#its actually crazy how white people always have to play the victim
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Hey, I hope it's okay to ask. You have mentioned in an ask to another person about the situation with racism and inequality in South Africa, that white Afrikaans still have more privilege and more economically secure. Could you elaborate on that or maybe suggest some resources? Personally I have seen a lot of info about how black South Africans have regained all the societal and economic power and white South Africans aren't privileged and are even sometimes discriminated against in applying for jobs for example, so I wanted to know what is the actual case in there. Sorry for disturbing.
Sorry about only replying to this now - it completely slipped my mind.
Before getting into this, Anon, I genuinely do not know where you even got that idea because as a South African, more specifically a coloured South African...that statement of white South Africans not being privileged or being discriminated against is simply false.
In 2023 (source: worldometers.info) South Africa had a population of approximately 60,414,495 people. Of these 60,414,495 people, black South Africans are the dominant population group at 81.4%, followed by the coloured population at 8.2% and the white population having decreased from 8.9% in 2011 to 7.3% in 2022 (source: SA census 2022)
Now since you have that picture in mind, let's move on to the statistics that will disprove the so-called "white discrimination"
As of third quarter of 2023, SA had an unemployment rate of 31.9% (source: tradingeconomics.com). In the second quarter of 2023, black people amounted to being the highest unemployed race with 36% while white people made up 8% (source:businesstech.com) - statistically, black people would have made the most unemployed group because of the difference in population size, but this does speak volumes when attempting to answer your question of black people regaining their economical power.
Moving on to education:
In 2022, black South Africans only had 5.5% of individuals enrolled in a higher education institution and fully participated. White South Africans amounted to 17.7% (source: statista.com) now remember the difference in population size when comparing these two groups. Black South Africans remains proportionately low in comparison to other race groups in SA
Access to health:
It's important to note that public healthcare in SA is a far cry to what it should be and that private healthcare is the most reliable. However, it's near impossible to afford access to private healthcare without medical aid.
In 2022, 71.9% of white South Africans had access to medical aid whereas 9.7% of black South Africans had access to medical aid. (source: SA census 2022)
This is only a brief insight to what SA is like and I can dedicate a post solely on the housing issue in SA. Anon, I'm sincerely hoping your ask wasn't a troll because white people have an insane amount of privilege that never left, their crying about "white genocide" and "white discrimination" is pure BS because as a coloured girl who grew up in Cape Town, I can assure you that I've seen so much more privilege experienced by white people than I have ever seen by any other race group.
#asks#south africa#white privilege#racial diversity#its actually crazy how white people always have to play the victim#like it's always them that is most affected or them that suffers the most#like can y'all shut up for one moment?#you're genuinely annoying#mari's ramblings
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The funniest thing about women depp supporters is that not only are they calling amber a crazy vindictive ex bitch, they are also discrediting Dr. HUGHES, the top DV expert in her field who helped convict sex cult leaders and r fucking kelly, by calling her "biased" (90% of female victims report a male perp, 93% of male victims report a male perp), and also calling Elizabeth marz, rocky Pennington, whitney heard, and Ellen barkin crazy vindictive bitches as well.
Like you think 6 women got together to take down pirate boy by making up lies?
Which, by the fucking way, THERE IS NO PAPER TRAIL OF. NO PHONE CALLS OR TEXT MESSAGES OR EMAILS OF THIS CONSPIRACY.
So not only are these 6 women lying vindictive bitches, but they're also fucking geniuses who can remember the smallest details 6 years after the fact in a manner that is consistent over several court depositions?
How? How did 6 women lie about 6 years worth of abuse with NO PAPER EVIDENCE? Literally no evidence of a conspiracy other than Depp claimed there was. You just have Depp's word against text messages and photos and recordings of him being abusive, saying "it's not what it looks like. I was set up" and you pick me bitches believed him.
Do you not see why trump supporting males agree with you? Do you not see how similar you guys are to the people who believe the election in 2020 was stolen?
These people, even with a hearing providing a MOUNTAIN of EVIDENCE that Trump planned a fascist takeover of the government, are still plugging their ears and going "Cassidy Hutchinson is a lying vindictive bitch" because they refuse to actually look at the evidence?
They refuse to take trumps own words into account, refuse to hear what dozens of witness are confirming was a violent staged attack on the government, because it would force them to look at themselves with disgust. With shame. Because you bitches SHOULD be ashamed of yourselves.
It's disgusting that you guys don't know the first rule of believing victims (ALWAYS BELIEVE THE FIRST PERSON TO COME FORWARD BECAUSE ABUSERS DARVO LIKE ITS THEIR BREAD AND BUTTER) and claim to be "fighting" for all victims.
You bitches don't even know that the majority of abusers are men, and often male victims are being targeted for their race or gender identity or sexuality. You harm black male victims of abuse because their white abusers are always believed over them. You harm queer male victims of abuse because their straight abusers are always believed over them.
By plugging your ears and going "a 22 year old woman could absolutely conduct a gone girl scheme before gone girl was even a thing to trap and abuse a world famous white man 2x her age" you are denying real male victims their chance to be believed. Often, abuse is about power. Which means that wealth and race play a HUGE role in abuse and this FACT can be used to get people to believe "unlikely" victims like black men.
To ignore the real dynamics of this relationship is to spit in the face of what actual experts encourage people to take into consideration in a DARVO scenario.
The fact that you can hear literal dv experts say under oath "this whole trial is an excerise in DARVO and is an abuse tactic" and discredit the WHITE MAN who said it is exactly the same thing that trumpies do when someone tells them they support a fascist.
Do better, pick me bitches.
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The Roman Catholic Church Never Ended Slavery...
People from other countries often contact me and ask me what I am doing, being involved in fights over their assets. It's because the mechanisms used to steal their assets and impersonate them are, most of the time, being exercised in this country and under our laws, even though the actual government isn't administering any of this theft and craziness.
As usual, it's the Brits. Always the Brits. And they are working as Overseers for the Popes.
There is no actual British King for the reasons I have pointed out on numerous occasions: William the Conqueror made sure of that.
The person playing King of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales is actually an Overseer of the Commonwealth lands working for the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church at the same time that he or she functions as the head of the Church of England.
This conflict of interest is expressed throughout the history of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales for the past 800 years and results in numerous occasions, like the one pointed out yesterday, where the King of Britain or his officers get involved in the slave trade, which is still supported by the Roman Catholic Church.
You will remember that during his First Inaugural Address, Franklin Delano Roosevelt (a British Territorial Officer) announced the sale of all the Municipal citizens of the United States and the fact that they would be traded using "clearinghouse certificates".
These clearinghouse certificates are otherwise known as birth certificates and these pieces of paper are issued as commercial bonds held against the labor and overall value of the slaves, by Cede and Company, a private brokerage embedded in the heart of the larger Depository Trust and Clearing Corporation.
If you are surprised that slavery is alive and well in the modern world and that the Roman Catholic Church is the chief promoter of slavery, think again.
Which side of The American Civil War did the theocracy running the Federal Civil Service fight on?
The South.
The Church has been pro-slavery for centuries and is the chief culprit responsible for its continuance--- albeit, a sanitized white-collar version of the crime.
Ever since Pope Nicholas V the Church has imposed a "Christian duty" on Christian Monarchs (1492) to enslave non-Christians -- which leaves the British King pretending to be a Constitutional Monarch, while in fact enforcing slavery on all the Municipal (city-state) citizens in his realm. Just like FDR.
https://medium.com/illumination-curated/how-pope-nicholas-v-used-the-church-to-start-the-disgraceful-slave-trade-af8879f9c98c
The Church has done nothing to correct its vicious errors and dogmas despite all the top-dressing and the purportedly civilized governments of the NATO group all uniformly decrying slavery out of one side of their mouths and in some of their jurisdictions, while eagerly practicing and promoting it otherwise.
Take a look at 18 USC 1595 and 18 USC 77, PEONAGE, SLAVERY, AND TRAFFICKING IN PERSONS.
What in the name of God is going on here?
You will have to define which "God" and which jurisdiction of law you are talking about in order to answer this fundamental question.
Slavery, peonage, and trafficking is strictly prohibited on the land and soil by all the various governments, however, it is not prohibited at sea, the realm of Satan.
And while living people are not supposed to be impacted by the resulting crimes, there is no law against enslaving or trafficking "persons" -- defined as corporations--- including corporations that are defined as citizens.
So now you have the "legal work around" they use to justify continuing their venal practices -- they simply "redefine" everyone as a citizen and define all citizens as corporations, thereby dehumanizing their victims on paper, which then leaves them a free hand to commit genocide or any other crime against these legal fiction persons.
In the realm of international law either on land or at sea, all the moving parties are dead. On land we use our "lawful persons" to conduct business, and at sea we are reduced to functioning as "legal persons".
Autochthonous Americans are specifically owed the protection of our "persons" under Article IV of both The Constitution of the United States (Municipal theocracy) and The Constitution of the United States of America (Territorial democracy).
The only way our erstwhile subcontractors evade this obligation is by pretending that we are foreigners in our own country and that we are voluntarily adopting foreign citizenship obligations and subjecting ourselves to their own Pope and their own King.
They have endeavored to change our natural political status "for" us, without any disclosure, so as to expedite this crime of unlawful conversion against us.
They have tried to keep their activities secret, because this particular crime is prohibited under both the Geneva and Hague Conventions and is a recognized capital crime carrying the death sentence.
This dehumanizing genocide on paper that the British Monarch, Emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, and the Popes operating as Roman Pontiffs, have promoted against the living people of this planet in the name of "Christianity" is a gross disservice to the memory of Yeshuah, and a hypocrisy that has been promoted via fraud for the purposes of violent conquest and unjust enrichment.
This has been done by Principals that owe us good faith service and protection under contract and treaty.
Even now, they are trying to ignore the requirements of their own laws and contractual obligations and they continue to promote the idea of a "new" form of Corporate Feudalism, in which living people are deemed to be nothing but franchises of so-called "national corporations" --with all these corporations then taking the place of feudal monarchs.
In our opinion, the first thing that needs to happen is for the Church hierarchy to overturn Pope Nicholas V's dogma concerning the enslavement of non-Christians. This Medieval dogma needs to go away and the Church's involvement in promoting slavery of any kind imposed on anyone for any reason needs to end.
The second thing that needs to happen is for the Templar hierarchy to realize that their part in all of this is known and their butts are in the wringer.
Their black robed priests are likely to be slaughtered but even more important for the business-minded Templars, their entire schtick and the true nature of their courts will be exposed. The deception which is the basis of their worldly power will be destroyed.
As a result, they have to deliver more than the appearance of justice. They have to render justice itself and stick to it and honor their contracts or their entire edifice will crumble like so much compost.
Finally, the people of the world need to wake up and do their own work of self-governance, to populate the land and soil jurisdiction of their own country, and to impose their superior general jurisdiction over these criminals and miscreants.
It goes without saying that the banks are liable.
#ados#blacklivesmatter#blackvotersmatters#donald trump#joe biden#naacp#blackmediamatters#blackvotersmatter#news
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After reading your opinion on Molly Weasley, i want to know: What are you're opinions on the Weasley family? Besides Ron & Molly that is.
Five characters? In one post? Well, alright, here we go.
The Weasleys as a Whole
I’ve mentioned this before but JKR writes the Weasleys to clearly be a believable but ideal family. They’re all fiercely loyal, progressive per wizarding world standards, love each other and Harry deeply, and have this wonderful off-kilter joyous house where there’s always some rambunctious thing going on.
Harry comes to associate the Weasleys with family and, personally, I believe a large part of him marrying Ginny boils down to it will make him a Weasley for real.
That said, they’ve got some major issues. They’re very righteous people who, as a whole, will ice you out the moment they even suspect you do something that disagrees with them. You don’t even have to do it, what you did or didn’t do doesn’t even have to be something terrible or something bad, but god help you if the family decides they’re done with you.
They’re very resentful of people like the Malfoys. This isn’t just because Lucius is a smarmy, pompous, ass (he is) or that he indirectly almost murdered Ginny but seems to mostly be because Lucius has so much money. All of their interactions seem to boil down to the money. More than this though, the Weasleys seem fully supportive of laws that... well, used against themselves would be a travesty but used against the likes of the Malfoys it’s about damn time.
They’re unquestioningly loyal to Dumbledore. Granted, most people we see in canon are, Dumbledore’s very very very good at convincing people he’s a saint. However, these guys are practically his cult member to the point where they do things like refuse to have Harry over the summer, even before Voldemort returned, because Dumbledore told them not to.
They also never really adopt Harry into the family. Oh they give him a nice sweater, he comes over every once in a while to the house, he’s very good friends with Ron but he’s mostly treated just like that, a good friend. Now, there’s nothing wrong with this, except the way JKR sets it up we’re supposed to believe this is the family Harry found. It’s just that the family Harry’s found let’s him stay in a house with bars on his window where twelve-year-old Ron tells them, “Harry’s muggle family is really really awful” in a way that should have been raising red flags. Hermione practically lives at the Weasleys, Harry never does.
Now, are the Weasleys evil? No, far from it, they’re ordinary people who act in ways I’d expect ordinary people too. Technically they didn’t have to do anything more for Harry than they did, they didn’t have to hate Lucius Malfoy for better reasons, and they don’t have to be even slightly less worshipful of Dumbledore. They’re people, and they’re fine characters, but the overwhelming worship and love of the Weasleys we see across fandom does get on my nerves.
But you asked for individuals, so here we go.
Arthur Weasley
Arthur is the epitome of “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” in the worst of ways and is, frankly, a giant awful joke to me. He’s the white kid you see going around with dread locks, a beanie the color of the Jamaican flag, smoking weed, and attempting to speak like Bob Marley
Only, because he does it with muggle things, we’re supposed to find him funny and progressive.
Arthur is absolutely, albeit unwittingly, condescending in his love of muggle knickknacks. He has no idea how any of it actually works, not limited to how muggles could possible survive without the gold standard, but ardently believes he does because he can enchant the car to fly. Seriously, that he believes he’s an expert on muggle culture, as a pureblood wizard who heads an office in the ministry on it, is the worst part. His love of toasters comes across as, “Wow, look how cool it is that these poor little muggles made all this neat stuff. We should absolutely love the muggles because of it!” And that he heads an office in the ministry called “The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts” which is all about catching down Jackass style pranksters who think it would be hilarious of they enchanted toasters to bludgeon muggles to death...
Goddammit Arthur, why do you exist?
Right, otherwise, he’s got some pride issues going on. Part of the reason Percy is excommunicated is not so much that Percy doesn’t believe Harry, but because Percy dared to do better than Arthur in his own career. Arthur is stuck in his position as head of a joke of a department, he is an underling at its finest, and frankly likely only has that position because he’s a pureblood and the idea of putting a halfblood or even muggleborn at the head of a department dealing with muggles just made the higher ups shudder. (Don’t tell Arthur that though, he likes to think he’s not benefitting from nepotism).
Arthur goes so far to accuse Percy as Fudge’s secretary as spying on him. Arthur, the guy who heads “Misuse of Muggle Artifacts”. Yeah, Arthur, I’m sure Fudge is really wasting his time using his straight laced secretary to find out all your dirty secrets.
He also tends to see the world as very black and white. When Skeeter in book 4 writes an article after the Quidditch World Cup disaster complaining about the ministry’s lax security in enabling domestic terrorists to enter (something completely valid and true by the way) Arthur is so personally offended that both he and Percy go straight to the ministry to complain about Rita Skeeter and her daring to assume freedom of speech! HOW DARE SHE CALL THE MINISTRY’S NON-EXISTENT SECURITY AT THE WORLD CUP LAX! (To be fair, she also cited Arthur as having been in attendance at the event, a ministry employee, and having done nothing but, well, this is also true Arthur. You’re in a guerilla, underground, resistance movement. If I didn’t already think the Order was a joke this would kind of highlight it for me).
He’s also very resentful of Lucius Malfoy, and it seems to mostly be about the money. Arthur and Molly have a severe spending problem and actively resent that Lucius is swimming in money. That Arthur is ardently pleased about a law being passed in which the ministry without warrant can ransack Lucius Malfoy’s home...
Well, Arthur, imagine the slippery slope if the government decides that it would like to search the Weasley home without warrant? In fact, he doesn’t even have to imagine it, as the beloved government in a few short years turns against him and then it’s all about how corrupt the ministry is.
Arthur’s delightfully narrowminded, basically, and reminds us at nearly every opportunity.
Percy Weasley
Mostly, I just feel bad for Percy. Percy’s the son/brother that nobody likes and he’s painfully aware of that fact. He doesn’t fit in with the others, he has far too much ambition for the Gryffindor family and they resent him for it, and then he dares to say things like “I don’t know guys, Voldemort resurrecting from the dead after decades doesn’t sound plausible, we know Harry’s a little off kilter, and Dumbledore’s one shady dude”. Percy happens to be wrong about Voldemort resurrecting (and admits as much when the evidence is plainly visible), but he’s pretty on the money with the rest of it.
Regardless, growing up we see Ron constantly hating on Percy along with the rest of the siblings. I’m sure Percy is obnoxious, and certainly full of himself after making prefect and head boy, but he’s very clearly even before Order of the Phoenix the Least Favorite Brother (TM).
Then the Weasley family completely ices him out for a) getting a very high ranking position very quickly as Fudge’s secretary and b) not being gung ho about Dumbledore saying crazy things in the paper. Remember that to Percy Harry is Ron’s weird friend who seems to get into highly illegal activities every other week. From Percy’s point of view, it’s probably a matter of time before Harry becomes a crack head in Knockturn Alley (or given how behind the times wizards tend to be, an opium den).
He’s constantly getting Ron into not only trouble but life threatening situations, is erratic and apparently a parseltongue of all things, and now Harry’s flipped his lid and saying that Voldemort has been resurrected after having gone through a very traumatic experience of watching a classmate somehow die.
While we see Percy kind of (sort of) make up with the family it’s clear that for Percy to have any relation with these people he’s the one who will always, ALWAYS, have to come crawling back on his knees and begging for forgiveness. It’s the Weasley way or the highway and I imagine, at some point probably a little after/during that epilogue, Percy will just slowly drift away because it’s just not worth it anymore.
Percy’s very much the black sheep of the family.
Fred and George Weasley
You all are going to kill me, but I actually don’t care in the slightest about Fred and George Weasley. This is because they basically have no personality aside from “funny”.
They just have their weird, tandem, twin act and are either playing jokes on the school or else serving as Deus ex Machina in giving Harry magical items such as the Marauder’s Map for no apparent reason. The plot told them it was time, I guess.
Their jokes, while not as bad as Sirius and James’ “Let’s sexually harrass Severus Snape by pantsing and beating him at the edge of Hogwarts lake” or Sirius’ “Let’s get Snape eaten by a werewolf!” are still often needlessly cruel and... kind of pointless. They harass Slytherin house constantly just because they happen to be Slytherins, they’re acceptable victims (which of course makes house tension that much worse). Harry gets sent a toilet seat in the hospital because... that’s funny? Har de har?
They’re so indistinguishable from one another I routinely see people mistake which one got his ear chopped off and which one died. Because the point is, that we can’t tell the difference! It doesn’t matter who lived and who died because all we know is that Freorge is dead!
Similarly, you see tons of fics around where character of the day ends up in this weird twincestuous relationship with Fred and George and it’s not only for a) that delightful twincest but b) because they’re such a singular unit that any attempt to pair one with somebody else feels weird. So you just get these porn fics about Fred and George being weird rapey teenagers who seem like they’d be more interested dating each other.
Charlie Weasley
I really have no thoughts on Charlie. He raises dragons in Romania, the family loves him. Now, dragon raising feels like one of the most dangerous jobs in the Harry Potter universe, like Charlie had just gone and signed up to be a lumberjack but he seems to like it?
We really don’t see much of Charlie, he’s just the obligatory older Weasley son so that the Weasleys can be this ridiculously large family.
Bill Weasley
We see slightly more of Bill, but again, not enough to really leave an impression. We know that his marrying Fleur sent Molly into a complete state, and that they’re going to have awkward Christmas dinners forever because of it where Fleur just sits there and pretends not to loathe every second of Molly’s presence while Molly notes how bad it is that Victoire got stuck with that ugly pink hair instead of the Weasley red.
Bill doesn’t seem to really do anything about this. He still marries Fleur, but we don’t really see a major confrontation where he tells the family “Look, I’m marrying her, so grow up.” So, I imagine he just tries to smile pleasantly and tells Fleur to just endure it for another few hours. He loves his family, his family’s great, but they only have to see Fleur once a year at Christmas.
Ginny Weasley
Ginny is weird. She’s this weird, frankly, almost personality-less void whose sole obsession in life seems to be marrying Harry. She and Harry end up in the world’s weirdest relationship and I honestly have no idea how people ship it other than canon told them to.
Ginny’s... well, first off, she’s very much in love with an idea. She had always worshipped Harry Potter but then he personally saves her life in what was a horrifically traumatic year and so that feeling just grows even more. Despite being Ron’s sister, she barely seems to know Harry, and everything she seems to like about it are just things she made up.
I imagine her and Harry’s marriage will be littered with affairs on her end. Not divorce though, because Harry would never admit his wife is having affairs on him all the time even if someone directly confronted him. Harry also won’t admit he’s gay.
More than though we get hints of a personality. Ginny’s a fiery red-head tomboy with a temper. But... Well, it’s only ever hints. She never felt like a real person to me. She has I think one throwaway line about the Chamber of Secrets incident and how it personally affected her. We’re told she’s great at the bat boogey hex so we know she’s a fiery independent woman.
She feels more like a character sheet than an actual person.
Whenever she’s around I always had this nagging question in my head where I ask why Ginny’s here. She has a lot of potential but nothing’s ever done with her. And when something is, it’s to get her into this bizarre relationship with Harry where he imagines there’s a green rage monster in his chest that loves her skin.
Okay Harry, if you say so.
TL;DR: The Weasleys aren’t evil or anything, I’m not on Team Bash Them All, but they are shortsighted, ordinary, people who don’t deserve to be worshipped as all that is good in this world.
#ask#anon#harry potter#headcanons#the weasley family#arthur weasley#charlie weasley#bill weasley#fred weasley#george weasley#ginny weasley#anti hinny#anti weasley#anti arthur weasley#anti fred weasley#anti george weasley#anti bill weasley#anti molly weasley#anti harry potter#anti ginny weasley
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So... how far did Cia go exactly? I haven’t played hw but I’ve read several fics, and she’s always very... extreme.
hi anon! thank you for your ask!
by “extreme,” i’m thinking you mean stories where she’s a psycho who tortures link or forces unwanted sexual advances on him. which makes for fantastic angst! but that characterization of cia has never felt quite authentic to me.
in the game, she has a roomful of his portraits, like a shrine. that’s extreme. she technically starts a war because of him, which is very extreme, but i don’t think that’s about lusting after him, as people often joke. she says some off-putting stuff, and you could infer that she behaves in an inappropriately “seductive” way, but. she doesn’t really. do anything, like fics might imply. she’s creepy and lewd. i’m sure she makes him uncomfortable as hell. but as for what she does, the extremeness in fics is mostly fan extrapolation.
that’s my short answer! but i kinda got carried away while responding to this, and. um. wrote a lengthy character analysis of cia? XD i thought about not including it, but i spent so much time thinking about/writing this that i’ll go ahead and share.
in my opinion, hw does not present a clear picture of cia, and it skews fan interpretation of her.
(putting this under a cut because it got long 😅)
the story the game gives at the start is straightforward. there's a "guardian of time" (whatever that means) who watches over everything but never interferes. she admires the purity of the hero's spirit. she comes to love the heroes, then to want them. she's lonely. she doesn't want to just watch anymore. she wants to experience love.
gradually her desires become something darker. she doesn't only want the companionship, she wants to possess.
ganon sees this darkness in her heart and causes a split. the darkness separates from her, becomes its own person (a la dark link). the "good" part is lana, the "bad" part is cia.
for ganon, this is all part of a larger plan. in hw, his spirit is divided into four fragments that have been sealed away in different eras. he manipulates cia and gets her to open time gates so he can gather all the fragments together. a key fact: one of the fragments has been sealed away by the master sword, so ganon needs a hero to draw the sword.
cia willingly allows herself to be ganon's pawn because in so doing, in starting a war to force the hero to emerge, she thinks she'll get what she wants. throughout the story, she gives more and more of herself to ganon, fracturing her own spirit further and further, because she is so desperate to claim the hero for herself, to own him. lana repeatedly warns her to stop before she does irreparable damage to herself, but she doesn't listen, and ultimately she...well, dies, i guess. fades from existence. (that's how the original hw ending goes. they added stuff on later that changed this.)
ok, so. we have some interesting stuff going on here. arguably, cia is a tragic figure. a victim even. her underlying motivation is loneliness. viewing it through this lens, the story becomes an exploration of what isolation does to a person. how desperate it can make us. how we become willing to sacrifice anything for love--and i mean "love" broadly, not in a romantic sense. how it makes us vulnerable to manipulation and abuse.
let's also not forget the whole reason she focuses on the hero's spirit to begin with. after witnessing all the atrocities of history, she admires the purity and goodness and self-sacrifice of the hero. it has nothing to do with link being attractive. in her temple (the temple of souls), she has statues of different heroes from different eras, including wolf link and oot/mm link. she is certainly not lusting after an animal or a child, i assure you.
so why does she have frickin portraits of hw link, specifically, (not any other hero's spirit incarnations) plastered all over her walls, if not for lusty purposes? why does she dress so damn seductively? i'm not claiming lust isn't part of it, but i think there's more. she wants to feel surrounded by him, you know? she wants to feel like he's looking at her the same way that she looks at him--with desire. it's delusion.
and holy hell, she's nothing if not deluded. some examples of her actual in-game dialogue: "no matter what betrayals I may suffer, at least I know the hero will always love and protect me." and [to herself, as she's losing a fight] "the hero is still by my side... the hero is still by my side..."
and it's sad. she pretends that he loves her, that he will protect her, because she doesn't have any real love in her life. she doesn't have anyone.
and what's even sadder is that she's condemned to all these feelings and delusions because that's who she is. she is corruption and darkness personified! she's doomed to this lonely hell, to being ganon's servant, to self-destruction.
that's how tragedy, and tragic figures, are defined: hubris. characters that have an innate flaw that inevitably leads to their downfall. that's what a traditional tragedy is.
don't get me wrong here. i'm not saying she had no choice, or that she had to start a war. she can be tragic and we can sympathize with her while also accepting the fact that she's corrupted beyond redemption. morality isn't black-and-white. our understanding of characters, or of real people, isn't black-and-white.
...but. BUT. there is a major "but" here. the game sabotages its own character and its own story. the game opts for the path of least resistance. screw grey areas of morality, screw the tragedy of loneliness, screw exploring vulnerability and abuse and hubris... they sensationalize. cia is a joke.
have you seen her frickin outfit? her character design? she's an uber-sexualized caricature. all those portraits of link in her temple can easily be viewed as a joke, too. "lol, look at this crazy, horny bitch." hell, they even have her say innuendos about the master sword, like, “come show me what your sword can do” or something to that effect. 🙄
it's all very surface level. they don't go deep at all with cia. they give us no substance, only these little bread crumbs of information that i've laid out for you. and not only that, they set this up so that it feeds into old stereotypes. the salient details easily allow us to interpret cia, consciously or not, as an embodiment of feminine hysteria, a woman guided by irrational emotion and obsession, fixated on winning the ultimate prize of a man's love.
so koei tecmo's own confused presentation of this character muddles up fan interpretation and has us falling back on the familiar stereotypes we know and understand. that’s the basis for these depictions of cia as extreme. that’s what fans are extrapolating from when they try to imagine how she might act or what she might say. so in the end, she isn’t really depicted with accuracy. she’s like a caricature of a caricature at that point.
…or at least, that’s my opinion. 🥴
#if you actually read all this: ty ilysm ❤️#i feel like it's a real toss-up coming into my ask box#like will i answer you same day or 3 weeks from now?#will i write like 2 sentences or an essay?#will i respond with angst? or in a goofy uwu way?#or will i write an unnecessary rant/analysis that's only semi-related to your question?#lmao i'm sorry#bless you all for taking your chances#anthem answers#loz#hw
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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01
(Masterpost) (Next Episode)
Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it!
Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll!
Prologue: The Battle of Mordor
The Demise of our Protagonist
Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for.
This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day.
Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.
Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler
Anyway...cliff time
Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing.
To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides.
This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.
In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.
This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.
Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?
(Much, much more after the cut!)
The Amulet Situation
This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.
Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt.
Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.
This is thousands of cultivators having a battle. What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?
Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.
Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:
*viewership nods indulgently*
This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.
He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.
The Present Day
Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea
Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu.
How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”
Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.
...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*
Gank Your Soul
Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment.
The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai)
The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.
The Demise of our Trill Host
Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in.
Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.
He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.
Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People
Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this
to this.
He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.
And he is ALL in on being crazy.
OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has.
Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:
This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.
My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.
Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life
Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams.
Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).
Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit
Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan
Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”
Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting
Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse.
Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure. Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!
This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them!
This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.
Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?
While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners.
Narrator: Her son is dead.
Meanwhile,
Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.
Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time
Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.
All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.
Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.
Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.
Servant: it’s a ghost!
WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit
Babies: It’s a spirit
LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost
Our Protagonist gets the FOH
Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around.
Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning.
Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses.
On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up.
Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!
Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!
#fytheuntamed#the untamed spoilers#the untamed gifs#the untamed#restless rewatch the untamed#tw: blood#tw: suicide#chen qing ling#cql#c-drama#bl drama#canary3d-original#the untamed memes#my gifs
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We Must Handle the Truth
There's no question that the management of Donald trump will be an issue of on-going global importance. Knocking him from his (alleged) official perch is only the first step.
The more crucial steps must follow, because trump will retain his influence and his supporters, and they will do whatever he hints that he wants, even up to treasonous attacks, assassination attempts, and mass murders.
We must be clear. There is no cozy "look to the future and heal" pretence of an option in our present situation. This is aside from the fact that taking that Pollyanna path repeatedly --from Watergate to Reagan to Bush-- helped to criminalize and radicalize the Republicon Party into the danger they are today.
Shame, honor, and true patriotism have become vestigial on the Right. Their criminal administrations and elected representatives keep getting away with what they do because we embolden them each time with a blind eye.
That is not how justice works. The blind eye of justice means that no one, no matter how powerful, is exempt. The time to work on that is January 20, 2021, and we are far overdue. Politicians, corporations, tax cheats, polluters: we still have laws, for all of trump's and his administration's destructive efforts.
We sully our government offices and endanger our nation by not requiring accountability to the office and to the people, over and above any present occupant. Where we are blocked by pardons we must still have thorough public investigation. That is not a waste of time for lack of a prosecutorial path. It is existential. It's the accountability we cannot do without. It's the foundation of the future laws we need to draft and pass to safeguard this country.
Pardons become entirely corrupt when we acquiesce to them blocking investigation. Democracies survive on information and truth, combined. We are where we are now in part because we still have corrupt actors left-over from Watergate active in our politics.
What are we to do about trump? That isn't initially, or perhaps ever, all about pardons, or state versus federal charges, or orange jumpsuits. In this instance, ironically, the potential solution is all about trump. This is where an examination of how trump interacts with the rest of the human world can guide us.
He forms specific categories of relationships which are actually invariable, because he is permanently shallow and unperceptive. Because trump the consumate narcissist is always the center of every relationship, and because he is, without introspection, forever fixed in all his defects, all of his various relationships fall into the same patterns within their categories. Here they are:
1) The Strongmen. Shades of daddy Fred trump, these are aspirational relationships teaching the type of utter control the core pathetic trump would like to wield. But because of daddy, trump is conditioned to the "love me, admire me, and be useful and loyal or I will harm or destroy you" format, but on the weaker side.
This is why we have seen trump pushing the United States of America into eagerly obsequious deference with respect to Russia, North Korea, and Turkey, and also pandering to Saudi Arabia's power which is additionally derived through vast transactional wealth.
But we cannot and do not want to transform America or Biden into this Strongman mold, because then it will have been pointless to remove trump.
2) The Assets. This category comprises trump's immediate family members and all Republicons in office, from Mitch McConnell to Kevin McCarthy, and from Michigan’s Republicon Senate members to, potentially, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett. This category also extends to trump's supporters, mostly as a collective.
These are the flipside of the Strongman category, where trump gets to play the opposite role. These people are tools, who work constantly to remain in good standing with trump, rendering obsequious deference and servitude as a matter of advantage but also, essentially, as a matter of status survival.
trump is a horrible antagonist or enemy.
This, by the way, is exactly the relationship this country cannot continue to allow with trump, as a matter of national security.
3) The Targets. We know who they are. They caught trump's wrathful attention. Some of the targets are personal to trump to varying degrees, while some are a matter of expediency, or are demonstrated examples, or are, so far, peripheral.
But everybody knows trump will never stop -- that is the personna he cultivated-- unless a Target person has something of value to make them an Asset again. (This is why trump is called purely transactional, in combination with having no beliefs, no morality, and no honesty.)
Fauci, and Birx, (who for a while pulled off a mommy-style interaction with trump as he tried to impress her with nifty genius like injecting bleach), are in a no-man's land, transitional between Asset and Target, in part because trump doesn't like attention on covid if he can help it.
We don't know exactly what trump will try to inflict on Mary trump for writing her book, but we've already seen a variety of attacks against Bolton, Kelly, and Michael Cohen, along with innumerable others. (It isn't just books. It's that these people did not keep flattering, and obey.)
He ousted from political power Jeff Sessions, Jeff Flake, Bob Corker (White House as "an adult day care center"), and Mark Sanford, of "the Appalachian Trail." He can do the same to any other individual Republicon, because as a group, they are all too backstabbing, dishonorable, greedy, and cowardly to unite against him.
Certainty we have seen trump's behavior with respect to Fox Gnus, the Clintons, and Obama.
This is the relationship this country cannot allow itself to fall into with trump. But how possibly to prevent it?
For that, we look to another category of trump's relationships.
4) The Survivors. Of those not in the Strongman category, there are few people who have survived relationships with Donald trump and who can get trump to do favors for them -- to do what they want.
It is dangerous idiocy to call them trump's "friends," by way of explaining their leverage and longevity. The key is leverage.
Rudy Giuliani :
- A "very, very good relationship" with trump.
- "I've seen things written like he's going to throw me under the bus. When they say that, I say he isn't, but I have insurance."
- "I do have very, very good insurance."
Giuliani's insurance is knowledge; some knowledge about trump gives him leverage. The leverage has to represent knowledge that trump fears exposure of or consequences for. Giuliani doesn't fear being otherwise loose-lipped, or even crazy, and his relationship with trump is currently letting him pull in $20,000 a day for "legal work."
Roger Stone :
"[trump] knows I was under enormous pressure to turn on him. It would have eased my situation considerably. But I didn't."
This leverage allowed Stone to openly demand clemency from trump regardless of any amount of political capital it could potentially cost.
The succession of wives, too, possess whatever personal knowledge, likely far more powerful than negotiated pre-nups and settlements, which ensure the notorious litigious deadbeat abides willingly by contractual terms.
As a nation, we need to survive trump. We have observed what works. But as a nation, we must address the issue of trump just a bit differently. Unlike Giuliani, Stone, or even Putin’s special holds over trump, we must:
1) Investigate trump extensively. Entirely. Turn him inside-out. And then,
2) Make the findings public. This is where a nation, a government of, by, and for the people in a country ruled by law and not kingdoms or cults, differs from defensive black-mailers or manipulative foreign spies.
This part, making public everything that doesn't actually threaten our national security to reveal, is necessary to harden both our resolve and our democracy, and to peel off whatever of trump's support that we can, and to deter the next trumpian assaults, whether by trump or the people who will try to follow the path trump has scorched into the fabric of our nation.
Public reveals are also a safety measure. There is vast potential for corruption otherwise. But then,
3) Keep every single trump-related criminal prosecution -- legitimate, of course, because we are not trump -- on the table. That is the leverage.
That's how to survive trump. There must be no more talk of how investigating a former *resident will turn us into a "banana republic." In a so-called banana republic, powerful government officials pressure others, either to carry out vendettas, or favors of protection by "looking the other way". Government is bent toward personal exploitations. Been there. Done that these past four years under trump and Republicons.
They have actually installed what can be termed "a deep state," notably for the first time, and sane Americans must know its extant. Fcuk their cries of victimization and oppression of the Right. The only difference is, when we investigate, there are actual violations, crimes, and scandals, with evidentiary proofs; when conservatives investigate, it's fundamentally bullsh*t-and-paranoia based.
A "banana republic" is exactly what we are attempting to rescue our nation from. With all the recognition that the Right has systematically unmoored from truth, and the terrible dangers that threaten as a result, from a stupid civil war born of propaganda, to climate devastation, as much truth as we can discover is what we need.
Knowledge is power. With trump out of the White House, we can get it. We must have it.
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Sway Me More | Mafia!Jungkook (M)
Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x Assassin!OC
Part 2: Sway With Me (M) / Part 3: Sway Me Smooth
Requested: Anonymous:
“ ok i think i got something. i was thinking e2l mafia leader!jk and assassin!oc. they're always competing on killing the same enemies and oc beats kook to it everytime but plot twist he's actually sleeping w oc in secret, his gang doesn't know that she basically does the dirty work for him. maybe a scene where jk is busy in his office and feels something is off and he and oc pull guns on one another but its just a form of power play bc that's their relationship. dirty talk, oral male receiving, reverse cowgirl in his office chair, choking, little bit of degradation bc one of the victims oc had to seduce but kook calls her his little slut bc he's possessive like that and they both just have lots of tattoos and piercings. maybe some light bondage too? he ties her hands and the petname sweetness? i love that shit sm. ok i'm out of ur hair now fksks ”
Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, BTS mafia au, Smut, humor, e2l, angst, pining.
Length: 15,664k Words
Warnings: Strong language, lots of violence, minor deaths, guns, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dirty talk, BDSM(?), degradation kink, praise kink, light bondage, choking, breath play, spanking, rough sex (if you couldn’t tell), possessive!jungkook, Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes.
A/N:
1. Not sure if this counts as a Song Fic, but this ask immediately made me think of Sway With Me by Saweetie and GALAXARA hence the title so that was on repeat haha (Stream Birds of Prey: The Album and Stay Gold for clear skin!!).
2. I didn’t mean to make the OC that crazy she just kinda was. Like honestly I don’t know what happened at the end there. Also, I thought it would be a fun dynamic for them to only refer to each other by last names. (Y/L/N)
3. Shouts out to this anon for being so specific! Writing this fic ruined my search history.
3.b You said a little bit of degradation, but I mighta over did it lol.
4. This is really fucking long. For no reason...I’m not sorry, it’s all worth it in the end. Please leave a comment, let me know what you think
Jungkook sat in the back seat of his black town car parked at the street corner, his eyes never leaving a specific window of the skyscraper adjacent to him. He watched as the piece of shit who meddled with his gang’s last drug deal canoodled with his lady friend in his apartment. Probably a hooker, he thought. This particular criminal to land on the mafia’s hit list, has been known to bring home many a sex worker.
He took a look at his Rolex and sighed; the man as slowly, but surely losing patience. They’ve been here for a good hour. A hit has never taken this long to complete for Jungkook’s team. He communicated his frustrations to his sniper, Taehyung, who was camped out in the building directly across from the apartments.
“When the fuck is this bitch gonna leave?” He grumbled through his earwig to his employee and friend. Taehyung laughs tiredly.
“Yeah, I’m asking myself the same thing. They’re not even fucking, they’ve been talking and kissing for like thirty minutes.” The sniper griped.
Jungkook chuckled, hearing the response in his ear. “Just stay sharp. Or you’re back on cockfight duty.”
Taehyung paused. “You wouldn’t.”
“Just focus, yeah?” Jungkook said, refocusing his binoculars to check on the couple in the apartment so that he could see them clearly. The bright lights in the room and the lack of curtains or shades helped him out immensely with that.
“Sure thing, boss.”
Jungkook could barely craft a response due to the shock that took over him at what happened next. He watched as the female sitting to the left of the target with her legs draped over his thighs, pulled a knife, seemingly out of her crotch, and stabbed the white collar criminal in the gut at lightning speed.
He lurched up in pain and grabbed at the knife only for his date to pull it out and stab him again, making deep eye contact all the while. She was obviously a strong woman to overpower a man of his burley stature. But why would she want to?
“What the fuck was that?” Jungkook asked immediately, continuing to watch the scene unfold carefully.
“Looks like his date just stabbed him.” Taehyung responded, just as confused as his superior.
“I can fucking see that, but why the fuck would the hooker kill him?” He raised his voice in annoyance. The murderous hooker finished the job, wiping her fingerprints off of the knife still lodged in the target's stomach and travelled to a nearby closet.
Jungkook watched, overcome with awe and confusion, as she returned with a duffle bag. And his jaw literally drops when he sees her pull white coveralls out of the duffle bag, put them on over her clothes and switch off the lights in the apartment, completely blocking Jungkook’s view.
“Fuck, what’s she doing now, Taehyung?” He asked quickly, knowing that the scope on his sniper had night vision.
“She’s...cleaning the apartment...and the body.”
So she’s done this before, Jungkook thought pensively.
“Do you recognize her?” He uttered, needing to know more about this woman immediately.
“Hell no, I would remember this bitch.” The gunman responds instantly.
“What the fuck is going on?” His boss muttered to himself and Taehyung took the liberty of answering him.
“She’s leaving.”
Jungkook cocked his head back in surprise. “Well that was fast.”
“You’re telling me...she’s making her way to the street. You want us to go after her?”
He thinks about it. No harm done, he figured.
“No, leave her be. Less mess for us.”
“Roger that.” Taehyung nodded and packed his things. Jungkook ordered his driver to take him home and they called it a very eventful day.
What Jungkook didn’t count on was encountering that same perpetrator again...and again. Ever since he came across this deadly woman the first time, it’s like he can’t escape her now. “The Hooker”, as the mafia were calling her, had killed three more of the names on their hit list of people who had crossed them...directly before Jungkook’s men got the chance to do it themselves.
And the fact that it didn’t affect the gang took a backseat to the amount of irritation it brought them and Jungkook for their victim to drop dead in front of them at the hands of someone else. It angered Jungkook because he didn’t know who she was or her motives. She was obviously dangerous and stealthy and could be coming for them next for all they knew. He knew he had to catch her and find out what she was about.
“Alright, guys. You know what to do.” Jungkook huffed to his men through his earpiece as they prepared to ambush a traitor of the gang. He had been on the run recently, selling mafia secrets and tonight the gang would put an end to him and soon, everyone he blabbed to.
After three days of following leads, they took to tracking and set out after him. Jungkook and his members followed the conspirator from a distance and three different sides in an attempt to corner him in the ominous dark of the night. They were closing in on the ex-gang member consistently and it all seemed to come to fruition when he shuffled into a dark alley.
This is too easy, the mafia boss thought enthusiastically to himself. Jungkook and six of his men sped up in pursuit, hoping to trap the imbecile before he realized he was a dead end. Finally, the group turned into the alley quickly, expecting to find a young man ready to shit his pants. Instead they found his slumped over corpse that had been propped up against a dumpster.
Jungkook’s spine straightened in astonishment. They literally just saw him walk into the alley and he just drops dead? Each of the men look around for who could have done this in possibly two minutes flat. The leader draws his gaze to the roof directly in front of him and grinds his teeth in anger at the sight in front of him. The Hooker from weeks ago stood above them with an amused smirk on her face in a black, hooded catsuit.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He roared.
“Would you clean that up for me? Thanks.” She deflected playfully and took off in the opposite direction, jumping from one rooftop to another.
“Get her.” Jungkook said calmly, still looking at the spot where the woman was previously standing. He’s had enough of this nonsense and he would be getting answers.
The gang moves out immediately, splitting up in search of the murderer. Two of them take the firescape closest to them, while the remaining men circle around the buildings to cut her off eventually. In the meantime, Jungkook calms himself down and examines the body.
“How did she even do this?” He pulled a leather glove from his breast pocket and moved the head of the deceased to the right side, looking him over carefully. He promptly noticed bruising around his neck and blood on the crown of his head.
“She choked you out that fast...without making a sound?” He whispered, completely impressed, but absolutely irritated at the same time. He sighed, at a loss and took it upon himself to actually dispose of the body. He waited in the alley with his arms crossed, thinking of how he wanted to interrogate this possible threat.
His men communicated to him that the woman had seriously injured Jimin and Suga and that Hoseok and Jin would stay with them, but the good news was that they caught her and were on their way back.
“Wonderful.” He sighed sarcastically into his earpiece.
After thirty long minutes, Namjoon and Taehyung re-entered the alley, this time carrying their new victim by her arms, her hands restrained behind her back with the rope originally meant for the traitor. She struggled against their hold as they made their way in until she laid eyes on Jungkook.
She straightened slowly and walked with confidence, studying him thoughtfully as they passed the mafia leader and turned her to face him while forcing her to her knees. She winced slightly as her knee caps came in contact with the hard, wet ground.
The three of them watched carefully as the leader paced back and forth leisurely, his gaze focused on the puddles on the ground with his hand picking at nothing in particular on his lip. His train of thought was disrupted when the voice of the woman echoed through the alley.
“You gonna say something?” She scoffed impatiently. Jungkook turned to her slowly, revealing his dark, disapproving facial expression. He didn’t miss the flash of mischief in her eyes when they finally made eye contact.
“You incopacitated two of my men.” He started, continuing to walk back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back.
“They were chasing me.” She shrugged.
Jungkook stopped in his tracks at the negligence of her tone. He turned on his heel to face his suspect with a serious face. “Who are you and why do you keep killing my targets?” he demanded, just wanting to get to the point of why they were here. A humored smile broke out across her face.
“Your targets? Someone’s a little full of themselves.” She giggled innocently.
“Tell me and I won’t take a hammer to both your shoulders.” He said smoothly looking deeply into her eyes making sure he got his point across.
Her cocky smirk dissipates but doesn't completely disappear.
“You don’t have a hammer.” she muttered to herself, thinking that the mafia leader couldn’t hear her. He just gave her a pointed look, silently telling her to continue. She licks her lips slowly while holding Jungkook’s stormy gaze.
“I was paid, you asshole.” She muttered.
“By who?”
“No one you and your goons need to worry about.” He sighed and looked up in frustration. “Why?”
The woman shook her head furiously. “Are you daft? It’s my job, obviously.”
Jungkook whipped his head in her direction, his eyes widening slightly and his voice taking on a more agitated tone.
“You disrespect me one more time and I’m gonna slap that smug smirk off your face.” He warned her harshly.
“Promises, promises.” She sang with that self-satisfied grin that he was having mixed feelings about.
With that, Jungkook swifty brought his hand up to backhand the assailant and jumped in her direction, but stopped when his hand was halfway to her face. She didn’t move an inch or even blink. She even narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
He backed away from her, impressed. She may have earned some of Jungkook’s respect that day, but he would never tell a single soul about it. He composed himself, eyeing her carefully. He then enganges her in a more calm conversation.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Does your employer know who I am?”
“I have multiple. Some do.” She shrugs coolly.
“What do they—”
“Look we know you're in charge of the mafia, or whatever, but we don’t care. The people I’ve killed have wronged more than just you and your circus of idiots here and they deserved to die.” She gestured to the two henchmen holding her in place.
“Besides I did you a favor. Several, actually. I’m a blessing in disguise.” She smiled sweetly.
Jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass is what you are.”
“Oh, what a pleasure. And how do you figure that?”
“Some mysterious...aggressor taking out a number of important people on the east side. Wouldn’t that alarm you in my position?” He queried with a raised, pierced brow.
“Mysterious? Mr. Jeon, do you find me attractive?” She leans forward and is yanked back in place by the men flanking her. She held a suddenly sultry and intense light behind her eyes directed at Jungkook.
He couldn’t deny her beauty; anything with a pulse would be attracted to her. Seeing her up close, he noticed her many piercings along her ears, on her septum and her left brow, just like his. He could see tattoos peeking out from her sleeves and neckline of her suit and he wondered just how much of her body was covered by tattoos.
He was trying not to let that get in the way of this interrogation and failing miserably with his mind wandering in dangerous directions. It didn’t help that he couldn’t look her in the eye for too long, her gaze was so captivating and somehow held so many emotions that they caused him to lose focus.
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What is your name?”
“Deathstalker.” Wow, Jungkook thought to himself.
“You wanna tell me your real name?” He offered, nodding at her.
“That’s the only name you're gonna get. And just a heads up, I’m not gonna talk if you torture me.” She says confidently with hooded lids. Is she bored?, the mob boss thought. He began to pace for a few moments, the only sound in the alley coming from his designer shoes squelching against the damp concrete.
“No...no, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jungkook decided. The two henchmen that were restraining the woman, looked up in shock. Jungkook has injured or killed people for far less than what she’s done in the past hour.
She tilts her head uncomfortably in the hold of the gang members, to get a good look at the mafia leader’s face. She gasps and beams as if she’s had an epiphany.
“You like me.” She settled.
He whips around to face her. “What are you on about?”
“I thought I was gonna have to seduce you to get you off my back, but it seems you already have a soft spot for me.” She deduced with an appeased grin on her face.
Jungkook’s breathing deepened. He thought quickly of what he could do to draw the attention away from the truth of her statement. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was different from any of the other suspicious characters he’s interrogated. And for some reason he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t be seen as weak in front of his inferiors.
In a flash, he was directly in front of her, teeth clenched and gripping her face tightly in his strong hand. His fingers pressed roughly into her jaw, her cheeks were forced to scrunch up, obscuring her vision and her mouth was bound to a permanent, painful pout.
“Stop spewing nonsense, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last woman on earth. You’re too dirty.” He lied gratingly. “I don’t have soft spots for anyone and you would do well to learn that. Come into my sight again and you’ll see what kind of damage I can really do.” He seethed.
“Hot.” Deathstalker replied through forcibly clenched teeth. Jungkook sighed before flimsily releasing her chin, flinging it to the right causing her to wince. Jungkook inwardly did the same at the sight.
“Let her go.” The henchmen do as they are told. “Get out of my sight.” She got up off her knees awkwardly with her bound wrists.
“I’m sure you know how to get rid of that yourself.” Jungkook nodded at the rope around her wrists. She nodded back casually and walked passed Jungkook, brushing up against him as she did so.
“Catch you on the flip side.” She whispered to him before she took off in a run into the night.
Three weeks had passed without a surprise appearance from “Deathstalker” and Jungkook was beginning to think she had actually heeded his warning in the alley. He should be pleased with this fact, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Not only was the thought of her ingrained in his mind, but he was slowly convincing himself that maybe he did appreciate her services even if he wasn’t the one paying for them. His men seem to have gotten lazier with the physical side of organized crime since Jungkook’s encounter with Deathstalker.
Or perhaps with no one to properly clean up the mess left after a hit, he’s noticing just how sloppy they’ve been. Either way, people are talking and names are traveling through the air like pollution; they can’t go on like this.
He and his men have been actively searching for the assassin and any information they could find on her. The leader didn’t disclose his true motives to his foot soldiers for fear of looking weak, but he couldn’t have the feds knocking down the doors of his companies and he was desperate. They succeeded in finding her real name, her past hits and the names of some of her employers, but nothing on where she was hiding or how to contact her.
Jungkook curses himself for not realizing Deathstalker’s worth sooner and tries to calm his rampant mind by chugging his flute of champagne. He looks around, disinterested at the ostentatious group of people at the pompous event he was advised to attend.
As the head of the leading construction company on the east side and since no one suspected his night job, he showed his face in these environments from time to time. This one happens to be an art auction and Jungkook was regretting it by the minute.
He quickly snagged one more flute of champagne before taking his seat in the front row for the auction. Half-way through the auction he considers leaving, he hasn’t raised his number card once as none of the pieces appealed to him. His head began to lull back out of pure boredom before he heard an all-too familiar voice above the noise.
“Two million dollars!” The voice was forthright and attractive, causing every head to turn in it’s direction.
Jungkook didn’t have to look far as the owner of the voice was sitting in the front row as well, roughly twelve seats away. His eyes widened at his suspicions being proven correct. He stares at her for a few moments, taking in her full appearance since meeting her for the first time in the alley.
She traded in the black cat suit for a peach colored cocktail dress that hung off of one shoulder and blinding white pumps. She covered up her tattoos with makeup to Jungkook’s dismay, but still showed off her many piercings and her long wavy hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. That’s a good look, thought Jungkook who spared her one last glance before settling into his seat and devising a plan for how the rest of the night will go.
The auction finally came to an end and the elites took to day drinking and networking once more. Jungkook blended in with the crowd, but kept a close eye on Deathstalker, waiting to find her away from her companions. He spotted her amongst strangers, nursing a glass of champagne and intently watching the middle aged crooner sing along with the orchestra.
When Marimba Rhythms start to play
Dance with me
Make me sway
Then he pounced.
He positioned himself behind her and leaned in to speak softly into her ear. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t flinch or even react to his words, as if she knew he was there, and just continued to enjoy the music. She never failed to impress him.
“Well, killing all your targets actually counts for something. I’m spending my hard earned money on some fine art.” She smiled after a moment. Jungkook came to stand next to her instead. He took a swig from his drink, the two of them still not making eye contact. “You know it’s not polite to brag.”
She finally turns to him to show off her expensive outfit. “Does this dress scream humble to you?”
“No, but it does scream desperate.” He took her in, using it as an excuse to check her out. That cat suit didn’t do her legs justice in his opinion, but this ensemble has his approval.
“For what?” She demanded, cocking her head to the side.
“You tell me—”
“You’re full of shit, Jeon.” The assassin sneered and quickly turned to walk away. Jungkook catches her by the bicep at the last second, attempting to make it look playful and desperately trying to avoid any unwanted attention.
“Wait.” He smoothly but firmly pulled her back to him, guiding her left hand to his shoulder and holding onto her right one before leading her in a slow dance towards the dance floor. He told himself he needed a more discreet position to confide his intentions in her ear again.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close
Sway me more
“I have a proposition for you.”
She glances up at him, sporting narrowed and curious eyes. “Oh? This should be good. Last time you saw me, you threatened to hammer my limbs in.” She swiftly stomped on his foot, with a tight-lipped, spiteful smile.
He groaned and gathered himself with closed eyes before getting down to business. “Drop the attitude Y/L/N.” Jungkook grumbled, causing the assassin to freeze, but he made sure to keep them moving. She switches from her normal playful demeanor to a more formidable version of herself and he is almost alarmed by the switch. She leans closer to him to reach his ear and drops her voice to a grave whisper.
“How did you know my last—”
Jungkook doesn’t back down from her close, menacing form and goes as far as to tease her with a satisfied smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only computer genius in this room okay?”
She only glares off into the distance, clenching her jaw.
“What?” Jungkook revels in the feeling of having the upper hand on her. “My men may not be able to catch you in action, but they do know their way around a file cabinet.” He shares proudly, biting his lip with joy.
Realizing the leverage he had over her, Y/N made the decision to hear him out. “What the fuck do you want?” She spat before Jungkook spun her and dipped her quickly. And though she was angry, she moved with grace and he couldn’t help, but admire her beauty.
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
“You.” He smirks, already missing her playful personality and hoping to bring it back out. He smiles wider when he succeeds.
She finally cracks a smile and throws her head back, unable to stop herself from laughing. “That’s funny, I thought you wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last woman on earth.” She threw his line back at him effortlessly.
The mob boss hesitates for a split second. “Okay, your memory is impeccable, I get it, but I’m talking about your services.”
Y/N blinks in bewilderment before forming the words she never thought she would. “You want me to work for you?” He nods evenly.
“I’ve already killed five targets for you, Jeon. What more could you want?” She sputtered, not being able to fathom the request. Jungkook only releases her hand, keeping the other wrapped around her waist and nods to the empty balcony of the ballroom before leading her through it’s floor length glass doors.
“Trust me, I’m well aware. It was insanely fucking annoying,” He said earnestly, making the assassin giggle. His heart seemed to lurch at the sound, but he ignored the pleasant pang in his chest to continue his proposal. “Until I noticed how well you clean up after yourself. Leaving almost no trace of your involvement at the crime scene.”
He released Y/N’s waist carefully close to the door of the balcony, peering into the room to see who might be looking at them. They seemed to have a bit of privacy as of right now.
Y/N tilted her head and raised her eyebrows sincerely. “Are you really shocked that the neanderthals you hired aren’t too keen on cleaning up after themselves?”
“I’m trying to compliment you.” He sighed looking up.
“You’re doing a pretty shit job.” She mumbled. He ignores her complaints and carries on. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and walks towards her.
“My men haven’t been as stealthy as possible as of late and there’s talk that we may have caught the attention of the authorities.”
“Again, are you surprised?” She overannunicated sassily with her arms crossed.
He marched up to her, towering over her small frame intimidatingly. “Don’t push it, Deathstalker.” He sneered at her. Her snark was beginning to piss him off. Why was he always so hot and cold with her?
“Or what?” She said seductively, suddenly snaking her arm around his torso and pressing herself against him. She gazed up at him, with flirtatious eyes
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, gazing back down at the woman coolly. He considers feeding into her words and actions for a second, but figures it’s probably just one of her games so he tosses the idea. “I’m trying to make you an offer here.” He insisted. The mercenary sucks her teeth, lets go and turns to walk away. “Ugh you’re no fun...You couldn’t handle me anyway.”
The one time he tried to be professional. He pulls her back by the arm, forcefully pressing her into the stone wall next to the door of the balcony. He presses himself against her firmly while gripping her small waist with one hand and her chin with the other.
"Fine,” He challenged. “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you right here, up against this wall, like a little slut?" He spoke in a low voice so as not to concern the guests inside and the rumble of Jungkook’s voice in his chest made Y/N’s body start to heat up.
His offer brings a genuine, delighted smile to her face. She tosses the idea around in her head while making heated eye contact with Jungkook. But that would never work, she thought bitterly. Her date would come looking for her soon. Not a good look when you're trying to bag a guy and rob him for his millions. So she decided to tease him instead, It was the perfect opportunity with him being all riled up like this.
"I knew you liked me…” She let her sultry yet snide words linger, toying with the fabric of his collar. “But that would be unprofessional, Mr. Jeon...seeing as you are now my boss." she uttered softly, still keeping her seductive gaze. Jungkook briefly wonders if she could feel his dick twitch when she said his name like that before refocusing on the situation.
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
He took the sudden change of pace and her choice of words as her officially accepting his offer and released his hold on her with a grimace. She walks by him, smoothing down her dress with an unfazed expression and heads to the railing to take in the view, as if she wasn’t just assaulted by one of the most important men in the country.
“So you’ll do it?”
She kept her back to him, letting her heavy voice travel over her shoulder casually. “How much will you give me?”
He joins her side, resting his hands on the railing. “Eight hundred, thousand.”
She whips her head in his direction, an obviously offended expression on her face. “Do I look like one of your minions?” Y/N inquired.
“It would be your first job with me, you gotta start somewhere.” He made a gesture with his hand, trying to reason with her.
“I started years ago and I’m good at my job. The best actually…I want a million.” She decided with a hand on her waist.
Jungkook blinked repeatedly, taken aback. “You want me to give you a million dollars?”
“Yes, or no deal.” She answered quickly before he could even finish the question. The mafioso took a step back and laughed silently in disbelief.
“You’re infuriating, you know tha—”
“And you make me wanna vomit.”
“You’re projecting.”
“Oh, suck a dick Jeon!” She began marching towards the glass doors into the ballroom before Jungkook caught her by the arm and brought her back to him swiftly.
“Fine, it’s yours.” He muttered, glaring down at her with frustrated eyes.
The woman simply winked playfully at him and caressed his face. “I knew you’d come around.” She beamed looking satisfied and walked away only to be yanked back to Jungkook’s chest yet again. This time she grumbled in slight annoyance. He made a note to let up on the pulling.
“If you cross me, we will kill you.” He said seriously. She only smiled as if he’d made a joke.
“Unless I beat you to that too.” His face turned angry and he opened his mouth to speak when they heard the glass door open and a voice call toY/N.
“Oh, Ruby, there you are. Is this guy bothering you?” An older gentleman in a suit and a gold chain spoke in a scraggly voice. Jungkook recognized him as Walter Schillings, a white collar criminal who has been giving Jungkook’s men a hard time and definitely landed himself on their hitist.
Thankfully, the scum has never actually seen the mafia leader before so they were able to avoid a tricky situation at this crowded event. Though Jungkook had men scattered throughout the building in case anything went down, he never travelled alone. But, wait. Why was he referring to Y/N as Ruby?
The mafia leader had no time to figure it out because he had to explain why he was gripping this innocent looking woman the way he was. He lets go immediately and addresses the man. “We were just having a convers—”
“No,” Y/N sighs and saunters over to Walter, grabbing his huge hand and having it encompass her small one.
What the fuck is this? Jungkook thought, his heart suddenly racing. He tried to hide his emotions behind a cold demeanor.
“Just some loser trying to get my attention.” She glanced back at Jungkook arrogantly, allowing Walter to slide an arm around her waist and kiss the side of her forehead as they re-entered the ballroom.
Jungkook ground his teeth together at the sight and nearly sprinted to Walter to tear his arm off when he saw his hand reach down and grip Y/N’s ass. It bothered him even more that she hadn’t reacted whatsoever.
He turned away and braced himself on the railing again, attempting to calm himself. “I hope she slits your goddamn throat, motherfucker.” He grumbled to himself, seething with anger.
Jungkook spent the next fifteen minutes pouting on the balcony, gripping the railing in anger with a bothersome boner while the rich and famous boozed it up inside. Surprisingly no one had come out to bother him, giving him enough to time think about what he just saw.
He didn’t know why the sight of Y/N with Walter infuriated him so, but he knew he never wanted to see it again. He wondered how she could flirt with him so heavily and then disregard him completely at the drop of a hat. He just wanted to make her eat her petty words, drive her as crazy as she seemed to be driving him.
It didn’t help that he had been having fantasies of her for the past few weeks in that catsuit just letting him have his way with her. And here she comes, looking like sex on legs and clouding his judgement after disappearing for three weeks. Just who does she think she is? Jungkook sighed frustratedly at the pitiful turn his night had taken.
He wished he had a distraction from his thoughts. He wished he could leave this vexatious place, but something was keeping him here and he had a feeling that, that something was a menace in a dress and liked to play mind games.
Okay, so, the boner that won’t seem to go away may also be responsible for keeping him isolated on this balcony, but he had every intention of taking care of it. He just had to convince Y/N.
He quickly tucked his boner into his waistband and walked back into the ballroom like he never left, eyes peeled for Y/N’s small form among the guests. He sees her enter the restroom from afar and doesn’t think before pursuing her.
On any other day Jungkook wouldn’t dream of executing what was going on in his head, but Y/N was admittedly the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen and she caused him to think purely with his dick after their interaction today.
He doesn’t know how he managed to skip into the women’s restroom without setting off any of the guests, but he considers it a victory when he’s in and locks the door without thinking about it. He turned to find Y/N touching up her make-up at the large mirror above the sinks.
They make eye contact through the mirror, but they have yet to exchange words. Y/N narrows her eyes questioningly while Jungkook considers the silence and stillness in the room. So far so good.
Jungkook’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he took a few steps away from the door. “Where did your date go?” He questioned casually.
Y/N finally pauses touching up her face. “He also went to the bathroom, what are you doing in here?” She answers speedily, watching him intently through the mirror. “We made our deal.”
“I came to see you…” The woman hums in understanding and starts on her lipstick again, seemingly uninterested. “You getting all dolled up for him?” Jungkook finishes.
“Essentially yes.” There is a pause before Jungkook just comes out with it.
“So you gonna sleep with him tonight?”
Deathstalker scoffed. “Of course not. I’m an assassin not a hooker.”
Jungkook muffles a laugh at the inside joke amongst him and his men when his new ally finally starts to show some interest. “Why do you care anyway?”
He walks up to her boldly, gripping her waist and pressing against her from behind causing her to put the make-up down and zero in on his face. She continued to watch his eyes when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“I just wonder what he would say if I messed up this pretty little face.” He brings his hand up to gently grip her chin, unlike how he did earlier. She smiles slightly, making no attempt to free herself from his grasp. If anything she leans more into his touch.
“Mr. Jeon.” She drawled. “Are you still threatening me?” She bats her eyelashes coyly, knowing exactly what was going on. Jungkook has no idea why that innocent look and the words ‘Mr. Jeon’ falling from her mouth made him hard, but he continually needed more of it. He shuddered lightly at the name and her sweet, sweet voice, barely managing to keep his cool.
“Not in the painful way...unless you like that.” He rasped, brushing her lip with his thumb tenderly. She held back a moan and Jungkook took that as an invitation to take it a step further.
“Do you want me?” He breathed deeply in her ear, sending chills down her spine.
She licked her lips and smiled her signature seductive smile. Jungkook was no match for both her smile and her beautiful doe-eyes. “Oh, Mr. Jeon, you know my pride won’t let me answer that.”
“Cut the games Y/L/N. I’ve had enough of your shit today. Do you want me?” He repeats. He fully pressed his body into hers allowing her to feel the need that he had been accumulating out on the balcony, his breathing getting heavier. She returned the gesture, pushing back against him discreetly.
“I thought we agreed that you would just be my boss.” She said with wide, naive eyes, though Jungkook knew better.
“Well, then, as your boss I hope you would do as I ask and let me fuck you on this sink.” He let his fingers travel from her chin to her throat and let them wrap around her neck ever so gently, giving her just a taste of what was to come. He felt her swallow thickly and watched the innocent look in her eyes turn to primal lust. “So? You wanna see if I can handle you or not?” He whispered, touching his lips to her ear.
She shivered at the touch and quickly turned around to face him. Jungkook leaned in and they were nose to nose. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but their lips barely brushed when she backed away suddenly. He looked into her stern eyes confusedly. “This means nothing.” She said, making sure they were both on the same page. “I’m aware.” he responded before they both pounced at each other, teeth clacking and tongues swirling.
Y/N moaned in delight when Jungkook gripped the back of her thighs and sat her on the granite sink counter with a quickness. He forced her skirt up to her hips roughly so he could properly grind his crotch against her and she seemed to enjoy the rough handling. He made a note of that.
His hands were everywhere on her, massaging her breasts, squeezing her hips and ass, eager to finally be living his most recent fantasies. Y/N revelled in the attention with a smile on her face, hands playing freely in his silky hair whilst he kissed along her neck.
He quickly reached down between Y/N’s legs to find that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He leans back and their heated gazes meet. “You dirty little slut.” He noted, gruffly. “You like it.” She confidently reassured him. “You’re damn right, I like it.” He mumbled as he attached his lips firmly to hers and applied pressure, rubbing her swollen clit with his fingers. “...Mmm, God, you’re so wet.”
The assassin’s body jerked several times and she moaned into his mouth, grinding further into his touch. She separated from him when she couldn’t take anymore and stared deeply into his eyes. “Please,” she pauses to catch her breath. “Please fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook unzipped his pants before she could even finish her sentence, preparing a condom that he is thanking God he brought with him today. “I like when you say my name like that.” He whispered against her ear.
“I know, your dick told me. Now, hurry before someone breaks the door down.” Jungkook then slides into her easily. Y/N sighs in ecstasy while Jungkook is stunned into silence at the way she gripped his dick. He starts to move almost immediately, holding her in place as he snaps his hips into her, their lips sloppily tangled all the while. The sound of their moans began to bounce off of the tile walls of the bathroom, both of them throwing any cares they had for being discreet out the window.
Jungkook grunted with excitement and pleasure at the sight in front of him. He was watching her moaning form closely, memorizing every detail of her incase he never got this chance again.
“Fuck yes. Your dick feels so fucking good inside me.” She panted, focused on his wide, intense eyes. “Just keep fucking me like that, Mr. Jeon.” He released a satisfied growl at the name.
Even though he had only met her weeks ago, Jungkook never would have guessed that Y/N would be the type to beg for anything. But here she was under him, at his mercy just like in his dreams, begging for him. It occurred to him that the Deathstalker he met would never admit to or do any of this, but Y/N seemed to be living for it. The idea excited him so much that he didn’t know up from down and didn’t bother to control any nonsense that spewed from his mouth in response to her.
“You look like a dirty little slut under me right now. Letting me fuck you in the bathroom while your date’s probably outside waiting or you.” He whispered harshly in her ear, never letting up as he continues to thrust in and out of her swiftly.
Y/N threw her head back and moaned, feeling nothing but turned on by his comments. “Oh, fuck yes..” She murmured, letting herself be carried away with pleasure.
“Not wearing any panties for him, letting him touch all over you, ugh...but I’m the one who gets to have this sweet pussy by the end of the night.” He breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of Y/N’s face that was contorted in pure bliss. “Flirting with both of us all night long, making us want you. You’re such a bad girl.”
“I am, I’m a bad girl.” She whimpered hurriedly. “I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.” She finished, her words not completely registering in her drunken state, but they resonated with Jungkook all too well. He forced himself to slow his thrusts considerably and focus on his breathing much to Y/N’s dismay.
She leans back into him and rests her forehead on his, running her fingers through his hair and grinding on him desperately. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Why did you stop?” Her low, lusty voice implored.
Jungkook chuckles lightly. “You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart.” She pulled his hips into her helping him find a new rhythm. “Then by all means, do, Mr. Jeon. I want you to cum inside me.” She purred before kissing him softly.
That set something off in him causing him to pound into her once more. Y/N was thrown back by the force, unable to hold her upper body up any longer. She rested her elbows on the counter and tilted her head all the way back while Jungkook thrusted away into her.
He saw her face in the mirror and appreciated that he got the watch the pleasure they were experiencing together until he noticed her eyes were closed.
He realised he didn’t wanna cum this way. He pulled out of her, ignoring her cries of disapproval, turned her around and roughly bent her over the counter.
“Oh, baby, you gotta see this.” He rasped before sliding into her again and instantly started fucking into her wildly. Y/N yelped before biting her knuckle in order to keep quiet. “Oh my god, yes, fuck me!”
Jungkook grabbed her ponytail and dragged her up off the counter and into his chest so that he could whisper in her ear. She winced, but let him wrap her hair around his fist and pull harder, the back of her head totally resting on his shoulder.
She could see him behind her, relentlessly hammering into her greedy body in all his glory. Maybe she misjudged him. The sight turned her on even more, sending another rush of wetness between her thighs.
“You’d better keep it down princess. Wouldn’t want your date to think his girl was in here getting railed like a slut. Oh, wait.” Y/N wanted to laugh, but Jungkook released her hip to wrap his large hand around the base of her neck and firmly squeezed.
Her eyes immediately rolled back at the gesture, but she made sure to refocus on the mirror as Jungkook was watching closely. The pressure was building in her core more and more. She was gonna fall over the edge any second now, she was so close.
“Oh m-ffffuck, yes! You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She whined through clenched teeth, looking into his piercing eyes through the mirror.
“Then fucking cum for me.” His deep voice grated in her ear.
“Harder! Choke me harder!” Y/N pleaded as her orgasm crashed right into her. He squeezed tighter at just the right time and with just the right pressure that had Y/N seeing stars and prolonging her high. Jungkook held off his own orgasm, trying not to think about her velvety walls pulsating around him, so that he could watch Y/N fully enjoy hers. And boy was it something to watch.
Her jaw dropped and stilled as her eyes rolled into her head, but it was the most beautiful thing Jungkook had ever seen. Her body was frozen in a perfect arch as he thrusted away into her and her hand firmly cradled his head so that their cheeks were pressed together. He would hold out for as long as he could as she rode her high completely if only to watch her like this for a little longer.
Eventually she tapped Jungkook's hand causing him to let go of her neck and she collapsed onto the counter breathlessly. “Holy fuck.” She gasped as she braced herself on the granite surface.
She coughed a bit and caught her breath and then looked up at Jungkook with fucked out, voracious eyes. He never took his eyes off of her and never stopped pumping his dick into her delicious cunt.
“You gonna cum for your little cock slut, Mr. Jeon?” Y/N croaked, throat sore from being choked. But every word sounded like music to Jungkook’s ears. That look on her face made him wanna blow his load on the spot. “Yeah, baby.” Is all he can offer as his hips break their rhythm without his permission.
“Please, cum inside me.” She moaned out as Jungkook emptied himself into the condom, hips sputtering near the end until they stopped with his dick still deep inside of her. He was in his own head, lost in a post-coital stupor, thinking about how that may have been the best orgasm he’s ever had when Y/N spoke up.
“You can get out of me now.” She said flatly, thrusting Jungkook back into the real world. He murmured an apology and withdrew himself from her, watching her walk casually into one of the stalls without a word or a look in his direction.
He just stood there with his cock out wondering what the hell just happened. He thought they made a connection. He agreed that it wouldn’t mean anything, but was she really that cold hearted to just ignore him after a passionate experience like that? Well, she is a mercenary, his conscience defended, they’re not meant to be caring.
As he heard the stall start to open up he quickly turned around, discarded the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. He then watched as she came back out looking more put together than before.
She washed her hands and began to touch up her appearance again. This time she actually needed it. The foundation on her neck was rubbed off by his fingers, revealing the tattoos that Jungkook missed, her lipstick was smeared and her high ponytail drooped due to the pulling. Awkward silence took over the spacious restroom. Is she really not going to say anything?
He decided to just come out with it. “What was that?”
“What are you talking about?” She requested, haphazardly while fixing her hair in the mirror.
“Well, you were just all over me and now you’re acting like I don’t exist.” He said plainly.
“It’s called sex, you don’t fuck like a virgin so I assume you know what I’m talking about. Besides, I’m not acting like anything.” Jungkook had a hard time believing that. He knew what deflecting looked like, had seen it in many interrogations.
“Then why won't you look at me?” He challenged.
Her eyes widened in annoyance as she reached around to place another bobby pin in her hair. “I’m kinda busy here, Jeon.”
He couldn’t help, but feel bothered that she dropped the sassy formality of calling him Mr., an indication that she was enjoying his company. “Look, will you just talk to me for a sec—”
She suddenly stops what she’s doing. Her breathing is long and deep before she calms down and begins speaking smoothly with her eyes closed. “Look, Jeon. We don’t know each other and I don't know what you think you know about me or what you made up in your head, but you might as well forget all of that ‘cause it’s not real.” She sighed, continuing to recover her foundation.
“That wasn’t real?” He finally commanded. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly bothered when she didn’t even offer him a glance. “That?” She responded, only interested in her reflection.
“That,” He clarified, gesturing to the counter sternly. “What we just did, what we...said.” He gulped nervously. This wasn’t like him, he didn’t get nervous or have passionate sex with strangers and let it effect him. This is only his second time meeting this woman and he let her get in his head. He’s been asking himself the same question since meeting her in the alley: what makes her so different?
She put down her foundation and just stared at it blankly. “And what part of what we said are you confused about, pray tell.”
“Um, ‘I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.’” He quoted promptly.
Honestly the only thing he was confused about was why she was suddenly being so cold to him. All of the words they shared were noteworthy and he wanted her to acknowledge that. The whole experience still shocked Jungkook and he never dreamed it would actually happen. He just brought up a snippet that he thought might get her attention and maybe evoke some emotion finally. He chose wisely.
Her head whipped in his direction. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” She sneered. “Or perhaps we could talk about how you like to call women, sluts, hm?”
“I thought you liked it,” He tried to get in, but she wasn’t having it.
Jungkook thought her angry face looked nothing like it did five minutes ago or even out on the balcony. She suddenly let out a bitter laugh and Jungkook realized that this woman probably wears many faces. Perhaps to defend herself. Perhaps to survive. Maybe he misjudged her.
“You know, I didn’t take you for a person who throws things that people say during sex back in their face.” She accused, sporting a dark smile.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a...a—”
“A submissive?” She shot, putting an end to his stuttering. He deflated, all signs of anger or disapproval gone from his stance. “Yes.” He copped out, not knowing what else to say. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
Y/N visibly calmed down as well, turning back to the mirror and continuing her work. “Are you surprised?” She muttered, raising her eyebrows.
Jungkook thought for a second before responding, evenly: “No.” Thinking about how much Y/N might have gone through to be so successful as a trained killer, she must have had to be the strongest and smartest person in the room on any given day. There had to be a time where she wanted to take a break, not be the person in charge for once. Jungkook could relate.
His response made her pause, but she only cleared her throat and continued applying foundation in silence. I can’t leave things like this, Jungkook decided. He just got an actual glimpse into her personality and not the same act she puts on for the rest of the world. He found out that they might even have some things in common. He didn’t want her to shut him out now. It may have been a moment of weakness for both of them, but he wanted to continue this.
“I could, you know, help...punish you, i-if you want.” He spluttered with his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself look as confident as possible since his voice had already betrayed him.
Y/N stills and turns to him with a confounded expression, but didn’t say anything.
“I mean, unless you already have a…” Jungkook left out the last word for her to hopefully pick up on, suddenly shy about the world of BDSM.
“No, I don’t.” She rushed out, looking down at the counter and creating an awkward silence between them. “I’ll think about it.” She added genuinely. She looked at him over her shoulder and offered a gentle nod, her expression completely blank.
Jungkook nods back in acknowledgement. “Okay, then.”
“Now get out of here, I’m sure there are ladies that need this restroom.” She pulled on her signature playful smirk, nearly giving Jungkook whiplash. Many faces indeed.
“Yeah, okay.” He gathered himself and walked towards the door, but turned back when he realized something. “Wait, how do I contact you for the job?”
“I’ll call you, now go.” She said packing up her stuff.
Jungkook nodded, unlocked the door and quickly darted out of the bathroom. As he sped by he saw Walter down the hall posted in front of the men’s room patiently waiting for his date. Thankfully his head was turned when Jungkook made his way out of there and to the exit. He smirked wickedly, knowing he got away with his ridiculous plan. “Dumbass.”
Two weeks had gone by since the bathroom incident and Jungkook worked tirelessly to distract himself from thoughts of the beautiful assassin to no avail. He realized there was no escaping her. He thought their rendezvous at the auction would help get her out of his system, but it only fueled his addiction for her and now he was trapped in a vicious cycle that he didn’t know if he wanted out of.
They kept in contact and Deathstalker killed the enemies on Jungkook’s hit list, but this time she was being paid by the mafioso himself unbeknownst to his men. They found themselves in situations much like the first time they ran into Deathstalker more often than not. Only now she had to be more creative as Jungkook’s foot soldiers still thought she was a possible threat.
As Jungkook sat across from Collin Boardly, a corrupt CEO/gang leader, he wondered if this would be one of those situations. Boardly is a fellow criminal that Jungkook was on good terms with until he heard that Boardly’s men have been attacking and blackmailing store owners in his territory. Jungkook insisted that he pay those victims back and restore all damages. He even invited Mr. Boardly to a very private game of poker so that they could properly discuss matters.
They sat in the dimly lit restaurant owned by one of Jungkook’s close friends with their respective security surrounding them. Boardly felt obligated to bring his men as he offended Jungkook and now he was on his turf. Jungkook’s men insisted on backing him up, but he had a strong feeling that none of that would be necessary.
They had already made small talk while getting the game started and Jungkook got straight to business.
“So, I hear you’ve been terrorizing my streets. What’s the story there?” Jungkook inquired calmly. Boardly huffed a nervous laugh at the mention of what his men did. “Personally I think terrorizing might be too strong a word.”
Jungkook’s brows raised and his expression turned serious. “Well, what would you call threatening multiple lives at gunpoint, roughin’ ‘em up and demanding cuts of their earnings then? Business?” He denounced.
“As usual.” Boardly finished the adage with a large smile. Jungkook only looked at him with the same no nonsense expression and Boardly seemed to regret making the remark.
“Just a joke, Jungkook.” He muttered. “I am sorry that I allowed my guys to do that.” He doubled down. “We simply didn’t know how far your territory reached. We meant no disrespect.”
“I appreciate that.” Jungkook replied, anger stirring inside him as he fought not to rip this man’s head from his shoulders.They continued to play in near silence until Jungkook finally pressed him for answers.
“So how do you intend to fix what your guys broke?”
Boardly looked up with a lost expression on his face. “Excuse me?” He grumbled.
“There was damage done to these stores, yes?” Jungkook assessed slowly. “And you’ve already collected cuts from some of the owners…” He can see Boardly’s eyes widen slightly in recognition.
“Oh, you didn’t know I knew that.” The mob boss gathered. “Anyway, I assume you’re ready to pay for that. I was thinking fifty, thousand dollars would cover it.” He suggested calmly.
Boardly tried to give an excuse, stuttering. “I’m-I don't think you understand—”
“I understood you can afford it, judging by those chips.” Jungkook chided, gesturing to the large bet Boardly made in the center of the poker table. Boardly sighed at a loss.
“Kook, listen.” The CEO leaned forward, trying to reason with his opponent. “We’re friends. It was an accident, can’t we just forget this happened?”
“No.” Jungkook responded instantly, his arms crossed. “We were...associates, but now you’re just someone who fucked with my community. So are you gonna pay it back or not?” He seethed furiously.
Boardly swallowed and stared at Jungkook for a few moments, wondering how else to bargain with him. He had too much pride to go through with this deal, especially in front of his inferiors.
“No.” He finally answered.
Jungkook sighed disappointedly. The air in the room turned ominous and it was felt by all. Normally, Jungkook would be killing Boardly by now and he could feel all of his men tense behind him, ready to kill if need be, but he was doing things differently today. He just nodded understandingly, before gesturing with his left hand to get Taehyung’s attention.
“Taehyung. Will you get me a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He asked politely without looking at him. He hears his right hand man head to the kitchen and he turns back to the piece of shit in front of him.
“Why, Collin? Is there something wrong with doing right by those you fucked over?” Jungkook questioned, heatedly.
“No, Kook—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Boardly scoffed and continued. “I just don’t think we did anything wrong. We overstepped, we apologized, I think that should be enough.”
“Well, I don’t. So where does that leave us?”
“I’m not paying for shit.” The CEO shrugged. That really pissed Jungkook off.
“Go to hell, Boardly.” He growled. I’m really gonna enjoy watching you bite it, Jungkook thought sinisterly.
Taehyung placed the glass of water in front of his boss and made the decision to continue to stand at his side, ready if anything were to happen.
“Fine.” Boardly responded bitterly. “So are we done here? Or are you gonna give me a hard time?” He asked, nodding at Taehyung for emphasis. Jungkook shook his head nonchalantly. “No, no. We’re done.” with a haunting smirk on his face. The look put Boardly slightly on edge, but he ignored it and stood up to corral his men.
Jungkook watched him make his way to the door wondering what the fuck was taking so long? He already gave the signal. He started to reach for his own gun to do it himself when he noticed Boardly stop in his tracks and could hear him choking.
Even Jungkook and his men wore looks of concern. The mafia leader got up to get a better view from where he stood and the others craned their necks behind him still ready to shoot first and ask questions later.
Boardly’s men tried to help him as he clutched his throat, but it was no use as he convulsed and fell to the floor before ceasing to move altogether. They looked at each other for answers before turning to Jungkook.
One of the guys who was wearing a blue suit, which Jungkook assumed to be Boardly’s right hand, pulled out a gun and walked towards him. Taehyung and Jungkook pulled theirs as well, causing everyone with a gun to point them at either side.
“You do this?!” Boardly’s guy raged. “How?” Jungkook argued. “How would I do that to him? He probably had a heart attack or forgot to breathe or some shit.” He surmised, trying to place the blame elsewhere.
“Bullshit! What did you do?” He demanded.
“Look, I’m sorry for your loss or whatever, but we had nothing to do with this. Now you all gotta do something with him.” He pointed his gun at the dead body briefly. Blue suit breathes heavily with a stumped expression, not wanting to let it go. No one in the room showing any signs of letting up either.
“How about we all put the guns down and you guys can take him home-or wherever. Yeah? Does that work?” Jungkook prompted gently. After a beat, blue suit nodded, looked back at the rest of Boardly’s men and nodded. Jungkook did the same and slowly, but surely the guns came down and were put away.
Jungkook and his men watched as they dragged the body out of the restaurant and sped away from the large storefront windows. They’re finally able to breathe without stress. “What the fuck was that?” Namjoon blurted causing the rest of them to chuckle.
“I don’t know, but I’m getting the fuck outta here before they come back. See you guys back at base.” They laughed and said their goodbyes. Jungkook walked in the light rain to the next block over and found his town car ready and waiting for him.
He opened the passenger door, addressed his driver, then retrieved a large black duffle bag before opening the backdoor. There he found Deathstalker sitting cross legged in a black trench coat at the other window seat. He smiled fondly at her. She looked beautiful as always gazing out the window at the rain before she noticed him there. When she turned to face him he replaced the fond smile with a composed smirk.
“Took you long enough.” She opined quietly once he sat down and closed the door. “We got held up, literally. I think this belongs to you.” He passed the duffle bag off to her. She received her present graciously, beaming down at the contents happily once she opened it.
“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” Y/N crooned playfully, sporting that signature smirk that never failed to affect Jungkook. “No, thank you.” He responded after clearing his throat. “So you poisoned him?”
She simply replied, “Yup.” while inspecting the cash that filled the duffle bag in her lap.
“But he randomly started choking and shaking. And you say you controlled it with the push of a button?” He wondered with furrowed brows and pouted lips.
“Well, poison, a small nanobot that I planted in his food to attack his lungs and cause internal bleeding, it’s all the same, you know.” She spoke aimlessly, moving on from the money to buff and inspect her manicure.
“Wow.” Jungkook whispered, genuinely infatuated with the thought of that kind of technology and how he could get his hands on it. While he was lost in thought he didn’t notice Y/N scooching closer to him until they were side by side. He turned to find their noses were nearly touching and his heart rate sped up rapidly.
“Now that, that’s over…” she drawled, grasping Jungkook’s hand. He watched unquestionably as she brought his hand to her mouth and inserted his middle and ring fingers all while looking into his eyes alluringly. At the same time, she easily brought her leg up to drape over both of Jungkook’s. He still sat frozen in place by her gaze while she lifted the bottom of her coat and placed his hand against her bare heat.
They both shuddered slightly when Jungkook instinctively began to rub circles into her already wet core, never taking their eyes off each other.
“You wanna go somewhere?” She coaxed breathily. It almost infuriated Jungkook how she didn’t even have to try to get him to agree to anything. He was indeed trapped.
“James,” He called up to the driver. “The Plaza Hotel please.”
Currently, Jungkook was going through paperwork in his office, taking advantage of the slow week he’s had to take care of some business for his company. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to do this so he was pretty backed up and seemingly had a whole afternoon of this to look forward to. He sighed at the thought, but continued to read through the documents and sign them here and there when suddenly he felt something was...off. He put his pen down and looked around the room.
The room was silent as usual, but all of a sudden it was too silent? Jungkook didn’t know how and he couldn’t really make sense of it until he looked up at the ceiling vent. It was no longer producing the usual soft hum. There was nothing. He silently walked under the vent to inspect it when he saw a glint in between the slats. Immediately, he moved from under it and drew his gun, aiming it at the vent.
“I see you motherfucker! Come out right now or I’ll put ten holes in you!” He shouted. The intruder heeded the warning and right away the vent was forced to the floor. Jungkook watched intently as two feminine hands holding a gun slowly dropped down and though it was upside down, it was perfectly aimed at him.
He still had his gun trained on the vent as the trespasser entered through the hole in the ceiling to reveal the familiar face of Deathstalker herself. Only her upper body could be seen as her strong legs held her in place from inside the vent.
She smiled easily at Jungkook as if they weren’t in a stand-off right now. “Hello, Mr. Jeon.” Her tone was calm, but somewhat guarded, telling him what her face never would. Jungkook was stuck between being relieved to see that it was only Deathstalker and being concerned that she was pointing a gun at him.
“Hello, Deathstalker. You wanna tell me why you broke into my office and have a gun in my face?” He queried with a tilt of his head. Y/N only reached up to grip the hole in the ceiling, somehow removing herself from the vent with one hand, her gun and her gaze still trained on Jungkook as she landed on her feet in front of him. More contradicting thoughts swirled in his mind at the sight.
“You finally caught me. I’m proud.” She smirked, removing the hood of her catsuit from her head.
He fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you can congratulate me later. Why are you here? You finally turn on me? Did someone send you, huh?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You have something I need.” She explained with a determined look. Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Is that so? And what might that be?”
“You know what it is.” Y/N quipped, tilting her gun along with the inflection in her voice. He shakes his head assuredly. “No, No, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you wanna put the gun down I’d love to discuss it.” He entreated informally.
“No.” She spoke firmly. A beat of silence passes before Jungkook has had enough. “Put the fucking gun down, Y/L/N.” He demanded gruffly.
“You put the fucking gun down.” She spat right back at him.
“I’m not doing this, just tell me what it is—” He reasoned.
“You know what it is—” Before she can fully respond, Jungkook rushed her, forcing her gun away from him and ripping it out of her hand. He quickly backed up and flung the gun across the room before pointing his back at her. They each caught their breath and Y/N bit her lip frustratedly.
Jungkook gave a triumphant smile. “There, that’s better. You ready to talk now—”
Y/N’s leg swiftly came up to kick the gun right out of Jungkook's hand before he even realized what happened. He looked at the gun sliding away from them on the floor, then back at Deathstalker, who smirked and raised an arrogant brow.
“Okay.” Jungkook uttered right as Y/N charged at him. He panicked slightly at the thought of fighting her, but the instinct to fight back kicked in when she launched herself and wrapped her body around him like an anaconda.
They struggled while Deathstalker tried to take Jungkook to the floor. Luckily for him, he wasn’t only a skilled shooter, but a trained and very skilled fighter as well. It wasn’t long before he freed himself from her vice grip and they were in a standoff once again, this time with their fist raised and ready to defend.
“What the hell has gotten into you Y/L/N? I wish you would tell me what this is about.” Jungkook grumbled as they circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move.
Y/N chuckled mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, actually!” He exploded. She took his emotional outburst as an opportunity and pounced once again. Jungkook was quicker to react this time and they were practically sparring in the middle of his office and only lord knows why. Jungkook found himself getting irritated because he was barely one step behind Deathstalker in her strikes and attacks.
As they got more invested, Jungkook noticed that she didn’t intend on hurting him, but she did intend to win. Somewhere in the scuffle, he fell behind and let her right hook distract him from the leg that swept his feet from under him. She was on top of him in an instant, with a habitual flat hand at his jugular ready to stop him from breathing. They stare at each other, both of them breathing heavily.
“Got you.” Y/N suddenly whispered smugly. “Now, are you gonna give me what I want?” She prompted provocatively, sliding her hand into the collar of his shirt slowly. The feel of her hot skin on his almost burned with their charged up bodies and wild emotions. He blinked in realization at her increasingly turned on form above him.
“You. Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.” Jungkook fumed quietly, looking up at her in disapproval. She just giggled freely and though usually the sound would bring a smile to Jungkook’s face, it only pissed him off.
He pushed her off of him and shoved her against the wall roughly, holding her there by the neck. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, breaking in here and waving a gun in my face.” He hissed in anger, their noses touching. “You know, if you wanted dick you could have just said so.”
“Where’s the fun in that Mr. Jeon?” She crooned, leaning forward to kiss him and he denied her, coolly tilting his head back. He continued to hold her by the throat to the wall firmly, causing her to choke briefly, but if she was uncomfortable she didn’t let it show.
“No.” He shook his head, Y/N could see his gears turning as he did so. “No?” She echoed, curiously.
“To answer your question. I’m not giving you what you want.” A devious smirk slowly appeared on his face that made Y/N’s body temperature rise. “No, you’re gonna do what I want now and you’re gonna like it.” He breathed, pressing himself against her and brushing her lips with his teasingly. She inhales audibly, trying not to look affected by his sudden behavior.
“But, Mr. Jeon, I want what you want.” She encouraged him sweetly, reaching for him. He put a stop to that quickly by pinning her wrists above her with one hand and resuming his hold on her neck with the other. She grunted and squirmed before giving up, looking up a childish defeated expression, but Jungkook knew she loved it.
He looked into her eyes with a strong dominance that had Y’N swallowing thickly in anticipation. “Are you talking back to me, Y/L/N?” His eyebrows furrowed intimidatingly.
She bit her lip to suppress her giddy smile. She needed to play along and not mock Jungkook’s very real emotions. The dynamic has officially shifted and now Y/N’s main objective was to please him. “No, Mr. Jeon.” She assured in a register slightly higher than her natural voice.
“Really, because you seem to have a lot to say for someone who’s at my mercy. I wonder if you’d still be as talkative with my dick in your mouth.” He growled hotly in her ear sending shivers down her spine.
She shuddered a hopeful response. “Can we find out, Mr. Jeon...please?” She implored when she felt him pull away.
He looked her over, taking in her needy form. “Look at you, already begging for it.” He shook his head in amazement. “I should keep you here and see how long you can hold your breath for me before your face starts to change color.” He whispered while closing his hand tighter around her neck. Y/N hummed delightfully at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut.
“But you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?” He leaned back in, getting her attention. She opened her eyes and gave a pleasant smile. “You know that I do.” She choked out. He smiled back at her admirably before releasing most of the pressure on her throat.
“No, I got something else planned for y—” He stopped abruptly, looking towards the door because he thought he heard the click of familiar shoes in the hall. His theory was proven correct when he heard them getting closer. He quickly looked to Y/N with wide eyes.
“Get under the desk.” He ordered softly before they both scurry to the huge desk near the window. She easily fit herself under it on her knees facing out and Jungkook took the seat right in front of her. As soon as they were situated, there was a knock on his office door.
“Come in.” He called pretending to look over his files. Taehyung poked his head in with a concerned expression before he fully entered the room. “Hey boss. Everything okay here?” He questioned.
“Yes, fine. Why?”
“Nothing, we just thought we heard some...I don’t know, movement?” As Taehyung spoke, Jungkook could feel hands raking up his thighs and his eyes widened quickly. He tried to compose his expression, but he then felt the unbuttoning of his pants.
No, no, no, no, he thought in a panic. He tries not to focus on just how Y/N got his zipper down as silently as she did and focuses on Taehyung’s lips as he talked.
“Oh, no, yeah. That was just me. I was practicing...sh-shadow boxing.” He lied choppily as Y/N released his already hard dick from his pants.
“In a suit?” Taehyung replied, confusedly.
Jungkook jolted slightly and fought back a moan when the assassin took him in her warm, wet mouth. “Waauuuhh, yes. Yes, I was.” He cleared his throat to cover up more moans when she began to skillfully bob her head up and down on his length.
“Oh, well okay.” Taehyung settled. “So if that’s all—” Jungkook attempted to see him off with no success.
“Anyway, we got a lead on that Deathwalker chick.” He offered in a more chipper tone. Y/N paused her movements, intrigued by the information. What had they found out? Jungkook shamelessly rested his hand on the back of her head and pulled, encouraging her to keep going much to both of their disbelief. She obeys and continues the task eagerly, but careful not to have too much fun or she’ll risk getting caught. “Is that so?” the mob boss replied.
“Yeah, it’s not much, but we assumed you wanted us to brief you on it as soon as possible.” His soldier nodded respectfully.
“Ugh,” Jungkook moaned, half-way masking it as a noise of gratitude. “Thank you, Tae. I appreciate it. We’ll be sure to discuss thisssssss later.” He faltered. “Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded again, making a face at Jungkook.
“Hey, you okay boss?” He looked closer at his superior with genuine concern. “Never better Tae.” Jungkook forced out quickly. “Are you sure? Y—”
“Taehyung?” The gang leader addressed him firmly. “Yes?”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded, knowing when he was unwanted and without another word he was exiting the office.
Jungkook pushed away from the desk immediately and grabbed a handful of Y/N’s hair as he stood both of them up. She only smiled at the manhandling and wiped the excess spit from her mouth.
“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?” He snarled at her. She fought back the strong urge to moan a yes and instead just stayed silent with a feigned guilty look on her face. “Take that off. Now. ” He commanded, gesturing to her catsuit. She shimmied it off of her arms and down her legs to reveal her naked body, leaving her heels on, all while Jungkook kept a tight grip on her hair.
“How many do you think I should give you?” He asked, suddenly calmer than before. “How ever many you think is right sir.” She spoke in a small voice, but her innocent act didn’t fool him. He stared at her bare, unapologetically, beautiful body in wonderment before forcing her body to bend over his desk.
He caressed her thighs and backside tenderly and then when she least expected it he delivered a delicious slap to it. Y/N yelped and then sighed with contentment. The wait was over, now the real fun could begin.
“I told you.” Slap. “We weren't.” Slap. “Gonna do.” Slap. “What you wanted.” Slap. “To do.” Slap. “But you just don’t listen.” He accentuated his words with powerful smacks delivered to both of her cheeks and then rubbed at the tender flesh to soothe the sting.
He ran his finger up her spine gently, making her shiver visibly. He smirked at his effect on her, bending his body over hers to whisper in her ear. “Tell me. Are you sorry?” He breathed heavily.
“No, sir.” Y/N panted after a few moments. “I knew it…” He stands up straight, regarding her vulnerable yet durable body.
“You disappoint me, Y/L/N.” He slaps her ass and massages again. Y/N hissed before replying. “I’ll do better sir.” she declared sincerely.
“You promise?” Jungkook lifts his hand and watches as Y/N braces for the impact, watched as her body tensed and her pussy clenched greedily around nothing in awe. He savored the moment, spanking her again.
She hummed graciously at the delicious pain she was receiving from him. “Yes, sir. I promise.”
“But you’re not sorry.” He clarified. “No sir.”
“Why?” His brows furrowed in curiosity, gearing up to spank her again. “Because I love sucking your cock sir.” Y/N whined. He stopped his movements, taken aback and released a soft laugh. “Is that so?”
“Yes sir.” Slap. “Tell me more Y/L/N.” he requested as he moved his left hand to her cunt and kept the right one on her ass.
She closed her eyes and smiled, envisioning herself doing the activity, even licking her lips at the luscious memory of it. “I love how heavy it feels on my tongue. How you force me down on it and it hits the back of my throat.” She mused longingly. Y/N stops speaking and her body tenses as he inserts his thumb into her.
“Keep going Y/L/N.” Jungkook’s tone made it clear that he would stop if she didn’t keep talking so she continued.
“I love how thick it is, oh fuck.” She moans, digging her nails into the wood of the desk as he rubs two fingers against her clit and picks up the pace. “What else Y/L/N?” He breathed.
She gulped in a breath, the sudden pressure taking her breath away. “How you make me gag on it when I’ve been bad and— mmmm, how you coat the inside of my mouth with all your cum when you’re done with me...How you check to make sure I swallowed all of it.” She giggled that last bit breathlessly, grinding back on his hand.
“You’re such a dirty girl Y/L/N.” He moves in and out of her quickly while rubbing her clit perfectly in sync, pulling lewd moans from her until he suddenly removes them, delivering another hard smack to her backside. “Ah, fuck.” She squealed.
“But you’re right, you need to do better. Now count with me.” He ordered sternly.
To which she immediately responded, “Yes sir.”
Y/N counts every hit Jungkook delivers to her extremely tender ass dutifully with her fingernails creating crescents in the mahogany wood below her. By the time they reach twenty, his hand is as red as a tomato and Y/N is quite literally dripping onto the floor in front of him. He watched as her slick dripped out of her cunt from in between her spread legs and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle of her pleasure.
Jungkook is incredibly turned on by the sight and doesn’t think twice before taking his hard cock and shoving right into the assassin without warning. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, not that she needed to as you could literally mop the floor with her arousal. He just continued to hammer into her with complete abandon.
It felt as if Y/N had forgotten how to breathe and her head shot up from the desk at the abrupt intrusion. “Ohhhhh shhhhhhit.” She cursed choppily with Jungkook’s hips slapping against her, making her ass sting more, but she loved it.
He reached up to push her head down against the desk forcefully and held it there as he fucked into her. “You love the pain don’t you my little cock slut?” He growled out.
“Yes, sir. I love it. Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” She babbled dazedly into the desk.
He pulls out of her then, leaving her moving back in search of him and clenching around nothing. “Please put it back in, Mr. Jeon.” She whimpered, reaching back for him, but she didn’t dare sit up for fear that he might think she was disobeying him.
He smiles and sits down in his chair, grabbing the hands that searched for him and guiding them to it’s arm rests. “Why don’t you come sit down and do it yourself?”
She moves right away and backs up onto him. Bracing herself on the armrests, she hovers above him still facing the desk, grabs his cock and engulfs it in her wetness. They both groan wildly when he is fully seated inside of her and she begins to move up and down.
“Just like that baby, keep bouncing on my cock.” He muttered huskily, placing his hands on her hips. Looking down, he finally noticed the mess Y/N’s juices made on his suit pants. He should have pulled them all the way down, but damn if that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. “Goddamn. Who made you this fucking wet baby?” He grunted, pulling her down on him with fervid force.
“You did, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N breathed heavily with her eyes closed in ecstasy. She could feel her orgasm finally approaching and she was chasing it with every move she made.
“You gonna cum baby?” Jungkook’s voice rasped in her ear. Y/N mentally cursed, already knowing what was coming to her. “Yes, I’m so close, Mr. Jeon.” She whined, trying to plead her case.
It was no use. He swiftly pushed her off of him roughly and forced her down against the table once more. “No, no, no, please, please.” She begged and squirmed.
He only bent down to her level, gripping her chin in his hand. “You should know by now not to fuck with me Y/L/N. Now you need to be punished.” He says whispering sadistically in her ear. “Come on now.”
Jungkook gripped her by her forearms, dragging her up from the table and keeping them in place behind her back like a criminal. He guided her to the expansive wall length bookshelf on the far left of his office. Y/N knew just where they were going and somehow it prompted more wetness to come cascading down her already damp and sticky legs.
He finds the handle on the inside of one of the shelves and pulls on the hidden door to reveal his playroom. The ceiling was a deep red while the walls were painted black with several tools for causing pain hanging on them all around the room. Several large contraptions used for pleasure and pain were scattered along the sides. But Jungkook’s favorite part of the room was the alaska king size mattress against the back wall which had a mirror of the same size attached to the ceiling above it. He loved that he could see every facet of Y/N’s squirming body just by looking up.
“Stand here.” He directs her after stopping under the pair of leather handcuffs that dangled from the ceiling. He lifted and secured both her arms before focusing on her wanton eyes. “You comfortable, sweetheart?” He asked, grasping her chin firmly in his hands.
“Yes, sir.” She replied truthfully. “Good.” He pecked her lips and began removing her boot heels. This created more distance between her and the floor. She was now truly dangling from the ceiling, the balls of her feet barely touching the floor.
Jungkook marvelled at his work and how after a while Y/N struggled to hold her weight against the cuffs. He then undressed quickly and made his way back to her, placing his lips on hers in a rough and passionate kiss that left Y/N breathless and moaning.
She feels a hand thread it’s fingers through her hair and massage her scalp before it’s yanking her back and gripping tightly. She opened her eyes to see Jungkook, lustful and giddy smiling back at her. His hand slipped out of her hair, down her neck, chest and around her torso as he slowly circled her body.
“I wish I could touch every piece of you at once.” He expressed sofly once he was behind her. Y/N breathed heavily with anticipation as his large hands gluided up her raised arms, down her waist, over her hips and ghosted over her plump, raw ass making her hiss. He chuckled at the sound letting his hands wander to her front and administering feather light circles to her swollen clit. Y/N twitched causing her body to sway uncontrollably. Jungkook stilled her, but continued his teasing much to Y/N’s dismay. But she didn’t dare say anything about it, she knew better and she wanted to cum so she stayed silent.
He comes back around to face her and really takes his time appreciating her body. He kisses her lips, along her neck and sucks on her nipples just enough to have her squirming with more want for him. Suddenly he presses down on each of her sensitive nipples with two fingers and she squeaks, painful electricity shooting through her.
He looked her over keenly. “God you’re so fucking beautiful...and you’re all mine to play with.” He kisses her biting her lip. “Who do you belong to?” His fierce tone demanded an answer.
“You, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N avowed, increasingly turned on and desperate to cum.
“Who else?” His hands moved haltingly towards her core, never breaking eye contact. Her eyes flashed knowingly at him. “No one. Only you, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook smiled contentedly before it disappeared little by little. He knew the words weren’t true and that she only said them to please him, only said them when they were intimate. But he couldn’t help how much he yearned to hear it, how much he wanted her to truly be his. This room is where they both get what they want no matter what.
Y/N gets someone to dominate her and take care of her needs and Jungkook gets to live out his fantasies of her truly belonging solely to him. But he knew she would never go for that and that he would continue to toture himself this way.
He tucks the thought away as he suddenly plunges two fingers inside of her. “And who does this pussy belong to?” He growled.
Y/N immediately clenches around them and lets out a cracked moan. “You, sir! This pussy is all yours. Oh fuck, ugh!” She cried out. At least Jungkook can be sure of that, he thought as he began curling his fingers into her at lightning speed. He holds her hips in place as he goes to work and Y/N can’t even think about the pain in her arms anymore once she feels her orgasm approaching.
She grunts fervently as the pressure in her core builds and builds until she can’t stand it. She gives no warning, just allowing the glorious, all-consuming feeling to ignite her insides without a single sound. The only noise to be heard in the room was the sloshing of Jungkook’s fingers moving rapidly inside of her and the slap of his palm against her wet mound.
Jungkook was so enraptured by her eyes rolling back into her head that he didn’t notice the clear liquid escaping from her cunt, getting all over his hand and dripping onto the floor. He brought her drooping head up so he could kiss her eagerly as he removed his fingers and stroked her clit like a wild man, getting more of her juices all over him.
She never told him to stop as she was struck silent by the amount of pleasure she just experienced, but he removed his hand and continued kissing her writhing body hungrily. She was out of breath as she twitched and mewled against him, audibly shuddering from time to time.
“Holy fucking shit. You’re just full of surprises huh?” He praised her with her face in his hands. Her only reaction was to smile tiredly. Her body was absolutely spent and still experiencing aftershocks.
“Now let’s see if we can make you do that again.” he says, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, thankfully taking the weight off of her arms.
She finally speaks in a disoriented voice with her eyes half closed. “Yes, please sir.”
Jungkook pushes inside of her, her cunt was now extremely wet and extremely tight due to that first squirting orgasm and he could tell he wouldn’t last long. He began speedily fucking into her, his hips slapping against her bruised and aching ass over and over again.
Y/N was in another realm of euphoria, this one being better than the last. She didn’t even know that was possible. Her head was tilted all the way back and her eyes were closed, but they were focused. She was too far gone to even remember her own name at this point.
“Please…” She mumbled. “Please what?” Jungkook grunted, his vigorous hips never changing pace.
“Please, please make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She begged through gritted teeth. “I want it so bad. Please give me your cum.”
“Oh fuck, baby.” He moaned, thrusting impossibly faster, both of them close to the edge.
She felt herself growing slightly over stimulated, but she was so close, chasing that high that made her see stars. She was concentrated on the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pumping in and out of her and hitting just the right spot against her walls. Jungkook felt a force resisting him from inside of Y/N and before he could grasp it he was being pushed out along with Y/N’s cum.
A full fledged scream escaped from her throat that was elongated by Jungkook who swiped at her clit wildly to prolong her orgasm. He watches her twitch and moan helplessly before sliding back in and picking up where he left off.
“No, p-please sir, I can’t.” She choked out, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
He gripped her face roughly in his hand and brought it close to his. “No, you wanted this dick so you gonna take this dick.” He seethed. “That’s what you came here for right?”
“Yes sir.” She cried. Jungkook thrusted up into her half a dozen more times before he came inside of her, ripping yet another orgasm from Y/N. She felt tears slide down her face at the sheer force of energy in her veins. She saw white behind her eyes and her body burned all over in the best of ways.
“Argh!” Jungkook growled boisterously as he came, holding her hips rigidly against his as he came down. When he looked up he could see Y/N practically falling asleep against him, yet her body was shaking slightly. He pulled out of her and released her from her restraints.
“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” He grinned, holding her tight as he let her down because he didn’t expect her to be able to hold herself up. He was proven right as she immediately slumped over his shoulder once her arms were free. The mafia leader carried her to the bed and gently laid her on her back, taking a moment to clean both of them off before he laid down too.
“Y/N? Are you okay?” He whispered sweetly. Initially, the assassin didn’t realize he was speaking to her as she was quickly drifting off to sleep, but after a moment she assured him, “I’m fine Jungkook.”
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Midnight hunter ( Dabi x Reader 18+)
This is the second chapter of Midnight stalker.
Short description: Prepare yourself for a human hunt where your fiery hunter will not stop until he gets you.
Word count: 4.8 K
Warnings: Smut, yandere, human hunt, violence, death (not Dabis nor readers), mentions of noncon (nothing much, just a mention in a dialog),NSFW.
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He forced his compass to point in any direction except hers. He went to places that were too much even for his hardened soul. He drank the sweetness of a woman's body without limits, getting drunk under the touch of cheap prostitutes as much as he could. But instead of asking the paid lady of the night for sexual consolation, he greedily tried to recreate the moment he stole from you.
I didn't fucking steal nothing, it’s mine. You are mine.
The last truth of his thoughts was pierced with the spear of condemnation. In those moments when the Pandora's box wanted to send the truth to the surface of his soul, in those moments he was the most dangerous. He turned into a raging beast that could destroy anything in front of them. Unfortunately, several prostitutes were harmed because of his struggles. After hearing the words of truth in his head, the reaction of the body came immediately afterwards. His palms bathed in a blue flame, burning the skin of the unfortunate woman's face, who had been trying to meet his needs until then. A tense kiss, thirstily absorbing the erotic dance of her tongue, squeezing her eyelids like yours, the only thing he had differently was that he ordered the prostitutes to sit on his lap. To put their legs around him as he held them by the waist and pressed them to his chest. He had to take his imagination to the next level, give it the illusion of consent. He wanted to imagine how you kissed him willingly, how you needed his lips desperately, how you needed to feed on his presence how he fed on yours. And after that he was poisoned. He left the room, leaving the painful screams of those he had inadvertently damaged with his flames behind him.
Dabi hated the smell of smoke. Ironically for someone who is almost always surrounded by that scent, but something in him aroused disgust at that smell. Especially the smell of burning skin. It reminded him of the misfortune that had befallen him, aroused in him things that were to blame for the person he was today. He knew the horrors of that scent, how severe and vicious its punishment was. Those who are punished in this way never forget it. He ran his fingers over his chin, rubbing his damaged skin. The wound may have healed, but the scar will remain forever. He didn't need a new scar. Especially not the kind that never heals, it only seemingly retreats, settles into the dark place of the human subconscious and lurks its weakest moment.
"Tsc ... I should have finished you ..." he threw a glass of whiskey into the wall of the room. The glass shattered into thousands of pieces, while the liquid left a large stain on the white wall. The moment he pressed his lips to yours, his Pandora's box shattered in the same way, leaving feelings in his chest. He thought that by kissing you he would silence his desires and satisfy his obsessions, but he only deepened them. Hell, now he's trying to patch up the damage with others, how pathetic it can be. He clenched his fists as a blue flame wrapped around them. Dabi could not suffer humiliation, he could not let it go unpunished. He made a mistake, but now it is about time to fix it. He got out of bed just as he got up the first night he contracted this plague, pulled his black T-shirt over his taut shoulders, and headed for the exit.
It has been almost two months since the unfortunate event. Your quiet life turned into a nightmare in one night and you had no idea why. After tasting the lips of a dangerous stranger and daring to turn around even though he ordered you not to, you didn’t think the gates of hell would open shortly after. The pair of blue eyes in which the storm was pouring belonged to a very famous villain, a person you had only seen on the news, newspapers or arrest warrants until then. You never thought you would see him in front of your eyes, let alone taste him with your mouth. There was a void in your head, a war drum in your chest. Nothing that happened that night seemed real. You played that scene back in your head again and again so many times, but you still could hardly believe yourself. Impossible, it wasn't him. It was him. It was just him and no one else could sit in his place. Anyone normal would be imbued with panic and fear, running away without thinking after catching a glimmer of freedom after that attack, but not you. You stood frozen under the street lamp, staring into the corner where he had disappeared. You don’t even know how you got home after that, it all seemed like a crazy dream. Until the next morning, when everything became more than real. Two police cars were in front of your house at dawn. In addition to the two detectives, there were four police officers and they were accompanied by two heroes. Before you could speak, one of the two detectives pulled a photo out of his pocket. Your friend. You could feel the tingles of horror travel through your body. Fear permeated you before you even heard what had happened.
Your hands were shaking as you held the second photo the detectives gave you. You sat in your living room in your favorite armchair, which this time could not provide you with comfort. You stared at the image of a burning corpse, whose face, despite the disgusting wounds, showed an expression of pure horror and agony. You were the last person he was with, the last contact, so the cops and heroes rushed to your doorstep, not even knowing you had an encounter with the man who was guilty of murdering this young man. At first, you didn’t want to tell the truth. You lied, you kept quiet about the way you actually met. But the quirk of one of the heroes has distracted you from your lie. His quirk was a living lie detector and he read you like an open book. After the truth came out, there was silence. Initially, no one could explain the event you went through, but it didn’t take them long to come to their professional conclusion. He must have wanted to enjoy his morbid act, to leave someone close to suffer for the victim. A few moments later they explained to you how things would develop further, you would be placed under protection. Two heroes and three policemen will be constantly on duty in front of your home, in case the villain returns to finish what he started. You knew they were secretly hoping so, that this was a trap, and you were a living bait.
The days passed, weeks followed, but no trace of the villain. After the first month had passed, two police officers and one hero remained, now, after two months, only one hero remained. No matter how they eliminated the surplus people, caution still had to be on a high level. Because of that, you could not carelessly go where you wanted, just perform your duties, and even then you would be accompanied by a hero. You hated this situation, you could no longer be a prisoner in your own home, you had to stretch your legs somewhere more than just walking to the store. You walked resolutely from your room to the living room where the hero was on duty. He looked at you lazily, and you already had a pleading expression on your face.
"I want to take a walk, I can't be locked up anymore." you protested, but still in a polite tone. He didn't scold you or acted rudely. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
"I know, I'm sorry ... but I still think it would be better not to go out on the streets, especially not at this time of night." - He gazed at your furry friend who in these two months has grown almost twice the original size when you found him.
"We don't even have to go to the streets! Not far from here is a forest, we can go there! Please, I'm really not able to spend my days like this anymore, and the forest road is in one of the safest neighborhoods and you know it yourself! ”- you were persistent, determined, you knew that he was soft and that he would give in with a good enough reason. You could see how your words were valid. You knew he couldn't sit on your living room couch anymore, he'd been doing it for the last two months, and you could only imagine how tiring it was to do it to a person who had dedicated his life to action, to fighting villains.
"I'm not sure ..." you interrupted him before he could finish.
"Please! A short walk and nothing more! Not even the dog can jump just around the yard anymore! ”- the hero looked down at the playful puppy and you knew that was the last thing he needed to break. The little furry creature waved its tail, caressing his leg.
"Okay, but not for long and nowhere far. " he said, getting up from the couch.
Come, step into the night doll.
You made a mistake, you made a big mistake. You dared to tell , you dared to make a victim of yourself and seek protection from them. Why? Why doll? The only victim here is him, all of this is your fault, it's your fault because he's here. You did this, and he let you live for a small fee, just one kiss. Instead of feeling privileged and blessed for being let off the hook so cheaply and enjoying your last moments after you poisoned him, you dared to call on the greatest scum of this world to protect you.
Do you like the taste doll? Do you like the taste of the rotten flesh? You do… don't you? Because you took a bite of my heart, and that is shit is rotten to the core. Feast on that rot while you can and I hope you like burnt meat as much as rotten because you will soon be surrounded by it.
He clenched his jaw as he followed your shadows as you imperceptibly tried to sneak up to the car. You chose the wrong evening for a walk. Was the taste of his lips so repulsive to you? The more he thought about it, the stronger the killer instinct was. Even though he came here with the intent to kill you, he felt betrayed. He retreated back into the shadows and hurried down to the previous street where he saw a parked motorbike. He was skilled at picking locks, and hot-wiring a vehicle was no different. He also had a good taste, his eye could not miss the kawasaki ninja ZZR 1400, a beautiful assembly of metal and engine. He ran his hands over the leather seat before sitting on it and held the balance of the heavy black beast with ease. It fused with him in a second, as the engine purred as it started. As expected, your car passed in front of him. He saw your happy face under the nightlights in the passenger seat. You won't be smiling for long.
He was cautious and went unnoticed. He followed you with no problem, even a little bit impressively. When he saw the car lights turn from the marked road to a muddy path between the tall trunks of the forest, he couldn't help but smile sinisterly. He left the motorbike at the very beginning of the forest, covered between dense bushes. His step was lighter than that of a cat. He didn’t break a single twig, make a single sound that would reveal he was there. The two electric blue eyes gleamed like wild beasts in the moonlight. He saw you, he heard you, he could smell you. He licked his lips to recall your taste. Your lips looked delicious even in the dark. You looked almost unreal under the auspices of the stars and the shining moon, with your spirits lifted by the fact you were surrounded by nature once again. How your hair fluttered in the warm night breeze as thin strands fell across your forehead. He saw the scene in slow motion. For a moment the anger disappeared from his face, he allowed himself to watch you calmly. Calmly until the venom of pain and loneliness flowed through his veins again, the only things he could feel except wrath. That was exactly the reason why you were a thorn in his eye. You aroused pain and a feeling of loneliness. He needed you, he needed your touch, he needed your voice in his ear, your breath on his face, your fingers on his skin. Could you see him as anything but a villain? Would the same kindness shine in your eyes and would you extend your hand with the same measure of tenderness when you were rescuing an abandoned puppy from that dark street? Would you recognize what he really is, and he doesn't even see it in himself anymore ... He had to know.
You happily threw a stick to your puppy playing fetch, running along with him. You excitedly followed the dance of fireflies among the tall grass along the path. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath with a desire to absorb as much of this forest air and its scent as possible.
"See? I told you it is beautiful and it certainly beats being locked up. ”- you said without opening your eyes. You were sure that the hero was enjoying this night out too. Even as you drove in the car you saw the relief on his face when he realized he could finally escape from your house.
"And that there is no one else here." you added, taking another breath. Instead of the smell of trees, the sour smell filled your nostrils. This smells like ..
"Oh..but there is." - the voice that answered did not belong to the hero who brought you here. That voice ... Blood froze in your veins and your eyes suddenly opened in panic as you turned at lightning speed. A grayish cloud between the suppressed trees and the tall grass. Like fog, the smoke remained in the air like a floating ball. You covered your mouth with your hands as it approached your nostrils. You thought you were going to throw up. This was the smell ... the smell of burning flesh. You could barely contain a scream in your throat when you saw a person stepping out from behind a tree, dragging something behind him.
"You ..." - you stammered when you saw the person who was to blame for your accident. The person you had on your lips just two months ago, the same night after he set your friend on fire.
"Tch, tch ... you can recognize me only because you disobeyed me and gazed at me when I told you not to ... naughty doll." - he said, throwing a burnt corpse in front of you. You screamed when you saw the same horror on its face that you saw in the pictures of your dead friend, but this was now the man who pleased you and took you here at your request. He's dead now. You instinctively took a few steps back as your knees were shaking.
“Was it worth it, huh? Disobeying me? Do you see what happens when someone stands in my way, doll? ”-he asked, rubbing the fingers of his left hand. The blue flame rose from his palm to his forearm, over his muscular shoulder to his neck, until he stroked his cheeks as well. You couldn't take it anymore, you started running. You made your way through the thick bushes and tall grass. The roots of the trees tangled under your feet as you tried to escape. You saw almost nothing in front of you except darkness, and your useless calls for help disappeared into the emptiness of the woods. You pushed the branches in front of you that were coming back and smashing into your body. You could feel the warm feeling that was pouring down your legs ... blood. Warm blood dripping from the scratches. None of that slowed you down. You kept running at the same speed. You thought you managed to lose him, you didn't hear anything behind you, but you didn't dare to stop. You continued deeper into the woods where there seemed to be no end.
The blue light flashed before your eyes so intensely that it hurt. You covered your eyes with your hand, squinting in front of you. The heat made you back off and you succeeded at the last minute. The blue fire is blocking your path. Your eyes filled with tears when you realized what was happening. He's chasing you. He chases you like a beast, and he's a hunter trying to trap you. You turned and ran in the other direction. The road started going uphill. You could feel pain in your legs from the frantic climb, but it never occurred to you to give up. Even when a new wall of fire was created in front of you, you didn’t give up. You turned again, looking for any path where there was no fire. Your lungs were burning from the rapid breathing and the smell of smoke spreading through the air. The new burst of fire was too fast, it managed to reach your lower leg. You sobbed, quickly putting out the fire on your jeans. Your tears flowed harder from the pain of burning your skin, but you knew you had to keep going. If you give up now, you will not be able to save yourself. Like the promised land, the sight in front of you almost brought a smile to your face. The crystal surface of the lake glazed under the moonlight. The water ... you forgot the pain in a second, leaning on your feet and running with all your might towards the lake. You jumped into the water without thinking. The cold flooded your body, and a sharp pain crossed your injured leg. It was quite shallow. When you surfaced, you realized that the water barely reached your chest. You looked around. The forest burned, and the blue fire cast its light high toward the dark clouds of night.
"Smart..but it will not help you." - Dabi went through the raging fire as if it were air, reaching the water's edge. His expression was nauseating. When he watched you run, he felt a rush of adrenaline, pleasure, superiority ... feelings that he knew and gladly let them circulate through his body as he caught his prey. Human hunt, and God help those who are cursed with him as their hunter. That is a lie ... even God can't help you then. He thought it was the end, that he had finally found a solution and his salvation. Until now ... until you looked him in the eye again. The eyes that carried goodness, when he first saw you wake up and you didn't know he was there, they carried innocence ... and now ... he had to make sure what did you hid behind those mirrors of the soul before that same soul leaves your body. He stepped into the water, going all the way in till it reached his groin, getting closer to you. He touched the surface of the water with his fingers, and it obediently received his fire on its surface. It surrounded you, trapped you inside the burning circle.
"W..why .." - you stammered the most obvious question. He thought he was numb to that pointless question by now. It always sounded the same. But your voice ... your voice addressed to him now, directly to him. He paused for a moment, feeling what he had feared so much spring up in his chest. He must not waste time, he must not think too much. He was two steps ahead of you, grabbing you by the jaw.
"Oh, but why not?" -he responded, looking at your lips until then. He crossed over your lip with the tip of his index finger. He tried with all his might to make himself remember the longing, the basic need he had met so many times without difficulty. He tried to escape from the claws of feelings that were now awakening. Turns out your closeness is more fatal than he thought. Something in him pulled him closer, asking him to surrender. He didn't know what that hurricane in him was, and he reacted, as always, angrily. Why..you want to know why..I am the one here that needs to know why ..
“Why not doll? What, I am not good enough to be saved? I thought you liked picking up fucked up things on the street and mending them? So, why do you run from me then? ”- something in him broke. The rejection and fear he had not felt since he was young now took the throne over his feelings. He savagely entered your face, finally catching your eye.He didn't want to see it. He did not want to see the answer to his question, especially not in this vulnerable state. It may not have been visible through its exterior, but it was worse on the inside. In the eyes he had dreamed so much about, the eyes that radiated concern and kindness ... now only pure fear and horror poured out from them.
„Why am I not worth saving ?! Answer me! Because I am a monster!? I killed your so called, friend !? A guy who wanted to fuck you dry just so he can tell his homeboys about it ?! - he roared. What you didn’t know was that before he killed your friend and exposed him to the greatest torment, while he was still following him, he heard a conversation your friend was having over the phone.
"No, the stupid bitch didn't put out yet..yeah, I know..But that ass man. I swear if she doesn't lift that skirt next time, I will take it off myself. ”- those were the words of your so-called friend. With that, he signed his death sentence. Dabi made him pay for the crimes he intended to commit, and you had no idea. Even now you don't quite understand what he's talking about.
„You don't like murderers, only scumbags ?! They are worthy of your attention ?! Ok then, bet you will love this. ”- with one hand he grabbed the wet shirt on your chest, giving the order to his flame which ate the material in one second. Your upper body was now covered only by a bra that was intact, but not for long. Dabis finger slipped under the thread between your breasts, the thread that connected the front of the bra cups. It tightened enough that it almost broke, making your breasts almost completely visible.
“No, please! Don't! ”- you tried to push him away with your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. He gritted his teeth angrily, looking back at you. Of course he won't do that to you, he may be a villain but he's not a monster, he's not a rapist. He let go of your bra, clenching his fist. You saw that something in him broke, you saw that the person you thought was to blame for your accident was not really the person they described him to be. This is someone who has the thorns of his exterior here for a deeper reason than pure malice.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. The person who trapped you was now alone pressed under the heavy weight of no one else but number two hero, Endeavor. He squeezed his body below the surface of the water, not giving him a chance to get air.
“You filthy scum! You thought killing heroes will go unpunished?! - Endeavor roared as he pushed Dabi deeper under the water. The thing was, Dabis flames made quite a fire, and the woods was now eaten by it, making a giant cloud of smoke. The same smoke that was seen by the locals and they called in the heroes and the police. Unfortunately, the first that spotted you two was no other then the ruthless hero Endeavor, who planned to show no mercy to the villain who killed a hero. He didn't know who the villain he kept underwater was, but he didn't care, he'd be dead in the matter of seconds.Dabi didn't fight back. All the water that was stirred was like that because of how Endeavor was pushing Dabis body even deeper under the water. A man who had shown unbridled strength only a moment ago, now surrendered to a fatal fate. For a moment, you could make out his expression. An expression of loneliness, an expression of pain ... an expression of relief, as if this is the only thing that can save him from the horror he keeps in himself. This is not a monster.
You raised your hands toward Endeavor, releasing your quirk. It wasn't even a few seconds before the number two hero replaced the expression of anger with astonishment and then fear. He waved frantically around, throwing his flame into the empty space. There was nothing around him, but you knew what he saw. The reason you loved the dark side so much, is because it has always been a part of you, and your quirk was one of the proofs of that. You could read man’s greatest fears, their worst nightmares, and manifest that horror in front of them. Now your power was bending number two hero like a fragile twig, forcing him to drop Dabi.He surfaced quickly, catching air, filling his lungs. He coughed out the water as he slowly opened his eyes. You. He saw you looking at him.
No ... that's not possible. Your gaze was direct but gentle now. Penetrating and compassionate ... and pointed at him. He turned and saw Endeavor still panicking trying to defend himself against something that wasn't there, and it didn't take him long to realize what had happened and what you were doing. You defended him. You saw something in him that was worth saving.
"Go, now." you said in a firm but sympathetic voice.
"Name." - he said without moving out of the water or interrupting your gaze. He couldn't turn away from the feeling you aroused in him, and he didn't want to.
„N..no..Please, just go, now! I can't hold him much longer and the others are coming! Go now, God dammit! ”- you said more briskly, more commandingly, but Dabi just knelt at the bottom of the lake, touching the water with his chin, showing you that if you don't tell him your name, your defense was in vain, and his destiny will not change, Endeavor will soon get rid of your illusion and finish the job he started, and Dabi will not fight back. The thought of the so-called number two hero taking his life again by pushing him underwater caused you to fear, a fear that was not the same as before. This fear bordered more with anxiety and the need to defend him.
"Tell me your name." he whispered, this time softly, in a deep voice, his eyes half closed. You bit your lip. You knew that after tonight, nothing would be the same anymore and these two clear blue eyes would emerge from the darkness again in search of you, but something about it woke up the part of you that you had been hiding for so long and needed immensely.
"(Y / N). My name is (Y / N). ”- a satisfied smile on Dabis face was the last thing you saw, before the blue fire flashed and blinded all prying eyes. When it disappeared, he was gone, and heroes were around you, helping you to your feet.
#dabi#dabi todoroki#dabi touya#dabi thirst#dabi x you#dabi x reader#dabi x y/n#dabi mha#dabi bhna#dabi fanfic#dabi fanart#dabi smut#yandere#yandere dabi#yandere todoroki#yandere mha#yandere bhna#mha x y/n#mha x you#bhna x reader#bhna x you#dabi my hero academia#the league of villains#villain dabi#mantions of death#mantions of noncon#mha yandere
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Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst
Showtime
Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.
Who even reads comics anymore?
Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.
She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?
Oh, you can’t?
Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.
So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?
So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?
Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.
Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!
“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”
“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.
“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..
“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”
Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”
Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother��s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”
Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”
Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”
Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?
Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”
“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”
“Wait, what the fuck?”
Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.
“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”
--
Scared of Girls
On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.
“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”
Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.
“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.
“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.
“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.
“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.
“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”
“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”
“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.
Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.
“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.
“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.
“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”
“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.
“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”
“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.
Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.
“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”
Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.
“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.
“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.
“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”
“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!
--
Gold Guns Girls
As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.
“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”
“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.
“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”
“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.
“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.
“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.
“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.
“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”
“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.
Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”
Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”
BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”
“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.
“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”
“The fuck do you mean?”
“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.
“You aren’t real, Gwen.”
--
Head Like a Haunted House
“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.
“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”
Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”
One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.
For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.
Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.
Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.
Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.
But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.
…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.
“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:
Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”
Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.
“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”
“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”
“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.
“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’
“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.
“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”
“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”
--
Never there
“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.
“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.
“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.
“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.
“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.
“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!
“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”
Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.
You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”
“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.
“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”
Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.
“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.
“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”
“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.
“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.
“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”
--
When I Get To The Green Building
Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.
“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”
“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”
“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”
“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”
“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”
“Uhm...I don't follow.”
“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”
“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.
“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!
“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”
“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”
“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.
Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.
Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.
It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..
But I finally finished my fanfic.
See ya, true believers.
#gwenpool#fanfic#deconstruction#outofloveiswear#fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney#tw mental health#tw mentions of suicide#tw mentions of drug abuse#tw violence#tw gun violence
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It’s hazardous to breathe... [GNR Mad Max AU, pt. 1]
This is the first half of a AU inspired by the movie Mad Max: Fury Road that @smokeandmirrorz and I came up with after he posted some awesome art for a Mad Max AU! This oneshot very loosely follows the plot of the movie, it may make less sense if you haven’t seen the film. I split it into two parts so it would be more readable on tumblr, the second part is here and the whole fic is also on AO3.
*Contains mpreg, character death, and plenty of unpleasant things from the Mad Max universe, including implied/referenced sexual violence, some regular violence/gore (more so in the second part), and Immortan Joe.*
----
It wasn't often that the wives were brought outside their chamber. Less often still that Steven got to be present when they were – so he considered himself lucky to be in the same room when the Immortan's only surviving wife emerged from the biodome to watch Immortan Joe send off his top Imperator on a mission to recruit more valuable full-lives after the untimely deaths of his other two wives.
It was a little known truth that Steven and Slash had history. 'Little known,' because if the Immortan caught wind that the two had become close when Slash was first brought to the Citadel and Steven was just a War Pup, he would be toast. As little as they'd talked in the years since then, Steven still considered Slash... if not a friend, at least an acquaintance. And that's more than he could say about his fellow War Boys.
Being allowed in the same room as Slash was the first step to reigniting their friendship. Now, if only Slash would acknowledge him...
"Steven." Slash's voice was barely loud enough to hear.
"Yes?" Steven perked up, encouraged that Slash hadn't forgotten about him after all.
"I need you to do something for me." Steven nodded eagerly. "I need you to go to Imperator Stradlin, and tell him to come visit me as soon as possible. Can you do that?"
"Of course. Anything for the Immortan!"
It wasn't for the Immortan, but Steven didn't need to know that.
"One more thing – It's top secret. You can't say a word to anyone else, alright?"
--
Getting to the wive's chamber wasn't hard for Izzy: all he had to do was convince the guards he was on official business, and then once he was inside the vault, the soundproof walls would take care of the rest. All the same, he did not have a good feeling about this "meeting." Whatever was going on, it was going to be trouble...
The thick vault door swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a dream, so serene it seemed impossible that it could exist in the same world as things like gas wars, and tumors, and the Wasteland.
Sunlight streamed through huge semi-opaque windows and illuminated the smooth sandstone walls. Green plants and relics of the old world surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water. And in the center of it all, clothed in the purest white, was the Immortan's most prized treasure:
"Slash... the Desired."
"Imperator." The wife looked him dead in the eye; his hair was restrained in a ponytail and draped with the same white fabric as the rest of his body. It was the first time Izzy had ever seen Slash's face completely clear of dark curls, and the first time he'd seen him with enough clothing to cover the rest of his skin.
“Why did you ask me to come here? Does Joe want something from me?”
Slash’s mouth twitched into a frown at the name, but he responded in a carefully level tone:
“I have a proposition for you.”
Izzy raised an eyebrow. What could a wife possibly have to offer him? Besides the obvious, of course, and that... that was more trouble than it was worth.
“I can’t stay here any longer,” Slash explained.
“You’re crazy if you think he’ll just let you leave,” Izzy replied with a startled laugh. It was inconceivable, but Slash was looking at him with complete sincerity.
“He won’t. But you want to leave too.”
“Do I?” He did, but Slash definitely wasn’t supposed to know that.
“Please, you hate it here, it’s obvious. You want to leave, and I want you to take me with you."
“Fucking hell – don't you think I would have left by now if I could? And why would I help you anyway? How do I know you're not just testing my loyalty to the Immortan?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Me, doing favors for Joe?"
"Alright, fine. Then what if I betray you? I could be rewarded for... keeping the Immortan's property safe."
"What if I tell everyone you took advantage of the Immortan's absence to take his one and only wife for a test drive?"
"Fuck. You're not as pure as we've been led to believe, are you?"
Slash snorted. "Not by half."
"But that doesn't change anything. The Immortan would rip my throat out with his horse teeth for trying to steal one of his breeders –"
“Don’t call me that!” Slash snapped.
For a moment, Izzy was reminded of a younger Slash, fresh from the Wasteland and ready to bite at anything that got too close.
But Slash quickly composed himself, trying and not entirely succeeding to recapture an air of calm assertiveness. "Look, just... Just think about it, alright? We have a chance, I know we do, and really... How much more of this do you think you can take?"
Izzy sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded.
"Thank you."
Slash did his best to hide his disappointment, and Izzy wasn't about to stick around and make things worse by trying to console him. He turned around to leave the wives' sanctum, but hesitated before he reached the doorway.
"Slash... What really happened to the other Wives?"
"One... One miscarried. The Immortan wasn’t happy about that. The other tried to..." his lips faltered at the worst profanity in the Citadel, "... abort her pregnancy, it didn't end well. The Organic Mechanic couldn't do anything but give her something for the pain. They give us a serum, sometimes, to help us sleep. I gave her my dose."
--
The scouting party brought back a feral! they said. Full-life and raving mad, driving an Interceptor, can you believe it?
No, Izzy couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Axl Rose, MFP legend turned Road Warrior, could get taken down by a pack of half-dead War Boys. But the proof was in front of him, shivering in a cage, starving and in dire need of a shave.
"...I-Izzy?"
His voice was exactly the same as it always was, the respirator that Izzy cobbled together a lifetime ago couldn't hide the low timber that sometimes still appeared in his dreams.
He'd made a mistake when he thought he could play it safe at the Citadel. He should have listened when Axl told him they were better off on their own. The Citadel was a shrine to depravity, and he wouldn't let Axl become another one of its victims – he needed to get them out of the tower walls and far away as soon as possible. It would be a challenge to escape unnoticed... but Izzy knew the perfect distraction.
--
"I'll make a deal with you, Slash."
Slash didn't have the decency to look shocked when Izzy barged into the biodome uninvited – or the decency to put on the thin white shirt that lay discarded on the floor.
Actually, Izzy was the one looking shocked when his eyes fell on Slash’s bare belly and his carefully planned proposition died in his throat.
“What’s the deal?” Slash asked, but Izzy was more concerned with his unfortunate new realization:
“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant! What were you thinking, asking me to help you? The Immortan is going to shred me to pieces!”
“He’d shred you anyway, this won’t change anything,” Slash gritted out. Pregnant or not, there was no way he was about to let Izzy back out, not now. “What’s the deal, Stradlin?”
Izzy hated to be caught off guard, but he could use this to their advantage. Joe would never risk hurting a potential heir, making Slash an even better shield than before. And once he and Axl split off, there was no way Joe would waste time and resources going after a twice-disgraced Imperator and a feral bloodbag before he got his pregnant wife back, giving them a valuable head start – if it came to that.
"I'll take you with me on my next supply run. Ten days from now. We'll go to the Buzzards' territory, trade guzzoline for another vehicle. Then we part ways, got it? I'll get you out of here but I'm not babysitting you or your sprog for the rest of my life."
"You don't want to get caught with me, you mean. Stopping to deal with the Buzzards will give the Immortan time to catch up to us. I'm fucked on my own."
Izzy didn't respond, and tried to look like it didn't matter to him whether Slash took his offer.
"Fine. If they catch up... At least I'll die historic on the Fury Road," Slash said with a sardonic smile. "But I have a request – I need you to find me a driver. Someone who doesn't serve the Citadel, someone no one will notice is missing."
"There is no one like that."
"Really? All those people down there, and none of them can operate a car?"
"If they could, they wouldn't be there."
"There must be someone," Slash insisted. Izzy sighed.
"I'll see what I can do in ten days. But what the hell do you need them for?"
"Well... I can't drive."
--
On his third visit, Izzy had spent enough time in the biodome to say that stepping inside the pristine vault always made him feel like a dirty rag, used to wipe away sweat and grime then left out to stiffen in the dusty waste.
But if he was a dirty rag, then Duff was roadkill. He was a half-life, one of the Wretched who clung to the sides of the Citadel like barnacles, bathing in dust while the Immortan bathed in Mother's Milk. He was lanky – no, skeletal, nothing but sunburned skin and bone. He carried the Wasteland with him wherever he went, tracking dust with each step. Izzy bit down on the irrational urge to warn him not to touch anything in the vault.
The black leather collar around his neck marked him as a former denizen of Gas Town, one who had likely outlived his usefulness if his rickety prosthetic leg and the cluster of nasty tumors half-hidden by his hair had anything to say about it. Clearly, he was in no shape to labor in the refinery. Rumor had it that The People Eater was a cannibal – as his name suggested – but evidently Duff had escaped that fate, perhaps because he had no meat on his bones to speak of, and instead sought out clean water, abundant food, and fresh air at the Citadel. Hah.
Slash stared at them over his shoulder, wide-eyed and seated in the shallow pool in the center of the room. Tiny bottles lined the edge of the pool, and the scent of flowers wafted in the air.
"A bath? Now, really?"
"It might be the last chance I get," Slash countered, but he rose from the water, the beads on his skin already drying in the inescapable desert heat. Izzy averted his eyes as Slash wrapped a length of gauzy white cloth around his waist, tugged a loose shirt over his head, and bent forward to twist another cloth around his damp hair. Then, finally, he turned to face his guests. "Is this...?"
"This is Duff, the Wretched. Not a War Boy. He came from Gas Town, so he can drive."
"Good." Duff was staring at Slash like a mirage, but Slash knew how to get on a person's good side: "Do you want some water, Duff?"
--
"How the fuck did you get in here?!" In a heartbeat, Izzy's handgun was aimed at the War Boy's head. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Slash, get away from him."
"No! You can't kill Steven!"
"He knows too much, he's a liability. Kill him and let's go," Axl advised.
"No! Stradlin, who even is this guy?" Slash demanded, but once again, he received no explanation.
"Slash, what's going on, where are you going? Please don't leave me!"
"Steven, I –"
"Take me with you! I can help!"
"Slash, I'm serious. Step away." Izzy inched closer, his gun unwavering. War Boys were unpredictable, Kami-crazy. You never knew what they might do when backed into a corner.
But Slash was crazier – he pushed Steven back, placing himself between Izzy and his target. Izzy recognized the steely glint in his eyes before Slash even spoke: "He's coming with us."
--
They were curled up in the hold of the War Rig, surrounded by food and supplies that would never make it to Gas Town like they were supposed to. Duff was happily munching away at a carrot, and Slash was sitting with his legs curled up to his chest.
"Are you scared?" Duff asked.
"... Yes," Slash admitted, barely audible over the roaring engine. "Are you?"
"No."
"Why not? If we get caught, you'll be punished too, for helping me. And he doesn't care about taking you alive."
Duff shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I've got a few months left, at best."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I've had my whole life to come to terms with it. Well, half-life."
It was a terribly morbid joke, but Slash still laughed.
“So... You’re not afraid of anything, then?”
“Well, I don’t know – When Izzy brought me to you, I was scared. It was like he’d taken me out of the real world and dropped me in a fantasy. I thought if I touched anything, I’d destroy it; if I spoke, I’d break the spell and wake up in the Wasteland, half dead with a crow pecking at my tongue. I thought if I got too close to you, I'd pass on my illness, and if I looked at you too long, I'd go mad and start believing in things like beauty and health and the goodness of humanity."
Slash could have laughed at the momentous gap between Duff's perception of the biodome and his own. Instead, when Duff finished his recollection, Slash crawled across the middle of the hold and pressed himself against Duff's side.
Duff tried to scoot away, but Slash entangled him with the soft touch of fine cloth and uncalloused hands. He wrapped his arms around Duff’s thin torso and laid his head on his shoulder.
“No, don't go. You don't have to be scared, Duff... You're the cleanest person to touch me in a long time."
Hesitantly, Duff reached up and let his good hand rest on Slash’s back. Slash’s hair brushed against his collar, even softer than his clothes, and when Duff breathed deeply he could still make out the sweet scent that filled the room when they first met.
For a moment, Duff let himself get lost in the fantasy world that still surrounded Slash, even in the hold of the War Rig, miles from the Citadel. He could forget about the danger they were in, the cruelty they’d experienced, and even the ticking time bombs in his own flesh.
“Do you think your baby will survive?”
“I don’t know.” Slash didn’t sound optimistic, he toyed with his sleeve and avoided Duff’s gaze.
“I’ve never seen a completely healthy baby before, I didn’t think it was possible. But then I saw you, and you’re perfect, so maybe...”
Slash scoffed.
“The Immortan is toxic. He taints everything: the water, the people... and me. If I was ever perfect, I’m sure as hell not anymore, and neither is this baby.”
Duff hugged Slash closer, and slid a hand down to his belly.
“We’ll see.”
----
[part 2]
#title from paradise city#this fic is so much longer than my usual omg#sodafics#gnr fanfic#gnr#guns n roses#guns and roses#slash#saul hudson#steven adler#izzy stradlin#duff mckagan#axl rose#mad max#mad max au#sorry to whoever follows the mad max tag and did not want to see this...
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lamb to the s(laughter)
(a/n): please for the love of god-- somebody out there tell me that they appreciate that cheesy title.
this is my short little submission for the Femslash February fic exchange, which is hosted by @ticklishraspberries!! my victim is @pissbabydean , and the ship they wanted was Rowena x Charlie!!
@pissbabydean - it freaked me the fuck out when i was told i was submitting a fic for you because i’ve been a lurker on your blog for ages. no biggie. trying to play it cool here. it’s all good.
seriously though: hope you like it!! happy femslash february!!
----------
“Oh my,” sneers Rowena, as one Dean Winchester stumbles through the bunkers doors and into the side of the doorway. He reeks of alcohol and melancholy— which, truth told, is not spectacularly uncharacteristic. “Feeling hedonistic again, are we?”
“Blurgh,” Dean says eloquently, and ambles off down a winding corridor. “Charlie— Charlie’s comin’ in behind. Behind me. Blurgh.”
Rowena tsks. Of course he’d gone and corrupted that strange little redhead with a late-night bender; the ruination of all things good and pure seems to a Winchester trademark. It’s one of their only redeeming qualities, in her own opinion.
Speak of the devil herself: Charlie’s red hair pops into view for a moment— a quick blur of color in the doorway. Rowena blinks and it disappears past the tabletop; it takes a moments pause to locate her again as she’s sliding down the side of the doorway and resting her head between her knees. A perfect picture of sloppy vulnerability.
It’s interesting, the way that the predator within her cocks its head in interest whenever Charlie ambles into the room.
It’s not a new sensation; women, particularly soft women, have always been so easy for Rowena to simply... take. Charlie is not for the taking, and any witch worth her tit knows that the chase is half the fun. The other half; well, to be frank, the very thought of slashing her soft, white underbelly and bleeding her dry is nearly as appealing as the thought of bending the lass halfway to Timbuktu and taking her then and there.
Now, though, with Charlie falling over herself in her own drool and tears, it’s just so... easy. Her mouth waters at the thought of the lassies neck twisting in on itself as she crumbles in a heap in the doorway.
I could slaughter her like a little lamb, Rowena thinks idly, drumming the knife-like points of her red nails against the tabletop. In fact, I could kill all of them, now. The Winchesters. The girl. The angel. It would be a massacre that they’ve stumbled into like a merry band of drunkards.
But alas, Charlie looks up, blinks mournfully at her, and says, “Rowena?” and so Rowena thinks without a second’s hesitation, Perhaps another day, then.
She’s always quite admired the capacity for emotional manipulation that women seem to possess as a default.
“Why so blue, little lamb?”
“So many— many things,” Charlie sighs, eyes glossy with alcohol and unshed tears. “So much to think about.” There’s a long pause. Charlie swallows back what looks to be a boulder-sized lump in her throat and continues, breathe wavering, “In my game— in, in Warcraft— there’s this… the Burning of Teldrassil. It’s like this big— people died, and there’s this big tree that was on fire, and there were— and it created this war between the Night Elven and this Horde, y’know, and it ruined so many of the villagers lives, and I just think—“
“Oh dear,” Rowena titters, having drawn up a chair next to the doorway. “I’ve forgotten to mention how little I care.”
“Y’don’t have to be. Like. Mean about it.” Charlie draws in a long, watery breath, lip trembling.
“Oh, but have you known me to be anything else?”
“No.” Charlie sniffles rather pathetically into her elbow, and when she raises her narrowed eyes, looks as if she’s on the verge of pouting like an infant. “You’re such a bitch,” she says, simply. “You’re not supposed to be a bitch. You’re too… like, yummy-looking to be a bitch. Like a smokey-eyed… sex… demon.” A frown. “Or. Yummy-looking, like, objectively— m’not actually, y’know, wanting to bang you.”
It’s almost coherent enough to be flattering. Rowena smiles archly. “I never put out on the first date, pet. A witch has got to uphold her dignity.”
“…This is a date?”
“Certainly not.”
Charlie’s chin wrinkles horribly as it quivers. “Dude, I need a date.” She hiccups. “I don’t wanna— wanna—“
“If you start weeping over your sapphic ways,” Rowena interjects primly, “you’re going to be sorry in the morning when you wake up as a hungover frog.”
“I can’t help it,” blubbers Charlie. “I’m totally super stupid crazy fucking drunk.”
Rowena eyes the lass with some level of disdain and awe. It’s a fascinating combination to experience; nearly as fascinating as watching the wretchedly, insistently optimistic creature before her crumble into a puddle of tears over the slightest hitch in conversation. Rowena hasn’t had a good drink in a long time; this, here, is likely the reason that she quit. How… important it all must feel, under the influence. She despises melodramatics. Despises them enough to put action to her disdain, in fact.
She leans forwards in her seat to tap twice on the underside of the pudge of Charlie’s pale chin— lifts her head just so, coaxing her into a glassy-eyed silence (punctuated by the occasional hiccup, naturally).
“Yummy… looking?” Charlie murmurs, looking very dazed. “You’re—“ she blinks rapidly, and a single tear slips out as she frowns in what looks like confusion. “You’re— huh?”
“Hm,” Rowena tsks. “What a mess you are.”
“Hnngh.” Charlie’s brows cross in a comic fashion. Her focus should be straying now, if the spell is all in order— and Rowena’s spells are always in order. It’s the closest thing to a promise she can make.
“There’s a word for this that we used when my Fergus was a little boy,” she adds, still cupping Charlie’s pale face in her hand. “Dowie. Means… to be melancholy, or something of that pathetic nature.” She smiles thinly, a wicked thing. “You almost make it look good.”
Charlie opens her mouth to speak, but the small noise she makes doesn’t quite cross the border into the English language. She shifts awkwardly from one side of her (rather nice) toosh to the other, wiggling like prey in a slow, steady trap. “I—“
“But I’m not about to let you waste away the night feeling sorry for yourself,” Rowena clucks, “no, no. We have to turn that frown—“ she taps the point of her nail in the dip of Charlie’s upper lip— “upside down, don’t we?”
It’s not quite the same as plunging a knife through the girl’s throat or taking her to bed, but the way the girl begins to bite at her lips and squirm in place, unable to escape the soft, feathered sensations creeping up her ribcage...
“Satisfying” is an understatement. Especially when it gets the little thing to stop blubbering over herself.
Rowena knows when the spell begins the next stage because Charlie squeaks properly, then. Her tears have dried on her pale cheeks— Rowena wonders if she could taste salt if she prodded at Charlie with her tongue. How tempting. Instead, she leans back in her seat instead and watches the spell begin to truly take hold.
Charlie’s pinned herself against the doorway in her drunken paralyzation, heels squeaking against the linoleum of the bunker floor as she squirms and folds into herself. Her arms cross over her stomach, where her wrinkled t-shirt has started to ride up.
“Rowena— what the fuOH!“ Charlie squeaks again, cupping a firm hand over her wide grin as if to wipe it away. “I think I’m— it— it—“
Rowena arches a brow, thoroughly amused now. “…Tickles? Just a wee bit?”
Charlie nods, and when a giggle escapes her lips, claps another hand over her mouth.
“Ah.” Rowena claps her hands together, pleased. “Wonderful.”
“No— not wonder—eep!“ she arches off the doorframe a little, then— “It’s— it tickles—“ A gasp! “OH!”
And like the good girl she is, Charlie’s off like a rocket, crumpling completely in on herself and succumbing completely to what must feel like a pair of dainty, red-clawed hands kneading into the plush softness of her love-handles. Her laugh is belly-deep and throaty; a far cry from the earlier sniffles. She’s evidently devastatingly ticklish in that nice little area. ”Ohmygodfuckfucknonono—“
It’s a nice little display, Rowena thinks pleasantly. She’s nearly startled at the fondness of the thought, and dismisses it with a wave of her hand as nothing more than fodder for her ego; a live-and-in-color testament to the strength of her power. Watching Charlie arch off of the doorframe and into the tickling, only to crumple back in on herself and clutch at her sides like a madwoman, is enough food for the soul— rather, absence of soul— to feed off of for decades.
“I thought you were feeling a bit… dowie?” Rowena purrs smugly, indulging herself.
Charlie is too busy (tossing her head back in laughter and kicking at the floor) to respond.
Rowena crosses her legs in the chair and sighs sweetly as Charlie continues to shimmy against the doorframe, heels squeaking against the floor. Perhaps she could absolve Dean of any blame in getting the wee lass so incredibly shit-faced.
It’s provided ample entertainment, anyway.
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A Witch & A Hick, Chp. 3
Little Secret
This chapter is just the two learning about each other and car problems lol.
Also warning for Elizabeth offering sex as payment lol, it doesn't happen. Also I do hc Lester living in a trailer bc its extremely common and realistic tbh.
Lester puts the truck in drive and looks at Elizabeth as he presses the brake,
"I remember you said there's a town nearby, any chance we can go there to fix up my van?" Elizabeth asks as she pets the two dogs,
"No need, they'll charge ya criminal prices. I can fix it." Criminal prices, he repeats in his head.
"Oh come on, you've already done so much." Elizabeth says her face soft,
"I insist! I can't just let them uh take ya money when I can fix it for free." He smiles and Elizabeth mirrors it. Lester gives from the brakes and drives towards his home,
"I have a feeling there's something...more behind this." Lester gulps,
"What made ya think that?" Lester nervously laughs and his hands tighten around the wheel,
"That's how most men are, expect a favor for a favor. Though they often expect ya know." Lester blinks and cringes,
"Aw that! I wasn't thinking anything like that, hell I wasn't even thinking about you doing anything."
"I mean I'll do it." His eyes widen and he stops the truck again,
"What?" He blushes and looks at the girl,
"I'll get you off, I've done it before."
"No no! I have to decline, I just ain't that kinda man." Lester nods to the woman who shrugs, he lied. He is that kinda man, he's had victims beg for safety with offers of sex. He always took it, but let's the girls fall back in the hands of his brothers.
"Not that I don't find ya pretty!" He defends quickly and Elizabeth laughs,
"You're real purdy, I just. I just can't." He sighs and Elizabeth notices how tense he is.
"Thanks, for calling me pretty." She smiles,
"I think you're real pretty too." She compliments Lester who blushes again, Lester has never talked to a stranger this long. Never had a girl call him pretty, never met her.
"Ya just sayin that cuz I'm given ya a ride." Lester chuckles and Elizabeth shakes her head,
"Nope," she pops her P,
"Everybody's beautiful in they're own way, just as nature intended." Lester blinks and remembers her van, the witchy collection in it.
"Oh right, you're a witch!" Lester exclaims and Elizabeth nods,
"How'd you know?" She teased and Lester laughs,
"How'd you even get in all that junk anyways?" Lester asks and flicks his hat,
"It ain't junk. Don't be rude," Elizabeth smirks and Lester nods his head, Jonesey puts her head on Lester's lap. He pets the dogs head.
"Sorry but, how did you ya know..start?"
"My sister got me my tarot cards, she really showed me the basics of witchcraft. Our parents didn't really care all that much but never let us do it in the house. Guess that's why I moved out so early too." Elizabeth laughs,
Lester pulls up towards a driveway of a trailer.
The trailer is a once white single wide, covered in vines and ivy. Bones hung from the porch ceiling,
Elizabeth notices his front door was wide open, and in the yard were scatters of trash, car parts, bones and more. The windows were open but blinds were keeping the inside blocked.
It looks like nobody lives there, as stray cats scurried under the trailer and hissed at each other.
"I'll be quick, I'll just unload your van and fix her right up in a jiffy." Lester smiles at the girl and gets out of the truck, Jonesey follows and Mac follows after her.
Elizabeth smiles as she watches the two dogs sniff around and play, getting out of the truck her barefeet sink into the grass and dirt. She stretches, the truck wasn't entirely comfortable with Mac siting right on her.
"Sorry for the mess, I don't really have guests." Lester says as he unhooks the van,
"Its fine, I've seen much worse."
"Nah, doubt it." Lester shakes his head and wipes his hands on his jeans, Elizabeth takes note of the depreciation joke he says.
As Lester pops her hood and smoke rises from it, Elizabeth frowns.
"That happened before?" Lester asks as he waves the smoke off, Elizabeth nods.
"Yeah, I've had a couple engine problems. Mainly because of oil, but my light wasn't even on."
"Yup, cars will do that. Just spring a problem on ya right as ya were doing fine." Lester grazes his hand over the engine and instantly finds the problem,
"When's the last time ya changed the cooling fan?"
"Never."
"Cleaned it?"
"Never." Lester sighs and Elizabeth frowns,
"That bad?" He nods,
"Your engine is busted, you're gonna need a new one."
"Nooooo." Elizabeth groans
"Hey its okay, this happens all the time. It's just an accident." Lester tries to comfort the girl, she squats and hides in her knees.
"Hey now," Lester gets on his knee and pats the girls back.
"We can maybe order one from the next town over, but it'll take a while for it to come in since we're basically in the middle of no where." Lester then sits with the girl and he blinks when he hears a sob come from her.
"Jeez darlin, it ain't anything to cry about." He says and Elizabeth looks up, her makeup more runny than before,
"This is my karma! I know it is and- and I shouldn't be cryin-ing but-" she hides her face again and Lester stutters,
"Aw no no, this ain't karma just an accident. Honest."
He isn't entirely sure what else to do, seen plenty of girls cry in Ambrose. Ain't none of them cried like this.
Crying about karma, hell if karma was real he'd be dead, he thinks and shakes his head. He gently pats the girls back as she sobs. The two dogs show up and sit around the two Mac places his head on the girls back. Pushing Lester's hand away, Elizabeth quickly hugs her dog.
After a couple minutes, her sobs stop and she looks up.
"Im sorry Lester, I just. It's just been a lot today," she says and wipes her eyes, smudging her makeup.
"Wanna talk about it?" Lester ask and Elizabeth looks around, noticing the sun is starting to set.
"No, not right now. I'm just tired now, sorry for bothering you with my emotions and junk."
"Ain't no bother at all, I'm happy to help." She shows a smile from his words as he stands, he puts his hand out and she takes it to stand.
"I know, and thanks again. Do you think it's alright if my van stays the night? I'll try to go to another town in the morning and order an engine. I'll find a motel too." She says, trying to clean her face up from tears and makeup.
Lester raises a brow, and Elizabeth shakes her head already knowing he'll offer his home.
"Lester please you've already done so much for me! I promise that by tomorrow I'll be out of your hair." She says and Lester shakes his head,
"Darlin, How about we both go into town order you an engine and when it gets here I can put it in. If you think I'm letting you sleep in that hot van for the night you're dead wrong." Lester stands up straight and crosses his arms, Elizabeth actually has to look up to see his face.
"I've got a spare room, it's messy and mainly holds all my junk but it's got a bed, a desk and a closet." Lester says and Elizabeth takes a deep breathe,
"Thank you," she says and Lester uncrosses his arms,
"I mean it, without you I'd probably be kidnapped by some crazy guy. Unless you are the crazy guy." She jokes and Lester nervously laughs.
"I like to call myself unqiue." Lester jokes and Elizabeth laughs,
"That you are friend, that you are." Elizabeth says and watches as the sun falls behind the trees.
After grabbing her needed things from the van, the two walk towards the trailer.
The two walk onto the wooden porch, Elizabeth's hands grazing the bones hanging above,
"Those are my people repellents, makes hikers skedaddle." Lester jokes and Elizabeth smiles,
"They're beautiful," she compliments and Lester walks through the open door,
"Yup, they sure are. I uh, I keep my door open so the strays can come in and relax and get away from the heat." He says and flicks on a light, it blinks a few times but turns on.
The two are standing in the living room, the couches covered in fur and scratches. Clothes are all around and clean and unclean bones sit on the coffee table.
But the recliner is free of fur, just a flannel on the back.
Lester notices his playboy magazine on the coffee table and quickly snatches up the magazine, Rolling it up he laughs embarrassingly.
"Sorry about that, again not often I get guests." Elizabeth smiles and shakes her head. From behind the two, Mac and Jonesey come running in. They jump on the couch and sit next to each other.
"My house is there house." Lester pets Jonesy's head and smiles, putting the magazine behind the couch during this. He turns to face Elizabeth whose staring at the bones,
"I'll show you to ya room," Lester walks to the right and opens a bedroom door,
The bedroom filled with bones in boxes, books, clothes and random knick knacks. He quickly lifts boxes from the bed and pats the dust off.
"My casa your casa." He smiles and Elizabeth places her stuff down, Lester stands in the doorway now.
"Thanks again, Lester. I really appreciate it." Elizabeth puts her hand out and Lester looks down at it. It's so small, he gently grabs it and Elizabeth grabs one of the bracelets on her wrist. She brings it over her hand and onto his,
"I can't not give you a gift." She says and lets him go, Lester looks down at the bracelet. A whole set of animal teeth with beads in between.
"I- thank you. It's so purdy." He says and continues,
"You're a real uh...what's it called?"
"Freak?" He quickly shakes his head, and takes her hand again. Putting their wrists together with the bracelets,
"Unique," he smiles, "You're a real unique girl."
"Is it because I mess with bones and junk?"
"Well that, and because you're real nice." Elizabeth smiles,
"You're just as unique as me Lester." She says and the two look at each other for a second, wanting this conversation not to end but not sure how to continue.
Suddenly from behind Lester, Mac barks.
Elizabeth laughs,
"It's past his bedtime, sorry he gets cranky when he's not in bed by this time." Lester let's the dog run past him and onto the bed,
"Well, goodnight, um. Sleep tight?"
"You too Lester." Elizabeth quietly shuts her door and Lester stares at the closed door. Jonesy whines from behind him,
Lester turns to the dog and squats, he pets the dogs cheeks and smiles.
"She'll be our little secret, right Jonesey?" The dog licks his face.
#house of wax#house of wax 2005#lester sinclair#lester sinclair x reader#my writing#self insert#self ship#oc x canon#canon x oc
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Creepypasta OCs.
Any updates information is on Wattpad WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge
TW BLOOD, ABUSE MENTION
cottontailprincess is my Instagram and Emilythecosmiccat is my username on some art websites.
They/Them pronouns please
do not sexualise me, my characters or my boyfriend please he isn’t comfortable with that.
okay so these are my two vent ocs.
Emily/Elliot (Bunny.)
one of them, as you know, is my impure agere oc, representing all the sad and flashback parts of everything. I made them to help cope with my thoughts and feelings. They are based off of my appearance and my trauma. They age up with me.
BASIC INFO
Full Name:
Emily/Elliot Bunzelle but prefers just Emily or Elliot.
Nickname(s):
Bunny, Emmy, El, Em, Princess, Prince, Princette
Meaning of name: Emily (from Urban Dictionary.)
An Emily is someone who is crazy inside and out. She knows who her friends are and try’s hard to look after them. She is very pretty but doesn’t always know that. She isn’t always the most popular, but to her that doesn’t matter. She has friends from all ages and they all adore her. She hides her feelings however upsetting they may be.
Meaning of name: Elliot (Urban Dictionary)
Elliot is a true master at caring. He teaches how to love and be loved. A man of honour a man of steal. He's as handsome as a Greek God, as strong as diamond, as compassionate as a saint and is as gentle as a father's touch. Elliot possesses a magic within to create a vision in the eyes of all, leaving them stunned at how brilliant and perfect Elliot truly is. A leader, a spirit lifter, a lover, a giver, an Elliot'll leave you speechless with his being, his essence.
Gender:
Non-Binary
Pronouns:
They/Them
Age:
Currently 19, same as IRL me, though they physically and mentally regress to younger ages, so their age varies. Their main ages are variants of 1+
Date of Birth:
August 21st (Body born in 2001)
Race/Species:
English and a Spirit or Entity.
Native language:
English (as in England English.)
Orientation/Sexual Preference:
Bisexual
Personality:
Silly, playful, honest, caring, childish, bratty, stubborn, sweet.
Are They Dead:
No but they aren't alive either. Somewhere in between.
Any Mental Health Issues?
C-PTSD, due to multiple traumatic events. They frequently experience multiple flashbacks and nightmares, and is usually terrified of leaving their safe space unless it’s with Stedge, even then, they panic.
Triggers:
Listed Here.
Triggers page on my Carrd.
Powers/Special Abilities:
Can float slightly off the ground, is able to phase through walls, spew blood at will, and look "alive" when speaking and comforting children, or just around those they trust.
APPEARANCE:
Looks:
Very young child:
Short but very curly/wavy brown hair, a bit lighter than when they are in older looking forms. They wear a pink dress with a white shirt under, and black school shoes. However, they can also just wear a sonic shirt and leggings, or a skirt.
Child:
They can vary but their usual look is long curly/wavy brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, blood on their mouth and nose area, tired-looking eyes, pink dress, sometimes a nightgown, depending on the look, they can wear socks, bunny slippers or even go barefoot! Sometimes they wear bunny ears! Sometimes they like to wear sonic gear.
Teen:
Depending on the age as a teen, at the point it's "kawaii" inspired things, sometimes just a Melanie Martinez shirt and pants (or skirt), sometimes overalls! They also wore band merch, stuff like that. They have either long brown hair, black hair or multicoloured hair like Melanie Martinez (dyed in variants such as pink, red, blonde (more like light ginger.)
Adult:
Band tops, but also ones with cute designs on such as bunnies or kittens, sometimes overalls or dresses, sometimes even onesies, since they can still have the traits of an agere headspace. Short Brown hair, is a lot chubbier than the rest, can be considered mid or plus size.
Height:
Varies depending on form and age, but usually smol.
Weight:
(UNKNOWN BUT IT VARIES.)
Hair color:
Dark brown/Brown
Eye color:
Brown
Scars and/or skin conditions:
Has a few bruises and a few cuts in some places, but I prefer to not draw them.
Has a skin condition called psoriasis. (I have it IRL.)
Never Seen Without:
White Bun, and their three Cream The Rabbit plushies.
Likes:
• Things with peaches (the fruit) on them. (Including peaches and peach ice tea.)
• Bunnies
• Their Caregiver, Stedge.
• Drawing, and colouring in.
• The colour pink.
• Sonic The Hedgehog.
• Porcelain Dolls
• Stuffed Animals
Dislikes:
• Abusers (including physical, mental and sexual abusers.)
• Those who take advantage of vulnerable people.
• People who don’t take them seriously.
• Drama.
• Being abandoned or left alone.
Relationships:
Stedge - Partner in crime, best friend, caregiver and lover. (Depending on age of course.)
Cream.exe (Sally.exe game) - practically twinning, bunny loves to hang out with cream.exe. (my highest kin, apart from cream herself.)
Family Members - Depending on which member, they do have a good bond or a negative one. Bunny loves them on different levels, some of them, they hate. This does not reflect on how (I myself) feel about said family members.
(If you want your creepypasta oc to be friends with Bunny, just ask!)
OTHER INFO:
• They age up with my current age since they aren't dead and they are based off of me.
• I decided to make them some sort of entity since I couldn’t make them a ghost and still be alive lol they age up with me.
•Their “trauma” is the same as mine, which is why I won’t write it in detail here but they are a victim of abuse.
• They are all bloody because its how I feel about my trauma.
• They physically and mentally regressed to the age they are supposed to be, if they are in their child forms, they are an actual child. (Direct reference to my age regression I use to help me cope with my trauma) They prefer to be in this form so they can protect and befriend children. They don't harm children or other victims of abuse. The children usually call them “bunny.”
• When they're in their adult form, they have a partner called Stephen. Someone who they have known since they were 17 years old. When they are a “child” he takes care of them and protects them to make sure they don't ever get hurt again.
• Their sense of justice is what caused them to want to help other children. They never want to see another child go through what they went through.
Any Other Info is on the Picture.
Stedge
Well, I also made a creepypasta oc to represent my boyfriend, someone who I love and trust to help me during those horrible times. He’s like my partner in crime. lmao also his age isn’t rly there because he ages up with his real life counterpart, which will get updated.
REMINDER TO NOT SEXUALISE HIM AS MY BOYFRIEND IS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT.
BASIC INFO:
Name:
Stephen
Nickname(s):
Stedge, Mr. Bubbles (by Emily/Elliot.)
Meaning of name:
Stephen
The most beautiful boy in existence. Has stunning eyes, that make your heart fall through the floor when they crinkle with his perfect smile. Is deep, unlike most boys, and extremely intelligent. Has a big heart, and he doesn't realize when he's being taken for granted. Even though he would never admit it, he sometime's can't see what's right in front of him. An over-analyzer, and very stubborn, but he will admit defeat when he has to. Likes to drive girls crazy, apparently. Easy to fall in love with. Hard to figure out.
Gender:
Male
Age:
Ages up with IRL person. Currently: 19.
Date of Birth:
9th April
Race/Species:
English, Human.
Native language:
UK English.
Orientation/Sexual Preference:
Straight
Are They Dead:
No
Any Mental Health Issues?
No, None that we know of.
Triggers:
None that we know of.
Powers/Special Abilities:
He doesn't have many powers but he athletic and can run quick and has a good amount of strength. He uses a bat and other various stuff.
APPEARANCE:
Looks:
Short brown hair, brown eyes, a bit of facial hair, variants of a black or dark grey shirt, but obviously not only those, sometimes they’re ripped.
Hair color:
Dark brown, brown.
Eye color:
Brown.
Scars:
None.
Personality:
He is quite intelligent and mature, behaves childishly in front of Emily/Elliot, cold and serious, is kind, polite, protective.
Hobbies and Likes:
• playing the guitar
• skate (skateboarding)
• listening to tunes
• spending time with Emily/Elliot.
Dislikes:
• Abusers, people who take advantage of vulnerable people.
• People who are cruel to Emily/Elliot.
Relationships:
Bunny - Best friend, soulmate, would do anything to make bunny smile, frequently gets them stuffed toys and food.
EXTRA INFO:
He is a few months older than me in IRL, his age is 19 right now, along with mine but will be updated.
Stephen is a human, and helps take care of Emily (in their child forms.) since they are a child and very vulnerable in that state due to their trauma, when they’re adult they are romantic towards each other.
They work together as a team when bashing and killing abusers. While he uses physical means, Emily uses mental.
Any Other Info is on the Picture.
WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge
#my art#agere#sfw agere#creepypasta oc#creepypasta#impure regression#creepypasta child#child oc#bunny#sally.exe#sally exe#sonic exe
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Only 9 years of Anger but it’s been 30+ years of trauma.
I’m a Canadian multiracial woman who grew up in a community that was not as diverse as it is now. Since I was a little girl, I’ve encountered several instances of baffling behaviour toward me that only in hindsight did I come to understand it was because of my colour. The jokes about watermelon, dumb edgy nonblack kids who think I’ll think they’re cool if they drop the n-word around me. Some fool who everyone thought was funny in high school lead a rendition of Hero by Enrique Iglesias and replaced the word hero for “negro” as he played guitar at a Christian school camp retreat to zero consequence. I was nicknamed Aunt Jemima by older boys because I wouldn’t date them. All this stuff was background noise because my number one awareness of being a Canadian was that despite all this, I would never be treated as bad as an indigenous person would be treated in this country. So I laughed off the jokes, ignored the jabs, ignored the n-word, played the “cool black person” who let things slide because that was how you survived. I made it to my 20’s being passive and moderate, and at some juncture I realised my friend circle was occupied by people who used my colour and my race as a punchline. It was like something snapped in me after college; I stopped being passive, I wanted to learn how to be myself and be proud of my heritage instead of acting like I was some ambassador for every white person in authority who wanted me to nod and say “no no I’m okay with your opinion, so please hire me.”
In 2011, I broadened my friend group to people who had had similar experiences but hadn’t backed down, people who had a community to back them up so they didn’t cower at the idea of facing their own trauma. That’s when I started to make friends online who came from different and diverse perspectives. Starting that year I began reading first-hand accounts of police brutality cases and their large numbers. I heard about black sex workers in the states being harassed and disappearing when they complained. I heard about the way young black men are taught to keep their hands visible because even a parking ticket could get you killed. I was angry and heartbroken but I noticed that despite the fact that I was furious and cross-posting everything I learned on twitter and every other blog space I occupied, barely anyone who wasn’t black wanted to interact with it. It was like I was touting some kind of religion, asking people to believe that people in and out of this country had a disease called racism.
The few people who used their public platform to talk about it were dismissed as crazy. After Trayvon Martin, my heart just stayed broken, and then the "mysterious suicide" of Sandra Bland and the mug shot they took with her body propped up in the police station when she had already been murdered fully wrecked me because so few people cared. There was always some excuse as to why these people deserved to be murdered; as if suddenly people got amnesia about the ideal of the justice system and due process. As if people should really be all right with a young teen being shot in the street was all right because there was no one else there to see it happen or why. Soon followed a rash of different cases, and almost everyone close to me who wasn't black had some opinion about it whether that's telling us not to get too angry, to protest the way MLK jr said we should when his very own words talked about anger and pain and the way it spills out of people who only want to exist. He said unrest doesn’t develop out of thin air and that it’s the language of the unheard. I watched Colin Kaepernick get publicly ridiculed and watched white creators whisper a little about it if they weren’t against it. There was a shyness in the energy about the content I read or watched and I had somehow accepted that that would always be the case with people working with platforms online. I watched Tumblr delete a whole tag about BLM because people decided it was starting arguments. I watched white content creators make jokes about Tamir Rice, about Kaepernick until they stopped getting laughs.
It's now been 9 years later and even though 2011 was the first I had ever sat and listened to the truth about these cases and I had been furious and hurt since then, it was not the beginning of the problem and my making noise about it and trying to make people understand at the time fell on a lot of ears that didn’t want to listen. People who were experiencing the pain first-hand were screaming louder and louder until Hollywood got a nice chokehold on it and posted a print of Chris Pine with tears in his eyes and called that the face of the civil rights movement.
So now I find that I’m experiencing a strong sense of deja vu watching people younger than me, or my white peers finally get it. I see posts about it everywhere, white creators and white celebrities posting support and empathy. It feels like a sharp awakening of the world and the chance that there’s hope for all the people who have been yelling and screaming for justice long before I ever became aware of the score.
It also feels terrifying.
Because sometimes white creators don’t take stock of their audience. They see them often as a monolith of people who support and engage with their content, so they’ll post a handy instagram quote, or an edit with links to donate; they’ll post their own call to action. Now the activism is something it never was before, it’s “Cool”. BLM is trending; it’s a quick view count and an absolutely easy and performative way to say “Sorry” for all the times in the past these white creators said the n-word, all the times in the past they dismissed diversity because it was inconvenient to them, and all the times they ignored the casual racism in their own content and the transformative content of their audience. So their white kid audience, who are happy to follow them blindly to the next trend, don’t fully understand the impact of what’s happening now. They’re making their edits, they’re changing their twitter handles to ACAB and BLM, they’re performing just fine. It should be a good thing, right?
Then why are there white kids out on the street saying they’re protesting. Saying they are here to make change but they’re caught with baseball bats breaking windows, instigating confrontations and running away for black people to deal with it. Why are they out there living their favourite purge fantasy so they can go home satisfied and safe while people are being tear-gassed and trampled by police? Why do they go home and make their mood boards and their t-shirts and their etsy sales for cool “protest looks”. The tired tiktoks that are just recreated audio of black creators being spooned off so a white face can be the one saying the very thing black creators are brave enough to put on social media at the risk of getting hurt!
Don’t get me wrong. This is all necessary in the growing pains of a worldwide movement. It’s the #stopkony2012 of 2020 because even back then when the performance was on, no one was actually doing the reading. Internationally the whole internet went ham on a cause that had already been dealt with by its own victims.
What I’m basically saying here is that fighting for human rights isn’t a game; this isn’t a cool new thing you can jump in on because the chaos keeps you hidden. Take this seriously; bring this energy to the polls, and KEEP this energy for the future even when the trending page isn’t interested in giving you money for your cause, even when your friends get bored and decide that they want to move on to the next cool thing to perform activism for. Be real. Continue to practice empathy for those whose stories you ignored up until now. Non-Black content creators, your new awareness of something happening is not an absolution of your willful ignorance in the past. Do your reading; educate yourself. Because while you may be just discovering the outrage and the hurt of witnessing a black person being murdered and the pulling teeth aggravation that comes with zero justice, people have been dealing with this far longer than you or I.
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The Last Person Standing
Hello everyone! I missed you all! I haven't been posting Durarara stuff lately so I wanted to change that by writing some new stories with @shizayasweek. Sorry for the long wait. So here we go! Also all thoses fics will go in AO3 and tagged as instructed.
Fic Ao3
Day one high school days/ "let me dye your hair"/ mafia!au
Mafia!au
Shizaya
Summary ( The yakuza starts to have a problem and it is up to Izaya to figure it out and deal with it.)
TW: Character death
"Sir, are you completely sure about this?" The cold voice echoed in the room.
The person that the voice referred to continue watching outside the window without flinching from the coldness of the voice. He simply smiled. He watched as a blond man walked the streets oblivious that someone was watching him. The cries were starting to get loud but then they suddenly stopped.
"Remind me, what Shiki said?" Izaya finally broke the silence and looked directly at the person that asked him the question without losing his tempo on what he was doing.
The man immediately looked away, feeling unworthy looking at his boss's face. The motion was so quick that it made him nauseous but that was what made his sir special and worthy of the title of yakuza. A quick job without a second thought. It made him shiver. His breath quickened but his voice was steady and without losing its coldness said.
"Boss said that whatever my sir asked, I would gladly follow."
Izaya nodded finally smirking at the person in front of him. He toyed with his now bloody knife and with a swift motion, it landed next to his bodyguard's head. The man closed his eyes and nodded.
"As you wish Sir." He said as he pulled out his gun.
And with that, the whimpering stopped.
-ooo-
"You didn't even give them any chance..." Shiki said as Izaya walked inside the red room.
Izaya smirked at him and winked. "Oh, Shiki-san is mad?~"
"Stop playing and answer honestly Izaya." Shiki warned Izaya while breathing out the smoke from his cigarette.
Izaya sat opposite Shiki and his gaze turned cold but his smirk was still on making him look completely out of his mind. Some would fear this look but Shiki knew it very well from the beginning of the journey together what it meant. And that meant that something was not good.
Something was not going their way.
Shiki let Izaya put his thoughts together. That was weird regarding Izaya one of the few yakuza members that never had lost any fight, any bet, any encounter with the enemy. He never lost. And yet something was off. Something was going against his plans. A thing that also affected Shiki and all yakuza members. Shiki put out his cigarette and put his hands together while looking at Izaya. Izaya closed his eyes and laughed quietly.
Eerily.
And with that, he pushed the chessboard that was in front of him on the table and let himself relax on the sofa. He now smirked normally and his eyes had focused on Shiki. Shiki nodded and Izaya talked.
"This was a new team we had recruited to get the boxes safely across the sea. Yet the team suddenly changed without our knowledge..."
"It became a gang?" Shiki asked.
Izaya toyed with his knife. "As far as I know. Their motto was 'saving the unaffected'. A new one."
Shiki sighed. "How many were created this month?"
"As far as I know they must be twelve. An impressive number yet only this time it was directly under my orders."
"Was the others..."
Izaya nodded. "As my information goes, they were under the Awakusu-kai."
"Is Akabayashi aware of this?"
Izaya smirked at him. "You wish me too?"
Shiki closed his eyes. Izaya was quick with his orders and executions. He even didn't know about this and yet Izaya had managed to clean the carpet yet again without anyone noticing. He was lucky to have him as his successor. Either way, he had trained him well, from a young age, and yet his mind was sharper than Shiki's making him fearsome to every single one of their enemy. Yet now someone was crazy enough to go against them. Or...
"Is..."
Izaya laughed at Shiki. "You finally figure it out old-man."
Izaya stood up and walked towards the library and took out a book. He finally took off his trademark jacket and unbuttoned his collar on his white shirt. When he finally was happy with the page on the book he turned and gave it to Shiki.
The page has stopped on the historical battle. Well, only in the yakuza world. And that was the battle fifty years ago against the yakuza and mafia. Shiki now put his hand on his head and rubbed like he had a headache.
"Are the events identical?"
Izaya nodded. "Operations from yakuza are all stopped. Gangs start to emerge creating chaos and the mafia operation finally starts. The elimination of yakuza."
"Only one organization can stand." Shiki stood up throwing the book on the sofa.
He took his jacket and with a click of his fingers his bodyguards enter the room surrounding him. He looked at Izaya.
"This must be announced at all the yakuza members. I order you to find more of the gangs and..."
Izaya smirked as he stepped on one of the chess pieces.
"...eliminate them."
-ooo-
"Are these the last ones, sir?" The man said as he threw one of the bodies on the water alongside his cigarette.
Izaya nodded. "The last gang on this coast at least." He looked at one of the bodies with disappointment in his eyes.
The man turned his gaze on the body Izaya was focused. He, unfortunately, recognized that man. It was the blond man that Izaya was focused on the other day.
"Was he...important?" He asked and Izaya smirked.
"Why is that important to you?"
The man felt his heart skip on that tone. That...harsh voice...
He looked away while unknowingly smiling at that feeling.
"You must know him by the tone." The man continued while he threw another body in the water.
Izaya didn't say anything but the man felt two holes being created on his back. He smirked this time.
He had Izaya's attention...
"He was important on yakuza yet his head started to get full with lies. So it was easier to just destroy it than empty it."
"So, he wasn't important..." The man's voice echoed together with a slash of a knife.
The knife had made its way near his cheek creating a cut and had landed next to his feet. The man smiled again. Izaya's reaction was quick. He turned and licked the blood that ran on his cheek while looking at Izaya.
Izaya didn't show any emotion and just showed his smirk at him.
"You have a big mouth..." He walked closer to the man and placed a knife on his neck. "...perhaps that might bring some fun."
With that, he closed it and jumped back away from the man. Izaya then looked at the moon.
"You remind me of him."
Oh?
"That...monster. The only one that could get out of my control. He could find a way out of my plans. Ruined them." Izaya turned and looked at the man now watching every move he did.
"So...I ruined him instead." Izaya started laughing and the man looked away betrayed.
He then continued his work with the bodies. With a last look at the blond man, he took out his yellow scarf and threw him.
-ooo-
"...Was he important?" The man suddenly asked as he took out his gloves after he had successfully killed the last boy on this gang.
Izaya's eyes focused on him. "People are important."
"Your love for them is what is important to you." The man said and felt Izaya near him.
"Your ideas and words don't match." Izaya said as he looked at the man.
"My ideas are your ideas, sir."
Izaya laughed. "Of course. It is an unwritten rule."
"My words can change if you want..."
Izaya looked unimpressed but smirked. "And where is the fun on that. Your next words could always result in your death and yet...you say them...."
"Like just him?" The man interrupted Izaya and Izaya moved his dagger on the man's neck.
"So the important question was about the monster, huh? What a clever bodyguard you are."
"Thanks for your kind words, sir. And yes. Was he?"
"Why are you obsessed with him, bodyguard? If I knew better, I would say you are his brother."
"Knowing my sir's past and enemies are required at this job."
With that Izaya fell into silence slowly he removed the dagger and smirked at the bodyguard as he tipped towed away from him.
"Clever boy. But this monster is dead."
"You killed him?"
"My first job."
The man stopped and observed Izaya. When he didn't find what he wanted he asked.
"The first job of every yakuza top is to prove royalty by...killing someone they love."
Izaya didn't say anything and just looked at the man. His face was emotionless apart from the usual smirk he always had.
"But you had said that he was a monster."
"That he was...but he was just any monster. He was MY monster."
"But why you did it?"
"As you said to prove my loyalty."
The man looked at him confused and he closed his fist.
"If you were in my position, wouldn't you do the same?"
The man looked at him again as Izaya just watched him. What the man did must have made Izaya happy since he laughed at him.
"You are weak."
"But you loved him."
"Unrequited love."
The man turned his gaze at Izaya while Izaya walked close to a puddle of the blood of the victims.
"Why?"
"Why? You will figure it out." Izaya said jokingly but this time his tone was sadder. He saw himself mirrored by the blood and his smirk turned eerie.
"I wonder...was he truly the true monster?"
-ooo-
It was the end.
Even after all Izaya had done, killing all the gangs, destroying the informants, and throwing false information everything had turned against him. Or the yakuza. The war had started without him knowing, without realizing. Or he actually... let it happen.
Did he want something? Was he searching for something? Why was he then so focused on destroying his own organization?
Did something on him change?
Did he look for revenge?
Perhaps. And yet not. He felt his heart drop when he saw his companions falling in battle. Every single person he had managed to rule into yakuza were down or were still fighting. His job was one and only at this time. It was to fight with them. Yet his dagger wasn't moving.
Was because he knew that the fight was over since he had ordered all the remaining yakuza to run and find shelter and regroup after this unexpected ambush. With what he had done they would have a better chance at the next battle. He was sure... But now....his dagger didn't move.
Was it because of the person in front of him that the dagger didn't move?
The man, his supposed bodyguard had managed to hit him making Izaya unable to move without feeling pain. That wouldn't surprise Izaya if it wasn't the weapon that his bodyguard had used on him.
A stop sign.
Only one could tear apart a sign, lift it without any problem and that was...Shizuo.
Izaya smirked at him while Shizuo finally took out that damn mask from his head. His blond hair shined at the light and his face was still intact, handsome as ever.
Izaya spitted out the blood from his mouth and smiled at Shizuo.
"Shizu-chan..." The stop sign moved and cut some of Izaya's hair.
"Don't...ever call me that again!"
Finally the voice, he long-awaited to hear.
"That name was given to me from someone that loved me."
"He is still here..." Izaya said but he didn’t expect the punch.
Izaya moved back and held his cheek feeling it burn.
"He might be...but that person is dead to me!" Shizuo barked and Izaya laughed.
"Was he? As I see it, Shizu-chan, you were the one that was still around me." With that, he threw his dagger finally at Shizuo.
Shizuo caught it and instantly broke it without flinching. Izaya stared at him losing himself for a while but quickly moved away from the upcoming sign. The sign hit the wall and stayed there. Shizuo though continued moving towards Izaya.
"Says the one that erased me from this world."
Izaya grimaced. He stared at Shizuo. "Why..."
"Why..." Shizuo laughed at him. "As you said, I am a monster. A bullet does nothing to me."
Izaya grimaced again but smiled. "Ah~ Of course. I have forgotten that thing about you. Your brain is one fact of your brutal motions. Never thinking. Something that might have saved us both.'' He whispered the last part but continued backing away from Shizuo. ''So you have come out just the perfect time to kill me. While my mind was elsewhere. Clever Shizu-chan."
"Waited for the right time."
"While looking for the answers. You did a full character arc Shizu-chan, that's impressive. Yet only Neanderthals can see the truth. Unlike you."
Shizuo showed his teeth but didn't move. He noticed that Izaya had managed to come closer to a window. He stared at him. Izaya just closed his eyes and smirked. With that he let himself fall back and...
...fell.
...but someone stopped him. Shizuo held his hand and Izaya finally opened his eyes and smirked at him.
"I was naive Shizu-chan. Betrayed by my own feelings. Yet the one that chooses to continue this serenade is you!"
Shizuo looked at him and pulled him inside the building before Izaya did anything more. Closer to him. Izaya put his hand on Shizuo’s chest feeling it move. His other hand was still held by Shizuo who hadn't moved. Izaya felt relief and then before he realized what was happening...pain.
He coughed blood. More blood than before. He looked down at his chest and saw a gun pointing at him. Shizuo had shot him.
Izaya turned at Shizuo who looked at him with regret and tears started to run down his eyes. Izaya pulled his hand away from his wound and put it on Shizuo’s face.
"I...I was wrong Shizu-chan....the...the true monster is..."
Izaya then with as much strength he still had, moved his head and kissed Shizuo, feeling his eyes burn. Slowly he muttered.
"...you..."
With that, his eyes closed letting his tears run down.
Shizuo held him close as he finally cried knowing that those words were true.
-ooo-
"Burn them all." Shizuo ordered and Vorona did as tasked.
He watched as the fire killed them all. He didn’t feel anything for them even if the cries started to get louder and louder. He had managed to finally win the war.
Mafia won.
He had won.
"Senpai, your face." Vorona said at Shizuo.
Shizuo put his hand on where Vorona showed and he saw blood. He closed his eyes realizing who was it. Izaya's hand had left a trace of blood on his cheek. Marking Shizuo as his killer.
He opened his eyes again and finally laughed. He felt his eyes burn yet again. He laughed and laughed but nothing matter anymore. Nor the win. Nor his success.
Only the truth! And that truth was painful!
Because Izaya never shot to kill but to erase. To save Shizuo.
But Shizuo’s was...
He was the TRUE monster!
---
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I wanted some angst so here we are! To clarify Izaya was in Yakuza and Shizuo was in Mafia. Same people different sides of the same coin.
See you soon!
#shizaya#shizuo heiwajima#izaya orihara#durarara#durarara!!#drrr#drrr!!#shizayaweek2020#monoreadie#so here we go again#i am glad i am back
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