitley is seconds away from being Hound chow before one of Weiss' boars pin it against the wall. He runs, then runs BACK to finish deploying the airships, before finally escaping assumed death. Goddamn this boy is pulling his weight.

I assume all these ships are automated then? I hope someone takes a moment to call May. Otherwise it's going to be super weird for the Mantle citizens if a fleet of SDC ships just show up and hover there...

I don't entirely understand how Weiss saved him though. She's nowhere to be seen when Whitley leaves and he runs a fair distance before he and Willow encounter Weiss again. We know her summons don't have to keep right next to her, but are they capable of rudimentary thought, attacking an enemy — and an enemy only — despite Weiss being a couple corridors down and unable to see the current battlefield? I don't know. In another series I'd theorize that this was a deliberate hint, a way to clue us into the fact that Willow, someone who we currently know almost nothing about, had training in the past and summoned the boar herself. Weiss and Winter certainly didn't get that hereditary skill from Jacques. Hell, we might still get that, Weiss reacting with confusion next episode when Whitley thanks her for the boar, but I doubt it. That scene with Ruby and the Hound aside, the show isn't this good at laying groundwork and then following up on it.

Case in point: Weiss says, "I didn't forget you" to Whitley after he gets away from the Hound, the moment trying to harken back to her promise to Willow. Key word is "trying." Because she absolutely forgot him! Weiss threatened and ignored Whitley until he proved his usefulness. I also shouldn't need to point out that, "Don't forget your brother" does not mean, "Don't let your brother die a horrible death by abnormal grimm." Weiss acts like her saving him is a fulfillment of her promise, rather than just the most basic of human decency. And also, you know, her job.

So that part is frustrating. The entire Schnee dynamic is a mess, from Weiss making a joke of her father's arrest, to Willow (presumably) fixing their relationship by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Okay.

Then Weiss cuts off the Hound by summoning a giant wall of ice. My brain, every time this happens:

YOU COULD HAVE FIXED THE HOLE IN MANTLE'S WALL.

Moving on, Blake's fight against the acid... thing has some great choreography, including Blake using her semblance which we haven't seen in AGES.

I really like the fight itself, just not what Blake is shouting the whole time. "I need you, Ruby! We all need you!" This has really gotten ridiculous. Ruby is presented as everyone's sole savior despite failing time and time again. It's not that I don't think Blake as a character should have faith in her leader, it's that I don't think the writers should be crafting a story where everyone puts their unshakable hopes in an untrained, disloyal, impulsive 17 year old. I mean, Ruby is currently unconscious, yet Blake is acting like if she doesn't wake up — she, as an individual, if Ruby Rose does not re-join this fight — then all is lost. If Ruby doesn't save them, no one can. Which is, of course, absurd on numerous levels. Blake doesn't need the passed out, aura-less Ruby right now, she needs the still very healthy Weiss pulling out multiple summons and an ice wall! Use your scroll and call for backup again.

But of course, Ruby wakes up and kills the new, terrifying grimm with a single hit. It's a preview of what's to come with the Hound and it's just as ridiculous here as it will be there.

Speaking of the Hound, am I the only one who thought this was... cute?

I can't possibly be the only one. That head-tilt is exactly what my dogs do and my brain instinctively went, "Aww, puppy!"

Murderous puppy.

The Hound realizes none of the Schnees are who it's looking for and runs off. Penny, meanwhile, has been fully taken over because, well, that's just what's convenient now. She resists long enough keep Amity up, then succumbs, then resists to apologize to Ruby, then succumbs, then resists because Nora asked her to, then succumbs once it's time to knock her out. If RWBY was willing to commit to consequences, Penny would have been taken over and that was that. The characters would need to deal with whatever outcome happens as a result. Instead, the show very carefully avoids any of those pesky consequences by having Penny successfully resisting at key moments, despite no explanation of how she's managing that.

She shoves Klein again (Klein is having a Bad Time) and starts walking down the main steps. When Whitley wants to know where the hell she's going, Penny mechanically responds that she must "Open the vault, then self-destruct." I suppose the change Watts made was the self-destruct order? Ironwood obviously wants the vault open, though not necessarily Penny's death. Think what you will of his moral compass, she's a damn powerful ally — a research project, perhaps — and a Maiden to boot. At the very least, her death may give the powers to someone even worse.

God, please don't let them have brought Penny back and made her a Maiden just to kill her again.

The Hound arrives though and, as said, knocks Penny out. We're back to square one with her, then. Note though that this attack is near instantaneous. She grabs its hands one second, is hanging limply the next. Wow, the Hound sure is a terrifying antagonist!

Not for long.

"That's enough," Ruby says and one-shots it with her eyes.

Now, I want to talk for a moment about the implications of that line. "That's enough." Obviously Ruby is #done with this situation and emotionally unwilling to let the Hound kidnap Penny (congratulations, Nuts and Dolts shippers), but there's a meta reading here as well. Not intentional, but glaring to me nonetheless. Basically, the idea that the Hound has, from a plot perspective, done enough. It has served its singular purpose. It kidnapped Oscar and now it dies. Never-mind how insanely powerful we've established the Hound to be, never-mind how Ruby's eyes also work or don't work according to whether anything of actual import is on the line. From a plot perspective "that's enough" and the Hound can be disposed of instantly. It got Oscar and gave us an episode of filler creepiness. Move along now.

The idea behind Ruby's eyes isn't bad, but the execution absolutely is. RT has undermined a huge portion of the stakes by giving their protagonist an instant kill-shot that always works precisely when she needs it to. Starting with the Apathy, we have yet to get a moment where Ruby's eyes fail to save the day when she really needs them to, no matter how incredible the challenge. The Hound was very intentionally written to be a grimm outside of the group's current power level. It thinks, it talks, they literally can't touch it. This creates the expectation that the group will need to grow stronger — or at least become smarter — in order to surmount this new obstacle, yet Ruby's eyes undermine all of that. The group hasn't grown in years, the show just makes enemies weaker as needed (Ace Ops), or has Ruby pull out her eyes as a trump card. It wouldn't be that bad if we'd at least gotten a good battle out of it, one where the group gets close to defeating the Hound on their own, but needs Ruby's eyes to finish it off. Instead, she literally walks up without any aura, announces to the audience that this antagonist's time is up, and blasts it out a window.

Granted, Ruby's eyes don't completely finish it. The Hound pulls itself to its feet and we see this.

Yup, that's a guy and yup, those are silver eyes.

I would like to issue a formal apology to the "It's secretly Summer!" theorists in the fandom. I mean, I still think it would be ridiculous (and at this point highly improbable) that Ruby's dead mother has actually been a grimm mutant this whole time, just hanging out in Salem's realm while she waits for the plot to start before attacking the world, and then sends some no-name faunus dude after the group instead of their leader's mother for extra, emotional torture... but you all were definitely right about the “It's a person” part! I... don't know how I feel about this. Admittedly, it seems to be a logical continuation of the other grimm-human hybrids we've seen — namely Cinder and Salem herself — and it finally explains why Salem wants Ruby alive (even though it actually doesn't because WHY did she want more SEWs for Hound grimm when she wasn't even attacking back then? And already has all these other insanely powerful tools??), but at the same time, it feels like it's complicating a story that doesn't need further complications. The group fights monsters and has an immortal enemy. You don't need to add 'Some of those monsters are secretly human' to the mix.

It doesn't hurt that this twist is giving me Attack on Titan vibes, which, ew. A dark time in my fandom life, folks.

The Hound staggers a few steps before Whitley and Willow dump a suit of armor on it. That's all it takes to kill the most dangerous grimm we've ever seen: a single flash of silver eyes and some heavy metal. This also wreaks havoc with the implication that Salem wants SEWs alive because they create such powerful grimm. Obviously not. I mean yeah, normal huntsmen are going to have serious problems, we’ve seen that this volume, but any other SEWs nearby will take a Hound out instantaneously. For a villain with so many other powerful abilities — immortality, magic, endless normal grimm, her nifty soup — Salem would be much better served just killing SEWs straight out. Clearly, creating Hounds isn't worth the effort.

The Hound leaves some bones behind and Ruby collapses to her knees, overcome with the knowledge that this was once a person. Again, uncomfortable Attack on Titan parallels.

We finish our premiere with Cinder clearing away rubble to reveal Watts. Honestly, I like that we ended on this because her rescue is hilarious. She just slings him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and blasts off with her magic fire feet. Fantastic.

Note though that with this scene we've seen almost everything from the clip and the trailer. What's to come in the rest of Volume 8? No idea. Outside of Winter leading the charge with the bomb, we got it all here.

Time to update the bingo board!

I'm crossing off "Introducing new grimm that are quickly abandoned." Between the Hound and acid-dude both falling to a single blast/cut from Ruby, we've more than earned this square.

It doesn't look as if we'll get another Watts-Jacques team-up now that he's left, but you never know.

Maria's got me worried. I feel like her Yoda fight against Neo is the one thing she'll be allowed to do this volume, but given that we didn't see anyone except Ruby's group this episode, we don't yet know whether the story is now ignoring her and Pietro, or if they'll re-appear in another episode like YJR.

Qrow is free. Will he get a drink before trying to murder Ironwood? Perhaps.

Still no bingo :(

All in all, the episode was by no means horrible. I think there were lots of horrible parts, but also some legitimately well executed moments, fun action, and scenes that I can easily imagine as squee worthy if you lean back and squint. Everything is comparative and in the growing collection of bad RWBY episodes, this one isn't securing a top slot. Which doesn't mean I think it's good, just... not as bad as it could have been and primarily only bad due to long-running problems, not things this specific episode has done. That's my bar then, so low it has officially entered the underworld.

Still, RWBY is back and a part of me is eager to see where this volume takes us, for better or for worse.

Until next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby dark

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

Text

Life of a High School Vampire One-Shots 6 One Night Stand

WARNING! This chapter will include alcohol use and implied sexual content. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

**************** Summary: After a high school drinking session, Kai is trying to slip out on his one-night stand when his date wakes up needy, but he quickly gets clarification on what real neediness looks like... ****************

Kai groaned in pain as the morning sun peaked through the curtains and into his closed eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep when his ears and brain were filled with the loud, annoying sounds of dozens of birds chirping loudly. His head was still banging from last night, it felt like someone was using his head like a drum and using ice picks from the drumsticks. He could hardly remember anything about last night. The last thing he could remember was Lloyd dragging him and a reluctant Jay out for the night.

All the schools in the city were gathering together for tournaments and some of the older ones were going out drinking, something Lloyd all but bullied his teammates into.

After that everything was a blank. Groaning, Kai sat up in his bed and he rubbed his sore head and tired eyes. He was never drinking alcohol again. As he opened his eyes, however, he made a disturbing discovery. This wasn't his dorm room. Looking around, he nearly screamed when he saw a strange man fast asleep in the same bed. The man had dark skin with shaggy, raven hair, bushy eyebrows and was snoring loudly. He was so muscular, that Kai thought he was in one of the sports teams that showed up last night.

That is until he saw a sweater from the uniform for the boarding school known as Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts.

Kai didn't care about that, however, as he quickly backed off the bed, falling to the floor with a heavy thud and taking the covers with him. It was then he saw that they were both completely naked, with their clothes scattered around the room. Kai also took note that everything below his waist was aching, but he hoped that that was just from him falling off the bed. Unfortunately, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't a virgin and had been with both men and women, so he knew what that pain was.

As he got to his feet, Kai looked around the room and found a student lanyard with a badge.

On the badge was a picture of the man, showing his soft green eyes and his name; Cole Brookstone. That was when everything came rushing back to Kai. He remembered going to the bar with Lloyd, Jay, and dozens of other students from other schools. He remembered meeting Cole when he left on his own and they started talking. He remembered Cole confessing all his problems at home, school, and with his widowed father to the young vampire as they both got drunker and drunker.

Thankfully, Kai wasn't drunk enough to tell Cole he was a vampire.

The brunette looked the human over again and blushed when he fully took in Cole's body and sized. When his eyes reached Cole's feet, he burst out laughing when he saw it. However, the sound caused Cole to groan and Kai panicked. His instincts suddenly kicked in, telling him to either bite the sleeping man before he woke up and alerted other humans, or hide and escape before he got discovered. Kai quickly dove under the bed, trying not to gag at the hills of dirty laundry and take-out boxes, and waited.

Luckily Cole didn't wake up and soon started snoring again.

Not that the human would probably believe him anyway. Once he was sure his one-night stand was still asleep, Kai carefully crawled out from under the messy bed and started getting dressed. As he collected his clothes from around the room, he found large dumbells, many types of vinyl of soft rock, and dozens of CDs scattered around a large boom box. He also found a few framed pictures of Cole with what Kai assumed to be his friends and father.

He wouldn't be shocked if Cole turned out to be sarcastic and possessed a strong passion for music and exercise.

What shocked the vampire was a picture that showed Cole outside a concert hall with Jay, his and Lloyd's roommate. Kai wondered if should ask Jay about this strange conscious, but he decided not to. It wasn't like he was ever going to see this Cole person after he left. Just as he grabbed his bag, Cole groaned again and started waking up. Kai considered making a break for it but thought against it. He was curious to see how much this Cole remembered and what he thought about Kai.

After a few minutes of waiting, Cole's eyes slowly blinked open, only to cry out and jump when he saw Kai standing in the doorway in all his Gothic glory.

It took a few seconds for the human to fully wake up and calm down, and Kai could hear his racing heart return to a normal pace.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were a ghost or something." Cole gulped as he stifled a yawn and sat up. It was clear to Kai now that Cole did indeed remember what happened between them last night, and that just made this more awkward to the vampire.

"You're sweet." He replied before adjusting his bag and turned to leave.

"Wait! You're taking off already?!" Cole shouted after him in confusion and hurt, causing Kai to stop and turn back to him.

"I didn't want to rouse you, you were resting in peace." He shrugged, figuring that if Cole wanted him to stay then he would creep the human out so much he would run for the hills, just like all the others.

"Yeah, sorry if those birds woke you up, they're like the worst." Cole chuckled lightly and glanced out the opened window as the birds continued to chirp. How anyone could sleep through that was beyond Kai. An awkward silence filled the bedroom until Cole cleared his throat. "Well, before you go, do you think I could get your, uh, get your number?" he asked with a nervous blush, catching Kai off guard.

"Why do you want my phone number?" He asked. Humans always either avoided him or mocked him, not ask for his phone number. The only ones who spoke to him on a near-daily basis were Jay and Lloyd, but that only because they shared a dorm room together.

"I don't know, so I could call you or something?" Cole replied in confusion.

"I don't really use a cell phone." Kai shrugged, not lying. When they found out he didn't have a phone, Lloyd got him one and had already put his and Jay's numbers in it, without the ginger teen's permission, saying that a phone was a necessity in a teenager's life. But Kai didn't believe that so he often left his phone at the dorm, just like he did last night.

"Cool, yeah, I don't want to be a prisoner to technology either... so that's awesome, I guess." Cole chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it just made things more awkward. "So I take it that you're not online either?"

"No," Kai replied harshly. The thing he hated more than humans were their dependence on social media. There were too many disadvantages of social networking. It caused a lack of emotional connection, gave humans a license to be hurtful, decreased face-to-face communication skills, conveyed inauthentic expression of feelings, diminished understanding and thoughtfulness, and caused face-to-face interactions to feel disconnected. This response just made Cole even more uncomfortable, which is what Kai wanted.

"Oookay, um, so how can I get in contact with you?" The noirette asked.

"I have an email address; inmemoryofKaiSmith ." He replied, trying to hide a smirk as Cole process that.

"That makes it sound like you're dead." He laughed.

"I like to plan ahead." Kai shrugged, but to his annoyance, this only seemed to make Cole more eager.

"Alright, so I'll email you then." He smiled at the brunette.

"Do you really wanna see me again?" Kai asked, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of anger, frustration, and confusion as Cole's insistence.

"Yeah, Kai, of course! I mean, I like you." He admitted with a blush, and Kai was horrified when he felt his own cheeks heat up with his own blush. "You're not like other guys I've seen in Ninjago."

"That's accurate." He smiled weakly, but he still didn't like the fact this human wouldn't take a hint.

"D-Do you like me?" Cole suddenly asked, soundly slightly worried but hopeful, but Kai saw this as another chance to get rid of the teen.

"You're alive, aren't you?"

"Yes?"

"You're welcome," Kai smirked as Cole paled slightly. He could tell this human was different from all the others he had met and it might be fun to see him again. "I'll find you when I'm ready to see you." He added as he grabbed his bag again and made to leave once more.

"B-But you don't have any of my contact information!" Cole exclaimed.

"Don't worry, you won't be hard to track down."

"Let me at least walk you out." Cole offered as sat up some more to get up.

"I appreciate the gesture, but your chains don't reach that far." Kai grinned mischievously and started walking again. Cole frowned in confusion and he made to get up, only to freeze when he felt something on both his ankles. He ripped the covers away and gasped when he saw a pair of thick, metal shackles on them and chains connected to them to the bed. Cole looked up again to ask Kai what was going on, but the brunette was long gone.

Before Cole could think of what to do next, a bone-chilling banshee-like shriek filled the air outside the bedroom window, followed by the birds going crazy and a sickening crunch.

All was silent after that. There were no birds, no people, or cars driving past for a few seconds before they returned. All except the birds annoying chirping. He just shrugged it off as a cat or two attacking and scaring the birds away. Cole sat in his bed for a few minutes as shock, fear, and excitement filled him. He couldn't explain it, but something about Kai thrilled him and he couldn't wait to see the brunette again. If he ever got out of these chains, however.

With a heavy sigh, Cole grabbed his phone off the bedside table and called a locks smith.

This was going to be hard to explain...

#Life of a High School Vampire #ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #lavashipping #ninjago jay #ninjago lloyd

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yeenybeanies · 3 years

Text

Robotics and Dentistry

happy new year! this piece is part of a few writings i’ve done in a lil crossover between doom and transformers that @that-prey-lounge & i have been talking about for a while now

setback ( transformers oc ) & the doom slayer / william ( doom )

2,013 words

language warnings, mild mentions of gore, some mouth exploration

thanks for reading!! reblogs > likes!!

“ How the hell did you get something stuck in there? Isn’t your diet liquid? ”

“ It is, yes, but I— “ Setback frowned and tightened his jaw, though it only further irritated the pain in his mouth. This was an embarrassing predicament he’d gotten himself into, and couldn’t get himself out of alone. “ I got frustrated, and I bit a demon’s head off, ” he muttered.

Will stared at him for a long moment, giving him a hard deadpan. Setback returned it in kind, refusing to break under the humiliation. This, unfortunately, was not the first time he’d used his teeth to finish off an adversary—squishy or otherwise. It wasn’t a common tactic he employed, mind, but sometimes the situation called for a swift, decisive crunch to conclude things.

“ Does it hurt? ”

“ It’s bothersome. ” Yes, it hurt, but he didn’t want to admit it so easily––not with Will looking at him like that. “ Are you going to help me or not? ” The mech pushed a sharp huff through his vents. He had half a mind to disregard Will and deal with the pain himself. Surely whatever fleshy bit stuck in his teeth would rot away eventually. In the grand scheme of things, it’d only be a minor pain for an insignificant amount of time.

“ That’s fucking nasty. ” The human grimaced, but he clearly found some humor in the situation as well. He waved his hand, gesturing his consent to be lifted. “ Let me see. I’ll get it out for you. ”

It was nasty. Not only the feeling, but the sound of flesh crunching and tearing between his teeth still lingered, fresh, in Setback’s memory. He wrinkled his nose, but bent forward and brought his hand down to gently sweep the human off of his feet. He regarded him with a hard stare, as if warning him to keep his amusement in check. Its success was debatable at best. Setback found himself hesitating, even as he brought Will nearer to his face.

“ Well? ” Will swatted the tip of Setback’s nose, making him huff. He started to open his mouth, but he’d only just parted his lips when Will all but lept in, pushing past his incisors and canines. Setback grunted in surprise, jaw jerking down to accommodate the sudden presence.

Oh, he did not care for this.

Putting demons in his mouth was nasty, as Will had pointed out, but war brought out terrible things in people. Biting demons in half was one thing. Humans, however, were a different story—or this human, at least. Biting down on Will, or harming him in any capacity, was the last thing Setback wanted to do.

“ Jesus Christ… I didn’t know you actually had individual teeth. ” Will laid prone on the mech’s tongue, waist deep in his mouth, and studied his surroundings. Setback had dentition remarkably similar to a human’s, which Will found surprising. While all teeth were ( obviously ) larger, there were unmistakably molars, incisors, and some rather long, sharp canines. “ What the hell are these for? I have never once seen you chew anything. ”

Setback flinched a little at the thump to his lower right canine that followed. He tried to speak, but quickly realized that he couldn’t form any words around the human in his mouth. Will chuckled at the attempt nonetheless. The deep, growling voice so close, echoing around him, felt funny.

“ Yuhh hurry uh, ” the mech grumbled—or tried to.

“ Damn—you have li’l lights in here too? ” Will pulled himself further into Setback’s mouth. Luckily for the both of them, giant alien robots don’t have gag reflexes, so, while it was an odd sensation to feel tiny, human hands rubbing at the back of his throat—presumably at the biolights there—it wasn’t one that was going to make Setback hurl. It did, however, chip away at his already waning patience.

“ Ui’yuhh— “

“ Do they go all the way down? What’s the point of—hey! ” Setback pinched the human’s lower leg between two digits and unceremoniously pulled him out, dangling him upside down in front of his face. A string of oral fluid dripped from him. The mech levelled Will with a glare.

“ You are not helping, William. ”

Will looked up at his captured leg, and then met Setback’s glare, unbothered. “ I’m looking. Gotta find the damn thing. Let me back in. ” A smirk crossed his features. No doubt he was feeling a little smug about being needed.

“ Top right. Towards the back. ” He scrunched his nose and squinted at the human. Will was enjoying this. For what reason, he couldn’t figure out. Nevertheless, Setback opened his mouth and lowered him back in. He set him down with his back to his tongue, and leveled his head so Will could adjust his position himself.

The irritant, as he’d said, was lodged between his top, back molars. Will, now with direction, quickly found it and gave it an experimental tug. Even just a minor jostling of the tender area sent a twinge of pain into his circuits, and made him growl softly around the human.

Will felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound—or perhaps it was the sound itself that vibrated through his bones.

“ Looks like a piece of… I dunno, rib? I’m gonna pull on it; I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bite my arm off. ”

Setback hummed in response and locked his jaw in place. While he did trust his own conscious control, it didn’t hurt to add the extra safety measure for Will’s sake. Will pulled himself almost fully into the mech’s mouth, gripped onto the debris with both hands, and planted a boot against the hard palate for extra leverage. He gave a short countdown so Setback could brace himself––not that he’d thank him for such a courtesy––and gave a hard yank. The debris didn’t come free immediately. Will had to twist and wiggle and shake it, loosening it from between Setback’s teeth. The growling gradually grew louder, more intense, until it ended in a sharp grunt right in time with Will falling backwards on his tongue, the dislodged remains clutched in his hands. Setback closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a sigh. The mechanisms in his jaw groaned as the strain against the locked joint eased.

Will gave the slick, metal tongue beneath him a pat. “ There ya go, big guy. Feel better? ” He tossed the offending bone out, but made no moves yet to remove himself from Setback’s mouth. Instead, his attention returned to the teeth between which the bone was stuck. “ Doesn’t still hurt, does it? ” With hands much more tender, he rubbed along the sockets the teeth settled in—gums? They’d be gums, he supposed, though the words “ robot gums ” sounded strange in his mind.

The touch was not pleasant. The first rub agitated the soreness, and the second did so only marginally less. After the third rub, Setback growled a noise of protest. His tongue bucked under the human, pushing him up and towards his mouth opening, but Will blocked himself in, a hand and foot braced against the back of an upper and lower incisor.

“ Wait—hold on. ”

“ Hnn? Uah? ”

All of these new sights and sounds had Will so curious, so fascinated. Surely there could be no downside to knowing more of the anatomical workings of his Cybertronian companion.

“ Let me look around a bit more. This is all new territory. ”

Setback made a disapproving sound and gave Will another nudge, but the human kept himself stuck.

“ C’mon! You already let me explore all over your outside. I wanna check your cool-ass teeth out some more. ” Though he knew Setback couldn’t see him, he still made a puppy dog face—the same one he’d make whenever he sought the mech’s reluctant cooperation. “ Think of it as me learning more about you so I’ll be able to help more in the future. Or you could think of this as an exercise in how to be careful with me. ”

Setback rolled his eyes. He was careful with Will. He even had half a mind to argue—if his mouth weren’t currently full—that Will had admonished him for being too cautious with him on multiple occasions.

However, despite Setback’s reservations, and his suspicion that Will was just looking for excuses to continue his exploration, he found some merit in said excuses. With a heavy sigh, both reluctant and exasperated, the mech relaxed his tongue under Will. He could have his fun, if only for a little bit.

Will wasted no time. He laid back on the tongue and put both hands to the roof of Setback’s mouth. The fluid coating the mouth interior was slick to the touch, and made everything slippery. His hands glided along the palate in vague circular motions, feeling over the smooth metal. They then drifted back to the gums, this time on the opposite side from the sore spot, and traced the seams along the teeth. Fingers followed the seam from molars to incisors, and back to Setback’s upper left canine. To put things simply, it was a big fucking canine. Will estimated that it must have been six or seven inches long. He tested the tip’s sharpness on the heel of his hand, then did the same with the cusps on a molar.

“ Why do you have such big teeth? ”

The tongue shifted under him. Setback hummed, but, with Will occupying his mouth, he couldn’t offer anything of any coherence.

Looking to the outside, Will found amusement in how the teeth resembled stalactites and stalagmites, how it looked and felt sort of like he was spelunking in a cave. In a way, he sort of was. He twisted himself so he was back on his stomach, unbothered by the slime coating his clothing and skin, and crawled his way further into the slick cavern.

Setback was finding it bizarre, to say the least, to have Will––or anyone, really––rummaging around in his mouth. The taste was inoffensive, but the feeling was strange. It took a good bit of willpower not to shudder at the sensation of those little hands poking and prodding and rubbing around in there.

It also brought him some level of mental discordance. Most things that went in his mouth were either fuel or foes. Will was neither. Will was… a friend. Will was his only friend in this damned solar system.

And his friend was in his mouth, arguably in a very dangerous place. Yet, he was perfectly safe. That much Setback would ensure. He would not harm this human.

“ What would happen if you swallowed me? ”

Setback blinked. “ …huh? ”

Will gave his tongue a final pat, then pushed his way out of the mech’s mouth feet-first, right into his awaiting hands. He wore a pleased grin on his face as he shook his arms free of some of the goop.

“ I think I could fit. Where’s your fuel go when you drink? You’ve got some sort of stomach-thing, right? Or tank? ”

Now that he was free to do so, Setback unlocked his jaw and flexed it, working out the stiffness. The absurdity of the question was starting to sink in, slowly but surely.

“ I have a tank, yes…. Multiple tanks where energon is stored until it can be pumped where it is needed. ” Setback regarded the human with a dubious look. He did not like this line of questioning. “ Before you ask: no. I will not swallow you. ”

“ You say that now. ” Will’s grin took a turn for the smug.

“ I do say that now, ” Setback said. He scowled down at Will. “ I think we’re done here. ” Will started to protest, but Setback took a knee and lowered his hands to deposit him on the floor. Then came the pouting.

“ You’re welcome, ” he said. His indignation was light, but present. Setback rolled his eyes.

“ Thank you, William. ” He placed the tip of his index finger to the human’s chest and gave him a gentle shove, pushing him a step back. “ Go clean yourself off. ”

“ What if you just close your mouth with me in there? ”

“ William–– ”

“ What if I say ‘ pretty please ’ ? ”

“ Go. ”

#tf #doom #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t tf #g/t doom #setback #doom slayer #hyena writes #hyena ocs

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madonnanera · 3 years

Text

Cathartic Castration

This process can be for men and women. I must do a lot of heavy reflections on how I would engage in castrating and emasculating a woman…

Why would I want to emasculate you? I can assure you it’s not because I hate men. My intentions are not to pussify you and turn you into a wet towel. If anything I want you to become even more of a man through the process. I am not going to literally cut your dick off. The castration process can go two ways. For the hypersexual, hyperfeminine, chaotic man. And for the overly masculine identifying man that has lost touch with his sensitivity, and intuition.

There are a few men in this world that I daydream about locking them in a room and torturing them and cutting their dicks off. I have a horrific one that makes me wet, and I will tell one story.

This was a lazy trick I was fucking with online. In prison. Ironically his screen name was “Black God.” I fucking hate this guy, yet my detest for him simultaneously turned me on. I couldn’t understand at first; Why I felt comfortable and open. He’s a fucker though. He caught me when I was at a low point in my sex-work. I was so bitter and publicly ferocious because of my consistent maltreatment and lack of appreciation from the men I was advertising my work to. He saw my rants and smooth-talked his way through. He allowed me to vent and made me feel like he was earnest. Yet all he continued to question me about was all my sexual perversions and escapades. He wanted to know how young I was when I first started feeling sexual, all of my partners and experiences, and how many people I fucked in a day with work. I shared. It seemed like he wanted to get an idea of why I was the way I was. Mind you, this nigga only gave me $14 total. The exact amount I needed to pay the rest of my groceries and get an Uber. Talking about how he wants me to be his wife, yeah right. Always flashing and showing his gigantic and I dare say gorgeous dick on the screen. I hated him. I hated his soft feminine baby-talking voice. I spazzed on him one day because of money. He owned me for my rent but dipped. When he returned he said I can’t be calling his phone like that because he is in prison. And proceeded to fuck me for the last time. I was so angry after; at him, at myself for being turned on with disgust. I never spoke to him again. But the revelation I came to at my orgasm leads me into the domination work I do now. It awoke my goddess so vivaciously I had no choice but to listen.

I had a dream. A nightmare really but I wasn’t scared. I just felt overwhelmed with my power. Horrified at the scene that my subconscious projected. I had him in my dungeon. Strapped to a wooden chair, plated in metal. It looked real medieval and dark web in that dungeon. He was strapped, gagged, and fucking terrified. His nipples were clamped and pierced through with rusted nails since he loved playing with his nipples. And his dick? I lacerated that shit. For that one, he was not gagged. I wanted to hear him cry like a little bitch and beg for mercy. I cleaved his balls, poured hot oil over his body and his penis. He was so proud of how big he was I attempted to tie it into a knot. His muscle tore halfway through though...oops. And then I proceeded to splice.

I looked him in the eye the whole time. Laughing manically, Turned on by the blood. “You don’t deserve a dick. I barely believe you should roam the earth. But since you shall, you will go about it a sad bitch. You emasculated yourself your whole life. I am simply just finishing the job for you.”

I tried to preserve most of the grueling details. Knowing this happened in the astral put a smile on my face. I had cast a spell I do not regret. I felt lighter though as if I sealed up loose ends from a past life. This is not the castration I plan on doing. Note I say “cathartic”. Pain will be involved of course. But I really rather you learn from this pain and instigate your rebirth. Assist you in releasing the bounds that keep you from crying in your daily life, that keep you from being vulnerable, that keep you from finding a good and earnest woman, to help you release the bitterness you may have towards your father or mother. Or if you've been overusing your dick, and to help release your own personal shames you have towards your sexuality and personhood.

I want to look you in the eye during the process. Watching you drop between pleasure and pain. Ego inflation and deflation. Only if you’re up for the challenge. I pray for your breakthrough. It’s done out of love.

A perfect candidate for this process is RKelly. Someone who let his perversions and shame gets the best of him in excess. Too feminine and lost in his own chaos.

Alotta men these days are playin with their dicks, lost wanting to return back to the womb, confused looking for love and union. Yet they’ve damned themselves from the start.

Depending on your circumstances, you may have the blessed opportunity to undergo Chastity Training with me. This is a promise for my new devotees. As my dutiful submissive you will be locked up physically or metaphysically. You will be taught a series of techniques such as semen retention, breathing techniques, and overall discipline. It will be detox and a symbol of your abstinence from sexual excess. This is to get to your mind. Depending on your circumstances this will be done in intervals, and over various lengths of time. You will realign with the true divine purpose of your phallus, with your inner divine feminine, and hopefully, become remasculated and chivalrous.

#lmk what you think #mine #notes #dominawork

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into-crazy · 4 years

Text

More to the Madness Pt. 9

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: You see J's bare face for the first time before helping him carry out his attack on the Mayor.

Warnings- Cursing, mentions of violence & murder, incorporated elements from TDK, a dash of J being self-conscious about his scars

I'll admit, that last warning was a bit of a challenge. I might've ruined everything with this & got it all wrong, although I sure hope not. Also, I'd like to add(because I freaking CAN) that I personally adore his scars💜 I find them beautiful, attractive, and sexy as hell

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

7:01 am

You read the time on the wall clock in the empty apartment that belonged to some man named Melvin White. The late commissioner Loeb's memorial service will start soon. Mayor Garcia is scheduled to speak in precisely 2 hours, on the street right outside this very building. Everything's falling into place. Joker and his henchmen had successfully kidnapped the Ceremonial police. Stripped the officers of their guns and uniforms in order to infiltrate the ceremony. This is really happening. Joker's going to assassinate the Mayor.

Your eyes shift to watch J, standing over by the officers- bound and gagged to a sturdy structure inside the residence. Terrified, the men are drenched in sweat, shaking in their restraints. Neither try to mumble or attempt to free the binds in fear of getting themselves killed. Little do they know that's not on the agenda. Still, their frightened state entertains J. That is obvious.

The only one's in full attire in the room are you and J. His men were previously instructed to ditch the clown masks. The area is on a high watch alert, no use in having some amateur blow the job if they're easily spotted. Even though it wasn't negotiable, you're the only exception. Given your stealth skills and the couple lookouts perched down the hall.

The henchmen gather together in their disguises while J is now peering through a telescope onto the street. Angling the scope in a spot to his liking as he mumbles quietly to himself. You slip close beside him, leaning on the frame, glancing down in search of what he's looking for. Which is difficult considering the blind is lowered halfway. Without interrupting his train of thought, you patiently wait. There's no denying that the way he works fascinates you. Given his nature, he can be very precise when it comes to certain things. Since this is a situation which requires precision, he delivers impressively well.

Finally, he gives a soft hum, "annnd.. right there." Still peeking through the lens, he removes his hand from the scope, waving it in a gimmie motion towards whoever's presence he felt next to him. "Timer." You grab the small timepiece put off to the side, placing it in his hand. "Thanks a bunch doll." He gave with a appreciative tug of his lip upwards.

You didn't respond. Instead you caught the gazes of the henchmen looking in your direction. Couple relatively new faces, observing how close in proximity you stood by the Joker. Clearly the sight was unusual to them, like they'd never seen anyone comfortable enough to be within a 6 foot reach by J. Let alone a woman, currently perched the mere inches you were beside him. Intrigued as you are. They didn't have to say what they were thinking, you knew from the judgment flickering of their eyes- what the hell is wrong with her?

That doesn't bother you. Why should it? Why would you care what they think of you? The cowards. You're also not going to let them belittle you. If you let that happen, they're going to think it's okay. That you're too weak to do anything about it. Too weak to stand up for yourself.

Raising your chin, you stare down back at them. Daring them to say what they're too scared to admit directly to your face. You don't need J to stand in and protect you. You can do that on your own, no problem.

Come on. Come over here and say it to my face you fucking cowards.

As expected, they don't. Your message was received. They get right on with the job without throwing another glance your way. Serves them right.

Bringing your focus back to J, you ask, "what were you looking for?"

He turns the knob on the tiny clock, setting a time. His blackened gaze flashes up to meet yours, "where the duck'll be sittin' at." J places his contraption before collecting an officer's uniform and a duffle bag. "Tick-tock doll," he motions for you to follow him, "we're on the clock."

Exiting the apartment, he leads the way to another apartment down the hall. Barging through the front door, it appears this residence is just as deserted as the previous one.

Handing you the large bag, J works on removing his plum trench. Slinging the heavy fabric atop a counter in the vacant living space, it crashes hard against the surface with metallic clinks of the various objects he hordes in that coat. You watch as he continues to strip himself of the remaining articles- blazer, gloves, tie, vest, and suspenders. All in that exact order. The many layers that help complete his look. That join together to make him Joker.

He begins undoing the buttons at the top of his dress shirt, catching the dumbfounded expression on your face while you observe him. "Enjoying the show, aren't we? Getting a ah- good look." A tilt in his head promoting his mocking tone.

"I- uh what- um," You blink a couple times trying to refocus, "sorry, I don't mean to stare." You admit, now remembering you're supposed to place his items in the bag. "You make it a little hard to concentrate sometimes." Cheeks glowing a shade of red, turning your attention towards the pile on the counter, hoping you didn't offend him in any way.

"Never ah, said I didn't like it," he claims, shedding the shirt from his broadly sculpted torso. Displaying a vast of scars adorning his body. J wasn't the largest man in the world with huge, bulging muscles. He's actually rather lean, fit. With the perfect amount of muscle to compliment his arms, chest, and back. Oh, but his legs- those strong, thick thighs of his. Now those are whole other impressive matter on their own.

To keep your mind from straying deeper into building up excitement, you get to work. Get ahold of yourself, keep your head in the game. Tossing the duffle on the floor, you grab his trench. Huffing at how heavy it is, you comment, "Damn J, this coat weighs about fifty pounds! What the hell have you got in here?" Attempting to fold the thick fabric before shoving it in the bag.

"Just the usual knives and grenades," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"Woah, woah, hold up-" startled, you back slightly away from the bag, "you mean to tell me that there are explosives in that coat!?"

"Yeah."

"So you've been walking around with a bunch of hand grenades in your pockets? This entire time!" You continue.

"Uh, most of the time. Yeah." He repeats as if it's something you should've already known. It bewilders you that this is something so casual- so common- for him to keep dangerous explosives, ready to use, on his person like it's nothing. Regular people carry their wallets and cell phones. Better prepared citizens also carry a concealed weapon for precaution, be it a pocket knife or small handgun. Meanwhile, Joker's norms are knives and grenades- and he's never shy when it comes to flaunting his custom modified, fully automatic Glock 17.

"Well, you must carry a lot for it to weigh this much then." You let out a breathy laugh, bagging the other articles.

J was on the verge of removing his pants, when he opted not to. Instead, he collected the police uniform, thumbing towards the door behind him. "Gonna ah, finish in the other room." He promptly tells you, "wouldn't want ya getting too distracted."

"Okay," you manage, a roll of your eyes which he didn't see but very well heard. He went into the room and shut the door.

You finished packing everything, minus his pinstriped slacks and shoes. So you left the bag open for those. J wasn't enclosed in there long, however it felt like he was. This is a little unusual, for him. The eerie silence only prolonging the suspense. What could possibly be taking him so long?

It gave you a brief moment to ponder. All he has left to do is get dressed and remove the greasepai- Ohh.. Right.

The greasepaint.

That must be what's holding him, then. You'd imagine it takes a lot of effort to scrub off the many layers he had previously applied. Especially since his disguise is going to require a bare face. Funny how that works.

As if on cue, the door to the room swings open and he emerges. Your head swings up to find him, walking out the room with his head held down, green dyed curls covering his face. His hair is draping his features, yet through the gaps could you see that he is indeed, without the makeup. Purposely avoiding your gaze, you catch on, he's doing it intentionally. He doesn't want you to see his face. The reason, being one or many, you are unsure of.

He reels past you to the bag, nearly bumping into you, he shoves the remainder articles inside. You go to help him zip the overloaded pack, but he pulls it from you, twisting farther away.

You frown, "J, would you let me? I could do that for you." No answer. You try again, "the pants are going to get wrinkled if you put them in there like that. Here-" you carefully go to reach for the strap, lightly brushing your fingertips over his gloveless digits, which are tightly clamped around the band. "Let me fold them for you." His whole demeanor is tense, you're hoping your gentle touch coaxes him to ease. It helps, least a little bit. He allows you to slide it towards you, but his face remains turned.

You're not fond of this behavior. It doesn't seem like him. Could it be a reason similar to yours from before? Hiding his facial features to protect his identity. No, that can't be it if he's willingly revealing them to his goons and the public. So with that being the case, why not simply show you?

For one, you sure hope it isn't because he's self conscious about his looks- about his scars. You can't have that, no. You will not have that. He has nothing to be ashamed for when it comes to you and what you think of him. You didn't find him repulsive at all before. Why would now be any different?

He stands, "where- where's the ah, cap. I need the cap." Frantically searching the room, barely able to see past his own hair.

You don't utter a word as you neatly place his pants and shoes into the bag, sealing it with a loud ZIP! You want him to look at you, but you don't want to push it. Wanting him to feel comfortable with showing you rather than pry at it harshly. Standing fully, you go to the counter where the police cap sat. There sparks an idea. "I got it," you pluck the hat, waving it in his view. He extends an arm for you to hand it to him. "No," you shake your head, "come over here so I can put it on you."

Irritated, he huffs, "just give it- give it to me. I've got no time for this." Beckoning his arm impatiently.

"Yes you do," you return, "will you please just come here?" Nothing. He rakes his hands through his locks, choosing to grumble to himself. Alright, now you're starting to grow frustrated.

"Joker," you almost demand, the full use of his name gets him to freeze. Still staring in the other direction. "Look at me, please." Your tone is firm, yet underlined with a sense of plead.

Ultimately, he decides to look at you. As he does, you have to be careful refraining an admirable gasp in fear that he'll take it the wrong way. Don't make a big deal about it. You mentally apprise yourself as you see his face- bare- for the first time. Easier said than done. If you thought he was breathtaking before, you'd go back in time just to slap that lady across the face, and tell her she hasn't seen his beauty in all its form yet. With those handsome features adorning his face. The same features you already noticed, ridden of the greasepaint. Out on proper display. There have been occasions where you thought about what he'd look like underneath. He's even more gorgeous than you could've imagined. The area around his eyes hold black shades, skin stained from the greasepaint.

J's stoical eyes stare at your face. Searching for a trace of resentment, horror, hate, disgust. He doesn't find either of those, yet he's not sure what he finds, he can't tell.

Your eyes meet his in a deep stare, and your breath hitches in your throat as you fight to hold back what you desperately want to tell him. Baby steps. Giving a soft smile, you inform him, "you still got a bit of white and black by your eye." Pointing to a spot under your own to show him where. He gives a breathy laugh in return. May it be of relief or genuine amusement, he wouldn't tell you, you're unsure at this point. But it's something.

You jump to sit atop the counter, putting you almost eye level with him. "Can I put it on you?" You retry with the hat. He thinks for a fleeting moment, then nods. You quickly remove your gloves as he goes to stand between your parted legs, placing his hands to rest on your hips, keeping a mindful distance. It's respective.

Carefully, do you bring both your hands to his head. Combing your fingers through his locks, pushing upwards, so that you could easily tuck the green strands under the article. Though he's allowing you, if he were to swat your hands away, it actually wouldn't be a surprise. You keep that in mind. He draws in a slow, steady inhale at your delicate touch. His eyes are on you the entire time, taking in the calmness in yours. And wait- is that.. is that adoration he sees? Nevertheless, he remains there, an emotionless look on his face.

"Don't do that." J speaks abruptly. Pulling you from your dream-like trance.

"Do what?" You ask innocently, "I can't sit for a moment and admire you?"

With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes does he react. "You can stop trying to convince me with the uh, false flattery, doll. I already know I'm not the most ah, prettiest sight to look at."

"It's not false," you frown. "I'm being serious." It hurts that he doesn't believe you. You speak with truth, why won't he at least try to accept the fact that you really do find him drop-dead gorgeous, incredibly handsome, utterly attractive?

"Ha ha," he mocks a laugh that lacks humor in favor of distaste, "Now that was a bad joke." Instead of going on, he chooses to remain quiet. Taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching through his scalp. You're being so gentle with him, like anything harsher could ever hurt him. He smiles at the amusing thought.

Once his hair's pushed up enough, you place the police cap atop his head. Completing the disguise. Tucking stray strands that fallen, under the hat. "There.." you draw back to take a final gander. He looks so different, almost unrecognizable. But his blackened eyes, his nose, his chiseled jawline, and the uneven scars protruding the flesh in his cheeks, distinctive features that remind you of how much he is still, him.

Still J.

And damn you. Damn you for allowing it to tug at your heartstrings seeing him this way. You're not supposed to start feeling like this. You're not supposed to start caring. What started out as physical and psychological attraction, is progressing into something more, in-depth. And fuck, are you diving in deep. You know this probably isn't a path to go down. It'd be risky. Although you haven't even scratched the surface of knowing him, you know yourself. Going down that path would result in you growing attached- catching feelings. Which could leave you wandering down a one way road, alone.

Much as you hate to admit, you crave a connection, a real one. And Joker isn't the man for that. He's far too busy carrying out his destructive schemes, he doesn't have the time nor mind for you. Perhaps you should pull out, before everything eventually comes crashing down onto you. Leaving you in a heaving pile of regret. Or in a pool of your own blood once he grows bored of you, realizes he doesn't want you around anymore.

However, once your eyes lock with his in a deep gaze, your rampant thoughts are put on hold. Then you are reminded of how far you've come, and you are not backing down. Let's just keep this going. We're getting too touchy feel-y. Too sentimental. Let's just focus on what's happening right now, and right now, he's gorgeous. You don't mind his scars. You actually think his scars are rather beautiful. Much like a precious work of Japanese kintsugi art. The once severely torn flesh healed together in a way that enhances the tear that used to be there. Visible repairs on his cheeks that give more meaning and strength. Whoops- your sentiment is still showing.

You know what? I don't fucking care anymore. Look at him!

"Well hello officer," you purr flirtatiously. Trailing your hands up the properly done jacket, stopping to rest on his shoulders. "I usually don't take kindly to police officers, but I'd let you frisk, cuff, and arrest me any day."

The suggestive joke brings a sly smirk to his face. Grabbing ahold of your wrists, he sets your hands down on your thighs. "Distractions, bunny." His jeering articulation of the word distractions let's you know that he's back. "Ya sure are good at 'em. Now, we can play officer later. You ah, remember your instructions?" He asks, checking over himself to make sure everything's in order.

"Yeah, I got them down," you return.

"Remember where to wait?" He presses.

"Yeah, yeah.."

" 'Yeah' me like that one more time, an I'll slice that pretty tongue right outta your mouth. Got it?" He warns with a bite of snarkiness.

You can't help but stifle a snicker at his false threat. Um actually, you'd hope that it's false. "Yes sir."

Your part is relatively easy. All you had to do was rid yourself of your outfit- including the makeup- and take J's stuff to the getaway car. Being your car. Oh boy. He gave you a set location to park and wait with his belongings. He mentioned that if everything went in the direction he's striving for, then he'd make it to your car soon after the crowd breaks into a panicking frenzy. If not, then you'll just have to meet him back at the warehouse. Which if course means more improvisation on his part.

You sat in your car, not too far, and not too close in proximity to where Mayor Garcia currently spoke on behalf of Loeb. It wasn't long until you heard the first round of shots ringing through the buildings, then the next, recognizing it to be the 21-gun salute. You braced yourself for the third round of shots, since this would undoubtedly be Joker's point of attack. The moment he and his henchmen turn their guns and fire at be Mayor.

Soon as the third rounds are fired, they are followed by even more shots and loud shouts. That's your cue. Quickly starting the engine, you glance in the rearview mirror, you could see the chaotic riot of people behind you. Rushing and screaming in different directions to get away from the area, escape the immediate danger. Seconds later, there were many running past your car. Citizens and cops alike. Citizens desperately searching for cover and the cops trying to get control of the situation. Madness. It was pure madness. Far from anything you're used to.

The sound of harsh knocking on tbe driver's window startled you. Looking directly at the source of the noise, you instantly recognized it to be J. Clicking the button to unlock the back door, he swiftly moves to get into the car. Shutting the door and motioning for you to go. You didn't have to wait for him to tell you that, as you promptly slammed on the gas before he even shut the door.

Putting as much distance between you both and the scene as possible, while Joker's catching his breath in the backseat. Checking him through the mirror, you see that he's not looking back. Didn't even bother to take a final glance at his work as you drove away. You wondered why, but you didn't ask.

"We missed." J hissed behind you.

"What?"

"We missed the shot." He clarified. "Ole Gordon decided to play hero and jumped in the line of fire." Snickering as he recalls.

"Bummer," you pout while he searches for the bag, "your items are down there." You point to the floor behind the passenger's seat.

He instantly reached inside and pulled out three tins of face paint. Wasting no time in popping open all the containers, dipping his fingers in, and slathering the paint accordingly in his face. Doing it with such a pace as if he couldn't wait to have done it any sooner.

"Please try not to get paint on my seats," you turn your head slightly to smile at him. You expected him to throw a sarcastic remark back, so you weren't prepared when he suddenly reached around, and placed his hand- fingers wet with fresh paint- snug around your throat. Making a showing effort to rub the remains onto your silky skin.

He leans close to where you feel his warm breath on your ear and neck. You find delight in his touch. He relishes the smirk that pulls across your lips, leaning closer to whisper huskily in your ear. "No promises, bunny."

End of part 9. I hope this part wasn't too rushed😭 There's still more to come. So the part in here where I made the comparison of his scars to Japanese kintsugi art, it's something that came to me but I do recall seeing something similar(on the first account that I had before this one) but I don't remember where. I appreciated the reference. If anyone knows where, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know. I'd like to give credit!

#More to the Madness #joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #the dark knight #fanfic

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minstrophywife · 5 years

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Speeding Ticket

⇢Pairing: Officer!Jungkook x Business Woman!Reader ⇢Genre: PWP ↳[smuuuuut] [crack] [fluff] ⇢Word Count: 3,456 (lmao) ⇢Warnings: Handcuffs, vaginal and anal fingering, exhibitionism, bad stuff with a baton, sex against a car, multiple orgasms, creampie (use protection please!), aftercare, soft Jungkook :-)

⇢Masterlist ↳DOPE Masterlist

⇢Summary: Caught speeding to get home in time, you find yourself pulled over by a very delicious cop. Perhaps you can talk your way out of the ticket.

Or,

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to do a cavity search ma’am.”

A/N: Happy belated bday Jungkook!

Uh.. hi! Remember me? I’m so sorry for the wait. I’ve been struck with really bad writer’s block... so hopefully this is okay! Short but smutty so I can try to get over it. I decided I should try get this out for my lovely JK’s birthday at least— hopefully this fixes my drought!

SPEEDING TICKET.

You were anxious to get back after a week long stint in Japan for meetings. Man you couldn’t wait to get back and soak in your tub. Your body felt heavy as you trudged your way to your car, tossing in your luggage haphazardly.

You were tired. Obnoxiously so. You finally got to your car after a late flight out from Japan. You could have left early in the morning, but you really wanted to get home.

Getting inside the car and powering it on, You curse, eyes glancing down anxiously at the time.

The traffic wasn’t too bad this late at night, but you still feel like you weren’t going to get home quick enough.

As the city passes you by, you glance again at the clock.

You’ll have to go a teensy bit faster to get home quicker.

Right as you finally get to the residential area, you hear the tell tale wail of a police siren. You glance around- sure enough, the police car is signaling you to pull over.

Fucking hell. Of course. And you were almost home too. This day couldn’t get any worse.

You feel the throb behind your eyebrow worsen tenfold.

All you wanted to do is get home, you know, before the day was over. You already felt horrible about it.

Cursing, not under your breath, you reach for your purse in the passenger’s seat, digging for your drivers license.

As you fumble around in your purse, you jump a little in your seat when you hear knuckles lightly hit your window.

Wallet in hand, you twist towards the officer, trying to turn your grimace into your most saccharine smile you could muster (the one you used when talking to your boss).

Your eyes widen slightly when you see the most handsome police officer you have ever seen before in your life.

Holy shit.

Your headache is magically cured.

He’s crouching to peer through the window, strong arm perched on the roof of the car. You first notice that his black police uniform strains slightly at his pecs and around his biceps, tanned and glowing skin peeking from the short-sleeved summer officer uniform. The metal badge glints back at you on his breast pocket.

He even has his officer’s cap on, and it looks lazily perched on his head and knocked forward, shadowing his large, dark eyes.

You barely remember to roll down the window.

“Hello Officer.” You say, twisting awkwardly with your seatbelt still in, trying to face forward. Maybe you’re trying to push your chest out a bit. Maybe.

“Hello Ma’am. My name is Officer Jeon Jungkook. Do you know why I pulled you over today?”

Maybe you bat your eyelashes a little, trying to look a little guilty. Though honestly, the fact that you have been pulled over by the delicious Officer Jeon makes you feel like you wouldn’t mind paying for a couple speeding tickets, if he were the one to give it to you.

In more ways than one, you think.

“Because I may have been going a bit fast sir?”

Officer Jeon doesn’t look too amused, probably pretty used to flirty women trying to work their way out of a speeding ticket with a warning.

Doesn’t mean you can’t try.

He frowns.

“Not only were you going over the speed limit, you were going 20 over in a residential zone. I’m afraid that’s going to be a ticket. Your license and registration please.”

You bite your lip, pouting slightly. You still do as asks, because he’s still an officer of the law, and he’s got a job to do. You hand him your drivers license, and flick open your glove box to find the vehicle registration.

Your strain in your seatbelt, and when you pull back to face him, you are almost positive that he was glancing at your ass, because his eyes flick up towards your face quickly.

Subtle.

“Officer Jeon-“ you start to say, as he’s inputting his information in his system- “this is my first speeding ticket in five years. Is there any way you can let me off with a warning? I need to get home as soon as I can.”

He quirks an eyebrow at your brazenness.

“Maybe you should’ve thought that before you were pulled over for speeding. In a residential zone.”

He really isn’t budging at all. Do you press your luck any further?

Just as you feel yourself give up (you don’t want to think too hard about how this officer shut down every method of flirting), you hear a sigh.

“I’ll need to search your car for illegal substances. Please undo you seat belt slowly, and exit out of the vehicle. Place your hands on the hood of your car please until I clear you.”

Now it’s your turn to feel confused. It’s not like you have anything to hide, but this doesn’t seem like routine. Either way, you still do as he asks.

You undo your seatbelt, and Officer Jeon pushes off the car and steps to the side, so you can exit the vehicle.

You round the car, and make sure to blatantly drag your eyes up and down Officer Jeon’s body, appreciating how tight and sculpted his thighs look in his slacks- and you don’t even need to see his ass to know that it’s probably perky and absolutely delicious.

You round your car, placing your hands on the hood. You watch Officer Jeon from behind your eyelashes. You click your fingernails against the hood to distract yourself from being too obvious ogling at Officer Jeon.

He’s currently rummaging through the trunk of your car, searching for drugs (which you don’t have) which honestly just has your luggage from your business trip in Japan.

It doesn’t seem like he’s very thorough however, because he’s already done looking through your stuff, and walking up towards you.

“I haven’t found any illegal substances in your vehicle.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s because there is none. Okay then Officer, if we are done here, I’d really like to go home.”

He’s standing behind you now, where you are still perched on your car. You push yourself off the hood, when you feel a hand preventing you from turning you around.

“I believe I said hands on the car until I gave you permission. I’m going to handcuff you now because you didn’t listen.”

He’s leaning over you now, grabbing your wrists together behind you, and you hear the metal of the handcuffs click into place - the metal is cold, surprising since it’s a hot summer day. He’s close enough to where his breath is tickling your neck.

“Excuse me Officer, but if there is no trace of illegal substances in my vehicle, then why can’t I get my speeding ticket and go home? And what’s with the handcuffs? I’m hardly going to run.”

He clicks his tongue at your mouthiness. And that’s when he decides to lean in fully. You feel his erection pressing between the swell of your ass cheeks.

You close your eyes at the sensation, you can feel the heat from his dick through your skirt. Lips barely brush the tips of your ears.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to do a cavity search ma’am.” His voice drops sinfully low.

Oh.

You feel damp at the implication.

Good to know the two of you were on the same page all along.

You feel Officer Jeon’s body push you forward on the car hood, your breasts now rest against it. An arm wraps around your neck.

“Firstly, let’s see if there is anything in the oral cavity.” His left hand leaves your neck, only to push against your lips. You open your mouth ever so slightly, where he proceeds to plunge three fingers into your mouth. You taste the saltiness of his fingers as you run your tongue along the digits. Officer Jeon proceeds to wiggle them in your mouth. You feel saliva begin to pool in your mouth, and so you begin to suckle on his fingers, tongue enjoying the the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers.

He starts to move his fingers in and out of your mouth, fucking your face with his fingers. You gag a bit when you continues, pressing down on your tongue.

“Seems to be nothing in the oral cavity...” he says, as if what he’s doing is just another routine checkup.

You mewl when he removes his fingers completely, a strand of saliva connecting between your lips and his hand.

“Now we move onto the vaginal cavity.” Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan slipping out.

His other hand has already slipped under your skirt, pushing the fabric upwards, bunching your skirt around your waist. The handcuffs clink at the movement. His hands meet on the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively as he watches how it bounces when he lets go.

There is a brief moment where you don’t feel his hands anymore, and you are about to turn around until you hear him rummage around for something. You hear the click of something opening.

And that’s when you feel something move between your thighs to press against your sopping cunt.

And then he pushes it forward, along the silk of your panties, between your pussy lips. You can’t help but clench around the metal, thighs pressing together- anything for more pressure. Your eyes scrunch in pleasure, while not really too thick, the ridges of the expandable baton catch against your swollen clit every time Officer Jeon moves If your panties were wet before, they are definitely soiled now. You whine, trying to scooch down on the car hood while pushing your ass up.

Not impressed with your impatience, he removes the baton from your cunt. The cooler summer breeze causes you to shiver at your exposure. His fingers scratch at the lace waistband of your wet panties. He slides the panties down your legs, where they fall around your feet.

You feel the baton again, as it nudges open your legs with a tap to your inner thighs, and you quickly scramble to step out of your panties and kick off your uncomfortable heels. You spread your legs wide to allow him room. Your cheek rests against the hood of the car.

Just like with your mouth, three fingers plunge themselves quickly inside your pussy, where he proceeds to pump in his fingers in and out, fingers widening out when he’s inside, stroking the spongey texture of your g-spot.

You’re dripping down your legs at this point, slowly falling apart from his fingers. You can’t believe just how turned on you are from just a little fingering. You slump forward at a particularly rough press of his fingers, your sweaty hands sliding a bit against your car. It’s hard to keep quiet at this point, moans spilling from your lips unabashed.

And when you feel your legs begin to shake and slow creeping clenching of your core—

He pulls out again. You turn your head to look at him, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

Tease.

“Nothing in the vaginal cavity then. Last place to check, the anal cavity.”

Your eyes widen a bit, and you find yourself feel nervous, wrists straining a bit in your handcuffs. You haven’t really tried that yet...

But before you can second guess anything, you hear the clang of the baton dropping to the ground, and feel a wet and sticky finger drenched in your slick teases against your rim. A shudder wracks through your body at the sensation.

But Officer Jeon is gentle- one hand massages the inside of your thigh, and then a finger pushes in at your puckered hole.

Honestly? It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but he’s slow, as he pushes in to his knuckle. He allows you time to adjust to the new feeling. He pulls out just as slow, gauging your reaction. Your breath is heavy, as it still doesn’t feel pleasurable quite yet.

When he pushes in again, he takes his time to run around your walls, exploring, making you comfortable. To ease your discomfort, another hand snakes it’s way to your neglected cunt, and he rubs at your clit, and teases your opening. With each pump of his fingers in sync, you feel yourself begin to loosen up, and soon you are writhing under the stimulation from both holes.

He takes your gasps of pleasure as his cue to add another finger, and while the stretch is uncomfortable at first, the rhythm and attention to both areas have you moaning deep—

And you come, shocks of pleasure causing you to cry out and squeeze your eyes shut.

You’ll have to try this again sometime.

Your legs feel like jello, and you are thankful that you are splayed over the car, because otherwise you would have fallen to the ground.

Removing his fingers, he flips you over, and you let him manhandle you, spent from your incredible orgasm.

And what a sight. You can guess what a mess you are, but Officer Jeon looks even sexier, if that’s possible. His erection strains against his pants, and at some point he had untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it, and you can see the outline of his pecs and abs through his undershirt.

You would unbuckle his belt and help him with his problem, but the handcuffs have your wrists pins behind you. You pout.

That must do something for him, because he surges forward to finally kiss you, teeth clacking against yours at first at his enthusiasm. His lips are soft and so demanding, and as he switches between massaging your tongue with his own and biting down on your lips.

You return the enthusiasm.

His kisses leaves him caging you against the car, hands on either sides of your head as you lay on the hood of the car.

He leaves your lips to suckle at your throat, and you can feel where some hickeys begin to develop into a purple.

He’s unbuckling his belt and you hear the zip of his fly and while he took his time with you for your first orgasm, he’s clearly impatient for his own this time around.

His pants and briefs are lowered to his thighs, and he lifts your legs so they drape over his shoulders. You send him a brief look of silent thanks, because it provides some relief to your wrists that you were laying a bit uncomfortably on.

He takes his cock in one hand (and he’s big, causing you to feel warm all over again), teasing your pussy that is already messy with the head of his cock, but is beginning to glisten yet again. You clench in anticipation.

And then he pushes in. You already ache pleasantly from previous stimulation, but this time, the both of you let out guttural moans- you at how full he feels, and him at how impossibly tight you still are.

And it doesn’t stop there.

He begins to thrust, deep and hard without much movement, and you hook your ankles behind his head to encourage him further.

He picks up the pace, now opting to drag himself out until just the head of his cock is inside you, only to slam back forward, pistoning into you.

The words that spill from your lips are an incoherent mess of “Officer Jeon”, “fuck yes” and “harder”.

He isn’t much better, deep groans are interspersed with “oh fuck” and “so good”.

You can feel him get closer to his orgasm now, his initial steady rhythm now staggered and desperate, pushing you up the hood of the car ever so slightly as he fucks into you. You strain against your handcuffs, so desperately do you want to pull him closer to match his body, to dig your fingernails in his back.

He can feel you want to chase your high, and so, wanting to come together, he rubs at your clit. And there is so many sensations at once, the slide of your skin against the car, the large cock that pounds into you, the calloused thumb that is pressing against your clit just right.

But it’s the sound of Officer Jeon’s “cum for me baby” in his wrecked voice that causes you to orgasm. You feel him follow soon after, his cum feeling hot as it spurts inside you.

His forehead rests on yours, both of you panting in the afterglow of your orgasm. If you thought the first orgasm was incredible, this one was indescribable.

When you finally collect your breath, you are the first to speak out loud.

“... shit when I said I wanted to play out one of my darkest fantasies, you really didn’t hold out, did you?” You say, your voice sounding wispy after your many screams and moans of pleasure.

“Are, are you okay?” He flusters, immediately turning you to your side gently, unlocking the the handcuffs while fussing over the bruised skin.

You groan as you finally move your shoulders forward, stiff from when you were confined. He massages your shoulders and arms, and his fingers ever so gently brush against the the lines of where the handcuffs were, in a silent apology.

His brow furrows in worry, eyes downturned as he rushes forward to clean the cum and mess that runs down your legs, before quickly tugging up his briefs, tucking his spent cock in before zipping up his pants. He doesn’t even bother with the belt.

A breathless laugh escapes your lips. “I’m fine, I just was served with some of the greatest sex my life- I’m better than fine.”

“I knew it, I was too rough.” He sounds regretful, holding you steady from your shaky and exhausted legs, easing you back into your panties. You wince, the soiled fabric feels absolutely disgusting.

“I told you, I wanted you to surprise me. No apologies now.” You kiss him softly on the cheek, a hand tugging lightly at his earlobe to ease his worry.

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced, eyebrows knit together in worry as he’s straightening your bunched skirt.

His attempt at smoothing down the wrinkles is cute.

“Thanks for fulfilling my fantasies” you say, feeling bashful all of a sudden, intertwining your fingers with his.

It’s then he finally softens, leaning back to look at you.

“When you revealed to me you had a thing for me in my uniform- I couldn’t refuse.” He grins, front teeth sticking out cutely, and he looks so much more boyishly handsome and young when he does so.

“I honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but I coincidentally noticed you -speeding, by the way, on the way home, I suddenly had an idea. I was getting off my shift too, so I thought this was the opportune time.”

“So- Happy Anniversary love.” A soft kiss on the head.

You move to kiss the matching wedding bands on your fingers.

“I love you.” You say, and as long as you’ve been married to Jeon Jungkook, you always get butterflies whenever you tell him. You don’t think that feeling is ever going to change.

“I love you too.”

He finally leans in, kissing your swollen and bitten lips, gentle and loving and kind- all that your husband is.

You shiver, the cooler evening breeze feels chilly against your still heated skin. It’s Jungkook’s cue to pull away, albeit reluctantly.

“Let’s get comfy back at home, shall we?” He says, leading you to the driver’s door of your car.

You glance at the mess the two of you have left on the hood of your car, a sense of embarrassment and heat passes through you.

You make a mental note to wash your car with Jungkook later.

You’re still barefoot, and you throw your heels into the passenger seat once he opens the car door. You slide in, realizing Jungkook is hovering at the door to make sure you get settled in the car. You let yourself be pampered- he’s leaving over to buckle you in securely. He shuts the door, and you turn on the engine.

“I’ll see you at home.” You smile lazily, feeling happy and satisfied and content. He leaves a lingering kiss on your temple.

“Drive safely- seriously.” He says, looking stern, and you can’t help but grow hot again at his commanding voice.

“Yes officer.” You mock salute.

“You really were speeding though- this time I’m giving you a warning.” He tsks, shaking his head disapprovingly.

You roll your eyes.

“Yes Officer Jeon.” You say again, for dramatic flair.

“Just make sure you follow the speed limit this time, okay?”

You laugh before rolling up your windshield, driving home.

#Jungkook smut #jungkook pwp #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts pwp #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungguk #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #1k milestone

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kazbrkker · 4 years

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Chapter 7: Bloody Reunions

Chapter summary: Time to get the Wolf. Alexis conducts interrogations like the badass she is, but sometimes it sucked being that good at her job. (Protective couple... you don’t even have to squint.)

Warnings: Misogynistic POS, emotional detachment, blood and violence, mild graphic detail of torture. (4490 words... i went hAM lol)

28 October 2019, 0630 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with Demon Dogs Rammazan, Urzikstan

"Place is a freaking morgue."

Judging by the piles of stacked bodies on the medical beds, it was a justified statement. Morgue might be an idoneous word for hospital. The patronising smell of death bypassed her as usual, but not the disturbing scene of unnaturally still bodies.

The handiwork of Roman Barkov.

There was a twisted satisfaction when Alexis shoved another magazine in her M4A1, knowing one of these bullets had Barkov's name mentally carved into it. She couldn't wait to see it lodged between his eyes.

"Check the bodies..." Sergeant Griggs ordered. The Marines and both CIA agents warily slithered along the occupied stretchers and medical beds—hoping none of them was sleeping with a gun.

It was a gut-wrenching sight. Bloodshed and raw injuries everywhere they turned. Not even sure if those alive should be considered lucky.

Suddenly, one of the civilians bolted into a sitting position, making everybody on edge. Frantic shouts and language barrier only escalated the chaos. Not willing to see another dead body, Alexis interjected in mediocre Arabic, calmly demanding the man to lay back down.

"More than a pretty face..." She looked distastefully over her shoulder, the Marine didn't bother wiping the smirk off his face and instead, shamelessly winked. Revolting, but she merely rolled her eyes, though a much younger her wouldn't hesitate to deck his face.

Gender discrimination in the military was a blast. There came a time when a heavy chip weighed down her shoulders—excruciating, yet she thrived under it. Often, some misogynistic meathead would challenge her.

Emotional, weaker, probably a lousy spotter, wouldn't last a week in the jungle.

Eventually, they all ate their words.

Alexis broke through every damn glass ceilings she went: the only female recruit in her company, made Lieutenant, then transferred to JSOC's Task Force Black. Impossible was understating things.

Her unconventional transfer to Task Force Black was a statement in itself. It finally felt like she earned it. Though she loved 88, the CIA was a nice change of scenery, where there were lesser suffocating males with inferiority complex and women were actually appreciated.

Five years later, such remarks were a humourless punchline to her. On the contrary, Alex fantasied how good Demon 1-2 would look with a bruise on his face. In the shape of his rifle stock.

Truthfully, even she considered shoving a middle finger. The weather was hot enough to vaporise her and having a tactical vest strapped against her sweaty body, was not it.

Things changed when another civilian to their 3 o'clock pulled out a gun targeted at the uniforms. While everyone was still busy hollering around, she shot a precise bullet between the hostile's eyes.

With a thud, the man fell off the stretcher.

The female agent scoffed, returning a satirical wink of her own, "Stay frosty, 1-2." He tripped around his words in shock, until Sergeant Griggs forced the gratitude out of him.

Well. If the Universe wanted to send it her way, who was she to reject it, right? She shook her head at the inevitable smirk on Alex, a subtle one hanging on her lips too.

It was a shame that the peace was ephemeral, by this time, several of Sergeant Griggs' men went radio silent. She religiously trailed behind Alex. They pushed further into the hospital, only to be met with a minigun.

"Mini my ass," Alexis laughed nervously as bullets sprayed inches away from tearing her abdominal—because of her ballsy move to switch covers.

"Holy fucking... Okay! Don't give me that look, Alex!"

She thanked the Heavens that Alex's yells were muffled over ricocheting bullets. Several smoke grenades later, Alex sniped the gunman and lo and behold, they finally reached a heavily chained door.

Score, imagery confirmed the Wolf was inside.

It was her job to clear the room while Alex secured the Wolf. Her index finger pressed lightly against the trigger, swallowing the adrenaline that dangerously swirled inside her. Upon Alex's signal, they sneaked in and hid behind messy shelves. The visual of the three missing Marines came into view, with one held hostage with a knife against his throat as the Wolf filmed another propaganda video.

"Check... Five hostiles."

"Affirmative. On my mark," Alex replied. A split second later, he tackled the Wolf from behind. His men's reactions were quick, but her years of muscle discipline was borderline supernatural.

"Clear!" Griggs rushed to untie his men. "You two good?"

Alexis nodded, tightening the zip ties uncomfortably around the Wolf's wrist. She began examining his body language, hopefully finding nibs of his tells to use against him in interrogation later.

Omar Sulaman was strangely calm for a man with a foiled plan. There was slight reluctance in his steps, but still, silence.

"Saint to Watcher, Wolf is in the bag."

Her voice was a stark contrast to the boyish tones that surrounded the room—earning the Wolf's attention, who made the bold decision to turn around abruptly.

"What are you doing here, daughter?"

Alexis felt the entire world's gaze burn into her side profile, equally as confused as the lot. She shrugged and walked away.

Inwardly, the interrogator inside was thrilled. The Wolf was in for a helluva surprise.

━━━━━

28 October 2019, 2100 Sakhra, Urzikstan

The air-conditioned room in the embassy was a godsend, not a word of complaint as the cold air blanketed her. Alexis, Alex, Farah and Hadir patiently waited for Price's arrival.

When Alexis expectingly popped a piece of mint gum, Alex knew. Though it didn't take an expert to discern the ominous aura around her. Alexis hadn't said more than what was necessary in the seven hours since they captured the Wolf, busying herself to study the Wolf.

Alex was smarter than to cut in between. Like Alexis said, she was damn good at her job. Interrogation was one of her most valued expertise, perhaps arguably why the CIA wanted her so badly and the reason why JSOC refused to let her go.

There was a secret to her tactics—compartmentalise. Alexis sat opposite the Wolf, gaze cold as ice. It was a chilling sight even for Alex.

Unscrewing his bottle, Alex greedily rehydrated himself, still observing Alexis. The grittier bite in her tactics was certainly noticeable. He guessed it had something to do with her incident. Having been captured once or twice, that was the closest Alex came to ever understanding her.

Sometimes Alex swore he never got her back.

Physical detachment was a given while she was... compartmentalising, although the rising situation gave him no choice. A shiver ran down his spine as he tapped her shoulders. At the slight arch of her eyebrows, "Bravo's three mikes out."

Alexis blinked slowly in comprehension, not realising Alex's first announcement shot past her. She nodded methodically, the metal chair screeched as she got up. She charged determinedly to an isolated hallway and slipped down against the wall, burying her head in her tucked knees. Despite the rapid intakes of breaths, it didn't suffice.

She loathed every single second in interrogations. Doing the Devil's work, she thought. The irony in this situation was her call sign. For someone called Saint, she didn't know anything else more normal than this.

Saint wasn't a moniker given to her because she was virtuous, innocent or some shit like that. Hilarious to think that, for its darker origin.

Every time she conducted an interrogation, she had to subdue the gag-inducing hypocrisy. How could she, after St. Petersburg?

The reports claimed it was a miracle she survived. Fuck that, what did they know.

That birthday was memorable, to say the least. He had even arranged something special that faithful day—nothing said happy birthday! more than electrocution.

152 days.

"ты прекрасна, ангел... (You are beautiful, angel..)"

"Fuck!" Her eyes shot open, desperate to let the ugly fluorescent light blind the image. Autonomously, her fingers scratched wildly across her arms. After a particularly deep breath, her head fell against the wall and like clockwork, she exhaled all her anxiety.

She was too good at pretending.

It was her desire to stay in solitude longer, but the shrilling embassy siren obviously had other plans. Doubling back, she found Alex at the doorway already looking for her.

"The Butcher and his men are about to breach. We need to leave, now." She peered into the room, barely seeing the tinted glow of the fire outside. Noticing the rising blood clots and angry red streaks on her forearms, Alex clenched his fists to restrain himself from reaching out, knowing she would only flinch. So, he settled for a hard swallow of his saliva, "Follow me."

Price's voice rang in their ears, "Saint and Echo 3-1, primary extraction failed. We're down on the roof."

"Understood. What's the call, Captain?"

"There's a saferoom in the basement. Head there. We'll be right behind you."

When they reached the basement, Alexis basically scrambled to the CCTVs for a sitrep–she had half a thought to join the sweep, eager to rid the hypocrisy from her systems. Eternity later, or in reality, twenty minutes later, their backup arrived.

Price.

The SAS Captain squeezed her upper arm in greeting. Lucky for her, it was where the bullet had previously scraped her. Price clapped Alex's back while glancing at her patched-up injury, "That fast, huh?"

Missed you too, old man, she thought, rolling her eyes as a response. Her coldness confused the Captain, eyes darting to Alex for an answer. He understood when Alex cocked his head at the Wolf.

"Let's move. Clock's ticking."

"You heard her..." Price ordered the Sergeant to direct the Ambassador secretary to safety and the rest headed to the parking lot. While Price and Farah went to retrieve the Ambassador's secretary, the two CIA agents stood guard at the car park entrance.

Under the flashing red coat of the emergency lights, there was no mistaking in the comfort Alex's concerned nod brought her.

It was apparent that Alex was her anchor. But in this state, she couldn't bear to look at him for long, internally disgusted by herself. All these years, she was petrified to ask if he was repulsed by her hypocrisy.

Then, she felt the hesitant touch of a coarse, large hand. She accepted it immediately—much to Alex's surprise. Their fingers intertwined secretly in the dimly lit hallway. Her eyes had long adapted to the darkness, able to witness Alex looking down at her and just like that, a sense of serenity flowed through her.

The unreadable expression on his face was a stranger to her in all their time together. Under the magnetic allure of Alex's gaze and the soothe whirring of his touch, it felt like they were worlds away from a war zone. Until gunshots unforgivingly interrupted.

She immediately retracted her hand.

Afterwards, the group slotted the obtained garage keycard. They fought through waves of Al-Qatala soldiers in low light, courtesy of the lacking streetlights.

The Ambassador's residence was no sanctuary either, as another wave of AQ fighters drew closer. Afraid the rising situation might delay their timeline, Price ordered her to start interrogations immediately. Her heart jumped at the unexpected news, suddenly thrown in the ring.

Hadir and Farah sent nods of encouragement before running out the residence. Price, despite raging at Laswell through the comms, mustered one last small smile for her.

That left Alex, who looked equally worried as her. Wordlessly, he tapped at the base of his neck. She understood instantly, feeling the cool metal of his dog tag against her skin. Obviously they had airtight obligations to not carry personal items, zero accountability and all, but it was Alex. She had corrupted him enough to not give a fuck.

The dog tag was nothing informative, only a simple 'X' carved messily from Alex's kitchen knife. Useless to her enemy, but deadly if it was ever pried from her neck.

It was a matching set. She mysteriously woke up with it after that night with Alex. His way of saying they'd always have a piece of each other.

With one last longing look, that unbeknownst to both of them—burned their insides, Alex left her alone with the Wolf.

━━━━

Her immediate observation? The Wolf was talkative.

It didn't faze her—narcissists simply could not shut up. Past thirty minutes, zero words retaliated and the Wolf was still going on.

Please. She wanted to yawn. Her legs swung restlessly while she sat on a table, undermining whatever authority the Wolf thought he had. The folklores he told in his grandiose sense of self-importance was vexing but valuable.

He hated women in combat. She learnt that when he tried to recruit Farah and even her, just minutes ago. Omar Sulaman thought women were weak.

Exciting.

As he rambled on, she almost failed to suppress a scoff. A woman wielding more power was his stressor, this meathead would be even easier to break.

"You have killer eyes," The Wolf said, tone switched from persuasive to intimidating. He exhausted everything—telling stories of what Barkov's men did to "weak" women, trying to scare her into his protection. Alexis hadn't bothered reacting, which pissed him off.

Victory surged past the fog of irritation inside her. She had conditioned the Wolf by staying quiet, truly a personal achievement. His narcissistic tendencies were itching to get out, evident from how he was desperately reaching for straws.

Alexis reached for her stripped vest and carelessly dug around for a plastic bottle. Popping the lid open, she chucked a mint gum in preparation.

It was time. Clouded by anger, he'd make mistakes that she would catch.

"Somebody hurt you."

She couldn't resist a huff at his eleventh-hour tactics. So the Wolf was now gunning for her emotional side? Fine, she'd bite.

"Don't act like you know me."

"Oh, child... I know more than you think. The look in your eyes, fear..." The Wolf paused, smirking arrogantly even at her mocking smile. "You put a great act, daughter. But I've been around longer than you... seen more."

"I bet... Because what makes a freedom fighter wake up and decide to switch sides?" Alexis circled him in pretence thought, "Money?" Noticing his jaw clenched, she pressed on it. "Power? That's why you made those videos?"

Alexis interrupted at the sounds of his protest, "Surely freedom fighters must not pay well. Maybe you got sick of that and switched?"

"I didn't switch sides! I was always on the right side."

"And what side is that?"

"The winning side," He snapped, "This occupation will never end if we hold sympathy for others."

A narcissist with a saviour complex, laughable. Alexis returned to stand in front of him, the grin ever present on her face. "But you didn't deny my claims—you want money and power."

The Wolf wanted to charge at her but was tied by the restraints, heavy creases in his forehead as he snarled, "No! I am saving Urzikstan!"

"Murdering people is saving them? I know people just like you, hiding behind a cause. After you kill Barkov, you will only start your own regime." Alexis chuckled darkly, "I'm not gonna let you do that. Don't bother holding out, nobody's coming to save you."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" At her strained expression, he continued, "If I die today, I die a hero. You? Your death will be meaningless, a secret." He continued laughing, "You Westerners... Busybodies, you have no business here. The price for that is death–"

He paused, not because of her killer gaze, but as if something in him clicked, "You have no family... That's why you are here." Loud waves of laughter escaped from the man, like he figured it out. And fuck, he did, word for word.

Alexis must have reached Nirvana or gained enlightenment, shocked by her restrain to not blow Omar Sulaman's brains out. She dare not move a muscle, refused to prove him right.

"When my men come, and they will. I will spare you, kill everybody but you. Maybe even make you watch that young man who loves you so much. Then, you shall know fear, child..."

That was it, her trigger point. Blood red. Hot flashes of anger. Picturing Alex's dead body was enough to chuck everything up. The wrathful voice inside her absolutely shattered her restrain, no longer concerned with not letting the Wolf gain an edge.

Alexis bit.

In a flash, she tipped his chair behind and roughly circled a hand around his neck.

"Don't. You think you know fear? You don't know shit until you carve your name on a disgusting brick wall with your bloody fingernails because it was the only way anyone would know what happened to you." Alexis spat, eyes boring at the choking man rendered helpless under her. "So don't fucking talk to me about fear, old man."

When the Wolf thrashed around to breathe, she waited another three seconds before releasing him—the once tipped chair landing wobbly with a sharp shriek. Her sudden outburst gained a new terror visible in the Wolf's eyes. No longer the delicate soldier his sanctimonious mind painted her as.

"Now," She slapped the invisible dust off her hands, tone bouncing scarily fast to normal. "Where is the gas?"

"I... I don't know."

Sighing, she wiped the sweat off her forehead and asked again. Still receiving the same reply, "And I don't believe you. Nothing escapes the Wolf. Someone stole the gas and you knew about it..." Alexis abruptly paused, fingers tapped against her forehead, "No, wait. You made a deal. Help whoever steal the gas and they promise to help you chase the foreign powers out?"

His silence was abundant.

There wasn't a tinge of remorse when her fingertips glided along a screwdriver.

"Since you have been here for much longer... You know this next part." As soon as she wiggled the screwdriver between her fingers, Alexis had him in the bag. The slight twitch under the Wolf's right eye was his tell, fear. Alexis witnessed it when she choked the living hell out of him.

Too damn easy. She should dress a big fat red ribbon across him right now.

"And since you know me so well," She gestured between them, "You definitely know that I'm a big believer in second chances. Right your wrongs, blah blah. I'll give you second chances. Many more, actually, I'm pretty generous... But I'm not sure if you can take it." With that, she ruthlessly stabbed into his left thigh, a devious smile spreading wider with the increased intensity of his screams. The metal tip squelched when she dug around.

"The gas?"

"I... Stop!" The Wolf bellowed in pain when she yanked it out, sprays of blood following. For someone called the Wolf, he had an embarrassing low pain tolerance.

She tilted his chin up, pleased as she surveyed the sweat that broke. "Here's your second chance. Third is when I snap your femoral artery and hang you for all of Urzikstan to see you bleed out. Your legacy will be a joke."

"Y–You can't do that..." He shook his head weakly, eyes blinking in pain. "Everyone will know the Americans are here... You'll be buried with me."

Reducing to eye level, she smiled wholeheartedly, "I'll make sure to dig a grave big enough for us both. Last call... Your third chance is coming," Alexis taunted, nodding towards the electrical screwdriver—witnessing the fear shudder across his body. "Where is the gas?"

She came so close to breaking him, practically seeing the words trying to tumble out of his mouth. Literally a blink later, a truck wildly crashed into their room, crumbling the house's weak foundations. Jerking to a standing position, she instantly reached for her sidearm and fired.

At least five men exited the truck, spraying bullets that forced her to tuck her body behind the slim profile of a cupboard.

They had AKs and she had a handgun, do the math.

She hurriedly pressed her comms, "I lost visual on the Wolf!"

Her instincts wrangled between fight or flight, seeing that she was severely outnumbered and the door was literally on her left. But the morality in her warred on. Suppressed under heavy fire, she still had no visual of the Wolf, but assumed he was freed by now.

She yelped in surprise as a painful tug tossed her out into the open. A burly man wasted no time to attack her. She barely raised her Glock 21 before he swiftly grabbed her wrist and pressed the magazine release button.

He wanted to reach for her Glock's slide lock before she elbowed his jaw, making him stumble backwards but made a quick recovery. He threw her into the metal table and she lost the grip on her gun.

Alexis' back arched painfully across the table, hands scrambling for purchase to rid the tightening hands around her neck. She weakly tried to pry in between his arms, but her lungs burned from the depleting oxygen. Fingers scrambling to poke his eyes and finally mustering enough strength, she sent a cheap blow to his nuts. He hunched over just enough for her to inhale loudly.

Seeing that, the Wolf's man started firing again.

She kneed him in the gut, put him in a chokehold and propped him up as her shield. The man's body jerked in reaction to every bullet he received.

Her ears picked up on the distinct sound of M4A1s approaching closer to her location. The Wolf motioned to leave, dust spluttering her way as their truck wildly reversed, with the Wolf grinning victoriously in the passenger seat.

"We will meet again, daughter! And your lovely man."

He left her alive. Like he said he would.

Miraculously still breathing, the man in her grasps used this distraction to tug on her legs. Seconds later, she felt a splitting pain in her head.

She was on the ground when she reopened her eyes, hazily feeling a wet sensation drip down her temples. The pain mirrored a wave, boggling inside her. Black spots started to consume the edges of her sight.

No no no.

From her blurry vision, she managed to squint out something glimmering in her 12 o'clock—she assumed a knife or her god damn screwdriver coming back to bite her ass.

Not like this.

The shuffles of dragged footsteps echoed in her brain, almost a warning from her body. She blindly saw the shift in light source, presuming he was walking towards her.

Incoherent words tumbled out, forcing herself to speak so she wouldn't pass out. Shaking, she pushed her upper body off the floor and stretched for her fallen sidearm...

That one bullet in the Glock's chambers was still waiting.

More blood flowed messily down her head, further impairing what was left of her vision.

Muscle memory dictated the rest—the grainy grip of her Glock, index finger looped around the trigger.

Alexis prayed when she fired.

At the assuring sound of a body collapsing, so did Alexis.

━━━━━

Price was the one to spot her.

"Clear!" He burst open the door, finding a jarring hole in the walls and an unconscious Alexis laying beside a dead man.

"Shit," Kyle said from beside him. "Is she breathing?"

Price shouted for Alex and the man instantly appeared beside him. Careful not to move her unnecessarily, two shaky fingers checked Alexis' pulse, Price felt his heart threatened to burst out.

"She's alive."

No one heaved louder than Alex. They examined her injuries, a large gash splashed across her right temple that hopefully a few stitches would solve. But her unconsciousness was troubling.

"How long has it been?"

"More than a minute..."

"Fuck, we need to do something!" Alex yelled frantically. Please, please, please wake up. Her chances of a brain injury increased by the seconds. Fuck! He should have stayed with her, why didn't he stay?

His hands gently cupped the sides of her face, feeling an onslaught of tears starting to form amidst the rising stuffiness in his nose. As his light-blue jeans was tinted a carmine red, he decided this was his fault.

Alex jerked at the mention of his name.

"Let me clean her injuries..." Farah coaxed, a cloth that reeked of disinfectant in her hands. Alex reluctantly shifted, kneeling beside her laying body and watched Farah dab carefully, venomously demanding her to exact more care.

"Alex," A powerful grip tugged on his vest, lifting him to his feet to meet John Price. "Ease off. Let Farah and Hadir do the work."

"Captain..."

"She will be fine, trust me." Price chuckled to himself, "Unbelievable. That woman is still an excellent shot." He whistled lowly, staring at the man with a fatal shot to his heart.

Price said with a knowing look, "Clear your head, son."

"Yes sir," Alex exhaled, going to retrieve her fallen comms set on the floor.

Seconds later, Farah yelled for them. The two men doubled back, finding Farah holding Alexis down from wiggling about. Alex heard a groggy mumble of his name.

"Alex..." Alexis repeated, head rolling around despite the yells of protest. "Where..."

"Here! Here! I'm right here. You need to stop moving, baby." Alex skidded to her side and held her outreached hands. His eyes raking over her as if he had the superpower to mentally check her wellbeing.

A weak grin formed at the realisation that he was alive, breathing and right before her. "The Wolf... He... The escaped... He... car... men."

"Shhh, we'll get him," Hadir tried to pacify her while handing Farah a clean cloth.

Ten minutes passed before she started making sense and was fully conscious. Though the pounding in her head was enough to last a lifetime. Her eyes averted to the dead man.

Jesus, the pain...

"Alexis." Price sternly warned.

"Get me up... I'm fine... Don't be a pussy."

Carefully positioning her to sit up, she weakly laid against Alex's chest. The man could care less when her blood seeped into his shirt—evident as he steadied her head against his own, refusing to let her move it wildly.

Staring at her bewildered teammates, she hazily slurred: "Well. Don't all of you look like shit."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓

a/n: i really went with the "i'm injured and my lover finds me and cradles me in my blood" trope and y'know what. y'all are welcome ;) btw sry for the late update... i edited this chapter 17 times lol i was so insecure about it. thanks for waiting lovers!

taglist: @flyboidameron @wanderlustgiant (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #cod alex #echo 3-1 #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare #ysrwrites: kl #please read tw carefully #oc: alexis #killer instinct

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